"... And that capped off a comeback for the ages. The home team came all the way back to win despite being heavy underdogs. Why, I'd say it's the biggest upset since Schnee Dust Reborn survived and Fall Dust fell apart!"
"Hold on, Carne, is that our sports desk talking about current events?"
"Sure is! I try to make sure that everyone gets a richer experience, whether you're watching our show for the current events or the sports or whatever."
"All right, then, tie it to the weather."
"SDR outlasting Fall Dust is more surprising than it would be if we woke up tomorrow and the glaciers had melted."
"Seems like we've got a real renaissance woman on our staff here, folks. And with that, Atlas Eye Evening News wraps up another night serving you, the Kingdom of Atlas. May your Dust-bins always be full and your shutters always be tight. This is Talca Pan, signing off."
"He-hem."
Aster Cristata stopped in the middle of the street. He looked to who had called after him. It was, of all people, Holly Hemlock, eyes shifting to the sides as if he was too bright to look at directly.
Whatever, he knew better than to engage with her. Picking up his step again, he—
"He-hem. E-excuse me. Sir."
He looked again. Hemlock was wringing her hands together, as if in the throes of highest anxiety.
Not that Cristata would pity her for that. "Yeah?" he grunted.
Hemlock was having even more trouble, like something was stuck in her throat and making it impossible for words to come out. "During… the attack…"
"Yeah?!"
She was startled, and accidentally looked at him. When she did, her eyes fixated on his nose. Well, he expected that, he was used to that. He shook his head to set the tendrils aquiver; Hemlock dissolved into a blinking mess. "R-right," she said, very nearly looking at his eyes. "It's just… well, the White Fang helped protect the town."
Cristata shrugged. "So?"
"So… well, someone ought to tell them that was the right thing to do," she said.
It took a few seconds for what she was suggesting to register with Cristata. Then he guffawed. "You think I'm White Fang?"
"Well, I mean you're… er…"
Apparently she had the smallest shred of self-awareness, and realized that finishing that sentence would be the height of racist stupidity.
"Never had anything to do with 'em," said Cristata. "That's the thing, though. How could you tell? Probably no one in this town's White Fang. Probably. Or maybe they've got the masks and the guns under a floorboard somewhere. Wouldn't know either way."
Hemlock's mouth pursed so tightly her lips turned white.
"But they're not blowing up the town, and they're being helpful instead. It's a nice change of pace." He gave her a crooked look. "Makes you want to deserve that protection, doesn't it?"
"I'm trying to be grateful," she said irritably, "you F… fool."
He blinked, and considered her for a moment. She met his gaze, her eyes locked on his and no lower.
"It's a start," he said.
Huffing and muttering, she nodded to herself and retreated into her house. Cristata resumed his walk downtown.
And, though he'd deny it to the death, a smidgen of his cynicism softened.
Weiss tried to fight down the eagerness she felt. It was the first time she was looking forward to calling Friedrich Huber. She savored the idea.
When she decided she'd wasted enough time, she dialed him up. She had to go through his secretary and wait an indeterminate amount of time, as men like him made themselves feel important by making other people wait, but she found she enjoyed the anticipation that rose as she waited.
At last the call connected. "Friedrich."
"Good day, Mr. Huber," said Weiss.
"Well, well, Miss Schnee," said Huber in his greasiest voice. "Have you come to terms with things yet? Have we reached your price and you're ready for the next loan?"
"The opposite, in fact," Weiss said brightly. "I'm calling you to inform you that we will not be seeking another loan, and for good measure, we've paid off the second."
Weiss found the stunned silence this generated on Huber's part delectable.
"We could have paid off the first loan, too," she went on, "but we decided it made sense to have a larger emergency fund than before, and this way we continue to build up credit history."
The words were innocent, but Weiss said them almost like a taunt. Huber clearly recognized it as such. "How?"
"Fall Dust launched an actual, physical attack on us," said Weiss. "We were able to limit the damage and turn bad into good. For starters, Cinder deployed a large number of Atlesian Knights, Paladins, and militarized train cars. We tore them up, but salvage rights were ours. The Atlesian Military was willing to pay top lien to keep such sophisticated equipment off the open market, and a lot of that gear was supposed to have gone to the military in the first place, so it all worked out.
"But Cinder didn't just use bots. She also used criminals. In fact, quite a few of those criminals had prices on their heads, either in Atlas or abroad. Even when they didn't have their own bounties, they were complicit or involved in other crimes, crimes that had posted rewards for helping to solve. A number of unsolved security violations at the military's Arrowfell facility, for example, ended up being traced to Thornmane once we had him in custody. Put it all together, and we earned the largest payout from the Atlesian judicial system anyone's ever seen. In fact, if you divided the total bounties and rewards in half, we'd have the number one and two slots."
"I'm happy for you," said Huber, sounding quite queasy.
