"Weiss told me that we would have a guest, who might you be?" Einsam Schnee addressed the young, blonde man who had just been ushered into her presence by Kline.
"Ron, Ron Stoppable," the visitor answered, extending a hand. "You must be Weiss's sister, Winter."
"Mother...Ron!" Weiss burst into the sitting room.
"Mother?" Ron's eyes widened at the older lady.
"Ah Weiss," Einsam addressed her daughter. "Our guest was just subjecting me to false flattery."
"I...I...I'm sorry," Ron stammered.
"I didn't say that it was unwelcome, young man," the matron of the Schnee household corrected him. "Just false. Now I understand that in addition to some secret background, you are an accomplished huntsman."
"Err...that might be overstating things," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Are you armed at this time?" She asked him.
"Yes ma'am," he produced his tonfa, from their loops at his back, and held them out to her.
"I do not wish to examine them," she informed him. "However, I understand that you and my daughter are about to receive a lesson from her fencing instructor. I would like to observe this lesson."
"Of course, mother." Weiss inclined her head.
"Kline," the elder Schnee addressed her servant. "Please inform Whitley that he will be observing this lesson, as well." When the servant bowed and exited her sitting room, she looked at her daughter's companion.
"Ron," Weiss informed him. "It's customary for a gentleman to offer a lady his arm when she wishes to relocate to another room."
"Whoa, I'm a gentleman now?" He wondered, eyes open in amazement, as he offered Einsam his arm.
"Not by any measure," the matron informed him. "However, it is by playing the part that one fits oneself into the role."
"Sorry," Ron murmured. "I'm still not over the fact that you're not Weiss's sister."
"Your grammar also needs work," Einsam informed him, setting the pace towards the Schnee family gymnasium. "But the intent is not completely unappreciated."
Ron swore he heard Weiss snicker a little bit, yet by the time he looked at her, her face showed only cold, correct reverence for her mother. The trio made their way through the extensive mansion, leaving Ron stunned at the display of opulence. He had been through several wealthy mansions on Earth; even Buckingham Palace on one occasion, desperately pursuing one of the Queen's prize Corgis to extract one of Drakken's explosive ticks. He mentally placed this mansion as either the third or fourth most pretentious home he had ever been in.
Yet, he wouldn't want to live in such a place...even though he was at the moment. It seemed cold to him, like a display you were supposed to appreciate from a distance. It was something that was supposed to impress, even intimidate guests, not make them feel welcome. When they passed by a family portrait, painted perhaps five years ago judging by Weiss's appearance, Ron noted that there were no smiles. The father, Jacques, had an expression of haughty pride on his face. The younger Einsam's expression reflected superiority while the two girls looked like they wished they were somewhere else. The boy, Whitley, actually looked at least marginally happy to be there.
Deciding that the expressions were important, but unable to come up with why, Ron followed Weiss past the painting and to the Schnee Family Gymnasium. Once there, Weiss directed him towards a chair, where he delivered the matron. Then it was time to stretch out and warm up in preparation for the upcoming workout. While he and Weiss were preparing, the youngest Schnee, Whitley, showed up. Ron was too far away to overhear the interaction between mother and son, but the boy took a seat next to his mother, looking less than happy about being there. Then the instructor arrived.
Ron knew the type; arrogant, demanding, unpleasant...and able to back up every bit of smug superiority. The man quickly banished Ron to a one side of the gym while he went over some forms with his student. Apparently, he was satisfied, barely, with the practice she had been doing to keep her form correct. He then sparred with her, a clash that had Ron spending more time staring than working out. Again, the man was barely satisfied with her performance. After the match, he called Ron over and addressed the two of them.
"I understand that the two of you have come up with something you call the conditioning course," he addressed the two, younger fighters.
"We set the course up yesterday, Master Schwertlehrer." Weiss informed him.
"And your mother and I will be able to watch from here," the man activated a petition on his scroll. "It is tied into the estate's security cameras. While you have leagues to go in form, your endurance and agility is almost impressive. I want the two of you to run this course like you have been, while I observe."
Sharing a quick glance, Weiss and Ron activated the proper petitions on their own scrolls before rushing out of the room. The fencing master sat next to the Schnee matron and allowed her to watch the two.
"Master Schwertlehrer," the elder Schnee addressed the man she was paying to train her daughter. "What is your honest evaluation of my daughter's capabilities?"
"She's an incredible talent," the man answered. "She has mastered the use of her rapier, as well as dust and her semblance. I have seen her tear through a grimm horde like a rock through glass. She needs work on her endurance but she is a formidable fighter."
"And her companion?" Einsam asked.
"A mystery," he admitted. "He is also formidable, but his strengths are different that Weiss's. He has strength and durability, but not the speed and finesse that your daughter possesses. He is also better at improvisation, reacting to an unexpected situation. Together, they are even more formidable...observe."
On the screen, Einsam could see Ron and her daughter approaching a hanging, target dummy. Both of the younger people's scrolls gave them orders, as Weiss executed a thrust and slash combination before sprinting along the course the two had made. Ron, somewhat behind her, executed some sort of blocking action with his tonfa before landing a spinning kick. Then he was off, sprinting in an effort to close the gap with the younger Schnee woman.
"Note that Weiss is quicker," Master Schwertlehrer told Einsam. "She bursts more quickly from the targets but he has more speed, he takes a bit longer to get up to his full speed, but that speed is greater than hers."
"It seems a barbaric application of simple physics," Whitley commented. "She has a smaller body, so of course it alters course and speed faster than his. On the other hand, he has a larger muscle mass, so of course he is stronger and has greater straight-line speed over a distance."
"Barbaric?" The fencing master questioned the young man. "Do you not see the skill and grace the two exhibit? See how they push themselves to their limits, and beyond. Can't you see the dedication, the determination?"
"I see barbarism," Whitley informed him. I see a Schnee, the heiress to the world's largest company, wasting her time and risking her reputation. She could be meeting with business associates and corporate customers. She has an excellent and well honed voice, so she could be preparing a concert, promoting the good name of the Schnee family. Instead, she's sprinting through our grove with an uncouth companion, hacking at targets. If our social peers were to see this, it would be a disgrace."
