About some things, Weiss hated being right. She especially hated when she was right about things getting worse.
Just hiring a lawyer was an adventure of its own. No one in Skjulte Perle was a lawyer or knew one; the edges of civilization had little use for such things, and the Crater Faunus wouldn't have been Crater Faunus if they'd had legal protections.
Weiss looked up the legal firms she'd worked with during the bankruptcy. Once upon a time, she wouldn't have bothered asking about their rates, as money was no object to the SDC. Now, just asking the question made her feel like a pauper; their answers made her dizzy.
After getting a referral (and another and another, down-down-down the lawyer food chain), she finally found a firm in SDR's budget. Almost as soon as they took up the case, they received a new communique. They told Weiss about it, which meant it fell to Weiss to tell Winter.
"Fall Dust has asked for an injunction," Weiss said.
"A what?"
It was surprising to Weiss, sometimes, to remember that as much as Winter knew about bureaucracy, she knew next to nothing about legal bureaucracy. "It's a cease-and-desist. Fall Dust is claiming that if we extract Dust from a disputed mine, we're irreparably damaging their interests, so we need to stop mining until the case is decided."
"Stopping would bankrupt us," said Winter, shaken.
Weiss nodded.
"…oh. That's the point, isn't it?"
"Yes."
Winter took a bracing breath. "Okay. Set up a call between us and the lawyers. I need to be educated on how injunctions work and the nuances of those laws."
That took Weiss aback. "You do? Why?"
"Because I'm going to be calling in the big guns later," Winter said, "and I need to be able to guide their fire onto the right target."
"What did you say your name was?"
"Holly Hemlock," the woman said, sniffing loudly. "You're scheduling my appointment now, right?"
"I'm looking for openings," Ilia said, moderating her voice as best she could.
"Good. I'll take her first availability. And I'll be needing an hour at least."
Ilia tried to hold in her irritation. The woman in front of her had stormed in demanding that she see Winter Schnee immediately. When Ilia had said Winter was busy and not receiving guests, Holly had said she would camp outside Winter's office so she could jump in as soon as the door opened. Ilia shooting down that plan had led to a lecture about how Ilia didn't know how to do her job.
At last Holly had acquiesced to a meeting in the future… after yelling at Ilia to show her Winter's schedule so Holly could decide for herself who could be bumped to accommodate her.
Every part of this interaction was gross.
"There's an hour-long opening six days from now," Ilia said.
"Six days? But this is urgent!" Holly shrieked. "There must be some unimportant meetings between now and then. I know how your generation works, you use meetings and things to pretend to work, but you're really farting around on your scrolls the whole time…"
Ilia's last nerves were fraying. Her left hand was straying to the pocket of her coat. It was a deep pocket in a bulky coat, which was why the metal object inside was totally concealed. Ilia didn't want to draw it, but as her fingers caressed the handle, she had to admit it was awfully tempting…
She was spared having to answer when the door behind her opened. "Good morning, ma'am," she said to Winter.
Winter's eyes were focused on her scroll; she gave a perfunctory grunt at Ilia, then belatedly noticed the other person in the room. The moment her eyes focused on Holly, they narrowed.
Holly spoke before Winter had a chance. "There you are! Your secretary here was doing an absolutely atrocious job, she was being rude and useless and—"
"Ms. Hemlock," interrupted Winter, "I've told you already, we have nothing to discuss."
"You don't understand," said Holly, stomping her foot, "you need to listen to me—"
Winter turned away ostentatiously to look at Ilia. "Ms. Amitola, if Ms. Hemlock was on my schedule, remove her. I will not be meeting with her now, nor at any future point. Should she come by again, you have my permission to ignore her."
"With pleasure, ma'am," said Ilia, and she deleted Holly's appointment with no small relish.
"You're making a terrible mistake…" Holly said.
"No, you are, if you think stalking me and harassing my employees will help your case," said Winter, force rising in her voice in a way that made Ilia glad she was seated.
"This isn't the end," said Holly, pointing one bony finger at Winter. "Mark my words, you'll hear from me again."
"I've heard worse threats from more terrible people than you," said Winter in an arctic voice. She flicked her wrist. A glyph appeared beneath Holly, spinning rapidly but not affecting her as far as Ilia could see—yet. "Now remove yourself from the premises, or I will remove you myself."
If looks could kill, Holly would have struck Winter dead in that moment. As it was, the staring was her last act of defiance. She backed off and exited, slamming the door behind her.
Winter sighed; the glyph winked out. "It's a shame you had to experience that," she said to Ilia.
