Arhen
For a moment, all I could see that the blackness of empty dream. One of the very few that occurred.
The silence filled out my ears, only allowing small rings to sound. Slowly, the ringing became the sharp sound of clashing metal. The iron and steel ringing with an echo and heated sparks.
The sparks brought light into the empty dream, and slowly, just like the silence was cut away, the sparks became embers to a flame that broke the through blackness like a beacon.
I could only vaguely tell the figure within the darkness, by how the embers were reflected in her red eyes, that glew with the flame and dissapeared when the sparks faded. The embers grew and with it, more of the figures pale features that were reflected in it's glow.
The Titan Slayer. Her face monotone, her lips still and her eyes masked. Ever so often glowing with a strange kind of excitement and focus I couldn't describe in this blackness.
Even as the flames fade, her eyes still remain. Staring into mine, cutting through the darkness much like the embers from before. I remember the sound of rain, and the coolness of it's torrents washing over me.
The blackness stayed, but her eyes faded into nothing amidst the sound.
~•~
I felt strange when I woke up. My muscles felt stiffer than most times I have a terrible lack of sleep. The morning was even stranger, for the sore fact that for the first time in a while, Weiss woke up before me.
She was already dressed in fact, going with the long blue coat she wore when we first met. Weiss must've heard the sound of the sheets moving, she turned right at me the moment her eyes left the mirror.
"You're awake." She started, silently. Weiss greeted in a weird tone that made it seem as though she was troubled by something.
She must've seen the slight confusion on my face, since she didn't look me in the eyes. When she finally did, she eyed the floor where my clothes were and eyed me.
The message was clear despite the silence. I needed to get dressed. Usually she'd linger a lot more in bed, but this time she went straight to business.
Something must've happened. But as I try and rack my brain at the possibility of what occured, nothing comes to mind.
Did someone find out what she was doing to me? Possibly so, but it's expected of a slave. So even if someone had discovered us, it wouldn't be that much of an issue to make Weiss like this.
I spent the whole of the time it took me to get dressed thinking about it. And even as we left the room in equal pregnant silence, the notion still didn't hit me. Until I looked out the large window in the hallway that had a decent view of the plantation and quarry and the answer came like lightning.
The explosion.
For a moment, I stopped moving just to look at the lingering black plumes of smoke in the air. It must've happened quite late into the early morning for the smoke to have still been here. Right at the time Slayer and I were sparring.
Right at the only time, I was missing.
If Weiss was woken up by the impact, she would've seen me missing from the bed. And with the way she's acting, I wouldn't put past the notion that the exact event occurred.
That damn rat bastard.
All my work and endurance was about to complete shit because of this stunt. If I was assigned even once to watch the plantation, I could've stopped this stunt from happening.
The more I thought about it, the worse the situation was. I fought the urge to rage.
Goddamn. What was I going to do with Willow? She saw me talking to that rat just yesterday, for a long while too. I'm confident that she couldn't hear what we were saying but that didn't make the situation any easier.
If Willow knows what happened, then I am an obvious suspect. But Weiss isn't stupid, she's desperate, but if she was stupid she would've fallen into my web much earlier. She knows very well what I am like, or at the very least a little part of the bigger picture.
My dumbass demonstrated that in the mine.
"Something the matter? You've been staring for quite a while there." Weiss asked. I looked back to stare at her and I saw her eyes were just as lidded as Willow's were when I met her.
Her tone would've been colder if she'd caught my surprise earlier. But it wasn't exactly warm either, it seemed like the type of monotone that I would speak in. "What happened here?" I questioned.
"A breakout."
Weiss motioned with her head to follow her. As I matched her speed walk to her side, she continued to talk. "Right now we're heading down to the plantation." She paused.
"Are you able to drive?"
I gave a slight nod. And when she looked away from me, I sighed.
It never was easy salvaging a mess like this, but I had to do some kind of damage control.
Lest all my plans crumble.
Whitley
"It has been a while since we've met like this. Hasn't it, Whitley?"
Whitley wished it was longer, and better yet wished that he didn't have to see him at all.
Jacques calling him to the office was like a curse. Including now, he's only called him to his office a total of three times now. The first time he did, Weiss was bleeding from her left eye.
The second was before the auction and after party that happened a few weeks ago. After that she barely spoke to him. Whitley didn't want to imagine what this meeting would do. Even as he stepped into the small meeting alongside Delta, he couldn't stop the eerie foreboding that was eroding his stomach.
"Yes, indeed. Did you need something from me?" He asked.
Regardless, Whitley kept his mask on and played the obedient child. The reason for this has long faded from his mind, and as he questioned himself for continuing he too questioned the reason he had to play to his whims. Each time he did so, Whitley became nauseous.
Maybe it was him realizing what he had lost by doing this. No, what he made him lose.
"Do you know what happened?" Jacques asked. His mask was layed with a plain tone of indifference. Whitley knew what he was talking about, but he didn't seem in the least bit upset.
Whitley folded his arms. "I thought that you'd be angrier."
"It's an inconvenience at best. However it's nothing that I can't smooth over with the officials." Jacques explained. Whitley noticed that he was no longer sitting in his chair, but instead looking out of his large window and into the courtyard below.
He sensed an unanswered statement hung in the air. "But?" Whitley asked.
Jacques moved his head to eye him, but then refocused on the sight below. His hand reached out, taking hold of a small glass of wine that lay on his desk.
