"So, what do you think?" King Badr asked as he showed Weiss through the gate into his private gardens.

"It's impressive." It was the diplomatic answer. It would have been foolish in the extreme to express dislike of something that the king obviously enjoyed. Even though her reply might have been tempered by ever-present need for diplomacy, it was still the truth. The gardens were impressive.

It seemed to be common among people who had everything to find pleasure in the simple things that most overlooked. Well-tended gardens were a status symbol, but she'd always enjoyed spending time surrounded by nature. The miles of painstakingly cultivated flowerbeds on the Schnee Estate were proof to that.

Her gardeners faced many of the same challengers that the palace staff here did. Frozen tundras and scorching deserts were not suitable environments to grow the delicate flowers that formed the basis on any floral display. It was egotistical indeed to ignore such basic facts, but few rose to a position of true power by limiting themselves to what seemed possible.

Naturally, there were differences between an Atlesian garden and a Vacuan one. The harsh sun ensured the flowered plants in front of her had narrower petals, better for retaining water, and the colours were different too.

Most of her flowerbeds were filled with whites, blues, reds. Natural flowers that managed to struggle through a fresh covering of snow. Vacuan flora was dominated by yellows and oranges. It was almost as if the burning sun had been captured in the beds. Most might have been the native flowers, but in the age of global commerce, she recognised more than a few from her homeland.

"Is that Vulpes Garland?" The pure white flowers climbed up a wooden lattice.

"Why, yes it is." There was a hint of surprise in his reserved tone. "I wasn't aware that you had a green thumb?"

Weiss smiled sweetly. This was the reason why she hated politics. Unless his preparation had been severely lacking, Badr would have known exactly what her likes and dislikes were. Just as she knew his. It would have been so much easier to have a frank discussion, but it simply wasn't done.

"I wouldn't say I often have the opportunity to get my hands dirty, but I'm involved in the process."

"No, no, I wouldn't imagine you would. I'm lucky enough that I can delegate all the boring minutiae to the Council. It leaves me free to do pursue my interests." He brushed one of the petals with his thumb. "It's a beautiful flower, but it isn't suited to the climate. Much like you."

The smile on her face didn't slip. She was far too experienced for that. At one time the conjugation of compliment and insult would have had her blushing and thrown off-balance. Now it was par for the course.

"You would be surprised by the extent Atlesian flowers can take root."

Badr inclined his head towards her. It had been a well-formulated riposte. "You're right of course. It kept dying back in the beginning ̶ the sun was too much for it. It took a lot of work to get it to this state. But even now, even though it looks so healthy, I fear it's only a matter of time until it withers."

He could have been talking about the plant. They both knew he wasn't. These days it was a rare conversation that she only had the most superficial level to keep track of. It was an apt metaphor though. At the moment, Atlesian-Vacuan relations were much like those flowers. Healthy, prosperous, and with room to grow, but its vitality was precarious. Even though Vacuan officials had done their best to limit her exposure to protests, she wasn't stupid. There was an abundant amount of apathy towards Atlas, and her in particular.

Before making the trip, she'd expected Badr to be the one stonewalling the trade agreement. In truth he was, but he'd only been bowing to the wishes of some of his subordinates. From his subtle commentaries at official functions, she'd gleaned that he only wished for their alliance to deepen. Despite interacting dozens of times, this was the first that they'd been alone. Truly alone, without a score of hangers-on and security shadowing their every footstep. Even so, as true as it was the walls had ears, there was a chance the shrubbery did as well.

"Well perhaps it needs a steadier hand guiding it, or maybe a pair of hands."

"Two gardeners would fare better than one, but the winds that blow in from the desert are often harsh and unforgiving."

The Satraps on the fringes of Vacuo were her main opposition. They had more to lose in an expanded trade agreement than most. Their wealth was reliant on the produce of their satrapies. An influx of foreign goods would destroy the markets they'd spent so long cultivating.

"Then perhaps a wall should be built to curtail its power."

"Alas, there will always be winds in the desert. They cannot be ignored."

"And I suppose it cannot be bargained with?"