"I'm just glad you put a stop to it," Ilia said. It was true: she was able to draw her hand out of her pocket after giving the object there one last comforting pat.
"If she comes in again, ignore her. If she won't let you, contact Mayor Leif. I am done with her foolishness." As if to prove her point, Winter picked up her scroll again and turned her eyes to it.
"What does she even want to talk about?" Ilia asked. "What's so stupidly urgent?"
"She's trying to get me to indulge her racism," Winter said bluntly. "She's wasting my time and her time."
Ilia's brain hiccupped.
Winter stopped looking at her scroll. Glancing over to Ilia, she said, "While I'm out, ask around among our employees here in town. Find out if she's been harassing any of them. If she has, I'll be having a talk with Mayor Leif about her."
"Of course," said Ilia.
Winter nodded curtly and exited the office.
There were two categories of people Ilia particularly despised: those who acted on their hate for the Faunus, and those who let the hate happen. Winter Schnee had apparently not belonged to the first group; now, it was starting to seem like she might not belong to the second group, either.
That couldn't be right, though.
No, it wasn't. She'd let plenty of hate—and malign neglect—happen under her watch before. Dust mines were death, and Winter didn't care. This was… this was…
An exception. The exception that proved the rule. Yes, that had to be it.
Even if it was an exception, though, it had been awfully satisfying seeing Winter slam the door on that racist. It was too bad that wasn't the real her.
Ilia grabbed her scroll and went to interview some workers.
Very few people on Remnant had this scroll number available to them.
It was an unlisted number, given out solely at the discretion of its owner. Said owner had too many demands on his time already; if too many people could contact him directly, he'd never get anything done.
Winter knew people who would literally kill her and stash her body if it meant being able to call General Ironwood directly.
It put a lot of implicit pressure on Winter not to abuse that trust. She'd never dialed his number before, and half the reason was her desire to not waste his time or fritter away his confidence. It felt wrong, selfish, even insulting to call him for anything less than a world-shaking emergency.
Then again, she told herself, would he have given her his number if she was never supposed to use it?
She swallowed. She hadn't spoken to the General directly since her resignation, and she was only calling now because she needed something. That was pretty awful of her.
Well, if he wanted to yell at her for that, she could take it. So long as he listened to her, she could suffer his disdain.
She dialed the number.
He picked up midway through the second ring. "General Ironwood."
"Sir," she snapped automatically—then wanted to smack her own face. "General, this is Huntress Schnee."
"Winter!" he said warmly. "What a pleasant surprise."
"It's been… probably too long."
"My thoughts exactly," he said.
"I hope I'm not imposing on you." Even the possibility made her cheeks feel hot from embarrassment.
"Not at all. I can carve out… half an hour for you, easily." He chuckled. "There are certain people I'll always find time for."
"Sir," she said, defaulting to the language of old habits in her consternation, "that really is too much."
"I don't think it is. When you've had as many students as I've had, had as many subordinates come and go, you start to appreciate certain qualities. You had a truly rare combination of loyalty and skill. I wanted to fast-track you, but I didn't even need to: you climbed the ladder like lightning on your own merit. You'd have done great, great things if you'd stayed."
There wasn't much disappointment in his voice, but that small amount was amplified when it hit Winter. "I had other responsibilities," she tried, unable to apologize but needing to find excuses. "I wanted to stay in the military, I really did, but…"
"I understand," he said graciously; some of the pressure on Winter's chest relaxed. "Family matters, too. I like to think you're still serving Atlas, just in a different way."
"Sir?"
"Atlas, the Dust industry… the two are close to inseparable, don't you think?"
"They are close," Winter agreed. "So… you're regarding my being in the Dust industry as like being in the military?"
"It's not exactly the same, sure," he granted, "but it's a near thing. You're doing good, important work that benefits our Kingdom. Don't get me wrong, I wish you were still with me. If you told me you wanted to come back, I'd have a spot for you in a heartbeat. I'd work some sort of continuation paperwork to satisfy the legal hacks. Still… I feel better knowing that true Atlesians like you are taking care of the Dust industry."
His words were so overwhelming that Winter nearly lost the thread. Approval was something she'd gotten so rarely, and that he gave to her so freely; it was enough to make her head spin. Only his last words—"Dust industry"—helped her ease back to her purpose. Tentatively. "It's… about that, actually. About the Dust industry, and what it means for Atlas."
He chuckled. "I figured this wasn't a social call. Alright, report."