He held it, took a sip and kept twirling it between his fingers. "But the problem lies in exactly that." Jacques set the wine glass down with a deep sigh.
"James never condoned the slave trade in Atlas, and I doubt his younger sister would as well. If she was raised right." He stepped from the window and slowly pased side to side on his desk, letting his one hands fingers slide on his desk each time.
Whitley supposed that the presence of officials had to become a problem soon enough. Slavery, even of the Faunus race didn't really seem like good PR material for them. Especially when a good margin of people were pacifists at heart, and even the purists families who condone the trade would ride along with the PR nightmare that is protest, just for the sake of making their family look good.
He felt like sighing. The acting didn't seem any kind of different to normal thievery in the slums. There was no honor amongst thieves and even less so around old money. Whitley couldn't blame them, and he could feel that Jacques didn't either.
"Still, this isn't nothing that a man like you can't keep from spreading. Why the delay?" Whitley questioned.
When he saw Jacques pause his pacing just in the middle of his desk, Whitley knew that he caught him delaying the point. The man himself only sighed, opened his drawer and beheld a large tablet in his hand. "You're asking a lot more questions Whitley. But I suppose I'll stop beating around the bush." He stated.
"I had a small bug that, amidst the planning for the auction, dinner party and even this meeting with the Shadow Company, I didn't manage to take care of." He sighed, sliding his finger across the tablet screen. "That bug has now become somewhat of a pest, and I need him dealt with."
Whitley curved his eyebrow. "Is it an official?" He questioned.
"Worse." He growled. "It's a damn slave."
How quaint. The pot calling kettle black. Whitley wondered if Jacques had realized how much of a pest he was to him. But of course he didn't, he's not the brightest when it comes to hiding things. Often he had wondered how had he managed to take the company from under his mother's nose, and other times, he wondered how much he could get away with if he killed him.
At most, those thoughts would fade away. And now he couldn't care less about holding them back. Weiss no longer trusted him, and it was no surprise anymore if he had really thought about it. Whitley wouldn't trust himself either, if he had to associate with the same man that took her eye.
But in truth, perhaps he felt a sort of kinship to the man. But it wasn't anything that a blade can't rend apart.
"A slave?" He questioned. "Forgive me if I'm a tad confused."
Jacques shook his head. "Of course you're confused. The sheer lunacy of it has gotten me confused as well." He sighed.
"Why can't this particular one be dealt with like the others?"
"I'll give one reason. Willow." Jacques started.
Whitley's eyebrow curved. "What does mother have anything to do with this?"
Jacques only sighed, then tossed the tablet to Whitley. The tablet was still open and unlocked. Displaying a certain tab that had a entire list of slaves.
The one Whitley saw had made him hold his tongue despite the bitter irony. Staring back at him was the monotone face of the servant that arrived with Willow and the one thing Weiss clings to.
He could hear Jacques hum, and Whitley had determined that even he couldn't hold himself back from showing his dislike for him.
"Do you know him?" Jacques asked. Whitley chuckled as he closed his eyes and set the tablet down on the table.
Of course he does. He wishes that he didn't, or at the very least didn't discover him the way he did. Others would've beheld and pieced the subtly of Weiss's behavior, but Whitley got a full, front seat view of them fucking like rabbits in the office.
In hindsight, Weiss was never subtle with her acts. And while looking for her, Whitley should've known better.
He closed his eyes, and started to think. Somehow, this slave has also managed to win over Willow. Which wasn't good for Jacques personal wise but the current situation is much bigger than heritage.
A slave, somehow managed to ally themselves with two of the most powerful women in the family. A slave who has in depth knowledge of what goes on in the mine.
A slave who was fucking his sister.
"..."
He took a deep breath, and with each gasp a thought disappeared, one by one until his mind was tranquil. It was easy to guess why his father saw this as a problem. Jacques wanted to avoid extortion by getting rid of him.
"No." Whitley answered. "And whether I know him or not doesn't matter, does it?"
Jacques hummed. "Yes, you're right." He began to stroke his chin as though thinking. "It does not."
The 'how' part befuddled him, but it wasn't anything a little planning between them couldn't make happen.
Thinking about the madness he was colluding to almost made him outwardly laugh with distaste at what things had come to for him.
When he left this room before the party, Whitley had promised never to never associate with Jacques again. He no longer has anything but this promise to lose.
So Whitley supposed that he could make an exception this time around.
Arhen
The drive was tense, and for the first time, the silence was displeasing. I wondered if it was because I could tell what she was thinking about. It probably was the case regardless.
The moment we reached the site I could feel Weiss grow nervous. It was odd. I'm the one who stands to get killed here if things go wrong. "We've arrived." I announced.
Weiss nodded and stepped out the car. Making sure to grab hold of her blue coat and drape over her shoulders outside. As I followed suit, I took notice of the many overseers gathered at the site. Unit Alpha was there, and obviously the Wolf-morph was indisposed.
We walked in silence, with Weiss constantly checking back and looking at me following her. Was she worried that I was going to bolt? Most likely, and she wouldn't exactly be incorrect. My first idea was to turn tail when things inevitably went bad, but judging from the crowd of security droids and overseers, running wasn't an option.
The closer we got, the more I would see. We've already come across the masks of numerous Grimm and the corpses of the poor slaves that didn't survive the night. Some were charred, others slashed and ripped through. A rare few were laying in the snow with a bullet hole in their head. It means the plan would've worked, Faceman just didn't expect the Grimm.