"Or they would be even more impressed," Einsam told him. "She fought at the Battle of Beacon when the White Fang and our own mechs attacked."
"With no reliable witnesses to her deeds," her son retorted. "What good are such actions and risks if they don't bring any form of benefit?" He squinted his eyes at the projection. "Now they are taunting each other as they run, probably subjecting each other to insults. Is that what you want, mother, a refugee abusing your hospitality by insulting your heiress?"
"You may note that your sister is smiling, despite her exertions," Einsam told her youngest child. "Is it too much to wish your sister to enjoy herself?"
"Only if it doesn't harm the family position, mother." Whitley pointed out. "What if she needs to meet with company representatives at short notice? She will be flushed, sweaty and quite possibly sporting cuts, contusions and bruises. Look at this!"
On the display, Ron had overtaken Weiss as they burst from the grove of trees. He easily vaulted over a hedge, with Weiss on his heels, to land on a tennis court. They immediately squared off against each other, Weiss with Myrtenaster against Ron with his weapon in staff form.
"Tennis is a proper activity," Whitley told the matron. "Excellent exercise without the risk of severe injury that this barbaric combat training includes. Look at that!"
The youngest Schnee gestured towards the projection, where Weiss had unleashed a gout of flame from her rapier. Ron twirled his staff, generating a gust of wind that swept the flame back towards his opponent. The young man closed on the young woman while she executed a cartwheel, sidestepping both flame and attacker.
"She could have injured him," Whitley informed his mother. "Or worse, been injured herself when he turned her dust against her. Is that what you want, mother? Do you want our peers asking how Weiss maimed her companion? Do you want her going to a board meeting, sporting burns? I'm so certain they will be much more respectful of our family under either circumstance."
"Don't take that sarcastic tone with me," Einsam rebuked her son. "You've not yet earned the right to have that attitude. Look at how quickly she moves!"
The three observers watches as Weiss set a dark colored glyph behind Ron and came on with a low thrust. Ron blocked and stepped back, contacting the glyph. The symbol acted like an accelerator, sending him sprawling. Weiss was quickly in pursuit, lunging through the same glyph and transforming herself into a spear.
To Master Schwertlehrer's practiced eye, Ron avoided the first thrust through pure luck; he tumbled across the ground and Weiss' strike was just behind, drawing sparks from the concrete surface. By the time she made her next strike, he was somersaulting across the cement, intentionally giving her a moving target. By her third thrust he was doing a series of handsprings, keeping out of her range. Weiss made another quick gesture and a wall of ice appeared behind Ron.
Ron slammed headlong into the solid water but quickly spun around to face his opponent, staff twirling in front of him so fast that it blurred. Again, it was more luck, random chance that deflected Wiess' rapier from a telling strike against him. Weiss didn't waste motion by pulling back for another thrust; she slashed at the young man. Ron dropped low and scissored her legs with his as the rapier slashed over his head. A quick twist of his hips dropped Weiss onto her face.
"Is that what you want, mother?" Whitley demanded of his parent. "It's barbaric!"
"It's skill," the fencing instructor told him. "Assailants are not going to play by the rules, so this is excellent training for both."
Einsam simply watched as her daughter swept her off arm above her head, taking the strike from Ron's staff on her forearm rather than her head while slashing his legs. Both combatants' aura prevented injury but not pain. Ron limped a little and Weiss shook her arm as they scrambled to their feet.
Now that they were in very close quarters, Ron separated the staff into tonfa, but his movements weren't completely smooth. The slight delay gave Weiss the opportunity to surround the two of them with a series of white glyphs. She launched herself from one of them, sending herself ricocheting between the symbols, constantly leading with her rapier, striking at her opponent with every pass. Ron responded by keeping a spinning tonfa between the two of them, deflecting her strikes until he found a gap between the symbols dove through.
He managed a front somersault and sprang to his feet, spinning around as Weiss launched herself through the same gap he had used. Ron stepped to his right and twirled his tonfa, generating a gust of wind that actually deflected Weiss' path. The petite young woman was very agile, managing a tuck and roll. She spun to face her opponent just as Ron was in an all-out charge. She put her rapier's point onto the cement, causing a sheet of ice to extend towards her attacker. Ron's feet shot out from under him and he sprawled onto his back while Weiss stepped to the side. As he slid past her, he shifted the grip on one tonfa to the long arm, reached out, and hooked her ankle with the handle. With a shriek, she was pulled off of her feet and along with him on the slide.
The ice slide ended at the net. At the speed the two were sliding, they slid right under the flimsy barrier, hit the cement on the other side and started to roll. It didn't end the contest; they grappled each other, trying to get the advantage. Ron dropped his tonfa and managed to catch Weiss' weapon wrist. When they stopped, Weiss was on top of him, he had seized her left wrist with his left hand and clamped his right hand on the side of her face. He lightly tapped her eyelid with his thumb and she conceded the match.
"He could have torn her eye out, had this been a real fight," Master Schwertlehrer informed the two.
"They make my point!" Whitley declared. "Not only could either of them have been seriously injured, look at the two of them right now! It looks like they're...well, you know. What about the neighbors, or the servants? Certainly, Kline is the absolute soul of discretion but what about the groundskeepers or others who could be seeing them at this moment? Certainly they will speak to their fellows at the questionable establishments they visit in the evenings. Within days, our neighbors and rivals will certainly know that Weiss is...rolling on the ground...with this refugee."
Einsam simply maintained a neutral expression as she observed the two young people struggling to catch their breath. Her daughter seemed to be in no particular hurry to climb off of her companion, resting her head on his chest while both of their chests heaved with the effort to pull in enough oxygen. After a minute or so, Weiss disentangled her legs from his, planted her hands on his chest and pushed herself to her feet. She then gave him a hand up and the two bumped shoulders against each other, a gesture that seemed something like a handshake. With the two of them on their feet, Ron collected his tonfa and Weiss pointed at them. In response, Ron twirled them again, generating a gust of wind that made the net strain. Weiss made several more gestures and Ron shrugged, looking interested.