"From some directions no, but from others it might be redirected in promise of bounty."

"That does seem promising."

So far the Satraps had largely avoided her and Winter, instead working behind their backs to undo any progress that they made. If she could get a couple of them sat down in a room she would be able to talk them round. No one was incorruptible. Especially the rich who had an awful lot to lose.

"Indeed it does. Perhaps I sense a change in the air."

"Let us hope so," Weiss agreed.


"May I present his Grand Excellency Satrap Aatish." The servant bowed him through the door as Weiss rose from her seat. To be honest she hadn't been entirely sure if Badr would live up to his subtle promise. He didn't appear to have as much control over his satraps as many would think. They were too independent and based too far from the capital. But, when the invitation came, neither she nor Winter had been able to risk ignoring it. All they needed was to get one satrap onside and then, with the gathered momentum, the rest would be forced to fall in line or get left behind.

Weiss approached him, her best smile on her face, while she tried to recall everything she knew of Aatish. Satrap of the region of Airtafae. Main exports meat and some rare metals. Known as something of a firebrand. She'd heard whispers he'd been arguing for the right to carry out border raids against Vale, but he'd gone to school in Atlas. Accustomed to Atlesian ways, perhaps he could see the benefits of the trade deal.

"Satrap Aatish, it is a pleasure to meet you again." They'd met before, but never alone. Tonight it was just him, her, and Winter.

He took her offered hand. From the calluses on his palm and the strength of his grip it was clear his broad shoulders weren't solely the product of a gym or hard work. He knew how to fight. The etiquette of how to shake a hand had been another topic of her exhaustive lessons growing up. She knew exactly how to make it look good for the cameras, how much force to apply, and where to place her fingers. They were lessons Aatish had not attended, or at least his had been different. He attempted to crush her hand in a show of nothing but dominance.

"Likewise. I feel that you are barely in one place long enough for us to talk candidly."

"There's no time to start like the present."

"Which is why I'm here. And I'm lucky enough to have not just one, but two beautiful ladies with me. Your reputations are not unfounded." Aatish didn't lack for confidence. In his youth he'd had a bit of reputation that didn't tie with the conservative culture of his homeland.

As Winter moved forward, Weiss gave her a subtle warning. It was only a twitch of the eyebrow but Winter picked up on it. She couldn't match his raw muscle, but she almost gave as good as she got.

"The pleasure is all ours," Winter said as they ceased their battle. "My sources tell me you've had a busy day."

Aatish laughed, good-natured and loud. "Your sources are well placed. I'd be very interested to know who they are."

"A lady never tells." Unless Weiss' imagination was deceiving her, Winter fluttered her eyelashes in Aatish's direction. Winter had never been above using her looks to gain an advantage. To be honest, when her appearance was enough to make a monk question his oaths, who could blame her?

"I would never dream of putting you in such a position. Your little birds are quite right. I couldn't resist the call of the hunt, and it's left me ravenous. Shall we?" He moved to the head of the table and held a chair out. It was technically the role of a servant, but he was going against the expectation Weiss had of him. She sat down in the proffered seat, and he repeated the manoeuvre for Winter.

"So tell us, what were you hunting?" Weiss said as the servants came forward to fill up their wine glasses. It was good vintage, mellow and with the slight kick that told her it was Vacuan in origin.

"Just a pair of Deathstalkers that had strayed a little too close to the city. I had to get out of the palace after all this talking. I'm sure you can both understand."

Weiss nodded. At times she wanted nothing more than to get out of the office and go into the wild; to think of simpler things. A part of her was incredibly jealous that Ruby was able to do just that. To explore and fulfil her desires. Blake and Yang too. In fact Blake had sent her a message the previous day saying they'd outstayed their welcome, but had promised to stay in touch. They were all able to do whatever they wanted, while she'd forgotten the meaning of what it was to be free.

"I'd heard that Vacuan Deathstalkers are much fiercer than ones anywhere else," Winter said. She'd always been more adept at small talk, and pandering to someone's ego was a good way to keep them entertained.

"Absolutely. I take it you've never fought one?"

"Not one from Vacuo."

