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"Professor Lionheart, please," Pyrrha insisted. "Professor Ozpin wouldn't have told me about what was really going on if he didn't think I was ready for it."

As promised, it had only taken a few days for her wounds to heal well enough for her to walk. The media had promptly swarmed her questions about whether she'd be returning to arena fighting or one of the Academies, only to scatter in terror when her mother had told them she would only be undertaking light rehabilitation training for the time being and any further inquiries would be decidedly… unwelcome. It was fortunate that her mother had such a fearsome reputation among the press, as it allowed Pyrrha to sneak off to Haven to speak with Professor Lionheart unmolested.

However, the Headmaster himself was being decidedly unhelpful.

"Ms. Nikos, I have no doubt that you are a skilled warrior and an exemplary huntress," the lion faunus assured her from behind his desk. "But you are still a child. I trusted Ozpin on many matters, but even he would not deny that seeking out a student for the maiden powers was an act of desperation. One that evidently backfired."

Pyrrha cringed as if she'd been smacked. "I… I…"

"That was not your fault," Lionheart said quickly, rising to his feet. "But now that the Fall Maiden's power is regrettably out of our control, there's no reason you should risk your life in this war. You're no longer involved."

"No longer involved?" Pyrrha repeated, incredulous. "They sacked my school! They made me a murderer! Cinder killed my headmaster and nearly killed me—"

"And Cinder is just a foot soldier!" Lionheart roared, raising his voice for the first time in the conversation. Once Pyrrha was suitably stunned, the headmaster sighed, all intensity gone from his face, replaced by a nearly imperceptible shaking. "She is just a pawn. She is just a pawn, and she nearly killed you. And her master… Salem… she is dread and darkness incarnate."

Pyrrha had never heard such fear from one of her professors. Ozpin, Glynda, and General Ironwood, had spoken to her with severity, made clear the danger they were asking her to step into, but they'd always held back from letting their own reservations show. Yet, Lionheart's voice was dripping with terror.

"Pyrrha, please," he whispered. "I don't know how much Ozpin explained about Salem and her goals, but it is not something to rush towards. Grimm have been in a frenzy across the continent since the Fall of Beacon. I've had to push off the semester because the Council needs my teachers in the field. Now isn't the time to go on the offensive. We need to fortify… and you need to heal."

The Invincible Girl frowned. She didn't want to wait. She needed to get back out in the fight, to stop Cinder from hurting anyone else.

But… she couldn't deny that she had some training to do reworking her fighting style. If the more experienced huntsman, one of Ozpin's four specially chosen acolytes, thought she needed to wait in order to defeat their foes… she could wait. Cinder would be back in time.

And she'd be ready for her.

"I understand, headmaster," she replied softly. "If it isn't too much trouble, would it be alright if I used Haven's facilities to train?"

Lionheart smiled. "It would be an honor, Ms. Nikos. If you ever need a sparring partner, you only need to ask, though I confess I may not be much of a challenge to one of your talents. I'm not the warrior I used to be."

Pyrrha chuckled. She gave the headmaster a polite bow and exited the office. As she strode through the elegant wooden halls of Haven, her mind ruminated on what she'd learned from the faunus, of what Ozpin had been planning to tell her if she'd accepted his offer. Of the Relics, of the Gates… of Salem. The shadow war was much larger than she'd thought, with far more foes waiting in the wings. And as the sweeping dorms of the empty school reminded her, their available allies were hardly numerous, either occupied defending the outlying settlements from the Grimm or simply out of contact range. She'd have to wait until the CCT got back up before she could call the gang in Vale. With any luck, Qrow or Professor Goodwitch would have already let them in on everything after the disaster of the Fall. Maybe they'd even be able to forgive her for keeping what she had from them.

In a few minutes, she reached the sparring hall. It was incredibly similar to Beacon's, only with a Mistralian tint in the aesthetics, more embellished decoration of vines and mosaics in place of Vale's functional grandeur. It felt foreign to step into such a frivolously decorated arena after so long away, but it would suit her purposes just fine.