Vaulting lightly over the net, Weiss walked to a point roughly twenty feet away from the ice wall she had previously formed. Twirling the chamber in Myrtenaster's hilt, she spun and brought the blade to the cement. A block of ice appeared where the point met the ground. She performed a back handspring away form her creation while Ron jumped forward, a blue glint appearing around him, and grabbed the block. He lifted it into the air and executed an uppercut on the frozen water, shattering it. Before the shards could reach the ground he spun around, pulled out his staff and twirled it, generating another powerful gust of wind. Ice shards were sent flying into the previous ice wall.
Ron slowed his staff to a motionless state and Weiss joined him. Together, the two went to the ice wall and started to examine points where the wind-driven shards had struck the wall.
"Innovation and teamwork," Master Schwertlehrer noted. "The two are good opponents to practice against each other but since their styles are so different, they make powerful teammates."
"You are free to return to your current activities, Whitley," the matron informed her son. When the boy left, she faced the instructor.
"Master Schwertlehrer," she addressed the man. "What is your honest evaluation of my daughter and her companion?"
"Weiss is an excellent student," the instructor informed her. "Outstanding form, marred only by the constraints of actual conflict that she has endured. Her companion has skills of a different sort and could use additional instruction, but his is formidable in his own right."
"If some vagabonds were to gain entry to my mansion," Einsam postulated. "Would these two be able to defend the household?"
"I truly pity any but the most elite who may face either of them," the fencing master assured his patron. "They are each formidable and seem to be forming a partnership that makes them even more capable."
"That's what I suspected," she nodded. "What will you be telling them when they return?"
"I will, of course, tell them that their form and skill are abhorrent, needing dedication and practice to hone. I will tell them that while the course they created is a good workout, they need to run it faster and with their combat maneuvers more powerful and precise. I will tell them that they wouldn't be able to stand several seconds against a season hunter, so they must hone their teamwork more."
"Very well," Einsam allowed the ghost of a smile to flicker across her face. "I will let you admonish your student, and her companion, for imaginary shortcomings. I trust you can find the way on your own?"
"Indeed, madam Schnee," the man offered a slight bow, knowing a dismissal when he was presented with one.
"Kline," Einsam addressed her servant, once the fencing master had left.
"M'lady?"
"We must determine where we are going to house Mr. Stoppable," the matron informed him. "This, of course depends upon how my daughter views him. Is he a guest, a servant, or something else?"
"If I may be so bold," the efficient man answered. "Mistress Weiss confided in me while she was preparing to wrest control of the company from your husband."
"Soon to be ex husband," Einsam informed him. "But please continue."
"Of course, ma'am. Your younger daughter stated several times that she felt better after sparring with the young man."
"We each relieve stress in our own way," Einsam mused. She thought for a short time before continuing. "I suppose sparring and training is preferable to what I used to do. Physical activity is much easier on your liver."
The manservant didn't have an answer to this statement.
"I understand that she has rearranged her room, providing herself with an area to exercise," she continued.
"Indeed," Kline answered. "I returned it to its original state after she fled, but she reorganized it again, once she moved back to the mansion."
"Then I suppose we had best place Mr. Stoppable in the guest wing," Einsam instructed the man. "It's fairly close to the family's wing. I suspect that she's going to be in a great deal of stress as she attempts to run this company, so it will be better if she doesn't have to go very far to work off that stress."
"Yes ma'am," Kline looked slightly dubious.
"Also, I suspect that General Ironwood was somewhat concerned that Jacques may try something. Placing the young man close to the family will give him the opportunity to intervene, should that happen."
"Good thinking, Milady."
"I suppose we had also best see to his wardrobe," she continued. "I suspect that as a refugee, he didn't bring much in the way of clothing with him. While his current apparel is suitable for physical activities, he will have to look a proper gentleman when visitors see him."
"Of course, madam."
"What's on Weiss' schedule next?" She asked.
"It would appear that after an hour, she is scheduled to meet with a couple of company employees," he answered, examining his scroll. "Then she and Mr. Stoppable are to go to the academy for some classes."
"So, she will be using the hour before her meeting to clean up?" Einsam prompted.
"Almost certainly, madam."
"In that case, please send Mr. Stoppable to meet me in the garden," she instructed. "I wish to have a walk about the grounds. If he is to be a guardian of sorts, he may as well accompany me."
"Indeed, madam," Kline nodded. He then paused, "I'll see to it that you are not disturbed."
"Of course you'd know the true reason," Einsam sighed, but smiled. "I wish to speak with this young man without Weiss nearby."
Ron found himself in over his head. He was used to the kind of lecture that he and Weiss had received from the fencing master; the 'you are scum but not quite complete scum' sort of tongue-lashing. He had received it from football coaches dozens of times. It was the part that came afterwards that had him nervous. Einsam Schnee wanted to have a word with him.
Somehow, that lady scared him worse than Shego ever had.
Still, it wouldn't do to keep her waiting, as he was pretty sure that she'd only get more angry if time passed. The butler, Kline, quickly ushered him to a gazebo in the garden.
"Ah, Mr. Stoppable, quite prompt. I approve of that." Her approval didn't translate to a smile.
"It's never polite to keep your hostess waiting," Ron hoped that was the correct thing to say.
"Indeed," she looked him up and down, leaving him wondering if he had said the correct thing or if she was wondering where the whips would best be applied.
"I would like to take a stroll about my garden," she finally informed him. "And I hate to do so, alone. Would you be so kind as to accompany me?"
"Sure..I mean, it would be my honor," he offered her a bow much like Yori's. While her eyebrow quirked up slightly, she seemed more curious than anything else.
Hoping for the best, the stepped forward and offered her his arm, only to back off quickly.
"I have produced three children," she told him, guessing his hesitation. "I can handle a bit of sweat."
This time, she seemed slightly amused.
Ron offered her his hand, helping her to her feet. After this, he offered her his arm and allowed her to set course out of the small building. He got the door for her and accompanied her onto a sidewalk that wound through well-manicured roses and shrubs.
