Chapter 9: Explaining Things.

What is the price of redemption? The trust you're going to lose if you fail to deliver. If there was any in the first place, that is.

The four kingdoms of Remnant are ruled by the council of five, elected by the populace every six years who are sworn to act in the interest of the people and people only. So far, it worked, and the four kingdoms managed to coexist in peace and even relative harmony, barring, of course, the fact that all twenty councilors are human, but that is a story in itself, one that will have to wait for the time being. As it stands, the idea of a ruling council is relatively new, and a mere century ago Vale, Atlas, Mistral and Vacuo were ruled by a king or a queen, passing their throne down to younger generations. Understandable, as ruling a country requires information. If it is its citizens that rule the country, then it is their duty to be informed about what leading a kingdom actually entails. By that point, it was simply impossible, as there were no means of spreading information efficiently enough that everyone could adequately bear this responsibility. Even the intercontinental communication system is only seventy years old. So, how come that Remnant abandoned the doctrine of giving the power to one person and instead gave it to… slightly more persons?

Eighty years ago, the world of Remnant was shaken by the bloodiest conflict in its recorded history: the Great War. To give things some perspective, the war had taken ten percent of Remnant's population as a tribute, an absolutely staggering amount. But how come so much blood had to be spilled?

The answer would be a revolution. A little less than a century ago Atlas' monarch had been overthrown as a result of a violent uprising, and the leader of the revolt had usurped the throne. Records of him have been erased from history books or any other media and are kept only in the most secure archives so that no one may get an inspiration from him. What is known, however, is the name: Sirius Silva. By the time word had spread to other kingdoms, the new monarch had already been gearing up for war, as he knew such audacity would not be tolerated. So, the remaining kingdoms of Remnant united under one banner to rid the world of the usurper and restore the rightful heir to the throne. Even the Church of Light had gone as far as to declare a crusade against the Silvas, rallying ever more troops to the battlefields.

One would ask: how could such a massive imbalance in power ever turn out so bloody? How could one kingdom defend so successfully against the combined might of the other three that time would remember that as the bloodiest page in Remnant's history? Unfortunately, the usurper had picked just the right kingdom to stir unrest in; even then, Atlas was the most technologically advanced kingdom of the four, their weapons were cutting edge technology, however little that meant, and their supply lines were set in stone. Their geographical disposition also helped. By the time the union of three managed to gather their forces into something acceptable, Atlesian military had already incorporated the new technology brought to them by the Silvas: weapon shift. The science and logistics behind making a weapon more than a simple weapon have granted them an unparalleled advantage against simple arms, and they were much more efficient to mass-produce than enchanting weapons with Dust as it was done before in rare cases. For a time, it seemed that Atlas was going to win the conflict simply due to the edge they had over the rest of their opponents.

In time, however, the high command was forced to come to terms with a simple truth: weapons do not win wars. People do. Had the war lasted any longer, there would be nobody to hold their fancy rifles or wield the swords they forged. Eventually, Atlas was taken. The Union won. And Silva? Neither him nor his body was found. Only an empty throne.

As the three kings looked upon the fruit of their war, a chilling realization set in: all of this happened simply because one man had taken a chair from another one. What is the point of granting power to a single man if all it took to turn a kingdom upside down was to get rid of the man? For the next ten years, the three labored to ensure that it would be impossible to usurp power by removing the one in charge, which would mean that said power had to be split between multiple people. Their last gift to Remnant was the construction of intercontinental communication system, after which they resigned their power and… vanished into the void. History does not know what became of them. History does not even remember their names. They probably would not mind. Who would want to be known for being at the front of the greatest massacre in Remnant's history? Only an utter madman.