We sifted through the overseers and stopped. To my immediate left, my eyes bore upon the liar and his spawn. Whitley eyed me with a calculating gaze, I'll give him credit, he hid his malice far better than his father.
The slaves that remained knelt in the snow, bounded and across from the overseers. Others were bound to crosses as though Weiss meant to crucify them. The bindings on those slaves were a little loose compared to the ones kneeling in the snow. It was obvious this was prepared during the eleventh hour. The purpose of it lay hidden from my thoughts, but perhaps she wanted to make a point of sorts.
Weiss lifted her hand, pulled out a silver revolver latched to her waist and started walking forward. The chambers spun as she drew closer to the slaves bounded one of the many crosses. Her eyes, dull and empty, trailed along the many slaves until her gaze fell upon one.
She paused before one of the crosses, and the slave bound to it began to shake. Weiss's eyes drew her fear, but some part of her thought that whip might be coming in future. Perhaps that is what the slaves were used to.
Sadly, the slaves mild hope of light punishment shattered the moment Weiss aimed her gun right at her forehead. The slave instantly turned pale, her scream was gagged by cloth, but no one could mistake the frantic struggle and tugging against the binds. Suddenly, a loud bang echoed in the air like thunder, before silence rang in droves.
The slave hung from the cross, blood oozing from the hole in her head. Drops of it dripped to the snow as she hung her head down, lifeless. The other slaves stared, wide eyed, pale and shaking with absolving panic.
Weiss tilted her head to the right, lifted her gun and shot a round at one of the slaves kneeling in the snow. Then she walked past his corpse, eyed the slave kneeling beside him crying and shot her as well.
"She's taking this more seriously than last time." I turned to the left and faced Whitley. He didn't know I was looking, his attention bore on Weiss executing the slaves.
"I wonder what brought this on." I almost chuckled. Maybe she was making a point, or perhaps she was trying to scare me into a panic. But I'm sure Weiss already knows this won't work on me, if that was her plan at all. I'm definitely not squeamish.
The gunfire stopped, and the only thing that drew noise was the sound of Weiss's footsteps on the snow, gradually making way towards me. Her finger still laid on the trigger as she stared at me with empty eyes.
She aimed the barrel at me, and I almost fired an Ice Seed by impulse. But she then flipped the gun until she held on the barrel and the revolvers handle was facing me.
Oh.
I walked towards her. Realizing what she had wanted from me. I stopped just before the handle of the gun made it to my nose. Slowly, she removed her finger off the trigger and lowered it into my hands.
Her gaze was telling. She wanted me to do it.
She made a big show of being cold, but as I started walking towards the slaves, Weiss held on to me by the hand she placed the gun into.
She was shaking, but still holding onto me. "You belong to me." She muttered, shakily.
Weiss uttered the phrase as though she were asking a question. And even within the silence, she still hung on to me. With a small amount of effort on my part, I had managed to pry her off me and continue to the slaves.
I eyed the gun in my hands and fiddled around with it to get a feel for how I should use it. I've seen some Gamers use this sort of weapon before, it was always rather boring to watch. The noise they make sounded like glorified farts in the distance. And they lack the elegant ringing of clashing steel.
But as I aimed the gun and shot a hole through a slave, I was remiss to admit that it's not boring at all.
Firing this thing was actually quite fun.
I was surprised by how strong the recoil of the weapon was, but I was marginally more impressed at the quick work it made of that slave. I usually have to put in effort when I cut things into ribbons. But in this case, all it took was a single squeeze of a trigger, and they're dead.
True, you can avoid the bullets if you're fast enough. The me a few weeks back would've been able to do so quite easily. But a majority of people are realistically not that strong. Sure, you get powerhouses like the Titan Slayer. But Gamers are just ridiculous.
I don't remember when I stopped shooting at the slaves, but I know that when I did, the snow was an entirely different color. Thankfully, when I pulled back the hammer and opened the chamber, there were two bullets remaining.
Every slaves eyes were on me as I made way through the corpses and the ones kneeling in the snow, praying. My eyes caught onto a single one restrained to a cross. Weiss had killed off the most of them, but I was convinced that Willow had played a hand in who I saw.
I stood right before Faceman, who was latched onto the cross with a smile. The smile hid how fearful he really was. That, or he didn't care much for what was about to happen.
And for once, I couldn't tell which was the truth.
It spoke a good sentiment though. The ratman kept his poker face up even as I aimed the gun right at him. The only thing that shifted was his eyes, and how forlorn they were. A pity, but this was how this sort of game was played.
Faceman's eyes told me that he knew this as well. I'll admit, my fingers might've slipped of the trigger for a moment but I kept my hand on it, looked into his eyes and started to squeeze.
Suddenly a piercing roar broke right through the air, making me squeeze the trigger by accident and miss the shot.
I looked back at Weiss who kept her eyes on me, and not on the Grimm sneaking up behind her. She turned ashen white when I aimed the gun at her, and fired at the Grimm. It took a moment for her to look back at the dead Beowolf and realize that was what I aimed for, but when she did, her bangs shadowed her eyes.
+4,709 Exp
Your Level has Increased.
In the distance, sounds of rapid gunfire travelled like echoes in the air. The question of what they were firing at came to me sooner than I thought. Grimm crawled out of black pools in the ground all around us.