She tapped a few keys on the control console and several tiles rose up from the floor, revealing old model Atlesian Knights, AK-100s, fitted with riot shields and boxing gloves. Once the machines were rotated out of service, Atlas sold them in bulk to the academies to serve as training dummies. In time, she'd face off with units equipped with swords and bows to prepare for Cinder, but for now, she needed to get back into the swing of things.

Pyrrha glanced down at her empty hands, her arms feeling far too light without Milo and Akouo. She'd had her trusty shield and weapon since her first tournament, her mother's gift, to show her that she was proud of her in victory and defeat. But defeat had taken them from her, another consequence of her powerlessness. She could get replacements of course but as any huntsman would say, Ruby especially, there was no way to simply leave behind a weapon.

No matter. With her foot as it was, she needed a new style anyway. This… this would just be part of that.

She set the passcodes to shut everything down as soon as her aura hit the red and marched into the arena. The robots' heads flared to life, thankfully not red as at Beacon, and they moved in towards Pyrrha.

The champion raised her fists, a bit of Yang's boxing stance leaking into her own position. But when the first Knight threw a punch, she slipped to the side, flowing like Ren. She pushed the machine's arm out and delivered a punishing blow to its shield knocking it backward and off-balance. With that, she promptly pulled out what the team had taken to calling 'Nora mode'. Essentially, she battered her target with every ounce of strength she had until it sparked, and the lights went off. Simple, but effective.

She couldn't wield her old style anymore, using elaborate acrobatics to confuse her foes while her regimented footwork picked them apart piece by piece, her calculated use of her semblance frustrating them until they slipped up enough for her to finish them. But she wasn't the same lonely, disciplined girl who'd learned it either. She'd grown in her time at Beacon. Perhaps not as much as Jaune had, but one who was merely finetuning their technique didn't advance as fast as one who was starting from nothing. But she'd absorbed traits, bits of technique and tactics that had defined her friends. She couldn't use them to the same extent as them, but they were a part of her now. She was no longer the lonely girl standing at the top. She had to fight like it.

Her semblance alerted her to a chunk of metal rushing towards the back of her head. She rolled to the side just as another Knight's glove passed through where she'd been, coming to her feet as the remaining gaggle of robots gathered around her. She narrowed her eyes as they advanced, dancing backward to avoid their blows, carefully applying her semblance to divert their strikes, though that fact that she had to make a conscious effort not to spring into flips prevented her from launching a counterattack. She needed to readjust her instincts, use this time against harmless foes to prepare her body for more dangerous opponents.

And maybe try out a few new tricks along the way.

She stumbled back from the Knights and took a deep breath. She had filled up her origin before coming to the school, but the practice still served to center her mind, just as her mother had originally intended.

The air left her mouth and the ethernano ignited. Golden light surrounded her body and she rocketed forward, ramming through the robots like an out of control bull.

She crouched to her knees, gnashing her teeth to both maintain the radiant magic and keep her flight under control. This power, it could be the key to keeping her friends safe, to defeating Cinder once and for all. She couldn't be a burden to Ruby the next time they fought!

The robots staggered back to their feet, their riot shields dent, but intact from her wild charge. They raised their arms and turned on her, ready for another bout.

Pyrrha growled, the magic still flaring around her like a wild beast. She had to control this! Why couldn't she control this?

The Knights advanced, their gloved hands pulled back for a barrage of blows…

Only for their lights to go dim and their forms to go limp.

"That's a new trick."

Pyrrha whirled around to the stands, her mother deftly closing down the control panel and striding into the arena. Her eyes widened, her golden aura dissipating into nothingness.

"Mother!" She squeaked. "How long have you been standing here?"

