Chapter 22
Following the incident, as Schwarz had taken to calling it, everyone in the castle was evacuated to its below-ground compartments.
And, while great masses of people were crowded into underground theaters, rings or laundry rooms, our main cast was assigned a more intimate setting: The armory.
Into two opposing corners, Schwarz had made an impressive show of dragging several, multi-ton, turrets into place, set on a hair trigger and programmed to kill any living thing not carrying the required authorization.
All for their safety, of course.
The two remaining corners were occupied by people, and those people were occupied with their thoughts.
To say things had cooled after Adam's departure would have been putting it too mildly. Because, in that cozy room they'd been crowded into, things were downright frigid.
He recalled it had been during the early chaos of the evacuation, when Schwarz had been talking rather intensely with a castle tutor: her rabble of restless children lined up behind her with bright faces and stiff uniforms - that Mr. S first felt the pressure begin to weigh on him. So he kept silent, fading into the background as well as he could and standing, in awed reverence, at the calculated efficiency with which Schwarz had shown herself capable of orchestrating the chaos.
Servants mobilized, families united, bunkers set up, and all of it accomplished with disciplined formation, as if everyone were rehearsing a long familiar part. The entirety of the castle seemed aglow with purpose; and, conspicuously, Mr. S seemed to have no place in it. He was a lost stranger descending through an unfamiliar land, held aloft in a bubble of harsh order Schwarz seemed to exert over her surroundings. And no amount of hiding seemed to forgive him this deficiency.
Over the course of her charge, Schwarz halted - and dictated instructions to - various travelling crowds. In what seemed to be ten minutes, he encountered what must've been a thousand different faces engaged in a hundred similar conversations. And, in every one of those faces, every one, there had been some expectation of him that he didn't understand - some expectation that he do, or act, or be something that he couldn't comprehend. Those servants, and children, and expensively suited executives, had all looked up at him with an intensity and character he'd never seen before in his entire life.
No matter how much he failed to understand, however - he did feel an inkling of the purpose of it.
It was as if a thousand years of service was now coming due, and they were all expecting him, finally, to show them: what cause had history to hold men like him in such esteem?
Truth be told, nothing about this situation rattled him more than those looks, as well as the silent disappointment that followed in the wake of his continued silence.
Mr. S looked up from the floor, drawing himself from his lonely thoughts. In the furthest corner of the room, Weiss made a valiant effort of ignoring him as she paced around that little bit of clear space her friends formed around her.
And, between them, in the center of the room, Schwarz stood, talking very seriously, with Qrow.
Her voice was distant against the haze of terror that enveloped Mr. S.
Mr. S was beset by uncertainty, because he didn't know what to do.
Schwarz. Schwarz was pissed.
In one thousand years - that was fifty generations - no-one, no-one, had ever breached into the inner recesses of the castle!
Empires had been built around the consideration that the Schnee Manor was impenetrable! Entire nations formed against it's unassailable defences!
It was no coincidence that, when Atlas came to be, it was carved out of the singular plot of land that had, as it's center point, the old Schnee Manor.
It was no coincidence that, when nations fell to chaos, they looked to the Schnee Manor to host their Maidens!
It was no coincidence that, in the mad convolutions of fate, History spoke of no certainty except the Schnee Manor's continued existence!
...
And now, in the fifth month, of the 458th year, of the tenth century, history would record that certainty had failed... under her watch.
So, yes, Schwarz… Schwarz was not happy about the circumstances. And before her, stood the man responsible for creating them.
"Have you identified a maximum range for her connection?" she asked, calm.
Qrow was immediate in his reply. "I was in the west wing at the time, so this would be the furthest from me she's created a portal."
"And, is there anyone else she might have a connection with?"
"I'm not sure," Qrow answered, less certain. "When we were young, it was just me. She may have made more connections over the years, but, she isn't one to make friends easily."
"Is there anyone else she may have a connection with?" Schwarz repeated, maintaining that terse, efficient voice they'd both adopted for the situation.