Some of them wolves, and some of them the size and shape of bears. I backed up against Weiss, seeing as they surrounded us. When I tried to shoot at one of them, the gun clicked empty.
Unless I was planning on using Ice Seed in front of everyone, I was basically defenseless.
"Don't worry, Arhen. I'll protect you." Weiss claimed, stepping forward and unsheathing her rapier. She must've slipped out of whatever nerves she had before due to my demonstration from earlier. I missed one but it wasn't necessarily my fault.
Her hand hovered over the revolver in my hand and at the same time, a glyph passed through the frame. The moment it did, the gun pressed down with a familiar weight. Weiss must've reloaded it.
Perfect. While I have no confidence in taking on the bear-like Grimm now, the Beowolves around it make for free experience. I haven't power leveled in quite a while, and it's a shame I don't get many opportunities to do so.
I pulled back the hammer and started firing into the crowd of Grimm. The distance and recoil of the gun made me miss a few shots but I wasn't about to wait until the Grimm charge at me to start shooting. The most of which I got were some hits to the forelegs and side, with some actually resulting in a kill.
+4,709 Exp
+4,709 Exp
Weiss's blade lunged behind me and stabbed right into the face of a Grimm mid pounce to my nape. In turn, I gripped the gun with my off hand and fired a few rounds at the bear-like Grimm.
The Grimm leaped back with a roar, causing the bullets to either ricochet of it's mask or lodge themselves inside the Grimm's head. It acted very much like an actual bear, and if it did, then firing directly at it's head is comparable to shooting at a wall. A wall that will make me dead.
I could shoot at it's stomach where it's exposed, causing it internal bleeding. But the Beowolves won't give me the time to make the Grimm reveal it, much less prepare the shot.
"Weiss. Go for it's stomach." I said, turning back to the Beowolves. I could only see three about to rush me, looks like Weiss took care of the most of them.
Using the gun was making my arms tired so it took longer to aim at the Beowolves. Regardless, I fired the last few rounds I had at them while they all tried to pounce at me. The close range blew them back as they were reduced to wisps of darkness.
+4,709 Exp
Your Level has increased.
+4,709 Exp
+4,709 Exp
With the Beowolves gone, my attention drew upon the Bear. It stood on it's two hind legs and roared loudly. Weiss quickly hovered her hand over the revolver, reloaded it, and then sprinted towards the bear.
I began shooting at the bear before it dropped down on all fours. While the bullets may have had little impact from shooting it in the face, the impact force of the rounds was enough to keep it on it's hind legs until it lost the energy to stand, and ended up taking a tumble back-first.
Weiss stopped on it's stomach and pelvis before it could regain it's footing, drew back her rapier and stabbed it right through it's throat. The Grimm struggled in small gurgles before it went limp. It didn't vanish right away like the wolves, the body instead lingered while slowly tuning into wisps of smoke. Soon enough. It vanished, leaving it's thick mask behind.
The site was now quiet and save for a few Grimm that lingered and the steps of many droids and overseers making way, the threat was quelled.
I watched as Jacques dissapeared into the manor, Whitley in tow. The latter eyed me with a certain apprehension that made me think that this was planned. He has something up his sleeve but it was most likely not this. Only a fool would include a plan that puts himself at risk.
Looking around, I spot Weiss a small ways away from me. Facing the slaves either dead on the snow or hanging from the cross. I walked towards and stopped only a few metres away from her, taking the moment to analyze her.
Her eyes didn't cry murder at least, but they looked weary and full of regret. I could say to the way she killed off the slaves, but I naturally had doubts to the throes of her compassion. If she was that kind, Weiss wouldn't have owned slaves in the first place, much less be willing to kill them off like sport. Without even looking at some of them.
That being the case, there can only be one other thing she was thinking about, that could make her like this. I neglected to approach the topic in the car, perhaps out of weariness of her killing me outright for knowing or making my demonstration less impactful than it obviously was to her. Now that that's over, there's no longer any weariness of breaching the topic. It's not like we both don't know what happened here. Or what was supposed to happen, but didn't.
"Were you satisfied?" I asked. The double entendre suggested to the words that hung around awkwardly in the air. Weiss's lack of a reaction proved that she wasn't shocked in the slightest by my words. Still, she turned her head to me. Barely keeping her eyes on mine.
"You knew?" She questioned. I stepped forward and slowly snaked my hands over her shoulders.
"It was to be expected. I certainly didn't make it easier to believe otherwise." I paused, making sure to hold her tighter. "When you were woken up by the explosion, you saw that I wasn't in bed. To be frank, I played myself with that one."
Weiss grabbed reached towards and gently grasped my arm. "Where were you?"
My mind momentarily went back to my little duel with Slayer in the courtyard. With the clashes, sparks and glowing embers against porcelain. "I was in the kitchen." I lied. "An overseer ran by and I had to hide in the servant quarters until they reached the site."
"Do you expect me to believe that?" Weiss questioned. For the first time, she turned to me and stared into my eyes. It lacked the expected cold fury implied from her words, and instead was glazed.
I gave her a soft smile.
"Then shoot me."
Weiss froze, eyes wide at my words. At the same time, I pulled myself off her body and slipped the gun back into her hand. Then I pulled her until she was facing me, and aimed the gun's barrel right at my forehead.
I only fired about three rounds at the bear Grimm, so Weiss had more than enough bullets to end me. To be honest, I was taking a small chance on her by doing this. This idea was definitely one of the things I never thought that I'd do to myself. It looked cool in the movies I watched, but borderline idiotic to pull off.