"I appreciate it," said Weiss, fully on board with the 'kill' part of the phrase "kill them with kindness". "Well, that was my courtesy call. I have to hang up now, because the First Municipal Bank of Atlas wanted to have a chat with me. They wanted to offer SDR new loans, now that we've demonstrated we're so reliable about paying them back."
He couldn't see it, but Weiss' smile was so broad she thought it would break her cheeks. "Goodbye, Mr. Huber."
She hung up on him before he could respond.
"Do you have any idea how much make-up work we're gonna have to do?"
Ruby sighed. "I was perfectly fine not thinking about that, and I think I'd be happier if I didn't think about it now."
"It won't go away just because you don't think about it," said Neptune. "We've missed so many classes. And sure, we've learned all sorts of crazy stuff about how the Huntsman business actually works, which I guess was the idea. But I don't think Oobleck or Peach will accept that as a reason for not knowing the material on the test we'll get once we're back."
"Maybe," said Ruby, "but I can't fix that right now. Heck, I can't fix that until we get back to Beacon. So let's take our travel days easy, without thinking about classes for a little bit longer, until we get to where we can fix that."
"That's fair," said Neptune. He gave her a jealous look. "It must be nice, being able to not worry about stuff."
"It has its upsides." Ruby jammed a few final items into her suitcase and forced it to shut with a groan of its hinges. "By the way, have you seen Blake?"
"She was saying goodbye to Ilia," said Yang, who was conscientiously folding her pants and shirts before putting them in her suitcase.
"We have that whole time when the airship arrives to say bye to everyone," said Ruby.
"Yeah, I got the impression that they had things to say to each other they didn't want other people to hear." Yang smiled fondly. "It's good for her to be facing things. And I know she'll come back when she's ready. I'm not worried."
"Again with the not worrying thing!" said Neptune. "What is with you two and not worrying?"
Yang gave a laugh. "Neptune, I've got ninety-nine problems, but Blake ain't one."
"Are you really going to have time for all that?" said Ilia.
Blake gave an unfussed look. "More or less. I mean, I won't be doing most of the heavy lifting. Tyrone and his group are the core. I'll be helping out in other ways: as a Belladonna, as a bridge to the Huntsman community, and as someone who played a pretty big role in demolishing the old Vale Branch. After all, you taught me that tearing down is only useful if you can build something new after."
"I taught you that?" said a surprised Ilia.
"You reminded me, at least," said Blake. She hummed thoughtfully. "Having the Belladonna name associated with this new Vale Branch is a great help amongst the Faunus, you know that. And I think being a bridge to the Huntsman community is important as well. Huntsmen are in a position to spot a lot of the abuse that happens at our expense, they just have to be made aware and trained to see it."
"That won't help us with racist Huntsmen," said Ilia morosely.
"No," said Blake, looking pained at a memory, "and that's one of the biggest obstacles, with how visible and how important Huntsmen are. We just have to try and do better, teach who we can, reach who we can."
"Using a new branch of the White Fang, huh?" said Ilia.
"We've just about gotten Sienna to disavow Adam publicly," Blake said. "If we can do that, break with that violent past and put something better in its place, I think we can start to heal the damage he caused. We have to start somewhere."
Ilia gave Blake a wistful smile. "There you go again. Blake Belladonna, trying to save the world, whether the world's ready or not."
"Well," said Blake, "a certain someone on my team reminded me why we do all of this. We're here to make things better, aren't we?"
"Better." Ilia rolled the word around in her brain for a few seconds. "I suppose," she said at last.
They stood in companionable silence for a bit. Eventually, Ilia said, "You won't be able to do those things from here, now will you? Are you even packed?"
"I traveled light," said Blake.
Ilia gave her a look. "That's a change. You mean you didn't bring your library all the way here to Solitas?"
Blake blushed. "I didn't bring my library, no." When Ilia's look did not relent, Blake caved. "Okay, yes, I did bring some of my favorites..."
"Of course."
Ilia had planned to continue teasing Blake about this, but Blake raised a finger to cut her off as her ears swiveled in attention. Blake turned about, scanning with eyes and ears alike, before saying, "We have airships incoming."
Ilia stepped next Blake and peered off in the distance. Sure enough, she could see something white moving against the sky. "What's a Manta doing out here?" said Ilia.
"Not a Manta," said Blake slowly. She pointed to the left and right of the white blotch. "Those are Mantas in escort position. Whatever they're escorting is bigger. Much bigger."
Ilia started to panic. "But I thought we beat Fall Dust! They can't be throwing more at us, can they?"
The splotch was starting to get larger, though not as quickly as Blake might have hoped. She was beginning to see that the seeming slowness of its approach wasn't due to low speed, but rather great size. "I don't think that's Fall Dust, or any Dust company," said Blake. She looked at Ilia. "I think you'd better get Winter. It looks like the military has come to pay us a visit."
Winter felt quite underdressed. Yes, she'd hastily thrown on her most formal outfit for this, but she wasn't in uniform, and she wouldn't feel right amongst military officers if she wasn't in uniform.
