One day had passed since Whitley's meeting with the odd janitor with inscrutable motives. The outfit the janitor had given him was neatly folded at his side within the car. Usually, Whitley would never dare go out on his own to the arcade. Today was different, he was a man of his word and had a promise to keep.

Whitley waited for his driver to open the car door. As the door opened, Whitley handed the man several Lien cards.

"I suggest you keep this detour to yourself, understood?"

The driver pocketed the currency, "You got it, boss. My lips are sealed. Give me a ring when you're ready to go."

Whitley picked up the bundle of clothes on his way out. He was grateful his father's employees were used to kickbacks. Was it a vulnerability ripe for abuse? Very likely. Was it a problem he could personally solve? Maybe.

Whitley arrived at the arcade after his classes ended for the day. He could only hope the janitor was on the premises. He was there the previous day when Whitley arrived at the arcade before noon. Twelve hour shifts were normal, right?

There was only one way to be sure. Whitley headed into the heated arcade with the bundle of clothes held against his side. The facility was large enough to make searching a pointless endeavor. Whitley decided against such a waste of time and headed directly to the dining section of the arcade. One of the staff was bound to know how to contact the janitor.

Whitley spotted a familiar face from yesterday's disgrace. The waitress who had served him and those two fools was serving one of the tables. Whitley loitered a few moments near the front of the dining area while she finished taking orders. Eventually, the woman noticed his presence and headed over.

"Hey, there! Are you here with your friends again? I want to treat you to something on the house because of that mess yesterday."

Embarrassment bubbled in his chest as he turned his gaze away from the waitress, "I am not here to eat today, nor am I with those two. Jaune, an employee of this establishment, allowed me to borrow his personal clothing. I am here to return it."

The waitress giggled, "Aww, you really are an adorable kid. How thoughtful of you to come back just to drop off a shirt and jacket. He should be working today, so I'll send him a message. You sure you don't want something to drink at least?"

Well, he was feeling a little cold and had time to kill, "Do you have hot chocolate available?"

She smiled at him as she led him to a booth in the back of the diner, "One hot cocoa on the house. I'll send Jaune your way along with a large mug of our finest hot chocolate."

Whitley took a seat, "I appreciate your assistance."

She took off shortly after his response. Whitley placed the bundle of clothes next to him in the booth. The waitress Earl had been a fool in front of was surprisingly helpful. Her competence without him having to wave a stack of Lien cards was refreshing. His household servants were a little too mercenary in comparison.

Whitley tapped his fingers on the table as he idly considered why the servants at this establishment were so different to his own. Was the behavior of his household servants a trained behavior of some sort? His father may have given those dogs too many treats. It likely encouraged their willingness to turn the other way for the right reward. He would have to clean up his father's mess at some point, if Weiss didn't beat him to it.

A part of him hoped Weiss would tackle his father's legacy of issues regarding their home. Unfortunately, she was always too close to Winter for his tastes. Neither paid much attention to him compared to the camaraderie the two shared. His father already seemed to see signs of Weiss following in Winter's footsteps. Why else would his father waste time catching him up on SDC nonsense?

No, Whitley was almost certain the Schnee mantle would fall to him due to gross negligence. His family was filled to the brim with different levels of cowardice. Winter ran from her responsibilities, his mother drinks away her own, his father seems to be falling into some spiral of paranoia, and Weiss is apparently on the brink of bolting. Whitley could already feel the walls closing in around him.

"One hot coco! Jaune's on his way too," a steaming mug was placed in front of him.

Whitley rapidly withdrew out of his thoughts as he nodded at the waitress. He wasn't caged yet. His father still allowed him to attend the private academy. Such negative thoughts were not worth dwelling on when he had hot chocolate to drink.

Whitley cradled the hot chocolate mug in his hands. The warmth was comforting as he raised the mug to his lips to take a sip. Dining alone was infinitely more relaxing than dealing with those two imbeciles. Plus, someone who actually shared his taste in games was on the way.

Before long, a familiar male clad in an Exalted Corner janitorial jumpsuit came into view. The blonde raised his hand in a wave as he headed over to the booth.

"Good to see you here again, Whitley," Jaune sat across from him in the booth.

"Greetings to you as well. Once again, I must thank you for allowing me to borrow your personal effects. I am here to return your professionally cleaned belongings."

"Ah, you really didn't have to do that for me. I really appreciate it though. You just saved me a small shopping trip," Jaune smiled widely as Whitley handed over the bundle of clothing.