"Long enough," Scarlet replied. "I came to speak with Professor Lionheart about allowing us to use his facilities, only for him to inform me you'd been his meeting right before and had already asked. Care to explain?"

Pyrrha nervously rubbed the back of her head. "Well, um, I wanted to work on… that thing I just did on my own for a bit. Before I showed it to you."

"Uh-huh. And you didn't want me to see it, whatever it is, before because?"

"Because I can't control it," Pyrrha confessed, feeling it was the easier statement over explaining the existence of magic. She'd deal with that in time, along with her mother Fairy Tail mark. "It's just… surging with energy and pushes me forward so fast. I can barely keep it going straight. Ruby described it as flowing through me, but no matter how much I focus, I can't control its speed."

Scarlet raised an eyebrow. "Is that it?"

Pyrrha blinked in confusion. "Is that… is that not enough?! If I can't control it, then I'm useless! I won't be able to help anyone! I'll be dead weight, and they'll die trying to save me and then I'll lose…"

Her words cut off mind-rant as she realized she raised her voice to her mother. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No, it's alright, Pyrrha," Scarlet assured her, gently taking her daughter's hands in her own. "Just because your body is nearly recovered doesn't mean you are. Don't let anyone tell you that you need to rush yourself getting better."

If only that were true. Her mother meant well, but Salem's plans endangered all of Remnant. She didn't have time to wallow in self-pity, she needed to get stronger.

Scarlet smiled. "Besides, it's good to see a bit of fire in you again. You haven't been like that since they started calling you invincible. Beacon was good for you."

"Yeah, it was," Pyrrha agreed, her eyes twinkling with memory. "What did you mean? When you said, 'Is that all'?"

Her mother chuckled, a light sound that always amazed Pyrrha that it could come from such a strong source. She took a step back and drew a broadsword with a winged hilt from her side, the same one she'd wielded when she'd met Aunt Rouge so long ago.

She didn't give even a hint of warning before lashing out with a quick slash. Acting on instinct long-ingrained from training, Pyrrha activated her semblance and shifted the blade to right, the steel missing her right shoulder by the barest of margins.

"That's what I meant," Scarlet pronounced, letting her sword fall to her side. "You already know the answer to this trouble. You're just too caught up in panicking to see it right in front of you."

Pyrrha looked down to her hands, the black shimmer of her polarity momentarily flaring. "My semblance?"

Scarlet nodded. "When you first unlocked it, you couldn't activate it without summoning every scrap of metal in the house. You nearly lost an eye to our good silverware. Trying to regulate it didn't help, that was just like putting your thumb in front of a hose. All the water still came, just even stronger out the smaller opening. In the end…"

"I had to learn to aim it."

It all made sense. Her semblance's power was always constant. She could put more will behind it to increase its force, but there was always a relatively high base level. That was why it had been so simple for her to unleash the blast that destroyed Penny without thinking. She hadn't learned to control her semblance's power, but its target and where she wanted that target to go. Her soul would then answer her call to fulfill her desires. If her magic worked similarly, clamping down would do nothing but shoot her out of control.

She couldn't command the flow, but she could guide, ever so subtly as she needed to. It was perfect.

A grin blossomed across her face. "Thanks, mom."

"No problem, my little warrior," Scarlet said. "And don't worry. Meteor may be difficult to master, but I have no doubt you'll have it down in no time."

Pyrrha's smile suddenly evaporated. "What did you say?"

"Huh? That trick of yours may be difficult to master—"

"No, no," Pyrrha cut in. "You called it Meteor."

"I didn't—" Scarlet's face fell, overtaken by a mask of befuddlement. "I… I did. It just seemed… right, in my mind. I don't know why. Is that what it's called?"

Pyrrha's eyes darted between her mother's eyes and her Fairy Tail mark. She may not have known what the spell was actually called, but the fact that Scarlet had named it so offhandedly added another tic to the column that her mother knew more about magic than she was letting on, even if she didn't know she did. And that meant keeping her in the dark on the matter wouldn't get them anywhere.