She knew she wasn't supposed to feel this way. She'd been out of the military for quite a while now. Yet it had only taken one military-class airship approaching, an airship painted with the personal heraldry of the General of the Atlesian Military, to bring all that past knowledge, all those past habits, roaring back to the front of her mind.
General Ironwood had come personally, and Winter couldn't help but feel like this was an inspection.
Why hadn't he called ahead? She could have been ready for him, she could have worked with Mayor Leif to organize a reception, even if the reception committee was just the two of them… They could have done something. Instead, all they'd been able to do was dispatch Team RVBY to the mine, freeing Weiss to come back to town. The sisters would meet the General together.
And now, here they were, waiting as yet another airship descended onto their pier. This one was so large that it took up much of the pier's length, and its wings far overlapped the pier's sides. It left so little room that the escort Mantas were forced to land at the periphery of the town instead, generating an unwelcome sense of being surrounded.
"I'll take the lead," said Weiss, much to Winter's surprise. Her head whipped around to look at her younger sister, but Weiss kept her eyes fixed forwards. "You just concentrate on keeping it together."
Winter was miffed at the implication that she wouldn't be able to, but was also in another way grateful, even relieved.
The airship's engines finished spinning down and went idle. When their noise cut out, the sisters heard a whooshing sound as the airship extended a ramp out of its main hold. The doors opened like those of an old grandfather clock, presenting their central figure to the world on an elevated stage for all to see.
General Ironwood had arrived.
He looked much as Winter remembered him: a little more weathered, perhaps, a little more gray in his hair. But he maintained his stoic demeanor, his sharply angled and clean-shaven face, and the command and charisma that had sent Winter running to accomplish any order he gave.
"Good morning, ladies," he said in good spirits.
"Good morning, General," said Weiss. Winter's mouth had been open to speak, but she remembered with a jolt that they just said Weiss would lead. Winter was a real mess, wasn't she?
"Welcome to Skjulte Perle," Weiss continued with a curtsy. "On behalf of the town and Schnee Dust Reborn, I welcome you."
"Someone remembers their etiquette training," the General said with faint amusement.
"I try not to throw away things that might still be useful," said Weiss. "Would the General like some refreshments? The hostel is still cleaning up from breakfast, but I believe a few cinnamon rolls survived the rush."
"Don't go out of your way," he said as he descended the ramp. "You ladies are why I'm here, not the local cuisine."
That made Winter even more self-conscious. At least Weiss seemed unfazed, and spoke again. "In that case, come with us, we have a meeting space inside."
Weiss turned to lead the way. Winter found herself doing a formal about-face before stepping smartly in her sister's wake. The General, with his longer strides, came abreast of her quickly. "It's good to see you again, Winter," he said.
"Sir," said Winter. She felt like she should be saying more, but didn't know what would be proper to report. It was a relief that the walk was so short-Skjulte Perle's small size doing them favors for once.
The inside of the hostel was as dimly lit as ever. Two people with dish rags were making the rounds of the downstairs tables, cleaning out the last of the mess from the breakfast rush. Weiss somehow already had a half-tray of cinnamon buns in hand by the time the General entered. "These won't be missed," she said playfully. Winter wanted to chide Weiss for being so childish, but the words stuck in her throat.
Something she was glad of a moment later. "Then we'll leave no evidence," said the General in a tone almost as light as Weiss'. Winter, by staying silent, had accidentally done the right thing. Far be it for her to speak out of turn with the General.
Weiss led the way upstairs (Winter briefly worried about the coverage of Weiss's combat skirt until she saw that it remained proper), and soon the three of them were in the converted office space. Weiss sat on one side of the desk, the General sat on the other, and Winter stood mostly at attention along the side wall. They never had gotten around to buying a third chair. The General, showing what Winter thought was great tact, didn't mention it. Instead, he busied himself with a proffered cinnamon bun.
"These are really good," said the General. "I can see why you wanted to make sure we had some."
"Cinnamon might be Anima's greatest gift to Remnant. Thank goodness for the Argus trade. Maintained by the Atlas Military," Weiss said, inclining her head at the General.
He smiled. "You're getting better at the game," he said, before holding out an untouched cinnamon bun in Winter's direction. "You should have one, too."
With the way Winter's stomach felt, she doubted if she'd ever eat again. "No, sir, thank you, sir," she said.
"I insist," he said.
She couldn't defy that. She took the bun and held it in front of her mouth. She gave the smallest possible nibble but kept the cinnamon bun showily in her face in a weak attempt at deception.
It must have worked, because he looked away from her, and for a few more moments the only sound was the messy destruction of desserts disguised as breakfast foods.
Winter wasn't fooled. She knew what a gathering storm felt like. She just didn't know the nature or direction of this particular storm, and that made her nervous.
With her appetite thoroughly squashed, Winter discreetly disposed of her cinnamon bun and waited for the blow to fall.