There. Report. An order. She expected orders from him. Her old mental patterns reasserted themselves; thoughts flowed as they ought. "There's a threat to Dust production. Not a technical or logistical or security threat, a legal one."
She could almost hear him frown. "Our laws should always support Dust production."
"My thoughts exactly, sir. And our laws should also promote stability in the markets. We want Dust supplies to be steady and reliable, right?"
"Absolutely." Winter knew she could count on that kind of response from him.
"Well, sir, Fall Dust is trying for the opposite. They're suing all the other Dust companies, and asking the courts for injunctions against Dust production while the lawsuits resolve."
"But that would cut off Dust production for as long as the lawsuits are in the courts," Ironwood said, grasping the point embarrassingly faster than Winter had." I know how long it takes lawsuits to get through our courts."
"Yes, sir, long enough to bankrupt some of the smaller companies. Whatever craziness happened to the Dust markets during the SDC's bankruptcy, this would be like that—maybe worse. A lot more companies would be affected, and in unpredictable ways."
"As much Dust as the Atlas military uses, we need stability in the Dust market," Ironwood said severely.
"Then we need to stop Fall Dust's injunctions," Winter said.
"That's the voice of someone who already has a plan."
She felt a rush of pride—that he had such high expectations for her, and that she was ready to meet those expectations. "I have a proposal for you to make to the Council, sir. A new regulation for how the courts must handle Dust industry cases."
"The direct approach. I appreciate that."
"I thought you might, sir. I'll transmit you the draft text of the law we've worked up. If you can get it through the Council before the courts approve the injunctions, it will keep all Atlas' mines productive and keep the markets stable."
Ironwood chuckled. "See, this is just what I was saying. Even when you're working for a Dust company, you're still looking out for Atlas' best interests."
Embarrassment and gratitude warred in Winter's heart. "Thank you, sir."
"I have a meeting with the Council tonight. This just jumped to the top of my agenda."
That was… breathtaking. "Thank you, sir."
"I'm glad you brought this to my attention. I'm proud of you, Winter. Or… you called yourself 'Huntress Schnee'. Or would it be 'CEO Schnee'?"
"Maybe all of those."
"Fair. Hey, Winter?"
"Yes, sir?"
"You should call again, sometime. And not just when you need something."
Winter lost the ability to word. "Th…thank you, s-sir."
"Right. Um… yeah."
Their mutual awkwardness thickened and congealed until the General clumsily killed the call. Winter was glad for that.
If the General had asked her to return to active duty right then and there, she wasn't sure if she'd have been able to say 'no'.
The Teryx swooped over Weiss' head.
Just out of reach of her sword and its claws.
It spiraled away from her, moving fast enough it was hard to draw a good bead on it, hard to conjure enough firepower to really damage it. Then again, she was on the ground at the edge of the mine road, and it didn't dare come much closer to her or it'd risk splatting against the mountain.
They'd been stuck in this awful gray area for minutes now, neither of them able to land a solid blow, neither of them able to disengage.
The mining camp was right there; Weiss didn't dare go towards it or away from it, as both options put the camp at risk in different ways. Weiss found herself missing Winter and her ability to ground Teryxes at will. They were so much easier to deal with when they couldn't fly.
Couldn't fly… ground it…
Well, that was an idea.
The Teryx circled again, screeching in rage, before lining up to dive-bomb Weiss once more. Weiss watched it, gaging its course and when it was likely to break off, before gesturing with Myrtenaster.
The Teryx came closer, eyes focused on Weiss and Weiss alone. Closer… closer.
Then, as before, when it saw it couldn't attack Weiss properly without hitting the mountain, it angled its body to veer away.
And shook.
The gravity glyph below it sucked it down, changing everything about its flight path at the worst possible moment. It screeched, not in rage, but in surprise. Weiss' plan had worked. The Teryx had been flying at her and the mountain, and now it would be unable to dodge her and the mountain.
Oh. Whoops.
Weiss did her best to leap to the side, but one of the Teryx's frantically flapping wings caught her and knocked her silly; she slammed against the rock wall of the mountain hard enough to rattle her bones and leave her breathless.
The Teryx suffered worse. It hit the same wall head-first.
It took a few seconds for Weiss to gather her wits; everywhere ached, and she knew she'd be feeling that hit for days. As she staggered to her feet, she saw that the Teryx, at least, wouldn't be the thing exploiting her weakness. One of its wings was painfully bent, while its skull-armor was split down the middle and spraying black mist into the air. It kept staggering and shaking all over, like it was punch-drunk.
Did grimm get concussions? ...a question for another time.