"She was once married to Taiyang… my bother in law," Qrow clarified at Schwarz's confused look, thinking hard about any other potential connections. "That, and she was Yang's mother, and she was close to Summer… Ruby's mother."
"And… you don't know if your murderous sister can teleport to them at any moment?" Schwarz raised a brow, incredulous.
"We don't really talk about her…" Qrow answered, rubbing his neck. "Besides, I'm not really home most of the time, so I wouldn't get the chance to ask anyway. Really, you're better off asking them yourself. As far as I'm aware, I'm the only one she can teleport to."
"And yet you persisted in staying the night in a security zone," Schwarz sniped, scowling over at the man.
"...Look, she's not normally this much of a terrorist." Qrow looked helpless, raising his hands in a defeated gesture.
Schwarz only shook her head in frustration.
Qrow looked as if he were filled with apologies, and seemed ready to voice them-
"Don't worry about it," Schwarz interrupted. "Just get out of Atlas as soon as possible."
Qrow, paused in his motion to leave.
"Yes?" Schwarz asked, already sending a message on her scroll.
'About Yang, if it turns out-"
"I will not compromise the security of this castle," Schwarz spoke curtly. "I expect you can understand why."
Qrow nodded shortly, and left.
Schwarz turned her attention to the corner where team RWBY had gathered.
And, despite everything, she couldn't help extending her sympathies.
When Weiss had been a young girl, on what Winter and her called "That night," during the few occasions when they felt brave enough to reference it, father all but announced that he'd only married mom for her name. He'd said this very frankly to his wife, at the dinner table, in front of her children.
...
When Weiss had been a child, attending her first day of school, she arrived hand-in-hand with a maid. All of the other girls in the academy, she'd noted with dispassion, had been accompanied by their mothers. Mother's drinking was worse in those early days. Experience brought competency, Weiss supposed.
Over time, her mother learned from that experience, and Weiss learned from her mother.
So, when she met her teammates… her friends, and Blake... it… she felt happy, for the first time since her fight with Winter. It was a time when she thought that, maybe, her interim years after her childhood could just fade away like a bad nightmare.
But Weiss, now, saw that it was time to wake up.
There were some hard truths she had to fess up to. For one, she'd be staying in the castle for the foreseeable future. It was either that or she'd be going out playing cat and mouse with Adam until one of them died. That, was an unavoidable necessity, she forced herself to accept. The second hard truth was something she - with a bit of work - might be able to avert. She'd just need to keep her friends getting in the way first.
That was something she could manage, Weiss thought. First, she'd need to tell them about it, though; shock them with it's intensity.
She'd have to tell them:
"We're not going to be together," Weiss announced suddenly, fatalistic.
Weiss didn't varnish her words; and, as if recalling a play, she saw surprise taking its desired effect on the faces of team RWBY.
"Weiss, what are you talking about?" That was Ruby, looking classically strong and taking the news as if it were a simple problem to be solved.
"Schwarz," Weiss said in answer, "she'll be kicking you out soon."
Yang scrunched her brows "But, why-?"
"Just, think about it for one moment!" Weiss interrupted with an impassioned, judgmental trill. "The only reason Adam got in here was because of Raven! And, if you're to be believed" - Weiss spoke, again, as if to cast aspersions - "then the only reason Raven could make a portal here was because of you! Do you honestly think for one moment you're going to be allowed to stay here!"
Yang recoiled back, smarting with defensive pride. It was a natural reaction to being accused of not only being slow, but a skien as well. And, in a way, that was exactly where Weiss wanted her. It was so much harder to think clearly under pressure.
Impressively, Yang kept a professional stance, and responded rationally, if hotly and predictably: "Then, I'll leave! I don't see what that has to do with you-"
"You idiot!" Weiss claimed hotly, and, despite herself, she could feel the emotions now coming from a real place. "It has everything to do with us! Do you honestly think we'd let you go out there-"
"Yes!" This time it was Yang's turn to anger. "I do expect you to stay here, because Adam's after you and Blake, not-"
"He'll attack you anyway." Weiss spoke with abject coldness, cutting off any of Yang's potential replies. "And, frankly, he'll have an easy time of it."