And sure enough, not much time had passed until one such madman appeared, not only disrespecting the oath sworn at the end of the War, but claiming to be a descendant of the Silva line. It is unknown whether he truly was the heir to the Silvas' wretched dynasty, or whether it was just a lunatic claiming the name for whatever twisted reasons. It had been forty years since the events of the War; the wounds were still aching, but not bleeding. Furthermore, the Silvas came bearing gifts, as they tended to do, even if their gifts usually resulted in spilled blood. This time, they brought Remnant technology so advanced it allowed steel to be grafted into flesh, as well as having further improved upon their designs of weapon shift, making weaponcrafting into an art even greater than it once was. They claimed to have come in peace, having realized the horrid consequences of their pride, even if they retained it in full, disregarding the oath and outright refusing to conform to it. However, considering that the new weapons managed to almost halve mortality rates among the ranks of Huntsmen and military, it was decided to leave them alone for the time being, as Remnant still yearned for the peace it once had. It did not last long.

Approximately twenty years ago another war shook Remnant, less bloody than the Great War, but no less paramount in deciding the fate of this world. Fed up with everyday oppression, exploitation by major enterprises like the Schnee Dust Company or Silva Armaments and recent attempts of humans to confine them to a single island, the Faunus decided to take their fate in their hands, for once, resulting in the events of the Faunus Rights Revolution and the subsequent Faunus War taking place. Unsurprisingly, one of the major reasons it came to such a boiling point is that any attempts to protest their current standing were violently put down by hired security forces, oftentimes offered by Silva Armaments. Through nothing less than divine intervention and baffling incompetence of some human commanders, the Faunus managed to win the war and six years later the White Fang was formed, its purpose to serve as a symbol of peace between humans and Faunus. Through diplomacy, this new organization had to wrestle the rights of the Faunus out of the hands of both society and business. Some, like the Schnee Dust Company, accepted the new doctrine officially while changing nothing in the inner workings of their production. The Silvas, predictably, chose conflict, trying their hardest to undo the White Fang, going as far as to declare them nothing more than Faunus supremacists masking as peaceful protesters in their public campaigns, all while continuing to sabotage their efforts, dispersing protests and demonstrations with violence and offering similar services to other companies who had a "Faunus problem."

And so it went for some time: Silva Armaments and the White Fang were going at each other's throats, common folk tried to stay out of their way, Faunus hated them, Hunters were buying their weapons and components in bulk. Social politics are one thing. Protecting this world from Grimm is another one entirely.

At some point, the tensions must have crossed a point of no return as the White Fang raided the Silva residence in Atlas seven years ago, torching it and wiping out the inhabitants, something no one expected despite the media hysteria fueled by the Silvas' rhetoric. Results included a fire that consumed half a district before being extinguished, burned and mutilated corpses of the Silva family, thirty more people dead from the fire, twenty five dead members of the White Fang and the White Fang's ruined reputation. For about two more years, its leader was doing his hardest to restore the organization's good name; however, all was in vain as more and more acts of violence originated from them. So, he stepped down, replaced by a new leader that embraced this new way of negotiating. In the end, the Silvas were right. The White Fang did turn to violence eventually.

In the dead silence of the amphitheater, the clanking of Darius' steel boots was the only sound breaking the quiet as he entered the stage, almost smoking from all the eyes focused on him. Blake, meanwhile, found herself torn between several conflicting feelings. Part of her wanted to just unsheathe the Gambol Shroud and kill him before he could ruin more lives, no matter the consequences. The unreasonable part, that is. Another one immediately began to panic as she came to the realization that not only would she have to deal with a Schnee on her team, but also a Silva in general. What have I gotten myself into? Finally, there was also a hint of disappointment, barely noticeable underneath the former two. And to think of it, I almost thought of him as a nice guy. She looked at him again and could not help but mentally applaud his composure: even though he still reeked of panic and adrenaline, on the outside he appeared completely calm, looking back at those who gazed at him in contempt with tranquility. Ozpin, seemingly the only one unfazed by Darius' name, continued his speech:

"You have retrieved the black queen piece, albeit without a partner. Although there were no others to succeed in the initiation to be put in a team with you, you have completed the objectives and have therefore passed. As such, I will leave it up to you with whom to fight, if the team agrees to accept you."