Weiss readied Myrtenaster, targeted the fissure in the Teryx's skull, and sprang. Myrtenaster struck home, plunged into the grimm's head hilt-deep.
Victory.
She didn't withdraw Myrtenaster, tempting though that was. It was safer to keep the weapon in place, ready to deal extra damage in case the blow hadn't actually been fatal, until the grimm dissipated around it. She didn't have to wait very long.
Weiss felt euphoria, the uplifting surge of victory… or maybe she was still dizzy from hitting the wall. Maybe both. Regardless, beating a Teryx solo was a new record for her, even if it had taken more time and effort and Aura than it should have.
Feeling unsteady, Weiss staggered to the side of the road and leaned against the rock wall. It was time to check her scroll. She always set it to silent before engaging the grimm; the last thing she needed in combat was someone calling her to check if lunch was coming on time today.
She'd gotten that call before. More than once.
Fighting grimm was getting more frequent, too. SDR's employees knew almost as much about the company's finances as Weiss did; all of them could see the way the company's accounts were dwindling. The rate had slowed—the reexport business was keeping them afloat, just barely—but it was still sliding. Understandably, that left people anxious. Anxious people attracted grimm.
She was sure they were attracting fewer grimm than, say, a Fall Dust mine would, one running on trafficked Faunus who were radiating misery at all hours. Then again, Fall Dust had the resources to offset the extra grimm with extra security, whereas the same problem stretched Weiss and Winter ever thinner.
A dilemma for later. First, she had to catch up on what she'd missed.
Missed call… from her sister? Weiss thumbed the call-back feature.
"What happened?"
Leave it to Winter to assume something bad had happened whenever Weiss didn't promptly reply. "Just a Teryx," she said with insincere humility. "Nothing I can't handle."
"You're fighting a Teryx? Stand… uh…"
Maybe it was because she was still loopy, but Weiss wanted to laugh. Winter couldn't decide if she needed to fly to the rescue or let Weiss manage on her own, for "personal development". "Don't worry about it," Weiss said. "It's already dead."
"…ah. Um. Good for you."
Weiss felt herself fill with warmth at the compliment. It was good, wasn't it? Yes. If even Winter had to say so, then it had to be. "Thank you."
"Be that as it may," said Winter unsteadily, "we're supposed to get on a conference call. A representative from Beyond Energy reached out to us."
"Beyond Energy? As in, second-largest Dust producer on Remnant? That Beyond Energy?"
"That's the one."
"That can't be good."
"Wait and see," Winter said cryptically. "Stand by."
The line went mute. Sighing to herself, Weiss pulled herself off the wall. Might as well start walking back towards the mine. It'd have been faster to use glyphs, but with chunks out of her Aura and her head still ringing, she didn't trust her ability to do that safely. Besides, keeping some Aura in reserve was always prudent.
She was about halfway back when Winter's voice reappeared. "Comms check."
"Sat," Weiss replied automatically—Winter had drilled certain procedures into her.
"Alright. Mr. Para, the line is yours."
"Good afternoon, ladies. I'm the senior legal officer at Beyond Energy. I'm calling to say… thank you."
Weiss was flabbergasted. There were any number of things she might have expected from the legal officer of a competitor: a new lawsuit, threats of a lawsuit, merger offers, veiled threats, open threats…
'Thanks' wasn't even on the list.
"What for, Mr. Para?" said Winter, more on-the-ball than Weiss.
"The Council passed a new law this morning. It forbids the courts from issuing injunctions against Dust mining when a mining company is the plaintiff. We are, obviously, very happy that law passed, as Fall Dust had something like a dozen lawsuits against us, and now we can keep mining while we defend ourselves. Sound familiar?"
"Quite," said Weiss.
"We're all in the same boat, eh? Thing is, much as we like this law, it caught us completely by surprise. It came out of nowhere. So, we asked around a bit. Our sources tell us that the law was introduced by General Ironwood, and he got the idea from… Schnee Dust Reborn."
Weiss felt paralyzed, like she'd been frozen solid in a block of her own ice. What this person was saying was one hundred percent true… but what did that mean? What did they mean by it? What could they be getting at?
Weiss didn't play chess—games in general were beneath her—but she was familiar with the concept. There were only so many legal moves. That meant there were finite approaches to the game. Even if you couldn't be sure where the opponent was going, you could at least know what their options were.
This could mean anything. She had no idea what his agenda was or how he was prosecuting it.
In which case… Weiss might as well bulldoze her way through it.