That, Weiss could see, had finally gotten the better of her.
"Are you trying to say-!" Yang was sputtering, and easily interrupted.
"I'm trying to say, Yang, that you're a secondary target. If you and Ruby were about to be killed, do you honestly think Blake and I would hesitate to come after you?"
"What does Ruby have to do with this!" Yang reared up, eyes flaring.
Despite the obvious pain and rage the thought of Ruby's death conjured up in Yang, Weiss found herself feeling almost a sense of relief.
Weiss put a calculated pause, letting Yang stew for a moment before - tilting her head - she asked: "Did you honestly think Ruby would choose to stay here if you left?"
Yang turned to look at Ruby.
Ruby looked uncertainly back.
In any other circumstance, she could easily have imagined Ruby - smiling with all the confident energy that only she could muster - packing away with her sister as they waved back and promised to write letters. Perhaps, in a calmer air, they would have felt excited to take their chances with Qrow.
Here and now, however, Weiss felt confident because she recognized the look in Yang's eye.
So fresh after the shock of Weiss premonitions of death, Yang was lapsing, easily, into that self-justified tyranny of overprotectiveness she'd seen Ruby chafe under before, and was now looking to Ruby for unquestioning support in an argument she wasn't even aware she'd been drawn into.
And Ruby, for her part, wasn't giving Yang the answers she wanted.
All of this was transmitted, crudely and without words, between them in an instant.
Of course, this was a temporary misunderstanding at best. Knowing them, it would be taken care of in minutes of earnest conversation if they didn't postpone it. But, as Weiss had timed it, at the very peak of their tension, just as that argument was about to break, Schwarz arrived.
Like so many decisions taken under duress, this one, too, was quickly regretted.
"No." Weiss was uncompromising despite the relaxed pose she took in her recliner, a recent habit. It wasn't an affected composure, either. Because, now - at this moment - Weiss felt very sure of herself. and had little trouble steering the conversation.
"What do you mean!?" Yang was frantic, pacing restlessly back and forth. "Of course we have to tell her!"
"What would that accomplish, Yang? Not only would you get kicked out, but I doubt Ruby would be allowed to stay either - considering we'd be admitting that we lie about security concerns - not to mention Blake and me."
Yang suddenly turned in her step, whipping herself towards Weiss with impassioned fury. "There are people here, Weiss!" Yang said, no longer feeling the need to keep her voice low.
"There are people out there too!" Weiss hopped up from her seat, feeling her own fury rise. "Unless you're willing to recuse yourself in the forest, you don't get a choice about whether you're a danger to people or not! So stop this pointless moralizing, would you? Right now, the only person you're being a danger to is yourself and your teammates!" Weiss was yelling now, too. But that was an act.
"So, what? I'm supposed to give up and stay here, then?" Yang recoiled from the sudden intensity of Weiss' words, feeling it very difficult to sustain her own position.
Weiss… stepped down slightly, and sighed with parochial sadness. "Of course not," she said, voice tuned with calculated friendliness. "You're strong, Yang," Weiss stepped forward, hands outstretched to place a light, reassuring pressure on her shoulder and arm, "and you wouldn't be giving up by staying here."
Yang looked dubious at the proclamation, but held her protests.
Still, sensing her relenting under the silence, Weiss continued. "Look, I know you don't want Adam… or your mother, hurting people. But, just think of what's already happened: They've already infiltrated the castle; they had me alone in my father's office, in fact. If they felt they were in too much danger to do anything then…" Weiss trailed off, letting Yang's thoughts carry her to the final conclusion.
Yang, still, was being stubborn. "That doesn't mean they won't ever come back again."
Weiss sighed, speaking with a patient meter. "In any case," she said, "they're far less likely to attempt something here than anywhere else in the world. Not to mention, even if they do, this castle is built to protect people, Yang. Everyone here is trained in evacuation procedures, there are security systems everywhere, and world class hospitals on every floor." Weiss took Yang's hands, and brought them up to her chest with earnest proposal. "Stay, Yang," she pleaded, looking up into the taller girl's eyes, "If not for yourself, then at least think of the people around you."