She saw Darius lower his head in contemplation. A second later, he spoke, his voice still hoarse from the last battle:

"I… would be honored to fight alongside team RWBY. That is, if the girls would have me."

What have I done to deserve such punishment?

During his speech, Darius' gaze was wandering, searching for one soul that did not wish to murder him at the moment, incidentally locking eyes with Blake. To her great surprise, they did not look like they belonged to someone with this name. He looks… strangely human.

Did you expect red glint and vertical pupils?

"Does Team RWBY have any objections?"

On pure reflexes, Blake took a step forward and said:

"Yes, we do!"

"No, we don't!" She snapped her head to the right to see Weiss looking at her with a murderer's gaze. Of course she would jump at that opportunity.

"How about we defer to our captain?" Yang decided to chime in, obviously setting up her sister, who looked none too happy with having to make decisions minutes after being declared the team leader.

"E-e-e-ehm… Well, he seemed pretty nice. Maybe he's not as bad as the others were?.." Ruby stuttered, ever the idealist. Great.

"Very well," Ozpin continued. "I hereby conclude the initiation and welcome the new Hunters."

As the auditorium began applauding again, welcoming the new blood, Blake could hear the headmaster quietly mutter before his words drowned in the clapping:

"It looks like things are shaping up to be an… interesting year."

He's enjoying this.

As the five exited the building, the last ones in the crowd of students, Darius felt he could take out his scythes and just start cutting away at the tension hanging in the air. He could see the four girls glancing at him every now and then, attempting to do so unnoticed, but failing miserably. Alright, this here situation needs resolution right about now. Thus, he slowed his step until he came to a halt, seeing the girls in front of him do the same, still avoiding to look at him directly. With a sigh, Darius spoke:

"Alright. I think there are… things we should discuss before proceeding."

"That is an understatement," turning around in an instant, Blake raised her hand behind her back and took out the Gambol Shroud, gesturing at him with the cleaver. "Every time a Silva shows their head, lives are ruined. Why can't you just stay dead?!" she said with a voice full of anger, just barely on the verge of leaping at him and cutting his head off.

It really feels like a rerun of the last time.

"I suppose I should've expected this kind of welcome. Still stings, you know," he replied, lowering his arms to his waist, preparing to jump to arms as well. Seeing this, the girl in front of him took a couple of quick strides towards him with the weapon on the ready in an attempt to prop him against the wall. Blake raised the blade to throat level, expecting him to back off… but instead merely stumbled forward as the boy vanished from where he was standing, only to materialize several steps to the side, having engulfed his hand in familiar black smoke. Grabbing his head with his free hand, Darius desperately tried to negotiate peace:

"Please, Blake! We don't have to fight right away!"

"How about the both of you just chill out for a second?!" accompanied by the clanking of metal, Yang stepped in between the two fighters, holding both of them at gunpoint. Her two companions hurried to support, with Ruby taking aim at Darius while Weiss raised her rapier in Blake's direction. Not expecting the situation to escalate like that, the boy had to shut his eyes for a second to resist the rising urge to take out his weapons as well. They are not your enemies. If anyone is, it's you.

"Everyone chill?" Yang waited until both parties nodded in acknowledgement, then lowered her gauntlets. "Good. Darius, this is the kind of thing your friends should learn from you, not from the headmaster when he's assigning teams. Friendship 101, you know." Blake tried to object to such a casual approach, but was quickly shushed by her partner. Darius responded with a sarcastic grin:

"Good to know we're friends already. Although I'm pretty sure we would not be such if I told you this from the beginning. If anything, I'd get the exact same situation, only with you, Ruby, Weiss and the entirety of Team JNPR pitted against me, in addition to Blake, that is. I'm not sure I would survive this kind of an encounter."