Perhaps some part of me wanted to see her squirm, knowing that she wouldn't pull the trigger. The other part, was obviously testing her, and the affection she has for me.
I didn't want another Willow, so despite the very obvious perks in maxing out Weiss's affection, dealing with two women obsessed over me just sounded like a pain in the ass. Despite how appealing it is to other men. Not everyone is a Shiro.
All gamers want a yandere psycho until they have one and it kills them.
Maybe a similar effect occurs when affection is close to 100. A similar but obviously diluted to manageable behaviors. That was the point of this small test I had for her.
Weiss barely said a word as she stared back, at me and the gun she weakly had aimed towards my head in barely contained shock. "If you believe me to be your enemy."
"Then shoot me, Weiss."
I took her hand and placed one finger on the trigger without any kind of resistance from her. When I let go of her hand, the gun started to shake. It's more like Weiss herself started shaking as she went pale in the face
Her mouth was open as if something was choking her and preventing her to speak. Many times, she tried to look away but her eyes drew back to me. Suddenly, a tear slid out of her eye and rolled down her cheek.
"I don't want to."
Weiss dropped her hand to her side and let the revolver slip to the floor. When I heard the weapon hit the snow, Weiss was suddenly in my arms latching onto my body. She didn't weep or wail but tears streamed down her face. Were they of relief or bitterness? Neither me or her could tell.
And as she held onto me with legs in the bloodied snow, I looked back to see all the dead around us. Some gazed, some anguished and some tormented in small whispers. Weiss couldn't hear them, so she had no reason for caring.
I could.
And yet I still found nary a reason to care for the decrepit.
Jaina
"They'll come again."
All at the dining table were stunned into silence by the Titan Slayer's words. Well, Jaina thought that stunned was too strong a word. Maybe being stumped was better.
It affected nearly everyone safe for the monotone servant who sat beside Willow and Slayer who sat just a ways from Jacques and Whitley.
The morning attack took most by surprise, and because of that, although there were only a few Grimm, they quickly overwhelmed the mechanical forces keeping guard. Jaina sighed, it hasn't even been a day and she was forced to get up in the morning to deal with this.
Everyone looked towards Slayer. The question of what she had meant holding still in the air. She answered, but not before eyeing everyone on the table. Her eyes lingered on Jaina, probably silently asking for permission to reveal what they had found during their days here.
She nodded, a bit confused by her action. It wasn't as though Slayer needed her permission to reveal such.
"Something is in the forest, commanding them." She started. "I found it during the party, and traces of its presence early the other morning."
"Do you know what it is?" Whitley asked.
Jaina looked at him and shook her head. "No, we couldn't identify it back then." She paused, looking back at Slayer. "But the ambush this morning was obviously to analyze us. Since no other Grimm are appearing, can't we assume–"
"They are appearing." Slayer interrupted. "Just not within our sight."
She furrowed her eyebrows as she said this. While others, including Jaina herself looked to her in confusion. The servant looked just the same as Slayer with his arms folded. The way Slayer answered almost sounded like an excuse, and probably would've been treated as one by Jacques who was preparing to speak but was equally silenced by the servants next words.
"They're preparing an assault."
Everyone looked at him, eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean by that, Arhen?"
The servant, now called Arhen. Turned to Weiss. He stayed silent for a moment, as if thinking about how to explain it. "During the ambush, you saw the Grimm climb out of the dark pools in the ground, correct?" He started.
"Since we're not seeing that anymore, we would most likely ascertain that they've retreated but this is incorrect." He paused. "We haven't actually seen them run away. We just managed to kill them all. So there's still a very distinct possibility that the Grimm are just hiding and bolstering their forces for an attack."
Arhen then motioned for Weiss to come closer to him and whispered in her ear. No one on the table could hear them, but when Weiss moved back to her chair, she was visibly troubled.
"And what's your basis for that reasoning?" Jacques questioned, staring at Arhen.
"It's feasible." Jaina answered. " Last time we investigated this creature, Slayer and I had to deal with a large number of Grimm. Most likely skirmishers of some sort, but their numbers didn't dip below thirty."
It was also the time when Slayer noticed that the Grimm was watching her. And retreated because it was weary of her strength. It possesses a high level of intelligence capable of strategic analysis. It has the weariness to observe potential threats and a mind to send a small force to determine a weak point.
The explosion from the evening resulted in most of the Schnee's means of security ended up being redirected towards repairs. They had enough for keeping the Manor safe, but if their enemy is capable of commanding thirty-plus Grimm just for a skirmish, then it is pretty obvious that thanks to last night's event, a large gap in the manors defense has been made.
"What are they even after?"
Arhen shook his head. "The greater question is, what now? We may have earned a reprieve but they are most likely going to attack." He paused. "If they are waiting in the forest, they'll most likely wait until nightfall, when we can't see, to attack."
"Thankfully, I have a plan." Jaina said, turning to Whitley. "Do you have a map of the house?"
Whitley began tapping on his scroll, and then waited for a few minutes before placing the scroll on the center of the desk. The scroll shined as it displayed an area map of the house in a blue wire frame.
The map had only shown the civil view of the Manor using basic shapes, but it fulfilled its purpose.
"We draw out the Grimm and the leader with it." Jaina started. "From what we know, the Grimm leading the force tends to attack alongside the herd. Slayer would be able to handle the leader, so the rest of us are dealing with the heavy force."