"Yes," she said. "We pointed out to the General that Fall Dust's lawsuits would grind the Dust industry to a halt. He was not keen on allowing that."
There was a long silence, one so deep Weiss was sure the other side of the call had muted it. Some sort of side conversation was happening, and there was no way to guess what it included.
"Well," came Mr. Para's voice at last, "Beyond Energy wants to again say thank you for doing that. It helps all of us that Fall Dust won't be able to abuse the justice system to get a little market share."
This was scripted, Weiss realized. People didn't really talk like that, or did only when they were being super-formal. This wasn't a casual, curious call. Beyond Energy was after something.
"We want what's good for Atlas," she said, trying to be cautious without sounding cautious. "That means keeping Atlas' Dust markets healthy."
"We concur," said Mr. Para. "On that note, we'd like to extend you an invitation."
Here it came. "What sort of invitation?"
"Doesn't it seem to you like Fall Dust's lawsuits were frivolous? Designed to waste everyone's time and money, regardless of the facts?"
That was exactly how Weiss had diagnosed them. "Maybe," she hedged. "We have other records about surveys done in our area that, we think, give us a good chance to beat Fall Dust's suit."
"Good for you. But that just illustrates my point: Fall Dust is playing games with us. Well, Beyond Energy isn't taking this lying down. We're filing a countersuit against Fall Dust."
"I wish you good luck," Weiss said.
"We want you to join the suit."
Weiss blinked in surprise; it was just as well Mr. Para couldn't see it. "Excuse me?"
"You said you had records showing Fall Dust's suit was frivolous. We have some other examples of the same. We're putting together a coalition of all the Dust companies hit by this so we can fight back effectively. We know that Schnee Dust Reborn has… ah, fewer resources available to it than the old SDC did. If you share your records with us, we'll include your case in our countersuit, driven by our legal team."
And Beyond Energy could afford more and better lawyers than SDR could dream of. It couldn't be that simple, right? "That's generous," Winter said warily, speaking Weiss' thoughts exactly.
There was a period of quiet, like Mr. Para was weighing his words. "Misses Schnee, you could have used your influence with the General to get your specific suit dismissed. Instead, you went bigger and rescued all of us. Beyond Energy has no problem returning the favor and finishing this fight."
Weiss felt lightheaded, and she was pretty sure it wasn't from the hit from the Teryx. "Oh. Um. You're welcome?"
"Don't think we'll do it again," Mr. Para said half-jokingly. "We're still competitors. We just happen to concur with you that a healthy Dust market is good for Atlas. You did your part, so we feel we have to do ours."
"The more the merrier," said Weiss, even as she immediately felt like those were silly words, the wrong words, what kind of response was that…
Mr. Para showed mercy by not mentioning it. "Plus, if your position is right and SDR is obviously above board, and you have the favor of the General… well, I'm sure you can see how that improves our odds with our countersuit."
Okay, so Beyond Energy had some self-interest at work here, too. That was a relief, perversely. "I do, and I'm happy to help."
"I bet. I'll send your lawyers our request. Just tell them to work with us on the case and we'll take it from there."
"We will," Weiss promised—after we ask the lawyers their opinions on if this is a trap. It didn't feel like a trap, but it never hurt to ask.
"It's a pleasure doing business with you. By the way, if I can share a personal opinion? The Dust industry just wouldn't be right without the Schnees in it. Please don't tell my boss I said that. Have a nice day."
He hung up. Weiss felt like collapsing. Given the choice between another call like that or another fight with a Teryx, Weiss would take the Teryx. In fact, she'd take two.
The call was staying open, which confused her—right until Winter spoke again. "Did we accidentally do the right thing?"
"I think it's more like, We accidentally did a better thing than we thought," Weiss said, and she was swaying so dangerously she had to rest against the side of the mountain. "Don't they say that it's better to be lucky than good?"
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," said Winter severely.
"I-I mean," said Weiss, words tripping over each other in her panic, "the good make their own luck, or something? Or… maybe it's best to be lucky and good. Right?"
There was a terrifyingly long pause before Winter finally replied, "Well, that's not what he would have said."
"Who?"
"…Never mind." There was an audible huff. "The point is, we escaped that. It was a very dangerous situation, but it looks like we got away from it in both the long and short term. I think… that calls for celebration."
The words were so rare, coming from Winter, that Weiss barely believed them. "Really?"
"I'll be at the mining site office at 2030 with cheesecake. If you're late, I'm eating yours."
Weiss smiled. "I wouldn't miss it, Miss Schnee."
"See that you don't, Miss Schnee."
Next time: Left In the Dark