Any professional Huntress could move her weapon fast enough to deflect gunfire.

A few Huntresses could move like bullets themselves.

Before the Centinel could do much more than scream at Winter's sister, the Huntress had bent into a glyph-assisted dash. Grimm eyes were small targets, but Eiszahn still plunged in one and out the other. A bending tear later and the Centinel's head was ripped open. Its body sagged for a moment before it began to dissipate like all dead grimm did.

No time to celebrate, because grimm seldom moved alone. Sure enough, there were more explosions of rock as Centinels burst from the ground: two, now three, now four—

Winter was already in motion. You could never yield to the grimm, never let them get established, never give them the opportunity to become a threat. You struck first, fast, and fatally.

That was a lesson taught in both of Atlas Academy's curricula.

Centinels were bug-like, burrowing creatures, with acid-dripping maws and dozens of short but dagger-sharp limbs. A Centinel could kill in any number of ways; its whole body was weaponized.

Then again, the same was true for Huntresses.

The first Centinel Winter reached was spinning in the aftermath of its arrival. Eiszahn bit in a counter direction to its spin, adding the Centinel's own energy to the blow. The sword broke through, tore through, and left the Centinel in pieces.

The next Centinel was readier. It swayed its whole side, a dozen clacking dagger-arms seeking purchase in Winter's flesh. A quickly-summoned glyph deflected the blows, turning the Centinel even more and exposing its back. Winter used one hand to bend the Centinel's head down further, creating a gap between the plates of its back armor. Eiszahn flew into the gap; the Centinel came apart.

Another Centinel emerged fully from its tunnel and tried to lunge at her, leading with an open maw. It met Winter's saber going the other direction, with so much combined force the point punched through the back of the Centinel's head. A quick withdraw kept Eiszahn clean of any appreciable amount of acid.

Three down in just over three seconds. Damn, she was rusty.

She turned towards the last two, which were out of their tunnels and skittering towards her. She extended a hand to draw some glyphs—

-what was she doing?

She modified the glyphs; they turned black and threw the Centinels back, creating a little time and distance. With a moment's respite, Winter turned to Weiss.

To her credit, her sister was in a ready position, Myrtenaster cocked back by her chest, but she hadn't moved to engage. Well, Winter wasn't about to let this opportunity pass.

"You take the last two," she said.

Emotions cycled across Weiss' face fast and furious. "O-of course," she said, trying to regain her composure.

Winter ostentatiously stepped backwards (though she kept her grip on Eiszahn as tight as ever, and silently prepped a glyph for extra speed just in case). She could almost see Weiss running through preparations in her head, could almost hear Winter's own coaching voice in Weiss' mind.

Remember your training. Head up, shoulders back, right foot forward- not that forward! Slow your breathing, wait for the right mo—

The Centinels didn't wait.

One of them reared back to lob acid spit while the other rushed at her with a vile hiss. In surprise, Weiss leapt backwards, temporarily restoring range without gaining much advantage. Winter's knuckles went white around her sword's hilt.

After another retreat, Weiss made a lunging attack. The blow was off-target; Myrtenaster's point glanced off the rounded armor of the Centinel's head. It whipped the upper third of its body at her to knock her down. She slipped just out of range, only to yell in alarm as acid splashed near her.

Winter itched to engage. The glyph beneath her thrummed with power. She held herself back. Weiss had to do this herself, if she could.

To Winter's surprise, Weiss gestured, drawing a glyph above the onrushing Centinel. She took an Aura-assisted leap, inverted to plant her feet against the bottom of the glyph, and attacked downwards with the full force of Aura, athleticism, and gravity.

This time Myrtenaster punched into and through the Centinel's head, pinning it to the ground.

Compensating for her lack of precision with brute force, Winter thought critically. Not the approach one usually takes with a rapier.

For a moment it looked like Weiss was stuck, too. Another blob of acid arced through the air. Weiss yelped and threw up a glyph to block it just in time. As the defeated Centinel beneath her dissipated, however, Myrtenaster came free, and Weiss dodged the next acid glob instead.