Weiss raised an eyebrow. "Won't that overwhelm the manor's defense?" She questioned.
"It can, if not performed correctly." Jaina admitted. "It's a bit of a gamble, with the biggest brunt of it being held by the ones holding the force back."
Jaina pointed to a wide area that took place near the site of the explosion. "Weiss and the servant will hold down the North wing with the plantation. I'll hold back the Grimm that approaches from the West wing near the manor itself." She then turned to Willow. "Then Madam would be able to hold down the South Wing near the entrance to the Manor. I anticipate there not being many ways they can approach, so you'd most likely be dealing with stragglers at best. Nonetheless, be careful."
Whitley widened his eyes, and then pointed to the servant. "Wait, he is going to be on the field? A servant?" He sneered at Arhen, who seemed to not even take notice of him. "Can he even fight?"
It was a plausible question from the youngest child, but there was no hiding the malice and venom in his tone. Was it the aristocratic arrogance that came with being born into wealth? For once, Jaina didn't think so. Whitley obviously just hated the man for some reason beyond her understanding or care.
Weiss threw back an icy glare that seemed to shut Whitley up. The message was clear, exactly like how Willow's one was clear yesterday afternoon.
He's staying.
While Jaina knew better than to voice her doubt aloud, she couldn't help but agree with the necessity of Whitley's question. If the servant couldn't fight, then the plan was paramount to suicide.
However, the Titan Slayer's next action had silenced the discussion.
Through the corner of her eye, Jaina could see both the servant and Slayer staring at each other once again, as though no one else was around them. Then, she spotted a small rise on Slayer's lips.
Did she just smirk? Jaina thought for sure she was seeing things. Slayer did anything but smirk. And they way the two of them looked at each other like they are the only ones who know something irked her.
The sight was just in her head. Of course Slayer wouldn't smirk or smile. If she did, it would most likely be for Jaina herself.
While she had no way of knowing how Slayer acts, Jaina would like to believe that her small assumption can be true. It would be saddening if it isn't.
She looked back at Slayer. Her monotone gaze had returned. Of course it was still there, her demeanor has never once left.
Her smirk was definitely just in her head.
"He'll be fine." Slayer said, looking at Jaina and giving her a nod. She wouldn't press the issue, whether the Titan Slayer actually cared about the slave life in this battle or if she knew something about him that the rest in this room didn't. She knew what she was doing. And that was enough for most in the room who disagreed with her to keel over in reluctant silence.
"The most important part of this plan lies upon the two of you, and myself." Jaina motioned towards Weiss and Arhen.
"Slayer can obviously handle the leader alone. But it would get a bit dicey since most of the time, the Grimm doesn't fight alone." She paused. "Our job is to hold back the forces from making way into the forest."
Jaina trailed her finger across the North wing and stopped at the midpoint of the West wing. She outlined the area of the forest and drew a fine line in the space between, almost like adding a wall in the map.
"Weiss will use her aura to provoke the Grimm into attacking the North wing. Then, she'll focus on keeping hold of the hoard's attention and at the same time, defend the manor from being breached in the north. This way, most of the Grimm will focus on entering the manor."
Jaina kept her eyes on Weiss. "I'll try to do the same on my front and defend the west wing. Take the remaining droids and whatever security you can amass in the Schnee Manor as backup."
Slayer looked at one commander that stood behind her chair. The black-clad soldier gave a small salute. "The Shadow Company will provide backup on the West wing." He said, while Slayer looked at Jaina and nodded.
Jaina then looked at Arhen. "You'll be the one doing most of the damage." She paused. "While the force's attention is on us, you'll be at their flank. Killing any stragglers that manage to separate from the hoard while trying to lessen their numbers from the back."
"This will not only help in managing the defense, but it will also make sure that the leader can't summon them back to its side." Jaina said, taking a breath. "To be frank, you'll be buying time for Slayer to kill the leader. Without being troubled by the lesser Grimm coming back to help it."
Jaina looked at Arhen. "Does that sound like something you can do?"
He didn't give an answer, but his nod and Slayer commendation made Jaina at least hope that he also knew what he was doing.
"We'll begin at nightfall." Jaina laid her eyes on Arhen. "You and Slayer will head into the forest first. Weiss and I will take positions in our relative areas."
She sensed some disagreement on Weiss's side, but she didn't make it a problem like most. Thankfully.
Jaina sighed and thought of James. Would he approve of this when he's awake? This deceptive idea? Engaging the enemy from the back rather than front?
Like many things, she was sure that he'd be disappointed. It's not like it mattered. She was General Ironwood now.
Arhen
Whitley's planning something.
I've tried my level best to ignore the indignant stares he gives me, but after the ambush, he could no longer hide the malice behind that stare.
Was seeing me with Weiss that heartbreaking?
I would imagine so. But it wasn't as though his incestuous love for her would've lasted anyway. Hearts would've been broken regardless, and if the choice of who lies with me, I would definitely go with the one who wants me dead.
We had a few hours to prepare for the fight, and I didn't do much except for wonder around the Manor with Willow. And while she was talking with another servant about the situation, I found time to look at my new stats, and hopefully adjust them before the battle.