"Shame. It's true what they say. They're a good deal bigger and they have more armour, but it's their minds you need to watch out for. The Valesh ones are as dumb as a brick. They just come straight at you. Vacuan Grimm know better than that. They choose where to fight, and they make it count."

"It sounds dangerous."

"Yes, but it's also a lot more fun. It's actually a proper fight, not just an extermination. Tell you what, next time I hear of the opportunity, I'll send you an invite." Badr really sounded as if he couldn't think of anything better than trekking through the desert with a fight at the end of it. Weiss tried to picture Winter doing just that. She couldn't. At all.

"As fun as that sounds, you'll have to fight for my time with everyone else here."

"I'm sure you're worth fighting for."

Weiss resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. She'd heard worse chat up lines, but not many. Thankfully they were saved from any others by the arrival of the first course. Over the past week, she must have had at least one formal meal per day, sometimes multiple ones. The food was still exquisite, but by now she was longing to whip up a meal in her kitchen. Something not fancy and actually filling. It was yet another wish that was denied to her. She'd probably give the staff in the kitchen here a heart attack if she started cooking.

She also wasn't particularly fond of Vacuan cuisine. At the best of times she didn't eat all that much ̶ ̶ even when it was food she liked ̶ ̶ but here she had to force herself to swallow so she didn't risk offending her hosts. It really didn't help that most of the plates served to her were drenched in an almost unpalatable combination of herbs and spices. Beneath them all, the type of meat she was eating was entirely concealed. She realised that was the original point, but still. If she had the chance to bring one thing back from her trip to Vacuo, the food most definitely wouldn't have been made the cut.

So she chewed her steak as if it had come from the finest Atlesian restaurant. So did Winter. More than once in the privacy of their rooms they'd shared their notes about this trip. Winter might have questioned her attendance after finding her that one night, but they were making a lot more progress than either of them would have alone.

The trade deal would happen. Tens of thousands of Atlesian and Vacuan jobs would be created whether or not they managed to get the satraps on board. They'd both had enough meetings with business owners and politicians to see the desire for it within the capital. It would make an awful lot of people rich, and they could only see the potential lien.

Of course, there was another side of the coin. At the moment it was the one which bore Aatish's head, but with a little negotiation perhaps he could be persuaded to convert. Weiss waited until after they'd finished their main course to bring up the… meat… of their discussion so to speak.

"Shall we get down to business?"

"Ahh... our friendly conversation is over I take it?" Aatish said.

"Not at all. I'd like to believe that all of us can remain fast friends."

"Friends as opposed to enemies? We all know exactly what happens to the people who make their way onto your list."

Weiss smiled in response to the opening salvo. The tone for their negotiation had been set. Winter spoke. "Friends as opposed to acquaintances. Any decisions you make will be respected, but you'll find there are many benefits to a long and healthy relationship with the SDC."

"And with Atlas in general," Weiss said. The pair of them formed a partnership at the negotiating table that was equal to any team formed in a combat school. It was at this point their quarry usually realised they were caught in a pincer movement.

Aatish chuckled, looking between them both. "Being friends with benefits is always welcome."

"Absolutely." Winter didn't rise to the bait. "And you'll find that the benefits you stand to gain are both significant and numerous."

"And those would be?"

"Use your imagination. You know what we are proposing. Those who add their signature first will be in prime position to choose their boon."

"Why don't give an example?"

"If you wish. Last fiscal year Airtafae imported eighty-seven million liens worth of Dust." Weiss wasn't surprised Winter had the number memorised. "Currently, our product has to go through a very long and arduous import procedure. With the trade deal that will be simplified. We predict a drop of three point one percent and of course we'll pass the savings onto you." Whether he chose to pass those saving on to his subjects was his decision.

"Certainly tempting, but in my life I've always found that the most steadfast friendships are two-sided. That seems like an awfully big benefit from a simple signature."

"But what we're asking of you is simple," Weiss said. "We only want for you to mention the benefits to your own friends."

"Yes, but they are sure to reply with some of the drawbacks."

"And what might they be?" Weiss had heard them all before of course, and in great detail, but any mentioned now would be the ones which lay closest to Aatish's heart.