Scarlet raised her sword, putting a fresh smile on her face. "Well, what do you want to do next? Go a round, or tell your mother what exactly this new trick of yours is? Because unless the definition of polarity is different in Vale, it's certainly not your semblance."

"The latter," Pyrrha decided. Professor Lionheart was only a few halls away if she needed clarification on any details. There would never be a better time. "Mom, what's your favorite fairytale?"

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"I call this, 'The Utter Defeat of Moulin Rouge'!"

"Ha! You've never beaten me at pool, utterly or otherwise."

"Care to put that to the test?"

Gray chuckled as Erza and Bisca teased each other, the Queen of the Fairies smirking at the gunslinger as she sank her first shot of their game. It was certainly quieter than his various spats with Natsu, or indeed Erza's fights with Mira in their younger years, but with the flame-brain away, it was nice to hear a little friendly competition in the guild. Macao and Wakaba were even placing bets on how the match would go, as well as how much property damage would occur before it was over.

He was down for a hundred jewels on Bisca.

Weiss staggered over and plopped down at his side.

"Rough day?" he inquired.

"When Ruby suggested going to the billiard hall, I assumed she actually knew how to play billiards!" his protégé complained. "But no, she's only 'figured it out' from watching Natsu of all people!"

Gray glanced over at Ruby and Wendy, where the Sky Dragon Slayer was fervently trying to convince her friend that, no, billiards was nothing like baseball.

"It looks like his idiocy is contagious after all. Weird, you'd think she'd seen Yang play it at least once," he noted, before he turned to the huntress next to him. "I'm a little surprised that you know how to play though. Billiards and pool aren't exactly considered high-class games in this world. Is it different enough on Remnant that an aristocrat knows the rules?"

Weiss frowned and looked away. "Not exactly. My father married into our family, but before that he worked in our security department. He turned my grandfather on to the game and for a few years, there was a table in our house, even a few parties with it. I learned the rules by watching."

Gray cocked an eyebrow. "I take it that it didn't last."

"The upper class of Atlas has never been a fan of deviation. And my father had wanted to join them his entire life," Weiss whispered. "The parties stopped when I was six. The table was gone before I was seven. And my father became quite popular among his new peers soon after, though, there was a lot more to that than just dropping a game."

"I can imagine," Gray noted. For a few moments, the two just sat there in companionable silence, the wacky antics of their fellows bringing life to their solemn figures, flashes of light reflected in cold pillars of ice.

Eventually, Gray rose to his feet, holding out a hand to his friend. "Well, you up for a game?"

Weiss glanced up in surprise before smirking at him. "Are you going to play without a shirt?"

Gray cocked an eyebrow and looked down at his bare chest, his hand already clutching the waistband of his pants. He smacked his palm away and sighed. "Damnit."

Weiss covered her mouth with her palm and giggled. "Seriously, is that stripping thing really just a side effect of the training? It seems ridiculous."

"Honestly, I have no clue," Gray confessed. "Ur just did it when she was training me and Lyon, and neither of them did it without meaning to, same thing with Ultear…"

"Ultear?" Weiss repeated after her teacher trailed off. "That's your sister, right? The one that worked with Erza's not-fiancée?"

"Yeah, there's a bit more to it than that but… well, she's gone now," he explained. "I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I know she's gone."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks," he sighed. "She did a lot of terrible stuff. Ruined lives. Tried to kill us. Did kill a lot of other people."

"Oh," Weiss remarked, her face twisted in confusion. "And… this is someone you miss?"

Gray shrugged. "She was my master's daughter. And helped us out more than once. Is that such a surprise?"

Weiss frowned. "I don't know. I know the guild believes that an enemy can become a friend. And I know that people make mistakes trying to do the right thing, it's one of the reasons I forgave Blake for whatever she might have done in the White Fang. But… when does it become too much? When do a person's actions become so horrible that their good intentions no longer matter? I'm not saying you shouldn't mourn her but… from the sound of it, what she did was unforgivable."