Name - Arhen
Level - 25 [Exp - 4,178/16,475]
Title - None
Class - Spellweaver - Level 25/100
Race - Homonculus
Tier - Mortal
Alignment - Chaotic Neutral
HP - 97,997 [HP Regen - 786 HP/sec]
MP - 17,738 [MP Regen - 213,4 MP/sec]
STR - 43
VIT - 43
DEX - 54
CON - 53
INT - 43
WIS - 55
CHA - 53
Remaining Stat Points - 2
My health was no longer a sight most would scoff at. I still vehemently remember the time that a falling rock in the mine had almost killed me. Hard to believe that it has only been a few weeks since Lucille had left me in that state.
While one of her attacks will most probably kill me, I am at least capable of fighting back. Even if most of any damage I can pull off on her would amount to nothing. [Ice Seed] is my strongest attack so far, and she negates damage from it.
I chose to put both of my points into [Intelligence]. While the damage increase is minimal, I suspect it would help a bit when dealing with the Grimm. Beowolves are no longer a problem if they come at me in predictable patterns, but that bear one, who from Willow I've learned is called an Ursa, is a problem.
Name - Arhen
Level - 25 [Exp - 4,178/16,475]
Title - None
Class - Spellweaver - Level 25/100
Race - Homonculus
Tier - Mortal
Alignment - Chaotic Neutral
HP - 97,997 [HP Regen - 786 HP/sec]
MP - 18,563 [MP Regen - 213,4 MP/sec]
STR - 43
VIT - 43
DEX - 54
CON - 53
INT - 45
WIS - 55
CHA - 53
Remaining Stat Points - 0
Ice Seed might be able to deal with the armor the Ursa has by making it fragile. If I manage to freeze the armor, I should be able to break it apart. I'll have to use [Frostmourne] to make it powerful enough however, but it's not as though I don't have the magic to handle it for a few.
Willow and I found ourselves outside the manor and facing the plantation. More so the site of the explosion and the place where the slaves were executed. She was clingy today, reluctant to see me leave. Perhaps she was relieved by my actions here. And while I didn't notice before, Whitley trailed behind me. His eyes watched my every move like a wounded snake.
He stuck to the side of Willow, while I scanned the field. Perhaps some part of me was looking for Faceman as the other droids began dragging the dead bodies away. I remembered that I missed him the first time when the Grimm's roar distracted me.
To my surprise, my eyes bore upon him laying on the snow. A great distance away from me. From where I was standing, I could tell that he was bleeding, but alive.
I looked down at Willow. "May I borrow your gun?" She knew very well of what I was talking about. Willow had killed the Wolf-morph with that thing. And I wanted to make sure to finish off any loose ends.
Whitley protested, but looked surprised when Willow didn't even hesitate in digging into the strap on her waist. She pulled out the revolver and opened its chamber. Before she placed it into my hands, Willow tugged back on the hammer and smiled at me.
The moment it was in my hands, I looked over at her. She looked normal to most people who would walk by, but looking at her, I knew.
If I shot her with this gun right now, Willow would die still loving me the same. She was no doubt driven insane by the loneliness of the library, which has now turned into a maddening love for me. I was curious if Weiss would be the same, and whereas I didn't wish to drive her to this point myself. I still find it morbidly amusing to imagine it.
I smiled at her. "Thank you. I'll be back soon."
My footsteps travelled pass those who were dead and laying on the ground. Some of which were hard to see now. It was well past dusk. Not that I could tell much with the grey sky covered by clouds.
The battle is only a matter of a few hours now. Part of me was unsure about ending things like this with Faceman, and was desperately trying to search for some other way to make use of him. All that went out the window when I got close enough from him to know I was coming, and for me to take a good look at him up close.
The injury Faceman sustained didn't do him justice from afar compared to when I'm looking at him like this. The bullet from the shot I fired before the ambush missed the head, but still managed to rip a good chunk of his neck out.
It wasn't deep, but the bullet severed an artery. He was bleeding out slowly on the ground. It must've been painful. Faceman cropped up an arrogant smile despite the blood posing out slowly like pus and crimson tears.
"Guess that didn't work…huh?" He questioned with long pauses of painful winces between. I didn't answer, choosing only to shake my head as though scolding a child.
I raised the gun and aimed it at his head. At this range, as this time that is standing still. I won't miss this time. Maybe that's why, although tranquil as always, for the slightest moment my heart grew heavy. It was a weight I could bear with no effort, but the nerving of it made words harder to convey.
"You always knew it would end like this."
Faceman gave a pained chuckle, which turned into a dry cough. "Ain't that the truth." He said. "I keep wondering if you even cared about how this would turn out."
His words carried no poison or bitterness despite how he looked. "Was I supposed to care?" I asked. Faceman's smile didn't shift despite the flatness of my tone, and the lack of empathy in my words.
"If you did, I would've hated you."
I raised an eyebrow. "Don't you?" My aim momentarily shifted from his head, and motioned towards the state of his body. "I'm the one who put you in this state. The one who is going to kill you."
It's only natural if he ends up hating me, so what confused me was his eyes and smile. They are not at peace, his face is full of regrets. But he conveys no hatred, no sadness. Maybe he's numb to the feeling. The feeling of wanting to be alive. And if that were the case, then Faceman has already died long ago.
My words made him laugh, weak as he was for a bit. "I should, shouldn't I?" He questioned. "Hate you, I mean."
Faceman looked into my eyes, as his lips drew still and silent. His hand long dropped away from cupping the hole in his neck. He probably couldn't move it anymore.
The rest of his body was pale as well and looked chilling to the touch. But still, he opened and parted his lips as though what he had wanted to say lay upon the tips of his tongue.