"There are many people in Vacuo who live simple lives. Who herd goats and scratch what crops they can from the land. My friends are worried about what would happen to them in the event this deal goes ahead. The flood of Atlesian produce will surely make their lives untenable."

"Perhaps, but they will find many new opportunities opened to them. The Vacuan job market will grow by eight percent. They will be able to find new jobs." It was the sad truth that some would be affected adversely by the deal, but the benefit to the country as a whole was much greater.

"And lose the way of life that their ancestors have practiced for countless generations."

"The only certainty in the world is that it does not remain still. With or without this deal, their lives will one day become unliveable. It is better for them to head it off now, while they have plentiful opportunities, than to wait and possibly suffer."

"As for the SDC," Winter added the weight of her argument. "I can guarantee that we have several possible plans in the pipeline that would result in the opening of facilities either in or around Airtafae. To make them tenable we would need this trade deal, but they alone would create several thousand jobs. Not counting those who support the facilities. The tax revenue will more than make up for any shortfall."

"And I'm sure that many other Atlesian companies have the same plans only with the eventual destinations undecided. With a little pushing from us, Airtafae's economy could boom."

Aatish leant back in his chair, cradling his wine glass in his hand. "You certainly make a compelling argument. I am… interested in becoming you friend, but I'm going to need some more details first."

Weiss and Winter exchanged a glance. The hardest part was done. They'd gotten one of the satraps to listen to them. The details were mere trivialities. There was no way he wouldn't be receptive to them. One of the major roadblocks had been removed. With any luck, their trip to Vacuo was nearing an end with a successful resolution.

"Fire away."


Aatish burped. Not loudly. It was a slip up, but it at least showed how comfortable he was in the company of his new friends. "Excuse me."

Weiss inclined her head. She hadn't had quite as much of the wine as he had. It was always unwise to drink extensively in a situation where words might be reported back and repeated. She'd seen far too many lords and ladies from Atlas have their position in the social hierarchy forever marred by a single drunken mistake.

"Not a problem." Winter smiled at him. "Is there anything else you'd like us to clear up?" They'd spent what must have been the last two hours explaining and planning all the benefits he would receive for his assistance.

"No, no, I think we are completely on the same page now." He held up his hand and waved it around. "But what we do need is to celebrate. Najma!" he shouted loud enough that both Weiss and Winter recoiled. A few seconds later a servant entered and bowed low to the three of them.

"Yes your Excellency."

"Go and fetch the wine. The one I told you to put on ice."

"Right away your Excellency."

"I've had enough of drinking this swill." Aatish drained the remnants of liquid in his glass. "I brought a couple of bottles from my own collection, including one for this very occasion. Ah… here it is." Najma had returned with a cooler and three glasses. "I thought you would like a reminder of home. Show it to them. Bottled a dozen miles outside Atlas, at one of the vineyards you own, and before the Great War I might add. My great-grandfather bought a crate. There are only a few left, but I can't think of a more fitting circumstance."

Weiss examined the offered bottle. It did indeed bear the Schnee crest and the name of a vineyard her family had owned for countless generations. Judging by the date printed on the label, its vintage was excellent. Atlesian wine had a unique, and in her biased opinion, unmatched taste. Growing grapes on the tundra was difficult in the extreme, but where alcohol was concerned, people managed to find a way.

"We're honoured," Winter said.

"Nonsense. The honour is mine. I have to say the rumours I'd heard about the pair of you were utterly unfounded."

"What rumours?" Weiss asked. As ever gossip was the most valuable currency in the world.

"Let's not ruin the moment by speaking of utter idiots. It's their loss I say. Would you smell that?" He drew in a deep breath over the mahogany liquid that had just been passed to them.

Weiss did so. She recognised the unique scent immediately. Due to the cold, the grapes of Atlesian vineyards were smaller than most, and the wine produced from them more bitter. To her palate, it complimented a much wider range of meals.

"A toast then. To friendship and a prosperous future," Aatish said.

"To friendship," she and Winter repeated before they clinked glasses.