"And yet, I forgave her."

Gray walked over to the wall and snatched them both a pair of pool cues, ducking under stray ball launched by Ruby. He held out the long stick to the white-haired girl.

"I can't speak for all the people Ultear hurt, but what I could forgive her for, I did. Because I wanted to. It's not justice, that's for courts and laws and that crap to decide. But forgiveness is personal. No one can make me forgive anyone and no one can say I can't forgive anyone. And the same thing applies to you, and your father."

Weiss' eyes darkened. "I don't want to forgive him. I won't."

"Then don't. No one can decide he deserves your forgiveness but you."

"I'm not worried about that," she snapped. "I worried about whether I'll deserve forgiveness."

"Huh?" Gray tilted his head to the side. "If this is about the cathedral, Master's already smoothed everything over with the city council—"

"It's not that," Weiss declared, keeping his voice low as their friends continued their games. She stood and walked past Gray, putting her hands on one of the pool tables and leaning over the edge. "I want to restore the honor of my family name. But I'm not a fool. I know that my father's distinct lack of principles is a rather large factor in his success in business. My grandfather brought him on in part because the company was starting to flounder. So, despite wanting to rise above him, I'm not sure if I'll be able to purge his influence without doing horrible things as well."

"Like stripping?"

"Like… what?"

Weiss caught her hands just as they'd started pushing down her skirt, whirling around on Gray with a scowl.

The ice mage just smirked. "The only person who can make you do horrible things is you. Maybe, if you were alone long enough, pressed hard enough, you might make a mistake thinking it was right. But…"

He pointed his stick over her shoulder, leading her eyes over to where Wendy was currently trying to get Ruby to cough up the chalk tip that she'd somehow gotten stuck in her throat.

"I don't think you'll be alone any time soon."

"Not unless she chokes," Weiss snarked, though her wistful smile betrayed her true fondness. Besides, Wendy was their healer, Ruby would be fine.

The white-haired girl snatched the pool cue her teacher had been offering her and turned to face him fully. "Don't expect me to go easy on you just because you're my teacher."

Gray returned her grin, taking a step closer. "Wouldn't dream of it. There's no fun if there's no challenge."

"Oh really? You think you can take everything I can dish out?"

"I know I can. Doesn't matter how hard you pound me; I'll just turn it right back around on you."

"I'd like to see you try. If you don't take your pants off with your first shot."

"Ah! Stop flirting!"

Gray raised an eyebrow at the familiar shout, not even bothering to glance back at the deep blue coat he knew would be there. He was grateful that Juvia had made an effort to restrain herself since the mountain, even more than she had after the Grand Magic Games, but this outburst was more confusing than normal. Flirting? What was she talking about? He and Weiss had just been talking.

Strangely, Weiss' cheeks suddenly burst out in red. "I'll... go get the triangle."

The huntress skipped off to snatch the tool to set up the game, leaving Gray behind to scratch his head. What was he getting himself into?

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What had she gotten herself into?

Weiss had been to many of her father's galas before but her time at Beacon and on Earthland had made her forget just how utterly boring the parties were. Really, as aggravating as it was to be glued to Jacques' side like a lifeless trophy, the idle, arrogant conversation he and his peers engaged in wasn't entertaining in the slightest. Things were so dull that she was actively remembering not to strip, just because the mental exercise provided her with something to do.

The business discussions were quite simple. Her father insisted to his fellows that the SDC paid faunus the same wages as their human workers, which was technically true. Very few humans were desperate enough to seek work in the dust mines. There were other jobs that didn't risk substandard working conditions, cave-ins, and subterranean Grimm, and most every employer in Atlas would hire them over a faunus any day of the week, no matter who was more qualified. The unlucky few that swallowed their pride and took the position working beside 'the animals' got the same pittance they did, if they survived long enough to get it.