"You aren't used to being a gentleman," she declared, after a few minutes walking. "But you wish to make a good impression."
"I can't argue with that," he admitted.
"I am going to be bluntly honest with you," she told him. "And I wish you to be the same with me."
Ron gulped. A declaration of blunt honesty was rarely a good thing.
"I like you, Mr. Stoppable, and do you know why?"
Ron shook his head.
"I observed you and my daughter running upon the training course. While I couldn't hear what you were saying, I suspect that you were trading insults."
"Mrs. S-S-Schnee," he stammered. "I was...but it was meant to be fun..."
"Do you know what else I saw, Mr. Stoppable?" The matron interrupted him.
Ron shook his head again.
"I saw my daughter smiling," she stopped and turned towards the young man, releasing his arm. "I didn't just see my daughter running a training course, I saw my daughter enjoying herself. She's physically fit and was taking joy in utilizing that capability. When you were sparring against her, I saw her reveling in utilizing the skills she has worked so hard to master. At the conclusion of the match, I saw her enjoying comradeship with a young man she was attempting to skewer, mere moments before."
Ron gulped again, recalling how the match ended.
"I believe I would like to walk some more," she told him. Taking the hint, Ron again offered his arm and allowed her to set the course and pace.
"I have given you blunt honesty, Mr. Stoppable," she continued, once they were in motion again. "And now it's your turn. What is your impression of my daughter?"
Ron would have felt considerably more comfortable if she asked him to low-crawl over broken glass.
"She's incredibly intelligent and well-educated," Ron said, hoping he had latched onto a safe topic.
"Indeed," the sidelong glance that accompanied Einsam's statement told Ron that it wasn't the answer she wanted. "We paid a great deal to have our children tutored by the best available. Tell me more about Weiss."
"She's skillful and dedicated," Ron told her. "And willing to teach. I've come a long way with her help."
"This is also true," the Schnee admitted. "When Jacques and I learned that she wanted to take up weaponry, we hired an excellent master. This master helped her select a proper weapon. We then provided her with both the best such weapon and the best training available." Einsam stopped again and faced Ron directly. "Mr. Stoppable, I'm sure you are aware of what I wish to know. Please stop playing the part of the bashful boy and tell me!"
"Please stick your head into a lion's mouth."
"She's a very pretty girl," Ron admitted. "And while she presents a cold and proper face to the world, she really, really cherishes her friends. I'm...flattered...that she considers me just that."
"Very proper," Einsam commented. "So now, tell me, do you find her attractive?"
"Yes," Ron's voice came out as a squeak.
"Yet you don't seem to be acting like you do," she observed. "Why is this?"
"Mrs. Schnee," Ron found a little backbone to stand up to his hostess. "Do you want me to flirt with your daughter?"
"I haven't decided yet," she told him. "I will base such a decision, as well as how I treat you in the future, on why you aren't."
"There's someone waiting for me back home," he informed her. "We've been friends since we were four years old, and...er...romantically attached for two years." He didn't see the need to tell the older woman just how close he and KP had become.
"Interesting," Einsam's eyebrow rose again. "Have you remained in contact with her?"
"There's no way of letting her know that I'm alive and safe," he admitted. At least, I don't know for sure.
"General Ironwood asked me to not dig too deep into your past," she told the young man. "I note that you look somewhat different from anyone I've met. Does that have anything to do with your inability to contact your...shall we call her your companion?"
"Companion will be fine," Ron assured her. "And yes, my eyes are small and my nose and mouth are large compared to most on Remn...er...Atlas. Yes, this has a great deal to do with why I can't contact Kim."
"So you treat my daughter as a respected friend and colleague," Einsam prompted him.
"Yes," Ron confirmed.
The Schnee matron considered this for some time before taking Ron's arm and walking some more.
"Mr. Stoppable," she finally asked. "What if Weiss shows romantic interest towards you?"
"I can't do anything about it," Ron told her. "It wouldn't be fair to her or to KP."
"So you intend to return to your home?"
"If I can," Ron told her. "My parents are there, my little sister, Rufus and KP."
"The names mean little to me," Einsam told him. "Although I understand your sentiment. Now, I would like to discuss something that I never managed to give my daughter."
"Of course," Ron tried to be polite.
"You've seen our wealth," she used her free hand to gesture about the estate. "And I assure you that we didn't horde it when we provided for our children. Our daughters received the best education available...and Whitley continues to do so. Both Winter and Weiss received extensive fencing instruction. Weiss received instruction from fine vocal tutors while Winter received the finest ballet instruction. They were going to be the best at what they did."
Ron couldn't come up with something to say in return.
"But we failed," she admitted. "The one thing that we didn't give them was friends." She shook her head, bitterly. "Why would they need friends? They had us, they had tutors and instructors! We took them with us to social events, letting everyone see the wonderful children that we had produced. Why would the children need other children?"
Still Ron couldn't think of anything to say.
"It was control," Einsam finally admitted. "We carefully exposed them to other young people from families we wanted our children to associate with. We wanted to make sure that our children would form bonds with those we deemed proper."
Ron suddenly realized that Einsam liked him. Was it possible that she considered him 'proper'?
"In the end, none of my three children managed to form strong bonds with others," she sighed. "Winter rebelled, leaving the path we had laid out for her by first attending Atlas Academy and then joining the Atlesian Military. She's doing well, climbing at an impressive rate. We should have supported her decision. How many families would hold her up as a shining example to her younger siblings? We ostracized her, for daring to follow her own talents and ambitions."
"Are you proud of her?" Ron asked.
"Of course," Einsam told him.
"Have you told her?"
"Ah, a cruel question," Einsam replied. "No. She's out of the kingdom, I believe she's some sort of attache in Mistral. Inter-continental communications are down, so I've sent a scroll message to her, both telling her how proud I am and asking her to visit when she can. As the CCT system is down, I do not believe that she has received this message, so I haven't told her, face-to-face."
For the next few minutes, they walked in silence.