"Fair."

"Do you all actually think he's a Silva?!" Weiss joined conversation, staring at Darius in disbelief. "You were supposed to be killed seven years ago! Why should we trust you?"

"We shouldn't." Blake was still steaming, but lowered the cleaver.

"Are you implying that someone would want to just claim the name for themselves?" the accused started laughing, but stopped after being stared down by four pairs of eyes. "Well, I suppose it happened once already. Fine. Could I have your weapon for a second, Weiss?"

"What?" the girl in question stared at Darius incredulously. "Why'd you need my weapon?"

"I need it to prove that I'm actually a Silva," he said, actively gesturing. "That requires me to take your weapon and tinker with it for a second, since you don't believe me. Now please: can I have the rapier?"

"If you break anything there, I'll…"

"I won't. Trust me on that."

With a chuckle, he carefully took the sword passed to him by Weiss, running his hand along the length of the blade. I guess I now know who it was made for. He drew a deep breath and began talking.

"As you probably know, my family and Weiss' were not great friends, even if we were similar in occupation: the Schnees mined and purified Dust, the Silvas made weapons that incorporated it in their designs and more. Now unfortunately, the fact that we created weapon shift is mainly what distanced us from the Schnees: our weapons were way cheaper than enchanted weapons that SDC used to manufacture and sell while being very similar in functionality. Essentially, that meant we were eating away at their market, and you know how capitalists don't like losing profits," he looked around, seeing the gazes of four girls directed at him, and continued: "However, what you might not know, aside maybe from Weiss, is that the CEO of Silva Armaments, who just so happened to be my father, was trying to remedy the situation, and did so with great success, actually. We were on pretty good terms with each other by the time the White Fang decided they've had enough of us. From what I managed to overhear from my father, the two companies were even planning a merger to achieve a monopoly both on Dust and weapons markets and also to maybe put an end to the White Fang so we could continue being evil businessmen and maniacally laugh in our crystal spires while counting all of them Lien," he waited till the quiet snickering from Ruby and Yang stopped before continuing. He did not notice a scowl etch itself on Blake's face.

"And so, to commemorate the event, my father decided to take the hammer once again and make something special. Case in point: this," he raised the rapier, letting everyone get a good look at it. "This is a Multi-Action Dust Rapier, project name 'Myrtenaster'. If I recall correctly, it's old Atlesian for some kind of flower. Not a florist. Not a linguist either. That convincing enough for you?"

"Well…" Ruby quietly muttered. "So far, you haven't actually said anything new. It was all the craze when the media got word of it. Take any kind of weapon journal that was published seven years ago, you'll probably find something about it."

"Fair enough," with an excessively deep nod, Darius drew another breath and began fiddling with the wrist guards, searching for something. "As a matter of fact, it was all the craze when the media first saw it. Justly so: by that time, it was cutting-edge tech even by Silva standards. Super light alloys; incredibly flexible blade that was also really, really sharp, complete with the molecular structure that allowed for even better Dust infusion; very efficient Dust injectors; ergonomic design. Only thing it lacked were the energy funnels: damn things were too large to fit on the frame and were throwing off the balance," as he said that, he took another look at the group to witness Weiss trying her hardest to not look in his direction. "Aha, I see I'm on the right track. Unfortunately, now that you got me talking about weapons, you'll probably have to cut my head off to stop me."

"I'd be happy to oblige," Blake hissed, a murderous spark still lingering in her eyes. Pausing for a moment, the boy holding the rapier looked at her and sighed. You reap what you sow. How are you planning to regain her trust now?

I'll have to figure something out, I guess.