The General gave them thirty more seconds after he finished his own cinnamon bun before turning in his seat to look at both sisters. At length, he said, "I'm happy to tell you that a number of immigration cases are being dismissed. Cases that involved your workers and their families."
Winter's heart lurched. Was he wielding his power on their behalf?
"Investigator McCarthy, rest her soul, was deployed like a weapon, not an MP," he continued as his brow furrowed. "We've suspended her supervisor while Internal Affairs investigates him. He's exhibited a pattern of corruption in how he chose which cases to pursue."
Weiss shared none of Winter's surprise when she spoke. "When you say corruption, do you mean he was motivated by racism or bribery?"
"Some of both. It seems like bribery encouraged him to chase a racist agenda. I have a team tracing the money to see where it came from."
"You could start by checking Fall Dust's finances, now that you can see them."
"I had that thought, too," said the General. "You know, we're paying a lot of attention to Fall Dust's finances these days."
"Good," Weiss said. "Maybe you can figure out how Fall Dust seemed to operate with no care for profitability."
"We already got that far," said the General. "It turns out that Fall Dust had external support from several old, old accounts. Transfers from those accounts offset Fall Dust's losses."
"How old are we talking?"
"Older than Atlas. Some of them were as old as Mantle. Someone in the distant past bought stock in many Mantle corporations, banked all the dividends, and let compounding interest do the rest. Even after dumping so much into Fall Dust, there's a staggering amount left. Their owner would have been the richest person in Atlas if they cared to seize that title."
"It sounds like you don't know who owned those accounts," said Weiss.
"We may never know," said the General, but the way he said it struck Winter as odd. It sounded almost performative on the General's part, as if he was saying something he was supposed to say rather than what he believed. "The point is that, for as much of the Dust industry as Fall Dust controlled, it wasn't exactly the tightest ship on the waterfront. It was the number one producer, sure. But those extravagant plays to squeeze out the competition? Cinder made them only because she had these other accounts to bankroll them. On its own merits, Fall Dust wasn't the same juggernaut at all."
"That makes sense," said Weiss. "Fall Dust always did act as if destruction, not creation, was its purpose."
"Exactly. And when it comes to the Dust industry, creation, or rather preservation, is my priority." The General sighed. "You have no idea how much turmoil we're seeing over this second huge shakeup in the market."
"Almost as much as when the SDC went under, I'd imagine," said Weiss. "Except everyone saw the SDC's collapse coming, whereas this was sudden. Will Fall Dust even continue to operate?"
"That is the question, now, isn't it?" said the General, and a look of purpose took over his face. Any possibility that this was a social visit vanished as surely as the glaze from the cinnamon buns. "What will happen with Fall Dust? Right now, no one knows, and the company has no leadership to decide.
"All the stock Fall Dust issued? It adds up to only a ten percent stake. Cinder Fall held all the rest herself. The Council is not inclined to leave things like that."
"The company can continue to run, though. It has a chain of command, or at least a chain of succession. Doesn't it?"
"Nothing written that we can tell," said the General. "So both its ownership and its operations are up for grabs. Well, the operations are, at least. As for owning, the Council will be nationalizing Fall Dust for the short term."
"But you can't do that," Weiss blurted out, making Winter glare at her. Winter wanted to snap at her sister how you can't just talk like that to the General—but Weiss moved on too quickly. "The Vytal Treaty stipulates our Kingdom can't have a government-owned Dust company. Not after the role Mantle's state Dust companies played in degrading Vacuo and sparking the Great War."
"Trust me, you are not the only person to remind me of that stipulation." The General clasped his hands. "This is just a custodial role. The Council will hand off ownership as soon as a suitable buyer's group is put together."
"Good luck," said Weiss. "Even the Dust companies that survived Fall Dust's attacks had to leverage themselves to the hilt. No one has the credit to buy up Fall Dust's holdings."
"The Council isn't looking to make a profit," said the General. "Our goal is stability. We just want to make sure Fall Dust ends up in the right hands."
The way he said it told Winter they were approaching the heart of the matter. The General's face was hardening, becoming more serious by the moment.
"'The right hands'," Weiss repeated. "I'm guessing you won't be selling to the highest bidder, then."
"No," said the General. "We want to hand control over to someone trustworthy. Someone Atlesian. Someone who will run the company as a service to the Kingdom."
Winter felt herself stiffening involuntarily, like her body had realized something her mind hadn't caught yet.
Weiss raised an eyebrow. "Well, General, I hope you find someone like that."
"That's… why I came here, actually."
There it was.
Understanding crashed over Winter like a wave, washing her away and leaving her helplessly searching for air. "You want us," she gasped.
"Yes," he said, and he looked relieved that his intent had finally come out. "I want you, the Schnee sisters, to take over Fall Dust on Atlas' behalf."
"We can't put in much of a bid," said Weiss.
"I told you, the Council isn't looking to make a profit. We're interested in stability. In consistency. In loyalty to the Kingdom." He looked directly at Winter; she felt like his eyes were nailing her to the wall. "All qualities you ladies have already demonstrated."