They were mentions of other issues, whether the SDC owed the faunus migrants they drew in from Mistral, the only place on Remnant less friendly to them than Atlas, jobs at all, but on the whole, Weiss needed a break from the stupidity. She made to evacuate the conversation only for her father to snag her wrist.

"Where are you going?" he demanded, his voice soft to avoid attracting unwanted attention, but undeniable with an edge under it.

Weiss rolled her eyes. "I headlined the concert, didn't I? It would be poor form if I didn't make the rounds."

"We will make them in time. Be patient."

"What do you think will make people feel more flattered?" Weiss countered. "To be spoken to once by the entire Schnee family, or to be so important that both the CEO and heiress individually think that they just have to meet them?"

Over on her father's opposite side, she caught Whitley's mouth rise into an impressed smirk. Though, did she detect a note of reluctance in it as well? Perhaps that she was abandoning him to Jacques for the evening. She'd have to make it up to him later, ask Klein if his tastes had changed to make sure she could give him a proper apology gift.

Jacques himself held her gaze for a moment longer, before releasing her gloved hand. "Good thinking, my dear. Make sure not to give anyone more time than they're worth."

She nodded and promptly took his advice, leaving him behind.

For all the lack of levity in the proceedings, the ballroom chosen for the gala after the charity concert was quite beautiful, pale blue and white marble gently reflecting the light of the crystal chandeliers as the shattered moon's glow filtered through the full-body windows. Outside, numerous balconies were fully decorated with mazes of bushes and shrubbery, in case any of the aristocrats inside tired of basking in their peers' company and wanted to pretend to walk in nature for a spell. It was a testament to Atlas bombast with just a hint of Mistralian elegance.

As for the guests, Weiss had a hard time telling them apart. They were all dolled up in the latest fashions, with more makeup caked on their faces than was probably healthy. She'd had Klein catch her up on which ones were at the very least tolerable human beings, along with the few who were amazingly decent people despite the elevated station they'd either been born in or climbed to. She'd make her rounds just as she'd promised father, see if she could endear herself to any possible allies, but first… she just needed to decompress. Just a moment to herself.

Perhaps seeking some semblance of better days, she made her way over to artwork display. Since many would need more than the impoverishment of the less fortunate to be charitable, the gala also included an auction of some of the finest Vale style artistry Jacques could commission, the crowning jewel being an exquisite painting of Beacon in its prime, a sizable note below the frame proclaiming that all proceeds would go to the recovering kingdom.

A relieved sigh passed through Weiss' lips. For all that the party was a publicity stunt, at least she was legitimately doing good. Jacques' pride wouldn't allow him to let anyone skim the profits of the event, ensuring Beacon would receive a significant boost to its rebuilding funds. And if the school could return to operational status by the next semester, she could return to her friends all the faster and they could get started on the Fairy Sphere mystery. With any luck Wendy's sensibility would ground Ruby enough in her absence to keep Yang and Blake under control.

She would return to her friends. It would take some time, but she would do it.

"It's beautiful, isn't it."

'Oh, for the love of…'

She briefly glanced to her side to see just what fool had roused her from her blissful solitude. Dark blue hair brushed over one eye, an embroidered black vest and matching tie over a maroon shirt, plaster grin that thought it was charming, ugh. It was like looking at Neptune except without his genuine well meaning.

She closed her eyes. Perhaps the boy wasn't as horrible as she suspected him to be, perhaps he was, but either way, she was not in the mood to deal with cheesy pickup lines—

"You two match."

Weiss let out a long, deep breath, still not turning to face the fool. She had not missed these interactions.

"Yes, it's a lovely painting," she spoke, trying to infuse her voice with every ounce of her vast disinterest, hoping he would get the message.

Sadly, she had too much faith in horny teenage rich boys.