Jaune gasped, "Wow, you really did get these professionally done. This is the smoothest I've seen the Pumpkin Pete's logo since I've bought the top. Man, I must really suck at ironing."

Whitley was immediately confused, "I must have heard you wrong. You iron your own clothing? Why would you bother with such an asinine task?"

Jaune lowered the shirt in his hands, "Uh, I really don't want to set aside the income for it. Plus going to the dry cleaners would be a pain."

Was his recent acquaintance a fool? The answer to his situation should be fairly obvious. Where was the strategic thinking he displayed just the previous day?

"I believe the obvious solution would be to ask your parents to increase your allowance."

Jaune was silent for a while before sighing, "Whitley, that really isn't a viable choice for most people. I'm financially independent. I work to support myself because I have no one to fall back on."

Whitley processed his words. It seemed he may have made a misstep in his assumptions. His school peers all had sizable allowances. Did Jaune not have access to at least some assets through his family? Curiosity overruled Whitley's hesitancy to dig any further.

"Can you clarify your situation further? It is evident you are an employee here, yet are you not also a student? Surely you must be receiving some sort of assistance."

Jaune leaned back into the booth chair, "Well, it doesn't really bother me much. Yeah, obviously I work here. I'm not attending school. I don't really have time for it. I'm a Mountain Glenn orphan, so Atlas already provided their assistance years ago."

Mountain Glenn, those words immediately made Whitley regret digging into the situation. Mountain Glenn was a dreadfully handled crisis from a decade ago. A horrific mix of insanity, Grimm, and political instability. Those who survived the fall, ended up refugees in just about every kingdom. Jaune must have been awfully young when Mountain Glenn fell.

Whitley bowed his head, "I should not have dug into your situation. It was incredibly rude of me."

Jaune shook his head, "I wouldn't have said anything if it bothered me. I don't really remember all that much to be honest. I was only six when things went bad. Atlas was good to me, grew up with three others near my age in one of their facilities. I'm able to support myself because they gave me a chance to do so."

"Regardless, it was not my place. Please accept this as my apology for my actions today and your assistance yesterday," Whitley reached into his pocket and slid a card in front of Jaune.

Jaune picked up the card, "One personal tailoring experience at Honeydew Boutique? Can't say I've ever had something like this. Guessing you won't take no as an answer right? I don't want to cause you a burden here if this is something that will dig into your allowance or whatever."

Whitley shook his head in denial. It was likely in his best interests to not mention how little the pass to the boutique dug into his allowance. Jaune's net worth was more than likely far below his monthly allowance. Whitley saw no point in being venomous to the older teen.

"You assisted me when you did not have to. Accept this gift from me. If you truly think it is too much, I will include your RDF tips in your debt to me."

Jaune laughed as he slipped the card inside of his jumpsuit, "You were serious about wanting to play more RDF with me then? I honestly couldn't tell if you just got swept up in the hype or not. I'd be glad to take you on as my apprentice!"

"I was, indeed, serious. I am very interested in your Aerial playstyle. I have only played cooperatively a few times, yet your gameplay was the most impressive."

"We'll have to work out a schedule or something. I'm still on shift at the moment. Are you willing to exchange scroll numbers? I don't mind sending you my work hours if you want to swing by some days right before I go off shift."

Whitley hesitated before steeling himself. This would be the first time he gave his scroll number to someone not already pre-approved. His father would call him a fool and Winter would likely see this as a massive security risk. Yet, Whitley finally found an interesting acquaintance of his own volition. Having made up his mind, Whitley pulled out his scroll.

One month had passed since Whitley's initial meeting with Jaune. Whenever Whitley had the opportunity to do so, he would slip away from his responsibilities to spend time furthering his mastery of Remnant Defense Force. His father believed he had joined an after school activity of some sort. It worked well enough as an excuse to not bother correcting him. His father never seemed to really care what he was doing before, so why should he be truthful now?

Whitley flicked the control stick in the RDF booth, executing a gravity dash. His shield immediately stunned a nearby giant centipede. A barrage of rifle fire put down the stunned creature in seconds. The pattern continued as the duo pushed themselves to beat their personal record for the fourth level. Neither said a word as they worked in tandem.

The silence was interrupted with a shout of joy as Jaune reached out and shook Whitley's shoulder, "Holy shit! We shaved off three minutes this clear. Good stuff, Whitley. Your aggro chaining was super clean."

Whitley grinned, "I would be disappointed in myself if it was not. I could hardly call myself a competent tank player if I could not do so. Your ability to routinely hit critical points continues to impress me."