"The most powerful Dust company in the world," Weiss said, as if seeking clarity, "and you want to just give it to us."
"As you pointed out," said the General, "we can't keep it. So let's get it in the hands of someone who will run Dust companies loyally and well. I've seen the way you survived everything Cinder Fall could throw at you, and I hear good things about how you've run this company. I know you can do the job. As for doing it loyally," he chuckled as if even the idea was a joke, "I have no doubts there."
"Loyally," repeated Weiss. "Loyal to what, exactly? Loyal to you?"
"To the Council," said the General.
"Aren't you 40% of the Council?"
"That's not really relevant," said the General, but he did shift uncomfortably.
"I think it is," said Weiss. "We built this company with our own sweat and audacity. Anything we have in it, we earned, and everyone knows that. If you just give us Fall Dust, everyone will know we only have it by your generosity, us most of all. We'd be beholden to you. After all, there's nothing we could do that would be as big a favor as you gifting us the world's number one Dust company. So if you asked for a little something here or a little something there..."
"You're making it sound so sinister," said Ironwood, and he looked upset in Winter's eyes. "I just want people I can trust in a position of such power. After what you ladies found out about Cinder Fall, and where all her money came from, and what she was willing to do to the other Dust companies... Well, it's pretty obvious she didn't have Atlas' best interest at heart. Can you blame me for wanting a patriot after that?"
He looked directly at Winter. "And where else can I find better patriots in the Dust industry than here?"
It was praise, the sort of praise Winter craved, and it made her heart beat faster. So why was her stomach clenching? Why did this hurt?
Weiss frowned. "If you gave us that company, we'd be competing with ourselves. Our Fall Dust would be competing with our SDR."
"Well," said the General, "there's a simple solution to that. Cinder's hostile takeover of SDR failed, but if you owned both, you could arrange a merger with no problem at all."
If Winter was reading Weiss correctly, the younger sister was increasingly distressed as the conversation went on. "There is so much to unpack there I don't even know where to begin," said Weiss. "Winter, where do you think we should start?"
Winter had not been expecting to give her opinion; she realized she'd just been waiting for orders. She tried to bully her neurons into providing something useful. It didn't go well. "You could start with your easiest objection and work your way up?" she said, too uncertain to phrase it definitively.
Weiss' face flashed disappointment, but she nodded all the same. "First, Winter and I may hold majority ownership, but that doesn't convey control of SDR. By our rules, we can't force our stockholders out of power or control, even if both of us sold out. All we could do was destroy SDR."
"Seems simple enough," said the General.
"Destroy SDR?" blurted out Winter, alarm rising in her chest.
"You'd be trading up," said the General reasonably. "Don't tell me you actually feel bad for your other stockholders. Venture capitalist vultures, I'm sure."
"Our 'other stockholders' are our employees," said Weiss coldly.
The General seemed to realize his mistake. "It looks like I knew less about your company than I thought," he admitted. "Okay. I can understand feelings of loyalty towards your subordinates. You don't want to destroy their wealth and livelihoods."
"That's right," said Weiss.
"I can appreciate that," said the General. "It's commendable. In that case, wear two hats, like I do. I'm both General and Headmaster. You can be CEOs of Fall Dust and SDR."
"And give ourselves conflicts of interest in everything we do?" said Weiss incredulously. "Running two companies that are direct competitors with each other?"
"Yes," said the General, much less humoring of this objection. "I'm sure you've got the mental discipline for that. I know your sister does," he added with a nod at Winter.
"Even if we did," said Weiss testily, "that doesn't mean anyone else will. We'll look corrupt to pretty much everyone."
The General seemed to be losing his patience. "You're willing to throw away Fall Dust and the billions of lien it represents because of how you might look? If I cared about my reputation half as much as I cared about the mission, I'd never be able to get anything done. Thankfully, I'm much better off at focusing on my tasks than caring about whispers. You should be, too."
Weiss squared her shoulders at him. "And if I'm not?" she said daringly.
"Either way, you're not speaking for Winter," said the General with the first hints of temper in his voice. He looked at Winter with all his attention, making her feel naked under his eyes. "What do you say, Winter? Instead of being co-CEO of SDR, you could be the sole CEO of Fall Dust."
The suggestion carried so much weight Winter thought it must crush her beneath it. She knew why instantly: it was harder to carry things without her sister sharing the weight.
But even through the General's justifications for the choice and Weiss' protests, one fact stood out to Winter. "That would put me in competition with my sister," she said.
"Not that much," said the General. "Fall Dust is so much bigger than SDR. It wouldn't be your competition for very long. Then you could do a permissive buyout between the two of you and bring your sister back into the fold."
Winter gaped at him. "Your plan is that I drive my sister out of business? And it's okay as long as I do it fast?"
"Then you can appoint her back as co-CEO afterwards," said the General, visibly frustrated now. "These are all different ways to get to the same end, which is the two of you in charge of Fall Dust and running it for the good of Atlas, to keep prices stable and the Dust flowing. I don't see what's so bad about that."