"Weiss rebelled even more," she finally said. "She left Atlas to attend Beacon Academy and there, she found what we never provided her."
"Friendship," Ron surmised. "Mrs. Schnee, I don't know if this is impolite, but I'm going to come out and ask. Has your aura been activated?"
"No," she shook her head. "And it isn't impolite."
"Weiss activated mine," Ron told her. "When that happened, I got a glimpse into her soul, like she did with me. The biggest impression I got was that she was lonely and missed the friends that she had made."
"That is a regret that I have," Einsam admitted. "She didn't text often after she went to Beacon, but those messages she sent were about her team and an allied team. I will admit that I spent a great deal of that time in a drunken haze, but upon reading them now it is clear to me that she cherished her friends. Then came a tragic day when Beacon fell, and Jacques, the fool, ran and fetched her back to us."
"Foolish?" Ron asked.
"Oh, he made a good argument," Einsam sighed. "A logical argument. It clearly isn't safe in Vale, what kind of parents would we be if we left our daughter and heiress in such a place." She shook her head. "She needed to be with her teammates, to comfort them and receive comfort. Instead, I agreed that she should come back here, even if it meant that she lost track of them."
Again, they walked in silence for a few minutes. The winding path directed them back towards the gazebo.
"You are both her teammate and her friend," Einsam declared. "And I've seen that she's very happy when she's dueling against you."
Ron suddenly froze.
"Is there something wrong, Mr. Stoppable?" She asked.
"No," he shook his head. "Just thinking about how you want her to be happy. I've heard that line before."
"Of course I want her to be happy," she informed him, her words curt and clipped. "Mr. Stoppable, you know that she's had very few friends in her life and even fewer young men as close companions. For all that she's very intelligent and very driven in her goals, it will be very easy for her to blur the line between a friend who is a boy and a boyfriend."
"Mrs. Schnee, I'll never..."
"Mr. Stoppable," she interrupted him. "A proper gentleman never interrupts a lady. Now, I suspect that you were about to assure me that you will never let your relationship with my daughter cross the line between friendship and romance. That isn't the assurance I demand. I want you to promise me that you'll never take advantage of her isolation and inexperience in such matters."
"I don't think I understand the issue," Ron confessed. "If I won't let things cross that line, how can I take advantage..."
"Young man." The matron stopped and turned towards him again. "You are in a position where you can inadvertently cause her more emotional distress than a dozen lawyers, fellow council members or professors could, intentionally. That gives you a certain power over her, the ability to manipulate her into providing you with financial, social or even physical concessions. That is what I want you to promise me you won't do and that is what I will be watching you like a hawk to make sure you don't do."
"I promise," Ron had no hesitation. "I won't manipulate her that way."
He then emitted a bitter chuckle.
"What is it that you find so darkly humorous?" Einsam demanded of him.
"This whole sitch...er, situation," Ron shook his head. "You're telling me that I can manipulate a very intelligent, capable and pretty girl, one who could pretty much have her choice of...hot...young men. Almost all my life, I've been the loser, the sidekick, the one who nobody ever remembered."
"Your sort can be the worst or the best," Einsam told him. "When you remember your past, you can either pledge yourself to never treat anyone the way you were, or you can look for revenge. Which sort will you prove to be?"
"The sort who doesn't want to see anyone treated like I was," Ron assured her.
"Good, remember this conviction when you have the opportunity to harm her. Now, be a good boy and see me to the gazebo, then have Kline show you to your rooms. There was a reason I spoke to you while walking outside; you desperately need a shower before spending any sort of time with anyone in a closed environment."
"So, Mr. Stoppable, do you find your quarters suitable?" Einsam Schnee, seated at the head of the dinner table, addressed her guest. To her right, Weiss looked her companion, who was sitting next to her. Across the table, Whitley observed the interactions, a haughty smile upon his face.
"The quarters are almost as large as the house I grew up in," Ron answered.
"Ah," Whitley chimed in. "I'm afraid my dear mother had no knowledge of your previous social standing. Would you be more comfortable in one of the servants' quarters?"
"I can be comfortable pretty much anywhere," Ron shrugged, managing to keep both his hostess and Weiss from snapping and the younger Schnee.
"Adaptability," Whitley mused. "I suppose that one who faces hardship regularly must develop such a trait."
"And a useful trait it is," Einsam added, a strange expression on her face as she looked at her son.
"Does it extend to your wardrobe?" Whitley asked the guest. "I'm certain that you are more accustomed to...shall we say rough attire."
Ron was wearing something similar to Whitley's normal clothing. While it wasn't superbly tailored, as the boy's was, he had been informed that a tailor was going to meet him tomorrow. Ron suspected that he was going to be looking even more than presentable in the near future.
"Clothes are for what you are doing," Ron shrugged again. "Rough works for fighting the bad guys. What your mother provided works for having dinner with two lovely ladies."
"Well said, Mr. Stoppable," Einsam preempted Whitley from responding. "Did you find the meal acceptable?"
"It was delicious," Ron told her.
"Indeed," Whitley observed. "You had three servings."
"And your sister had two," Einsam pointed out. "The two of them are very active, they need good food to maintain themselves."
"I'm afraid I may become a pest to your chef," Ron took a chance, hoping he could make some polite conversation. "I will probably have to ask for some suggestions and pointers."
"Oh, you cook?" Einsam asked him.
"I'm not on the level of your chef," Ron admitted. "But I can hold my own in a kitchen."
"Don't sell yourself short," Weiss insisted. "You do very well in that regard."
"Oh?" Whitley asked. "Our guest has cooked for you in the past, dear sister?"
"You won't always have five-star chefs, with proper facilities, to prepare your meals," Weiss answered. "Being able to prepare something you don't struggle to put down can be a necessary skill."
"But why wouldn't I have such amenities?" Whitley asked. "I confess to being confused why you insist on pursuing the huntress' lifestyle when you can do so much more, for so many more people, by directing the actions of our company."
"It's honor," Weiss practically growled, while Ron did his best to become invisible...without actually becoming invisible. "I want to share in the hardships and sacrifices, so that all of Atlas knows that Schnees are prepared to stand between the innocent and the aggressor."