"Yeah, it's why we make such a great team. Wouldn't be able to get good shots in if you didn't line them up right. Man, this game is so much better in cooperative mode."

Whitley nodded, "I have come to the same conclusion. I purchased a RDF booth for home use. I am actually finding it difficult to play tank solo these days. I have been treading the waters with Aerial at home for soloing."

"Lucky bastard. I can't imagine having one of these booths at home. It would take up my entire living room. Would make my apartment feel even more cramped."

Whitley lowered his hand from the control stick as he considered the words of the first person he could honestly consider a friend, "Jaune, I have a proposal for you. How attached are you to working at this facility?"

Jaune let go of his own controls, "Where are you going with this, Whitley? Working here isn't that bad, but I can't say I'm overly attached."

Whitley smiled, "It just so happens my father recently released a portion of our estate staff for neglecting their duties. I have personally witnessed you go above and beyond in your duties here. Would you be interested in working for me?"

Jaune frowned, "I was going to ask if you were even allowed to make me an offer like that. But I know how stubborn you are. If I agreed, you would make it happen some way. What would you have me do, clean your room or something?"

Whitley lightly shoved Jaune, "I can pick up after myself well enough. No, I would take you on as my personal butler. You would be directly responsible for duties I personally assign to you. I think it goes without saying, my family can also make requests of you."

Jaune was quiet for far longer than Whitley wanted, "I'm considering accepting. I have a good amount of experience from odd jobs in my arsenal. I'm not worried about not getting things done. I can work hard to make up for any inexperience. How exactly would traveling expenses work?"

"No need to travel between your apartment and my family estate. You will be provided with your own room in the staff wing. I promise, you will not regret accepting my offer. My father is very generous with pay. Truthfully, I just want someone I know who is loyal to be at hand."

Whitley's concern of the mercenary nature of the staff was apparently something his father shared. His father had dismissed a sizable portion of the manor staff throughout the month. Whether it was because the staff were simply growing too brazen or something greater was happening, Whitley was unsure. The shortage presented an opportunity to get someone with personal loyalty to him, only him, within the estate.

Jaune finally spoke his agreement, "Alright, I'll give it a shot. I trust you enough to know you're not trying to screw me over. Should I send you my résumé or something? I have a good chunk of janitorial experience and a small amount of catering experience."

"I would strongly recommend you to do so. I will discuss your employment with my father. You will have a week at minimum to prepare your belongings. My father always runs a background check on potential employees. Even with a little greasing, the results can take a while."

Jaune shrugged, "My background's clean. A week should be enough for me to pack up the essentials. I'm allowed to leave the estate whenever, right?"

"Indeed, you can leave the estate with my permission during working hours. Outside of working hours, your time is entirely your own. My father takes security of the estate seriously. Are you fine with interacting with armed security?"

Jaune laughed, "Come on, Whitley. This is Atlas! Of course, I'm used to having armed security around. I won't give them any trouble. I'm even considering applying for a security license in the future."

Whitley raised his brow, "I did not know you had an interest in security."

"It pays well, so I considered it. I've gone to a firing range a ton of times too. Have you ever been to one?"

Whitley shook his head. He never really had an interest in the martial side of the world. Winter had thoroughly spoiled his opinion on all things military in nature. The closest he came to anything remotely similar, was the games in the arcade.

Jaune tapped him on the back, "Well, I'll bring you to one when we get a chance. It's something worth experiencing at least once. If you don't like it, then that will be that. You could have the potential to be an ace."

"I will take it under consideration. I might be able to arrange something with the manor security to have them make us our own firing range."

"Now that's good thinking. Some of your security guys should have good training. We might be able to get some pointers out of them."

Whitley grabbed the control stick in front of him, "I will arrange things later tonight. If you do not send your résumé, I will remind you to. Rest assured, I will keep you notified of the situation."

Two months had passed since Whitley's fateful encounter with a certain janitor. Jaune had truly proven to be a diamond in the rough. The janitor adapted into his role as a butler incredibly fast. A simple lie had been enough to get his father to hire Jaune. His father believed he had encountered Jaune through a recommendation of one of his older school "friends". In a way, it was not even entirely a lie.

A few minor digital alterations of Jaune's résumé had sealed the deal. Whitley now had his own asset at his disposal within the manor. He no longer needed to entertain Weiss's trifling attempts to connect with him. No, she made her stance clear long ago. If she had any regrets before fleeing the manor, it was on her. Weiss's intentions were so clear, even Jaune seemed to pick up on her hints as the holidays approached.