"No, you don't see, and that's the problem," said Weiss. "Doesn't Atlas have antitrust laws?"
The General's look turned appraising. "What if it does?"
"If your plan is for us to eat the other Dust companies, starting with our own Dust company, wouldn't that violate those laws?"
"Ah," said the General. "You're afraid of being prosecuted. Well, I wouldn't worry. We're pretty good at managing who gets prosecuted and for what."
Weiss' hands went uncontrollably to her head. "You're solving the wrong problem!"
"I... don't..." the General sputtered.
"Those laws are in place to keep any one company from dominating any one market," Weiss said—and then she looked at the General as if for the first time. "But you want that, don't you? You want there to be only one Dust company."
"With loyal Atlesians in charge of it," said Ironwood, and he seemed relieved that Weiss had finally cottoned on. "Do you have any idea how much simpler that would make business? And government? To only have one place we need to go to for something we always need?"
"It is simple," Weiss said cuttingly, staring at the General without so much as a flinch, "but wrong. Monopolies are a social ill. We have anti-trust laws to stop them for a reason!"
"Yes, because they make too much profit at everyone else's expense," said the General, meeting her rising temper with firmness and steadiness. "I'm sure you two know better than that, though."
"And if we don't?" Weiss said as if daring him to respond in anger.
He didn't, but only just. "Well, the anti-trust laws are still on the books, aren't they?"
"So we can have a monopoly as long as we play nice, is that it? As long as we're… 'loyal'."
The mood in the room crystallized. It felt like something in the air froze.
"You want a state Dust company," said Weiss baldly.
"That would be against the Vytal Treaty," the General said in metronomic tones.
"So you'll settle for the next best thing," Weiss barreled on, "a privately-owned monopoly that answers to you, and you alone."
"To the Atlas Council," the General corrected in a rush—and perhaps a bit in anger.
"To the state," Weiss said, each word a hammer striking a chisel.
The General's face went stony. "If you wish to put it in those terms, yes."
"I don't wish," Weiss replied. "I don't wish for that at all."
"All of that is… is assumptions anyway, couldn't happen for years," the General said, waving an arm like doing so would wipe Weiss' objection out of existence. "You definitely won't have a monopoly now. There are other companies out there, and they'll be doing everything they can to survive. It's fair competition today. That's fine, that's fine.
"What I want," he said, his voice becoming labored, "what I care about, is that an industry so close to the beating heart of Atlas doesn't fall to the enemy. What I want is for Dust to be in the hands of someone who won't betray me." He looked up at Winter with eyes that broke her heart—pleading eyes. "Is that too much to ask?"
"No, sir," she said out of equal parts sympathy and compulsion.
Weiss didn't share those feelings. "You're playing the victim about Cinder when we're the ones Cinder would have killed?"
"And that would have made things so much worse," said the General sincerely.
"Thank you for your consideration," sneered Weiss.
"That's why I'm making sure it can't happen again," said the General. "If we can get someone loyal in a position with that kind of power, it won't."
"Until you decide you want Fall Dust's power to break someone else. Then your lapdog will have to do as you ask."
"Anything I do will be for the good of Atlas," the General said.
"For your definition of the good of Atlas, you mean."
The General broke his stare-down with Winter to shoot Weiss an annoyed glance; Winter heaved breaths while she had the chance. "You've made your feelings abundantly clear, and I won't ask you again, but don't interfere when I'm talking with Winter."
Weiss detonated. "When you're talking to my sister and my business partner? My family?"
Winter's eyes met Weiss', and she knew the word choice was no accident. Winter's hand instinctively went to her hip, to her weapon, to the hidden weapon within. My last, greatest, truest defense.
Family.
She wanted to follow orders. Oh, how badly she wanted to follow orders. But... he wasn't her boss, was he? He was forty percent of the Atlas Council, sure, but he wasn't her boss specifically.
Not her General.
But did she dare? Did she dare say something that might disappoint him? His approval had always meant far more to her than any stack of lien.
Oh. That was just what he'd wanted. What he recognized she craved. That's what let him use her.
He would say that putting it that way made it sound too sinister, and she was inclined to agree, but she couldn't pretend it wasn't there or didn't matter.
"I thought you said I was doing my service to Atlas right where I was," said Winter. "You told me that I was still serving Atlas by taking care of the Dust industry."
"That's right," said Ironwood eagerly, "and with you in charge of a larger company, think how much of a better job you'd be able to do, how much more you'd be able to do for Atlas."
"I'd be able to do a lot," Winter agreed. "Like put my sister out of business."
"We've already gone over several ways to finesse that," said Ironwood impatiently. "You can take care of your sister, and all the people in this company. Being loyal to your Kingdom doesn't mean betraying anyone else."
"Loyalty again," she said. "But I am being loyal. I'm being loyal right where I am."
"You can do more," Ironwood urged her. "You can be more loyal."