Yang looked away with terrible guilt, unwilling to say yes even as she relented to Weiss's request.
It was the best Weiss could hope for, she supposed. It would take a lot of work to keep Yang in line but… after a while, Weiss knew, it would become gradually less and less palatable to reveal the lie.
And, a while longer after that, it wouldn't even be considered a lie anymore. It would just be one of those things they kept in confidence and didn't think about.
She'd just… have to keep her from talking to Ruby too much until then. She knew how to do that, of course. Keeping people from talking, or at least talking about personal issues was child's play, especially when they were both on edge and let their guard down around you.
Weiss discarded the rising turmoil she felt within herself.
In any case, it was very clear what she had to do.
No… she reflected a moment: that was a lie. In her life, it seemed she hardly ever knew what the right thing to do was. And the less sure she became, the more strongly she acted.
She just didn't want to lose her friends.
Meanwhile, in the very recently renamed Mount-Doom, an anxious silence had fallen in meeting room B-12.
It was a very long table they were all seated at. It's length, in characteristic fashion for their host, dwarfed the size of their group. All nine of them seemed clustered against the limit of one end while the rest of the dark, obsidian tabletop stretched cavernously out to the far edge of the chamber.
The two, long walls of the room were lined with tall, glass windows, affording comforting views out into the blasted hell-scape that surrounded Mount-Doom. The vista did not bring comforting associations to Cinder who, to her barely-concealed agitation, was sitting just one space away from the head of the table.
Mercury and Emerald took the two places to the left of her, having almost had a fight about who would get to sit furthest away from her. Emerald, with some harsh words, had been convinced to sit next to her and end the potentially embarrassing scene, not that Cinder cared much about embarrassment anymore. Beyond Mercury, a soft spoken mountain of a man, who's name she'd never bothered to learn, sat next to Dr. Watts.
On the other side of the table, a various rouge's gallery of people she either hated or couldn't care less about were waiting. Directly across from her, sitting to the right of the head chair, was one of the people she hated.
Torchwick's impetuously smiling features, stirred up hateful memories in her.
All this time, Cinder had wondered why Torchwick - when they'd first been introduced to each other in the presence of Salem - had been so… respectful.
"I'll be glad to serve under your guidance," he'd said, taking his hat off to her.
He'd been unfailingly polite, and hadn't put up half the challenge she thought he would for the leadership position. This hardly changed his behaviour out in the field; no, out there he was as insubordinate and annoying as always.
But, still, it had been a running mystery to her why he'd folded so quickly in the first place.
Well… now Cinder thought she understood.
Because it was all nice to be in charge two months ago. But now, when the Vale invasion had failed disastrously, and The Plan had been set back for years, and the White Fang was in disarray, and every-one was now sitting stone silent in a meeting room, waiting for Salem to come in and murder the person responsible… Cinder felt considerably less cheerily about the prospects.
She looked once again at Torchwick, observing him, watching that self satisfied grin at how he wasn't accountable.
He probably knew all along, didn't he? He knew how much it would suck if the plan failed! He knew no amount of leadership perks were worth that possibility!
The weasel, he was probably just in it for the money. He probably didn't even really care about The Plan at all! And, just because he was a greedy, uncommitted asshole, he would be getting off scot free while Cinder - who had given her soul to this operation - was sitting here taking bets on whether she'd still be alive twenty minutes from now!
The silence dragged into its fourth hour and Cinder felt her soul sinking deeper.
Nervously, Cinder resisted the urge to look at the overhead wall-clock. There was no need to show any impatience; that would be rude, to imply that Salem was in any way inconveniencing them by being late. Still, she hazarded a glance at her compatriots. All of them, without exception, were shock still and looking straight forward. Likely they were all aware about the Vale debacle, and were unwilling to do anything that might draw attention to them when Salem eventually-
Click… Clack.