"She's been practicing a lot more lately, hasn't she? Her movements are improving," Jaune spoke from his side at the window.

Whitley observed Weiss's movements in the courtyard from the third story, "She must have finally made up her mind. My father will be apoplectic when she finally makes her demands. I knew she would follow Winter's path, I knew it."

Jaune placed a hand on his shoulder, "She made her decision. Everyone has the right to pick what they want to do with their lives. You don't have to be happy with her or even accept her choice as right. I think respecting her resolve is good enough. She's your family."

Whitley's hand curled into a fist as he listened to Jaune's words, "A part of me despises her. Despises her and Winter for having the resolve to simply leave everything behind. I can not comprehend readily throwing away the assets we have here. If they truly hated our home, why did they never try to make it better?"

"You would have to ask them yourself. They might just think this is the way for them to make things right. Winter's bound to have done a lot of good in the military. Weiss might just be trying to emulate some of that good."

A flash of anger clouded Whitley, "Are you suggesting they made the right choice? To wash their hands of the entire family?"

His butler shook his head, "No, there is never a perfect choice. They are walking down their own path. If you have a path you want to take, I will acknowledge your choice just as much as theirs."

Whitley took a breath as he processed the words of his friend. His perspective was not entirely unreasonable. The judgment of his two sisters may have been poor, but it was ultimately their own decisions which guided them. It made him wonder if he was ultimately making the right choice. Was going with the motions really the right way to go about things?

Whitley felt Jaune rest his hand on top of his head, "You still have time to think about what you want to do, you know. You're still only thirteen. Go with the flow until you decide your goal. If you ever want to brainstorm, I'm here to bounce ideas off of. Hell, you can just go out and make your own game studio if you wanted to."

The previous simmering rage fully left him. Jaune was ultimately correct. With Weiss clearly planning to defect, he was the last hope his father had. Concessions could be forced with such an opportunity. Whitley only had to decide what exactly he wanted to do with his position.

Playing RDF was an enjoyable hobby, but he could not see it going any further. Learning about the management of the SDC was essential. Winter had squandered the opportunity and Weiss was just about to guarantee her loss as well. The position of heir would be his by right. With those assets, he could do anything. Become anything.

Whitley smiled, "Thank you for your insight. I was short sighted in my judgment. You have given me plenty to think on. You truly fit your position well."

Jaune grinned back at him, "Hey, it's thanks to you that I get to stay at a place like this. I owe you a lot, Whitley. I'll be here for whatever you need of me. Oh, I finally talked the security into setting up a range. If you want to clear your head, we can go give it a shot."

Whitley rolled his eyes, "A shot? Yes, I am sure there will be plenty of those. Very well, I have had enough watching Weiss. After you, Jaune."

The two took their time exiting the manor. A few of the remaining manor staff watched them pass by without a word. Whitley had already made the hierarchy clear when it came to his personal butler. His mother had Klein as her personal selection, so it was only fair the rest of the staff had to treat Jaune in a similar manner.

Jaune tapped one of the security guards on the manor grounds as they passed, "Master Whitley would like to practice his marksmanship. We're going to need you on site. You have your sidearm?"

Whitley tapped his foot impatiently as the security guard spoke, "Of course! It will be my pleasure to assist you in your training, Mr. Schnee. Allow me to send a quick message to the rest of my team."

Whitley didn't bother learning the guard's name as Jaune casually spoke with him. It seemed this particular guard may have been the one Jaune managed to wrangle into the approved target practice. It was good to see his butler manage to catch one of the members of the staff inside his web. A member of the security team being in his sphere of influence, gave him another set of eyes within the manor.

The guard led both of them to the arranged firing range at the back of the estate before speaking, "How familiar are you two with firearms? I have enough rounds to instruct you guys for a little while. We might have to take a break for me to go grab some more."

Whitley spoke up, "I have never held a weapon before. My butler has some experience."

"Master Whitley is correct. There was a firing range I went to during my days off. I'm comfortable enough with most firearms. Can you show him a proper firing stance?"

The manor security guard walked up to a makeshift plank barricade cutting off the firing position from the targets. Several rubber dummy targets were spaced out at various distances in the snow.

The guard drew his pistol and took a stance, "Pay close attention to the spacing of my feet and how I hold out my arms. Recoil isn't that bad with this small gun, but others require more specific stances."

Whitley watched the guard's hands as the man remained positioned in a shooting stance. Eventually, the guard fired off a single round at a rubber dummy marked with a twenty five. The shot struck the dummy in the upper chest.