Winter squirmed. Her throat tightened until she could barely speak. "It's making me uncomfortable… that you're defining loyalty… as what's convenient to you."
Ironwood's face fell, and Winter felt something inside her break.
"Everything Weiss said is true," Winter said in a rush. "If I accepted, I wouldn't have earned that role on merit. I would be dependent on you. It would be like creating a state Dust company. But most of all, it would create a rift between me…"
Before her eyes, faces swam. Weiss. Lief. Cristata.
Ilia.
"…and the people I love."
He took a laborious breath. "I thought you loved your Kingdom," he said, his voice rich with disappointment.
"I do!" she blurted out.
"Then take this assignment."
"But it's not the only thing I love."
All the wind left Ironwood's sails. A stillness came over the room, like no new thoughts dared intrude on what had just been said.
With her attention freed for the first time in minutes, Winter's eyes tracked over to Weiss. Weiss wasn't moving or saying anything, but she glowed with pride.
Pride at her.
It was warmth. It was assurance. It was affirmation. It was love.
Winter's knees buckled from the feeling.
Ironwood took a great, heaving breath. "So that's your limit," he said. "We found the thing you wouldn't do for Atlas."
"We all have things we wouldn't do for Atlas," said Winter, trying for comradery.
She missed. She could see how badly she'd missed when Ironwood met her with flinty silence. It alarmed her.
"There are things you wouldn't do for Atlas, right?" she said, suddenly desperate for a positive answer.
He gave her none. Instead, he hauled himself laboriously to his feet. "Thank you for the cinnamon buns," he said with frosty formality. "But there are more demands on a General's time than there are hours in the day. Like finding a new ownership group for Fall Dust."
He gave her a hurt look, but Winter steeled herself against it. She'd made her choice, and obstinance ran in her blood.
"Which means I'll be too busy for things like, say, social phone calls," he continued when she didn't reply. "Don't call me again. I'll call you."
Winter felt like she'd fallen from something.
But Weiss swooped in, like she was catching her sister with a glyph. "So this is retribution?" she demanded.
"No. Retribution would be putting your workers on trial and deporting them. I'm better than that."
"Good to hear," Weiss said, her voice a thorn.
They stood there, unspeaking, for an increasingly glacial moment. With a feeling that would have been amused under other circumstances, Winter remembered that Ironwood never had been good at ending an interaction. "By your leave, General," she said.
He breathed relief and nodded at her. Then he turned like he was on parade and went for the door.
When it had closed behind him, Winter's strength abandoned her. Her vision went dark for a moment and she felt like she was collapsing.
But Weiss was beneath her before she hit, catching her and keeping her steady. "I've got you, don't worry."
"I'm not worried," said Winter, and they weren't just words. "I… I did it."
"Yes. You did it. You were magnificent."
She breathed, breathed, breathed. She hadn't realized how much power Ironwood had still held over her, hadn't appreciated it—but now it was gone, and without it she felt light. Adrift, she'd lost one of her great anchors, but also light.
Which meant she could seek closure on one last thing.
"I have to ask him something," she said. Weiss' look was sharp and alarmed, almost enough to make Winter chuckle. Almost. "It's not what you think. I just need an answer to an old question."
When Weiss still held firm and suspicion stayed on her face, Winter added, "You can come with me."
That at last bought Weiss' assent. She helped her older sister for a few steps, but Winter eventually found her legs again. Her strides got stronger and more purposeful as she made her way down the stairs.
Ironwood, thankfully, seemed distracted with something on his scroll, so he wasn't moving as quickly as she knew he could. They caught him as he ascended the ramp back into his airship. "General!" she called.
He paused, stowed his scroll, did a formal about-face. "Yes, Miss Schnee?"
It was neither a formal title nor a familiar name. It was distant. That hurt a little, but she understood it. "I was hoping you'd answer one more question."
"If it's good for Atlas," he said with an edge.
That might have dissuaded her before, but she was better now. "When Willow Schnee died, I was on assignment, and no one told me. You could have. I wasn't under cover, I wasn't incommunicado. I was in CCT range on an open mission. But still, no one called me until the bankruptcy decision had been made. Why not?"
She saw him weighing his options. She wondered what his calculus was.
When it had gone on long enough to be uncomfortable, he finally committed. "I knew you'd want to come back," he said. "I feared you wouldn't be able to resist getting involved in…"
He gave a wave that seemed to encompass Weiss, the town, and the past two years.
Realization and memory collided in Winter's mind. "You decided to regulate me for me, is that it?"
He gave a curt nod. "You were one of the best soldiers and Huntresses I'd ever seen. I was afraid to lose you."
His lack of shame didn't surprise Winter anymore. "That choice meant you lost me anyway."
His lip curled wryly. "My worst fears are always realized, sooner or later."
He reached out a hand to an airship panel.
The ramp raised.
The Evernight Castle conference table had seating for twelve, but only three of its chairs were occupied. Nor would this be a temporary thing. Those who should have filled the other seats were gone.