"But is that effective, dear sister?" Whitley persisted. "While I understand that you are most formidable, are you more formidable on the battlefield than you are in the boardroom? Instead of one, skilled woman with a rapier, you could have provided weapons and ammunition for numerous soldiers. Is that a proper trade for the people of Atlas? One huntress instead of a battalion of armed soldiers?"
"Very few people can do what I can with the rapier," Weiss snapped back. "While there are dozens who could direct the Schnee Dust Company."
"Are there?" He asked. "While I'll admit that the profits are nowhere near as impressive on your watch as they were when father was running things, you have started to bring a certain reputation back to the company. Will just anyone be able to do so?"
"Are you trying to make a point, Whitley?" Weiss demanded.
"Only if you wish me to do so, dear sister."
"Fine, make it."
"Very well," the boy steepled his hands in front of him. "While father invested a significant amount of money into your martial education, he invested even more in your business education. Like it or not, despite the fact that you are only eighteen years old, you are better prepared to operate the company than are most people twice your age." He offered a smirk. "Case in point, you were most effective in evicting father from his position. I wonder if he now considers the money and effort he invested on your education to be well spent?"
Ron noticed Weiss' hand clench on her fork to the point her pale hand became more so.
"The point I seek to make, dear sister," Whitley continued. "Is to ask if you are being noble or selfish by pursuing your goal of becoming a huntress. You have a head for business and a strong Schnee Dust Company is capable of equipping numerous defenders with proper weaponry and generating vast tax revenues for Atlas. Can you really contribute more by waving your rapier at the enemy?"
"That is a choice that Weiss shall have to make," Einsam informed her son. "For now, she is being a caretaker, maintaining our livelihood while restoring our reputation. I have a question for you, Whitley. Upon reaching eighteen, do you wish to become the CEO and heir of this company?"
Ron noted that Weiss' jaw clenched.
"Of course, mother," Whitley assured the matron. "I have made no secret that I believe it is the best place for me."
"In which case, it is well past the time where I invested more in your education," Einsam informed him. "Starting next week, in addition to your usual studies, you will serve a series of apprenticeships. You will start at a mine. After you have learned about mining, you will move on to a refining center. After that, you will go to a manufacturing plant. By the time you are eighteen, you will have experienced most of the jobs within the Schnee dust company, so you will appreciate them all the more."
"Mother!" He gasped. "This was the point I was trying to make to my dear sister! The time and effort father has already invested into my business education hardly makes it wise to force me to perform manual labor."
"The manual labor will expand your understanding," Einsam countered. "You will have a greater understanding of the effort that goes into what we produce." Seeing that her son wasn't convinced, she continued. "Most importantly for you, you will never become the heir or the CEO unless you go through with this. Should you successfully complete your apprenticeships, I will judge which of my children is most capable of running this company. Should you not do so, you will receive your share of your inheritance, and absolutely no voice in running the company."
"In that case, may I be excused?" He asked. "I...shall have to make sure that my studies are in order if I am to set my books aside and take up other implements."
Einsam gave him a curt nod.
"Sister, Mr. Stoppable," he offered curt nods to the two before turning and striding out of the dining room.
"May I also be excused, mother?" Weiss's voice was coldly formal, but Ron could detect the tension in it.
"I was hoping we could speak about what just transpired here," Einsam told her daughter.
"Perhaps tomorrow would be better," Weiss answered. "I suspect that I won't be capable of pleasant conversation at this moment."
"As you wish, dear," Einsam nodded, somewhat sadly. When Weiss rose and turned to leave, the matron rose to her feet and addressed her. "I have already had one child leave here without a proper farewell for his mother. Will you do the same?"
"Of course not," Weiss murmured, before approaching her mother and offering a short embrace. The younger Schnee quickly exited the dining room, leaving Ron very uncomfortably alone with family matron.
"Er...Mrs. Schnee," he addressed her, nervously. "If I understand my situation here, I'm supposed to be sort of Weiss' sounding board so she doesn't damage something that...isn't as easy to repair."
Einsam's expression was unreadable for the boy.
"Maybe it would be better if I were to speak to her," he continued, his voice trembling a little. "If nothing else, she might want to spar with me just a little...instead of hitting something breakable."
"Perhaps that is wise," Einsam nodded. A slight smile found its way to her face. "Fear not, Mr. Stoppable, I will not request a hug from you before you leave. Simply wishing me a good evening will suffice for proper manners."
"Then that's what I wish you," he offered a slight nod, which his hostess returned, before he exited.
Once Ron left, Einsam Schnee sat back down and wiped a tear from her eye. She sat at the head of the table for a long time, contemplating the empty chairs around it.
Ron was more than a little nervous as he approached Weiss' door. He had never been all that good at consoling an upset girl. Okay, Kim vented to him all the time but they had been together so long that it was a natural thing. Approaching someone who was upset, in order to make her less upset, wasn't something that he was very good at. Fortunately, he had one piece of information that he thought she'd want to hear.
He hesitated before knocking. He had never seen her room, but judging by the size of his guest room, hers could well be a couple of acres in size. Should he just tap at the door? If he did, she could well be unable to hear it. He wouldn't know if she was ignoring him or simply couldn't hear. Should he pound on the door? If he did, she might think someone very angry was demanding attention, and the rest of the household could very well hear him, as well. Sighing in frustration, he tried for middle ground, the sort of knock you knocked on someone's front door.
"I don't feel like talking to anyone right now," Weiss' muffled voice sounded through the door. "We can speak tomorrow."
"What about going over a scroll message from..." Ron suddenly realized that others might be able to overhear him. "A small, common friend?"
For a few moments, Ron was convinced that Weiss either didn't hear him or was simply ignoring him. He was about to leave for his own room when her door flew open, her hand grabbed him by the front of his jacket and she yanked him inside. He stumbled deeper into her room while she closed the door, his eyes flying wide at the size and the furnishings.
"Wow!" He gasped. "This room is huge! Who ever heard of having a couch in their bedroom?"