"With the right stance, you can keep things nice and controlled. Are you ready to try Mr. Schnee?"

Whitley stepped up to the barricade. The guard assisted him in taking a similar firing stance. He felt strange standing with his arms out and his legs extended, but if that was the proper stance, so be it. The guard finally gave Whitley the pistol.

The gun was heavy in his hands as the guard spoke, "Aim at the dummy I just hit. Give it your best try. Keep in mind you'll be feeling some recoil. I don't think you'll ever be fully prepared for it without feeling it at least once."

Whitley listened to the guard drone on as Jaune cheered him on from behind, "Give it your best shot!"

Whitley tried his best to mentally prepare himself for the firearm's recoil. He pulled the trigger of the pistol, his wrists moving back with the recoil. It was an odd experience, yet it was worth it to see the bullet sail right into the head of the dummy marked with a twenty five.

The guard whistled, "Not bad. Doming the head will pretty much put any threat without aura down. If you ever ended up in a situation like that though, the chest is the better place to aim for. More mass to strike."

Jaune spoke from behind him, "Good control, Whitley. I was a stubborn child when I first shot a gun. Picked a shotgun at the range and nearly hit myself in the face with the recoil."

"Yeah, we're not firing a shotgun today boys. Best I can do is let you two fire off my sidearm until it's empty. Anything more will take more than a last minute visit."

"Sorry, Liam. I should have let you know I wanted to drag Whitley to the range today. I guess I jumped the gun."

Whitley aimed at the chest of a further away target as he spoke, "Your sense of humor is truly revolutionary."

Whitley pulled the trigger, this time prepared for the recoil. Even with the preparation, the feeling still felt odd. He lowered the pistol to see if he struck the target marked with a fifty. A single hole pierced the lower stomach area of the rubber dummy.

"Not every shot is going to be perfect. Even the best marksman misses where he's aiming occasionally. Keep trying to land where you're aiming," Liam helped Whitley adjust his stance a little more.

Whitley fired off another two shots at the dummy marked with a fifty. One struck the upper right shoulder. The second bullet struck the neck of the dummy. Whitley handed the pistol back over to Liam as Jaune commented on the shots.

"Ouch. Taking a bullet to the throat is not clean. Brutal shot, Whitley. Are you sure you don't want to take a few more practice shots?"

Whitley stepped off to the side, "I wish to see your accuracy. Surely you can do better? It would be embarrassing if you could not hit the chest with your previous experience."

Whitley had aimed for the chest with all three shots, yet none of the three connected with where he wanted. It seemed so much easier at a glance. Jaune bragged about having some experience with weaponry. He can prove it.

Jaune stepped up to the firing barricade, taking the same stance Liam had shown. He took a deep breath before firing off three shots in rapid succession. One struck the upper right chest of the dummy marked with a twenty five. The second struck the dummy marked with a fifty in the center of the chest. The final shot struck the head of a dummy marked in the back with a seventy five.

Liam spoke first, "Clean shots. You must have spent a lot of weekends on the range. Have you ever considered going into the military? Can't think of why else a kid like you practiced."

Whitley paid careful attention to Jaune's response, "Military life isn't for me. I considered security once. Need to work on getting a license to carry at some point. You alright, with that Whitley?"

"You have backed up your words. If you wish to work on a weapons license, I will help speed it along. My father would not argue with having an extra means of securing my person at my side."

"Well, why don't both you guys work on a license? I don't exactly have to tell you guys the world isn't a safe place. Better to have a gun than need a gun," Liam took his pistol back from Jaune.

"Not a bad plan. What do you think, Whitley? You and I can practice here until you feel comfortable enough to have your own gun."

"I will admit, this has been a novel experience. I would not mind practicing my marksmanship more. Applying for a license to carry weapons would be simple. I would like to spend more time here before submitting an application."

Jaune lightly elbowed Liam, "You heard the boss. We're going to need things set up more often. I'll send you a message on the days we decide to come down here."

Liam nodded, "If it's 's request I am bound to follow it. Let me know when you two are ready for bigger weaponry. I think you guys have had enough for the time being. Plus, I don't have a spare magazine on me for my sidearm. Can't have you guys firing off my rifle today when the pistol runs dry."

Whitley waved the guard's concerns, "I have had more than enough at the moment. My curiosity has been fulfilled. I have no plans to continue any further today. Shall we go, Jaune?"

Jaune waved goodbye to Liam as he followed at Whitley's side, "After you, Master Whitley."