A series of slow, assured steps clicked across the floor tiling and everyone at the table, one and the same, was horrified to discover that Salem, as she pulled her chair back to take a seat at the head, was wearing a gentle smile.
"Hello everyone," Salem said, taking an assured seat in her high backed chair, "sorry I'm late, I just had some things to take care off. I trust you all had safe trips?"
If possible, the silence seemed to grow colder. Looking quickly around, Cinder saw that even Tyrian was creeped out…
Officially, this was worse than that time Emerald accidentally called her mom.
Watts was the one to finally break the silence. "It… uh, was a very uneventful trip, mam." He said, trying and failing to sound unfazed.
"That's nice to hear," Salem said, turning her gaze more generally to the rest of the group. "Anyway," she sighed, letting out a breathy air, "how was Vale?"
Again, there was a deafening silence, one that seemed to drag on for far longer than the last.
"Well, it uh…" Cinder felt her words slip like oil away from her very dry lips, "… uh, failed."
"Which part of it?' Salem asked. "The white fang's position was of secondary importance after all, as long as the CCT towers-"
"It all failed." Cinder said, feeling as if her stomach were working to tear itself out of her, "completely."
"Hmm, Shame," Salem said with some regret. "Any other news?" She asked.
Silence.
Sensing everyone's hesitance, Salem tried a friendly smile to encourage them.
Tyrian crossed himself.
Salem, astutely sensing the downed mood, worked to lift it back up.
"You know," she said suddenly, after a moment's silence, "we ought to kill someone."
"Um… pardon, mam?" That was Watts.
"You don't have any objections?" Salem asked.
"Of course not," he hastened to assure. "It just… seems rather sudden, is all, mam."
"Yes, but It's not as if we're in a position to do much else," Salem countered. "It's unwise to move too soon after you've been put on a back foot, after all. So, let's consider this a… break from habit, something we can do with no consequence, or great consequence; whatever may be the case."
Torchwick, who had, all this time, been itching to break in, took his chance with all the bravura of a scam artist.
"That's excellent to hear, your majesty," Torchwick perked, tipping his hat with the hook of his cane. "What can we do for you? Anything to help the plan? I have connections in Vacuo, you know? As well as some very mortal candidates for assasination." He waved his cane arm behind him, as if he were a carnival barker presenting his row of wares. "For example, there's this guy who owes me money-"
Salem looked disappointed at the suggestion, and, sensing her disappointment, Torchwick quickly changed course, adding: "And, if that's not to your liking, I also know several people who I owe money to."
Cinder twitched. The fact that she was sitting here listening to him try to use this as an opportunity for petty vengeance… well, she would have called him out long ago. This was, however, frustratingly unfeasible, because, right now, Salem was sitting two inches away from her, and, worst of all, seemed to be biding her time.
Salem was far more patient with Torchwick.
"No," Salem said. "I'd like to kill someone... notable."
"Notable?" Tyrian asked the word, as if having trouble with the concept.
Salem, as always, was patronizingly patient with the man. "Yes, someone everyone would know. Someone who's in the - what do you call it?: zeitgeist."
"Well, we could start with Adam," Torchwick said, casually flipping through his scroll, no doubt keeping touch with one of his many, vital contacts. "It's basically his fault we're in this situation anyway."
"Didn't he die in Vale?" Salem asked.
"Apparently not," Torchwich answered, and he flipped the scroll to present the news that had appeared on it, causing everyone to lean in to observe it.
"Adam, managed to infiltrate the Schnee manor?" Watts asked with quiet incredulity, nearly laughing.
"Apparently," Torchwick shrugged. "I'm asking my sources about it," he said, turning the scroll to type rapidly on it before sliding over to a news article.
Salem was far more focused. "Why did Adam come out of hiding? It really doesn't seem it would suit him."
"Not to mention, it's gonna make pulling out of Vale harder," Torchwick tsked in frustration, flicking further through the report. "Apparently, the Schnee girl's dating his ex. Just announced it last night, in fact."