"Forget the couch!" She told him. "What have you found out?"
"And a depressed sitting area?" His mouth hung open as he looked over the room. "Most living rooms I've been in don't have that!"
Realizing that words weren't going to be enough, she grabbed his collar and dragged him to her desk.
"Pull out the scroll," she demanded. "What have you found out?"
"Okay," he had to shake his head to refocus his attention. "I'll give you the scroll but do you want some quick answers?"
"Yes!" She forcibly seated him at her desk, then pulled up another chair. By the time she was seated, he had the scroll out and was fumbling for the proper file.
"Okay," he started a file. "The first thing I found out is that your sister has been assigned as a military liaison officer to Mistral. You can see and hear General Ironwood dictating a message to her...here."
For a few minutes, Weiss listened to the general speaking. While the view of his desktop screen wasn't very good, she was able to determine that after dictating a message to 'Captain Schnee', he activated some sort of petition to send it.
"How is he getting the messages to her?" Weiss mused. "With the CCT system down, they're going to have to go via carrier."
"I've been listening in for a couple of days," Ron admitted. "So I have plenty of files. I think he's using some sort of ham radio to communicate with her."
"Ham radio?" Weiss knew that Ron was very food oriented, but this?
"We also called it shortwave radio back at home," he told her. "My friend, Felix, had one. It's low frequency radio, that bounces off of some points in the atmosphere. I think that General Ironwood uses his desktop scroll to dictate and code messages, then it transmits automatically."
She just looked at him with a level gaze.
"You're free to look over all my files," he protested. "If you don't believe me..."
"Okay, I'll take your word for it," she told him. "I'm just glad that Winter is safe."
"I...uh...wouldn't say that," Ron admitted.
"What?" She demanded.
"Something I shouldn't have said," he told her. "Please don't make me say..."
"Ron, this is my sister we're talking about!" She pleaded. "If she's in any danger, I want to know!"
Ron tried to keep his resolve and not talk about the assault rifles and nuclear weapons. He understood the need to avoid panic, to let only those who were hunting for the weapons know how dangerous they were. Then, he looked into her huge eyes and quivering lower lip and that resolve melted away. He grumbled something about the puppy dog pout crossing realities to vex him and explained the nuclear weapons and the assault rifles.
"Okay, you have a lot more questions to answer," she told him.
Ron flinched.
"But first, where are these 'horror-bombs' that you told me about?"
"General Ironwood doesn't seem to know, exactly," he told her. "You know Ruby, Jaune, Nora and Ren, right?"
She nodded.
"Okay, it seems that Winter had them follow some guy named Torchwick, who had the weapons with him."
"Roman Torchwick?" Weiss demanded. At Ron's nod, she protested, "he was killed at the Battle of Beacon!"
"Apparently not," he answered. "He has one of the nukes stashed in Mistral, somewhere, and took the rifles and the other two nukes out of the kingdom. Team RNJR trailed Torchwick into the swamps, where the rifles were taken south by boat. The team followed the two nukes north, to a port town on the inland lake. They last reported in two weeks ago, saying that they were going to take a ship to follow the one the nukes were on and they wouldn't be able to report in without raising suspicions. I understand that, since the antenna has to be a specific length and you probably can't extend it on a ship without looking very suspicious."
"So Ruby and her friends are chasing after a very tough, very ruthless man who has weapons that you say can level a city in the blink of an eye?" Weiss asked.
"Well, yeah."
"Okay, what's Winter doing?"
She's been assigned to the south of Mistral, apparently to the City of Kuchinashi. It seems that bandit and White Fang activity has been increasing and the folks and Mistral want her to help deal with it. She wasn't able to take her radio set with her, so Ironwood is monitoring for Team RNJR broadcasts."
"Wait a minute, didn't you say that the assault rifles went south from...what was the town's name?" Weiss activated her desktop scroll and called up a search engine.
"Yeah, the name of the first town they visited, where the nukes and the rifles separated, was Sig Su."
"It doesn't show on my map," Weiss reported.
"Okay, they traveled north and the nukes went to the town of...Bataklik Sehri."
"That's on my map," Weiss pointed to a point on the map her scroll projected into the air. "If Sig Su is thirty or so kilometers south of Bataklik Sehri, that puts it...about here. If the rifles were sent thirty-five kilometers south of there, their destination is about here." Weiss put a spot on the projection, then stared at the map.
"There are no towns shown there," she frowned a bit. "Of course, smaller towns can spring up and be overrun without being recognized by the kingdoms, but what else could be there?" She manipulated controls on her desktop scroll. "Known dust deposits...nothing nearby. Other mines...no. Factories, nothing in the area. Established trade routes...hello!"
The two looked at the map. A major trade route swung south of the inland lake, just outside of the swamps, and passed very close to Weiss' hypothetical delivery point for the rifles.
"On that route, you can go straight east, to Kuchinashi," she noted.
"So do you think someone might be trying to get the rifles to the city?" Ron asked.
"It's a possibility," she frowned again. "Of course, they could be getting sent farther to the west, or even to a crossroads and go south. Anyway, what about Team RNJR?"
"From Bataklik Sehri, they traveled north to the town of Kurbaga," Ron reported, reviewing the files.
"That's here on the map," Weiss told him.
"Then they went further north, to the town of Camur Duvari," Ron reported.
"Not shown," Weiss shrugged.
"Then further north, to a place called Derin Su."
"Okay, that one is shown," she told him.
"Their last report said that they were taking a ship, following one that took the nukes," he told her. "According to them, crewmen on the ship carrying the nukes said that they were going to Gozadasi."
"That's the name of both the large island in the west of the inland lake," Weiss reported, after searching on her desktop. "As well as the largest town on the island."
"But why take nukes there?" Ron wondered out loud. "If I wanted to take out kingdoms, I wouldn't set off nukes on an isolated island."
After frowning for a moment, Weiss manipulated her controls again.
"Here are the known ports where ships travel between Gozadasi and other points on the inland lake," she reported. Suddenly her eyes went wide. "Look here, on the northwest inlet! There's a port that trades with Gozadasi and has trade route going over land to another port town on the sea!"