"It's time to write off Arthur," said Salem.
The words of the Witch were final, and her minions greeted it with unusually similar reactions. Tyrion, squatting in his chair instead of sitting so that his scorpion tail was free to hang over his shoulder, let his head droop somberly. Hazel, as thickly built and emotive as a brick outhouse, gave a minute nod over crossed arms.
"That whole plan has failed, then," said Hazel.
"Yes," said Salem. "Although we won't know the true extent of the damage for some time."
Because Arthur had been the one tracking the money in Salem's ancient bank accounts, using all his fancy screens. Salem, smart as she was, had spent thousands of years getting by without the aid of a scroll, and since any disruption to civilization would send it straight back to the Stone Age and make scrolls superfluous again, she had never bothered to learn how to operate one. For the first time, she regretted that.
Why had all the banks gone away from issuing paper statements? What was wrong with paper? Paper had served Salem's purposes just fine for longer than any of these institutions had existed. She felt sometimes that half her desire to crash the world's banks came as retribution for them making it harder to do her own business. So much for 'customer service'!
But it wouldn't do to express any of those thoughts to her followers. "No matter," she said. "No matter. There are older ways, better ways. Our ultimate goals aren't technological, so there's no need for our means to be. The next Vytal Festival is in two years, and will be held at Haven Academy, home of our dear friend Leonardo."
Hazel grunted, probably in disapproval. Tyrion cackled.
"Which means we have more than a year to find a suitable Maiden candidate, and then almost another year to prepare for a blow on that stronghold. This failure cost us time and contacts and money, but all those things are trifles. They're ultimately unlimited to one such as me."
"Of course, Your Grace," said Tyrion, bowing in his squat so low his head almost impacted the surface of the table. Hazel just grunted again.
No one else spoke, because there was no one else to speak, only these two. And while they were consummately useful, well, Tyrion was a wind-up toy Salem preferred to keep pointed away from her, and Hazel had all the social graces of the aforementioned brick outhouse.
"Our first order of business is to recruit more underlings," said Salem. "Haven is in Mistral. We'll need a proxy force there to match what the Vale White Fang were supposed to be in Sanus.
"Perhaps it's time I give the Branwen Tribe a call."
Weeks passed. Skjulte Perle put itself back together better than before. SDR got back to its main business of Dust company, rather than its side business of lightning rod, and quietly returned to profitability. The drama surrounding town, company, and leading family subsided.
To a point.
"Are you packed, then?" said Winter.
"Fully packed," said Weiss. "I have everything I'll need for two weeks in Sanus, with an option for two more. And I've already carved out time and space in my schedule to ensure that I can dial in to our weekly shareholder meetings."
"Sounds like you're ready… except I'm still unclear on one point," said Winter. "We agreed to investigate opening a second mine somewhere. So why are you surveying mining sites in Sanus instead of here in Solitas?"
Weiss summoned up the height of her Schnee dignity. "If our previous surveys were any indication, there aren't any good sites left in Solitas, only marginal ones. Skjulte Perle was a fluke. I think we have much better prospects in Sanus, especially around Vale. Vale has a gentler regulatory regime than Atlas does, too, and much less competition. Plus, with the new Vale White Fang looking to be a more legitimate organization, there's some public relations good we can do as a Faunus-friendly company."
Winter nodded. "All of those are good reasons, and even true ones. They're not your actual reason, though."
Weiss chose her words carefully. "There are also some personal opportunities to be found in Vale, yes."
"So, which member of Team RVBY are you trying to go see?"
Winter cut to the heart of the matter with a look of faint amusement on her face. That might have put Weiss on the wrong foot at another time in her life, or if her feelings were any less settled or genuine. Instead, she looked at Winter evenly, and spoke without any waver in her voice. "I'm afraid to report, dear sister, that I appear to have inherited at least one trait from our father."
Winter arched her eyebrow. "And that is?"
"Greed. Because I want them all."
That brought the other eyebrow up, and between that and the slight jaw drop, Weiss judged this to be the first time she'd ever successfully cracked Winter's composure. Finally she'd gotten a win.
Now if only she could score a hit on Winter in a sparring match, then she'd really be making progress in life.
"Well," said Winter, collecting herself, "while the logistics of that seem… questionable… the sisterly thing to do would be to wish you good luck."
"I appreciate it," said Weiss. A thought occurred to her that made her chuckle. "You know, this will be the furthest away from each other we'll have been since Mother died. But it doesn't feel that way. It felt like we were much further apart when we were fighting after the machine shop blew."
"Emotional distance seems a lot further than physical distance, I suppose," said Winter. "But physical distance matters too."
Weiss' smile grew. "I agree, which is why this is necessary." She stepped forward and wrapped Winter up in a hug.
And, in that grandest of developments, Winter, who had spent years incapable of physical affection, hugged her back immediately and enthusiastically.
"I love you, Miss Schnee."
"I love you too, Miss Schnee."
End.
Next time: Epilogue