"Is it funny that I don't?" He questioned. "I should. I really should hate you, but I don't. I know it's not because of some noble reason, maybe it's because you were a friend, uncaring as you are, or maybe I just never cared in the first place Arhen."
A friend? He saw a friend in me? What kind of nonsense was that?
"Are you some sort of nihilist?"
He laughed heartily at my words, so hard that the pain of his wound spiked and kept him silent. "Maybe. I've realized that you sort of have to be, if you want to be friends with someone like yourself."
"Arhen, huh? Don't really have a name myself. So you can call me Faceman."
Did I ever once give him the impression that he was a friend? I wondered that actually, my disposition of him was just as some kind of worker. My informant.
"Hell. It's not like I got much options. Maybe I'll learn a few things about you as well."
"Doubt it. You don't need to know that much about me."
Maybe it was those tranquil moments in the evenings of the mine, sharing info and dust through the walls. Maybe it was the cart ride where he told me about his sister, or the life and death dash to the 50th ore Vein.
He certainly was never a friend. Not then, and certainly not now. But his words sent an odd feeling through me as I recalled those tense but tranquil moments. And for the first time, my words were stilled.
I couldn't refute his claim, even though I knew he was lying. That his deposition of a friend in me is nothing but a lie.
Faceman smiled at me. Stop that, I'm not your friend.
"My little sister was among the ones killed. Didn't bother with any kind of name after that."
At that moment, I thought back to the Grue in the shaft. There was something wedged inside it's teeth, something similar to a small necklace. It's was a long shot, because while I can't imagine that any slave would have jewelry, I cannot really say it belongs to Faceman's little sister regardless.
But even if it's not, the Grue is still down there.
"Faceman." I called. The ratman could barely keep his eyes open and respond to me. The pain was making him delirious and messing up his sight.
He didn't call back, but Faceman looked straight at me. "The thing that killed your sister. I'll take care of it."
I ran from it once because I wasn't strong enough. But sooner or later, that thing needs to die. For nothing else but the wound it dealt to my pride that day, uncaring of it as I was. The rewards will change because I'll have an easier time dealing with it now than back then with my stats.
Faceman remained silent for a while, but then shook his head. "Don't."
"It's useless to say that to me." Once more, I aimed Willow's gun at his head. "You are going to die today Faceman. I am going to kill you. Even if your opinion mattered, it's not going to in a few seconds. You can bitch and moan all you want. Maybe you wanted to do it yourself, maybe you wanted to see it happen before your very eyes. I'm here to tell you: I don't care. I don't care if your sister is avenged, nor if you are there to see it happen."
Faceman chuckled with a forlorn smile. "Because that thing needs to die, and that's all what matters." He finished with a self-mocking smirk.
I couldn't help but smile as well.
"You're good at this."
"Funny." Faceman chuckled. "I could've sworn…you said I was terrible the first time."
The smile on my lips fell and my fingers made way to the top of the revolver and pulled down on the hammer. For once, the gun felt heavy. And the click of the chamber moving into place was haunting.
The weight latched onto my heart, and this time, the heaviness of it forced it to hurt. It was like physical pain amidst feeling nothing. I felt nothing but pity to the bleeding rat in the snow, a mock, selfish pity that only seemed to make me look better in front of those watching.
So why did it hurt? If even for a moment. Even if the pain was so faint that I couldn't even feel it when looking down at him. In ways, this was no better than the emptiness I felt ongoing day by day.
"You know…" he paused. "You look surprisingly human…for someone who doesn't feel a thing."
His words caught me by surprise. I wanted to pry him for what he had meant, but Faceman closed his eyes, resigned to his fate.
The heaviness and pain faded, and everything drew still. Just like that evening with the Liar. That evening with Slayer. Things around me ceased to matter, ceased to be in my sight. It wasn't a sort of emptiness, but more so, a certain take of uncaring and nihilism. I questioned if this is what Faceman felt when talking to me, when living as a slave.
But shortly, even my questions for him didn't matter.
I squeezed the trigger, and with a thunderous crack that split the tranquil sound of the air. Faceman's head blew apart. Blood splatter spreading like spilled paint onto the snow and my clothes. My eyes lingered upon the sight as I left, and even then sneaking glances as the droids carried away the corpse of Faceman.
I touched my face, slowly making it across my cheeks and the crown of my head. I wasn't smiling. There were no tears. I didn't know why I had to check my face. Perhaps I was a bit bothered by what his last words were.
Did I look human to him at the end? If I did, then that face, that heaviness was a lie as well. Told by a fool.
A lie, that for the first time. Some part of me didn't want it to be just another lie.
…
I'm not myself these days, am I?
That does prove troubling. But it's not like this will still my heart once again. Faceman's death was a waste of a good tool. Of course I would feel rather bitter if I had to throw it away or get rid of something I grew fond of using.
But that's just the way things stand. That's how this game is played.
It doesn't mean I have to like it though.
-Chapters until 'Seed of the World Tree' — 1 Remaining.-
Sorry this took so long, Life kicked my ass for a few weeks.
Faceman is now dead and Arhen isn't really as bothered as he should. But now he realizes that something is wrong now.
The ending is drawing near, only one chapter left of this Arc. I'm working on something big on the side and am planning to take a small break to outline the next arc after this one ends.
I'll announce something when the final chapter comes out, but all I can say right now is that: Expect things to get crazy.