The last Centinel, giving up on its acid, charged at Weiss. She met it head-on. As it rose to strike at her, she attacked first, ramming Myrtenaster's point into it. This time she succeeded in finding a gap between armor plates, but her strike was shallow. Not lethal. The Centinel jerked and writhed, and Weiss—unwilling to let go—found herself jerked and thrown about along with it.

Winter took a half-step forward. Her glyph grew in brightness until it was casting her shadow forward.

Weiss found her footing—and, to Winter's shock, didn't pull Myrtenaster free. Instead she pushed forward, driving the blade further in until she almost reached the handguard. What was Weiss thinking, that wasn't a vital location for a Centinel, even if she punched all the way through it could still—

Bang.

Ba-bang BANG.

Arm-sized ice crystals burst from inside the Centinel's carapace, spraying ichor in all directions as the grimm was turned inside-out. It dissipated into smoke and shadow in under a second.

The ice chunks fell to the ground with a clatter, with one of them—still attached to Myrtenaster's point—dragging the rapier along with them. As Weiss shook that free, Winter looked at the cylinder above the handguard—yes, it was rotated to the water-and-wind position, the combination of Dusts that conjured ice.

Winter took a breath and banished her glyph.

Watching Weiss fight those Centinels had been much more nerve-wracking than if Winter had simply killed them herself. Yet there was no substitute for experience. Winter had thrown plenty of simulated grimm at her sister, artifacts of her semblance bearing the traits of her defeated foes. No matter how much they might resemble live grimm, though, such simulacra didn't truly replicate combat. There was no actual danger. The only thing that might get hurt was Weiss' pride.

Those two Centinels were weaker than some of the simulations Winter had sicced on her sister, but represented a greater, truer threat. It was better for Weiss to get started fighting for real, no matter how uncomfortable it made her.

Made both of them, really.

"I… I did it!"

Weiss' eyes shone with excitement—until she saw Winter. She stiffened. "I mean," Weiss added, subconsciously righting her posture, "of course I did it, just like you expected me to."

"Not just how I expected you to," said Winter, calibrating the amount of disappointment in her voice. "You missed as many attacks as you hit with, and your hits were inefficient."

"My hits were lethal!" Weiss protested.

"But you had to go to great lengths to make them lethal. Using Ice Dust like that was… innovative," she admitted, and for a moment Weiss perked up, "but wasteful. If your strikes had been more precise and powerful, they would have been effective on their own. Instead, you wasted finite resources to overcome your own failings."

Weiss' face was flushed from more than just exertion. "Of course," she said, resentment and obedience at war. "I'll try to do better."

"Try. Don't speak to me of 'trying'." Winter sighed. "It's different when it's real, isn't it?"

Weiss blinked. "What do you mean?"

"When it's a real, live grimm trying to kill you, and not just a simulation or a summons. When the consequences of losing aren't embarrassment or a lecture, but maiming and death."

Weiss hesitated, looking searchingly at Winter, who kept herself looking impassive. Weiss gave a cautious nod. "Yes. It was different. It felt… heavier. Fuzzier, I think?"

Winter arched her eyebrow and shot Weiss a cool expression. "I hope you're not using that as an excuse for your poor performance."

"Of course not," Weiss denied transparently.

Winter dialed back the disapproval just a bit. "No simulation can quite prepare you for actual combat. That's why I left those last two for you. You could get your first taste of live combat in… a relatively safe position. But even then, I'd have expected less of a drop-off than that. Six Centinels is a normal grimm encounter out here in Solitas. If it takes all your effort to defeat two, I dread entrusting you with any sort of security duties."

"I said I'll get better," Weiss said with a scowl.

"See that you do," said Winter. She saw Weiss' anger. Good. It would be a good motivator. She needed to get better, and this would goad her. It was what worked for Winter.

Tough love. Weiss would thank her later, after she was toughened up a bit.

Winter turned her attention to the signs of the Centinels' burrowing approach. "Secure your gear," she said to Weiss, "and come with me. We have to trace this."