"Hmm, I didn't think he was into humans," Watts said.
"She wasn't a human."
"Oh…"
"Anyway, he's one option. He shouldn't be too hard to kill, not to mention It's hard to hide in Atlas." Torchwick said.
"Hmm…" Salem hmmd as if considering it, "maybe as a matter of business, later on. But, since the main plan's off the books, let's try… thinking big." She extended her hands out as if framing a picture. "We need to kill someone who's going to make waves and get written about in history books. Someone like… him!" Salem said, pointing at the back of Torchwick's transparent Scroll, and at the portrait that was projected onto it.
"What, Mr. Schnee?" Torchwick asked.
"Yes. I've seen him before, somewhere. He's famous, isn't he?"
"Well, he is the richest man in the world."
"Huh," Salem's eyes flickered in thought, as if updating her historical timeline, "… no matter, he'll do."
"You want to kill Mr. Schnee?" Torchwick asked.
"Yes, I've always been enamored with 'richest men.' They always have a sense of paternalistic order, of the type that I just find so satisfying to watch crumble. Besides, It'll keep the news interesting for a couple of months."
"Well, about that," Torchwick started. "The Schnee manor is rather… well, impenetrable."
"Then how did Adam manage to get in?" Salem asked. "That man couldn't organize the destruction of a single city."
"Well, he did have help from Raven, according to my sources." Torchwick said. "She ported him in. Although, even then, they apparently did feel the need to beat a hasty retreat."
"Then, there!" Salem said. "Torchwick, you'll get in touch with Adam and try to find this Raven character. Once you've done that, my dearest Cinder will... commandeer her to our cause." She paused to send loving and commanding looks over at Cinder. "From there, it's a simple matter of using her powers, but this time actually killing the fellow." She placed a fist in her palm, smiling as if crushing something, smiling.
Torchwick looked nervous. "Well, there is still the matter of the castle."
"Then you'll attack him when he's outside of the castle, if you're so worried about it. But, this is really just a weekend project, you know, I'm not asking you to do anything too difficult, am I?"
"I suppose n-"
"Aren't you mad!" Cinder suddenly spoke up, feeling assured that, whatever the outcome, she'd rather rush to it than wallow in this confusing uncertainty. "I mean, The Plan's ruined!" She said, feeling increasingly that Salem's stubborn refusal to just kill her and get it over with, was more unbearable than her mortification at what she'd thrust herself into doing.
Salem, at first, looked confused. But then it dawned on her, and she rushed to answer… with a question that is.
"Oh, Cinder," she said softly, "do you think I'm an angry person?"
"...Yes!?" Cinder answered, already committed to her suicide charge of honesty. "You've quite literally flipped this table with your maiden powers multiple times since we've met! You killed Ember because she was late!"
"I only did that because I was trying to push you to succeed, darling." Salem explained herself. "Obviously, it hasn't worked, so I don't see why I should continue with a failing tactic. Besides, that study I read about negative reinforcement turned out to have some implicit biases."
"...What?"
"What I'm saying, Cinder, is that I've turned over a new leaf. Or, rather, I've changed back to my old leaf. In that I've grown less and less convinced that forcing all of you down with threats is really the best way to operate.
"Besides," she continued, "I'm not really an angry person, Cinder. I just enjoy destruction. And, really, I get to do what I love for a living, and I've got some great teams supporting me, so why wouldn't I be happy?"
"But… then, what about The Plan?" Cinder said, feeling an up well of indignation. "It's ruined!"
"The plan's not ruined," Salem scoffed. "It's just been... set back a century or so," she said with a casual air, as if it were barely worth her time to make a more accurate forecast of the delay.
And at that, things seemed to make a lot more sense to Cinder, and she felt an intoxicating concoction of emotions running through her. On one hand, it… was existentially unsatisfying, to learn that her part in The Plan was far smaller than she'd ever imagined. On the other hand, that also seemed to come with a corresponding decrease in accountability.
Thinking on it for a moment, she wondered if Torchwick didn't have the right idea in the first place.
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