"Regardless, the greatest innovation about Myrtenaster was this." He pressed a small lever located between the two wrist guards and carefully lifted one of them, taking out the barrel with a quiet click. "This is a prototype Dust dispenser, codename Shatterdome. Don't ask me why, ask my father. Oh wait," a bitter smirk crossed his face as he kept talking. "One of the reasons the Dust injectors were made so efficient is that the Dust capsules on this thing are tiny. Reason for that is that my father, ever the industrious individual, planned for it to be a prototype in a future series of Dust dispensers, they could serve as a revolving barrel for repeating pistols, meaning the capsule size had to be sacrificed to fit in potential chambers. He was also planning to make a speedloader that would simultaneously insert bullets and Dust vials when reloading. Unfortunately, my father was not the type to take a lot of notes, and whatever data he did save was destroyed after our house got torched. The design could never be replicated with full accuracy, making this a one-of-a-kind weapon. Whether to grieve about it or to be proud of it is up to you." Although I can't imagine anyone but me grieving about this. "Still not convinced?"

Looking at the girls, Darius did not get an answer. He let out another sigh and planted the sword into the ground, taking the barrel with two hands and starting to twist it, looking for a switch yet again.

"Fine. For the record, I had no idea who this was made for. I only knew this many details because I had little better to do than spend half the day in the workshop watching my father work. I once asked him who he was making it for. He said it was for someone my age and asked me for an idea for 'a small twist to it'. Something a kid like me would like," twisting the upper half of the barrel clockwise and the lower in the opposite direction, Darius pressed something in the middle of the barrel and pulled the two halves apart, revealing a small membrane. Seeing Weiss' eyes widen, he stared at her and said: "This is an audio recorder. Do I need to go any further?"

"Alright, fine! I believe you," Weiss hastily replied before taking away the halves of the Dust dispenser and immediately putting them together, followed by inserting the barrel back into the rapier. "Still doesn't answer how you survived or why you are here."

"To become a Hunter. Isn't this why any of you are here?" he shrugged. This will suffice for now. I hope.

"Just like that?" Blake intervened. "You think you can just walk in and become a Hunter after what you've done?"

"I have done nothing," slowly but surely, Darius was losing his temper. The last words were bordering on hissing. "I shall remind you that I was ten years old when the White Fang killed my family, burned my home to the ground and almost killed me. And you don't want to know what happened to me after I survived."

"Blake, come on!" the girl in red turned to Blake. "Don't you think this is going too far? You can't just blame him for something he hasn't done! Give him a chance! You gave me one, why not him?"

"I think there is a difference between being slightly naïve and being another one in the line of professional murderers," she said, although not without a pause.

"Blake, I'm not here for trouble. I'm here so that this…" he gestured at the black-haired girl staring him in the eyes. "…Stops being the initial reaction of anyone I tell my name to. I don't ask for approval. I don't even ask for friendship. I just ask for a chance. Can I have it?"

Silence was his answer. For a few seconds, no one had anything to say. Then, a metallic clank pierced the air as Blake sheathed the Gambol Shroud.

"Fine. I suppose if Ozpin trusts you, so can I."

"That's great! Can we go to sleep now?" a yawn escaped Ruby's mouth as she shook her head a little. Yang, driven by sisterly instincts, no less, immediately began berating the company:

"Guys, it's almost eleven o'clock. Maybe we should get to our dorms if we don't want to start the first day of our training looking like boiled veggies."

"I hate veggies…" Ruby muttered.

"Oh, and by the way: you are not sleeping in the same room with us, got it?" Yang continued, this time addressing Darius.

"Really now? Fine, I suppose I can make do with a roof. Not that I need a bed to sleep in anyway. Although, of all people, I thought you wouldn't mind the attention."

"You're a creep. A Silva and a creep."

Sitting on the roof and listening to the girls scuttle around in the room below him, Darius was gazing at the night sky, simultaneously reflecting upon the events of this evening and considering getting out into the city to buy a tent or something. As he crossed his legs and closed his eyes, a thought rushed past him, eliciting a bitter chuckle out of him.

It's ironic how even those stars are less lonely than I currently am.

Well, there's your chance to remedy the situation. Don't. Fuck. This. Up.