Weiss frowned. "Trace how the Centinels got here?"

"There's never only one group of Centinels," Winter said grimly. "There's a nest somewhere. We need to find it and figure out what we're up against."

"To know how much we'll spend on security," Weiss said, jumping ahead, but not quite to the right place.

"To see if it's practical at all," Winter corrected. She could see Weiss wanting to protest this point, but there was no time for that. Winter had walked to their gear crate and retrieved a sonic imager. "Let's go."

Weiss gave a last look at the Dust surveying equipment, but she complied and fell in along with Winter. As well she should, Winter thought with satisfaction.


The search dragged on and on, largely because they were moving on foot and didn't want to burn Aura to move faster. Aura was at a premium already, both to hold the cold at bay and to keep a reserve in case they found more Centinels face-to-face.

They weren't able to follow the surface disturbances very far. Centinels came that shallow only as a prelude to attack, while mostly transiting at deeper depths. After losing the surface signs, Winter had to do all her tracking with the sonic imager. She paused every quarter klick to set it up, confirm they still had the trail, maybe adjust their vector a bit. Weiss would note their location on her scroll so they could return to their camp.

It was the only thing she could think to do to stay useful. In Winter's opinion, at least, she thought irritably.

After two hours, Winter frowned as she looked at the imager. "Did we lose it?" Weiss asked with more heat than she'd intended.

"The opposite," Winter replied, unfazed. "I think we found a trunk. A major starter tunnel," she added when she saw Weiss' expression. "Many Centinels start their journey from the main nest through the trunks, then branch out as necessary. We're close."

"That's… good?" Weiss asked.

"Maybe," said Winter, stowing the imager. "It seemed an unusually large trunk. We're probably close. Keep your Aura at a minimum and your emotions steady."

That Weiss understood, though it was easier said than done, as disgruntled as she was feeling. The last thing they wanted was to discover the extent of the nest by drawing its grimm up to them. The less detectable they were, the better their odds of finding the grimm before the grimm found them.

It reminded Weiss why grimm surveys were so often out-of-date in remote locations. It was hazardous work under the best of circumstances, and survey teams were lost on a regular basis. It made sense to do frequent surveys in areas nearby human habitation, that was worth the risk, but wilderness areas… well, who would endanger a perfectly good survey team to chart an area that didn't really matter?

We would, Weiss thought.

No, no. That wasn't helpful. She was letting apprehension creep up on her, which was the opposite of what they needed. Fear of the grimm was self-fulfilling. She had to focus. Keep an even keel.

She busied herself taking notes on her scroll instead, recording the locations of the trunk, their current position, and ideal routes to return to their campsite. It was important to stay useful, to stay too busy for fear.

The imager, for the first time, beeped.

Weiss' head whipped around. Winter at rest was about as pale as a human could be without albinism, so she couldn't very well get paler. Weiss noted, instead, a subtle tremor in Winter's hands, particularly the hand holding the imager.

Winter stood, closed her eyes, and breathed.

That couldn't be good.

Focus! Weiss looked at her notes again and pointed. "Our best egress route is that way."

"Good thinking," Winter said, and it had to be a sign of how shaken she was that she offered praise so casually. "Let's go."

Weiss led the way, breaking into a deliberate jog. Winter naturally kept up, and the two of them moved to higher ground, to a rock formation along the flank of a mountain, three klicks away from where Winter had taken her last measurement.

"For future reference, try to avoid climbing up and down hills or mountains," said Winter as they rested atop a long, flat boulder sitting astride two more boulders—keeping themselves well off the ground. "Try to stick to lowlands, if possible. The extra effort to ascend and descend wipes out almost any savings in distance."

"Good to know," said Weiss, stuffing down her resurgent frustration. She shot a shaky look at where Winter had taken her last image. "In this case, I prioritized getting to safety first."

"Which was correct," said Winter, and her façade was flickering. "I was speaking… generally. Not specific to this event."

"Right. Uh… do you think we're far enough away now?"