"I'm not seeing the connection," Ron admitted.
"If these nukes are city killers, and there's already one in Mistral City, Torchwick is going to want to put the others in other kingdoms!" She explained. She manipulated her controls again. "That seaport has regular trade with both Vale and Atlas! If Torchwick is tied in with smugglers, he could get the bombs here, Vale and even to Vacuo."
"He could take out three cities, all at once," Ron suddenly understood.
The two sat there for several minutes, wondering if their deductions had anything in common with reality.
"Torchwick is bad news, all by himself," Weiss told her friend. "I think he could handle any member of Team RNJR, one-on-one. He could probably give any two a tough fight. If he has that small girl...Neo...with him, they could give all of Team RNJR a hard time. If Mercury or Emerald are with them, RNJR could be in big trouble."
Ron put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but suddenly tensed up. He suddenly realized that while sitting at the desk, they had squeezed close together. Her petite, athletic body seemed so familiar, so right pressed up against his side that he had almost forgot that he wasn't with...
"So, what can we do about it?" He asked her, removing his hand.
"We need to increase the surveillance on Ironwood's office," she said, after thinking a short time. "Not just the times that he's there. Let's see if we can keep track of his desktop screen at all times. Assuming he leaves it active when he's not around."
"I can do that," Ron told her. "But it's going to take more scrolls and more peanuts."
She just looked at him.
"Okay," he knew a wordless demand for an explanation when he saw it. "Pelz might have overheard me talking about subcontracting and multilevel marketing."
The flat stare continued.
"We talked it over, in case we decided to expand the surveillance network," he admitted. "Pelz talked to some of her family, and she's willing to bring them in on the operation, for a cut of their peanuts for doing the work."
Weiss' gaze never faltered.
"The original scroll you guys got me," he told her. "I disabled its connection to the web. That way, it can't be tracked and Pelz can't be found out. It's really just a recording device that can transfer files via the back-to-back thing. If we can get three more scrolls, and a bunch more peanuts, Pelz will get three of her siblings to take shifts in Ironwood's office. They'll maintain constant watch and return to Pelz to transfer the files to her scroll. Once a day, Pelz will come here and transfer the files to my scroll."
"How is Pelz going to get into the mansion?" Weiss finally spoke, looking highly offended.
"Uh, she already knows how," Ron admitted.
Weiss glare was back in place.
"Her brother kind of lives here already and she pays him a bribe in peanuts to let her come in."
"A bribe?" Weiss asked.
"I guess familial bonds aren't that cordial among rats," Ron shrugged.
"I don't know if I should be impressed or disturbed by all of this," she shook her head. "I can get the scrolls and the peanuts. The scrolls will be a one-time purchase, but how will I explain the constant legume purchases?"
"We could always say that I have a manganese deficiency," Ron suggested. "After all, I'm a refugee, so none of my medical records are available."
"I'll consider it," she admitted. "It's getting late, if we're going to get enough sleep before our morning workout." She got to her feet and saw him to her door. Once the portal was open, she looked to make sure that nobody was watching before tugging him down slightly, standing on her toes and giving him a peck on the cheek. "Thanks for helping me with this."
"Um...yeah...don't mention it," he stammered, turning red as he stumbled off to his room.
Weiss closed the door then leaned against it. Why had she done it? Sure, it felt...nice...to kiss him like that, but a hug or a handshake would have expressed her gratitude just as well. Deciding that she had to get better control on herself, she returned to the desk and studied Anima a little more. Yet, her room seemed somehow cold without another body sitting right next to hers. Finally giving up, she got ready for bed, looking forward to some intense activity before breakfast to improve her mood.
Once in his quarters, Ron touched the spot on his cheek where she had kissed him. Why did it affect him so much. Okay, waaayyy back when Tara gave him a peck on the cheek at Wannaweep, it had pretty much shorted out his brain functions. That was to be expected, it was the first time a girl had ever kissed him. Even the couple of pecks that Yori had given him hadn't had the effect that Weiss' had. Maybe it was because he missed Kim so bad. After all, she had a similar petite, yet muscular build, to Weiss. That had to be it, he missed Kim and sitting with Weiss had stirred up his feelings.
Now, if he could only convince himself.
Sighing, he noted that it was close to the time he tried to communicate at night. Maybe a little mystical exercise would get his mind off of his yearnings for the female form. Pulling off the overly formal attire, he pulled on a set of pajamas and sat, lotus style, on the floor. It took him longer than usual to clear his mind, as a set of green eyes, that had a disturbing habit of changing to pale blue, kept appearing in his imagination. Finally, he mastered himself enough to send his call to the Lotus Blade.
As always, while the connection was insubstantial, it was a mote more solid than it had been the last time...which was just a bit more solid that the time before that. With contact established, he concentrated on changing its form.
On a mountaintop, which was somehow both close to and infinitely far from where Ron Stoppable concentrated, a young woman watched an ancient blade. Last night, a caretaker claimed to have seen the blade change its shape several times; with none of the alternate forms being a weapon. Upon hearing this, Yori had sat vigil over the mystic weapon, hoping for a sign from her old friend. Deep in the dark hours of the night, she got her wish.
At first, she only stared at the odd shapes. While she understood the significance of the symbols the previous observer, who did not have the immersion in the English Language and Western Culture that she did, could not have grasped the meaning. Smiling, the ninja pulled a smart phone from her pocket and recorded the blade's alterations. After more than half an hour, it returned to its standard shape and remained ceased changing.
Yori's smile broadened as she hurried to her quarters. While she would have good news to give to Master Sensei when the old man awoke in the morning, she had a more pressing matter to attend to, yet tonight. Once in her room, she called up a site she had last accessed over a year prior, when the Yono threatened the school. She sent her message, using a name and password that a short, overweight genius had given her. Almost immediately, Wade Lode's shocked face appeared on her screen.
It was Yori's supreme honor to tell him the good news and note that he was already making arrangements for Kim Possible to visit Yamanouchi again.
A/N: Thanks for reading, and thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for his patient beta services.