"So, that was my attempt at breaking the ice," he said, still leaning against the security rope surrounding the artwork in a manner he must have thought was charming. "How am I doing so far?"

"You are leaving a lot to be desired."

"Heh, well, I've always appreciated honesty," the boy chuckled awkwardly. He extended his hand. "Henry Marigold."

"Weiss Schnee," she replied, offering her hand for a moment just to be polite.

"I know, I saw your performance. You were wonderful. And I promise I'm not just saying that because you're pretty," Henry said. "Honestly, remember?"

Weiss turned back to the painting. If he couldn't read her mood and insisted on continuing his futile attempts to woo her, she was just going to let him flounder. He'd have to get bored eventually.

"So," he began, turning to the painting. "You thinking about buying it?"

"No. I don't think so."

"Yeah," Henry smirked. "Kind of pricey for a painting."

Weiss' eyes narrowed. "It's to raise money."

"Oh, really?" Henry asked. "For what?"

"For what?"

The asshole chuckled, as if he'd just said something funny instead of disrespecting all the people who'd fought and died defending Beacon. "I'll admit, I only come to these parties for the food and drinks."

He swiped a flute of champagne of the tray of a passing waiter. "And the extraordinary company."

Weiss' hands closed into fists just as the jerk raised the drink to his mouth… only for nothing to come out?

"What in the world?" Henry remarked, examining the glass, only to find the alcohol frozen. "How the heck…"

Weiss couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in confusion as well. She hadn't done that, so how had the liquid been frozen?

"Extraordinary company requires a bit of common sense to go along with it, don't you think?"

Weiss' eyes widened. She recognized the voice instantly, but how could he be here?

She whirled around to her opposite side, finding another young man leaning forward across the painting's security rope, clothed in a finely pressed tuxedo more expensive than anything he would normally have been caught dead in. His black hair was combed back and washed, absent of all its usual spikes, but that only made his dark blue eyes stand out more, like the center of a calm maelstrom, as paradoxical as that was.

"Excuse me?" Henry squeaked at the new arrival. "We were in the middle of a conversation."

"No, you were in the middle of insulting a veteran of the Fall of Beacon. Which you might have known if you'd bothered to read the plaque right in front of you," the dark-haired man countered. He turned to Weiss, revealing his face in full as an apologetic look crossed his mouth. "I'm sorry for what you had to go through."

"Thank you," she replied, offering her hand. By all appearances, it was him, but she had to be sure. Disregarding the multitude of disguise magics there were, this could just be her wistful mind playing tricks on her. "Mr…"

"Fullbuster. Gray Fullbuster," he smirked, taking her hand. "Care for a dance, Ms. Schnee?"

Weiss grinned. Her old teacher had a lot of explaining to do, where he got that tuxedo and how he got into the invitation-only party for one. He had called her Ms. Schnee instead of Weiss, which meant that for some reason he didn't want anyone watching to think they knew each other. She'd figure out why he was being so cloak and dagger later, but for the moment, she was just relieved that she was no longer alone in this mess. She had a friend at her side. "It would be a pleasure, Mr. Fullbuster."

Gray returned her smile and the two of them took off for the dance floor, leaving Henry Marigold behind to stammer in confusion.

Fullbuster. Gray Fullbuster. He takes his martinis stirred, with plenty of ice.

Ah, and so begins a set of arcs that I'm really looking forward to telling. Weiss and Gray's arc in Atlas is going to be very different from Weiss' canon Volume 4 arc and I can't wait to craft their tale of espionage, double-crosses, and betrayal. It, along with Blake's current arc on Menagerie, are some of the sections that most made me want to tell this tale. I hope I can do it justice.

An extra huge thank you to my patrons: ArcherMcMuffin, Gregg Tracton, Keith Traction, StabKingPro, Annaya Chan, Nora Okonus, Paula mandel, and KefkaesqueXIII.

Thank you for Reading! I hope you enjoy what comes next!

Go Forth and Conquer!