Weiss took a long sip, swirling the liquid around her mouth, savouring the taste. It wasn't the best wine she'd ever experienced, but it came close. It was fitting reward after a hard, but ultimately extremely fruitful day. She leant back in her chair, knowing her job had been well done. The future she and Winter had envisaged almost a year ago was one step closer.

They didn't continue with business after that. Instead she mainly let Aatish regale them with tales of his hunting exploits. She had to stifle a yawn. The warm night air blowing through the windows, the heady taste of vintage alcohol, the gentle drone of Aatish's deep voice, and a morning that had started before the sun had risen, were all combining to make her mind wander. She caught her eyelids a moment before they closed. Perhaps a few minutes of sleep wouldn't be amiss, and maybe Aatish wouldn't notice. Or maybe she should just go to bed. Yes… that was probably the better idea.

Winter's head thumped into the table. It was the noise more than the sight that caused Weiss to fight against her fatigue. A loud bang at a dinner table just wasn't right. Winter's eyes were closed, her head resting on the tablecloth, and mahogany liquid crawled its way towards her.

Wine… the wine. Weiss flared her Aura. Her thoughts became a little more ordered. The tiredness. It wasn't normal. Poison, it had to be. She'd been poisoned. Aatish watched her with half-closed eyes, a line of drool running down from the side of his mouth. It had to have been the wine.

Weiss staggered upright, her head spun and her legs shook. It was so much worse than being drunk. She poured as much into her Aura as she dared. It could help with poison, she'd been told that. With her weaker Aura, her sister had already succumbed. "Help!" Weiss cried, or at least tried to. Her voice lacked any form of power.

"You're wasting your breath. No one's going to come," Aatish's voice was slightly slurred as he rose from his seat.

"What did you do?" She could only remain upright by holding on to the back of her chair.

"What I had to. Vacuo will never become a vassal state of Atlas," he growled. He had a lot more body mass than her and likely had only been making a show of drinking.

At any other time she might have debated with him. Right now she had to get Winter and herself out of here. Find her security detail or the palace guards that were loyal to the king. Someone who would help her. And that meant getting past him.

She twitched her fingers. An ethereal glyph formed in the air. Her legs almost collapsed under her. The glyph was weak, barely there. As she'd poured her limited Aura into it, the poison had regained some ground.

Aatish grinned as he took in her attempt at fighting. He reached under the table where he'd been sitting and pulled out a hidden hilt. A blade extended in his hand. He advanced towards her.

She was scared then. Properly scared. Not of phantoms, but of reality. But she was a Schnee, and a Schnee wouldn't be beaten so easily. She tapped into the Dust sewn into her underwear. Rather than channel it into a glyph, she directed the energy inwards. Cold swept through her. Biting cold. Bone-chilling cold. It was painful. Ever so painful. Most people would have collapsed agony. She was not most people. The pain gave her strength.

Her spinning glyph became more substantial. Kilgharrah roared. A cylinder flew in through the window. It landed at her feet and began to hiss. Gas spewed from it. A thick nauseous cloud. She threw up her arm to cover her nose and mouth, but some clawed its way down her throat. Her head spun again.

Aatish drove his sword through her half-Summoned Beowolf. He howled. The doors burst open. At seeing the armour-clad figures, Weiss relaxed. Erashan had come to save her. It was only after a moment that she noticed their armour was different, and their rifles were trained on her.

A round slapped against her side. She stumbled backwards, her muscles twitching from the lightning Dust-laden bullet. Another drove into her sternum. Reflexively she gasped down a breath. The only available air was the gas. It pooled inside her lungs.

Electricity coursed through her body. Her Aura lost to the toxins and the pain. Her back thumped against the wall. It was the only way she could stay upright. She refused to go down. She was a Schnee.

And it didn't matter. Winter was a Schnee as well. She might already be dead. Every time Weiss coughed, she inhaled more of the gas that hung in the air. A round struck her stomach. Her abs twitched and danced uncontrollably. It was too much. She cried out in pain. The soldiers offered her no mercy. They fired again.

The last sight Weiss saw was the snow-white hair of her sister dyed red.