"Whether we are or not…" Winter said, and then shuddered and screwed her eyes shut. "…gods preserve us."

The second-hand fear was enough to ignite Weiss'. For it to be too much for Specialist Winter Schnee

"That was bigger than any Centinel nest I've ever read about," Winter said. "I can't imagine what's feeding it this far from civilization, but whatever it is must be potent. That was… was…"

Focus. Even at this range, fear could still draw in grimm if it was strong enough, and if it drew a few and sparked a larger fear reaction it'd draw more, and then…

"…enough to cost us a lot to clear?" Weiss said, trying to put her attention back on the business plan. Few things caused less fear than a spreadsheet.

"To clear?" Winter said incredulously.

"My Dust survey results look promising," Weiss said, bringing up her preliminary results on her scroll. "A fair amount of Lightning Dust, and some Combustion, too. I think I can find more if I use that as cuing to…"

"No."

Weiss blinked and looked up at her sister, whose face was set like flint. "No… what?"

"No, we're not mining here," said Winter firmly. "We're not."

Frustration trumped fear. "You mean it'd be expensive to hire enough Huntsmen to clear that nest?"

Winter gave a hollow laugh. "There's not a team in existence that would clear that nest. It went so deep and there was so much activity the imager couldn't scope it all. That beep it gave was a warning that it'd reached the limits of its display. Even the Ace Ops wouldn't take that mission."

She swiveled to point at where she'd taken the image. "If I were in the military still and we absolutely had to operate here, I would have a sapper team plant a charge to take off the top layers of rock and crack open the nest. Then I would use battleship main guns to turn the hole to glass. I would fire until there was no hint of movement from inside, and then keep shooting for another hour just to be sure, before I let anyone go near it."

She looked back at Weiss. "So, unless your trust fund has enough lien in it to rent a battleship, we can cross this area off the list."

"Cro—just like that?" Weiss looked at her survey results again. "But this looks so—"

"Off. The list."

Weiss' gaze returned to Winter. Her face was as hard as Weiss had ever seen it, but the fear lurking underneath was as clear as it was unprecedented.

Weiss swallowed, and nodded. "Off the list."

Winter's eyes drifted shut and she took a deep, shuddering breath. She rose to her feet. "Alright. Let's get out of here. And when we get back, I am updating the grimm survey for this area with a large, blinding 'Emergencies Only' banner."

"By all means, but don't submit it just yet," said Weiss. Winter's head whipped around with a sharp expression, but Weiss had a hint of a smile. "We do want our pickup airship to come fetch us still, right?"

Winter's face softened, and she gave a huff of amusement. "Right. We can tell everyone to stay away after we're safely away ourselves."

"Exactly."


The third survey site was a logistical breeze and had some Dust, but of such cheap types and low purity no mining operation could ever be profitable.

The fourth had a tempting Dust mix, but the sisters witnessed three rockslides in the four days they were there (almost getting caught in one). After that, Winter ran the numbers on making the area safe for permanent habitation, and forced Weiss to acknowledge that it would be a major terraforming project quite outside their budget.

It all left Weiss frustrated. She'd expected that any unclaimed mining spots would be sub-par, but she hadn't expected them to be this bad.

The fifth site, compared to all of those, was novel: Winter promised that it was close to civilization.

"This is 'civilization'?" said Weiss, eyebrow raised as she looked out the window of their airship as it made its approach.

"I would think the last few weeks of wilderness living would help you appreciate it more," Winter said drily.

"That's like saying I prefer one degree of added heat over no heat," Weiss replied. "It's true, but so what?"

Winter arched an eyebrow. "Well, don't say that around the locals."

"I'll admit, I didn't see it coming that you'd be telling me to be diplomatic," said Weiss, looking out the window again. She missed the way her words stunned Winter. Instead, she took in the town.

Skjulte Perle—which was twice as much name as the place deserved—was built in a rare lowland area along the side of a fjord. Most of the buildings huddled close by the shore, as the elevation rose quickly and precipitously into mountains behind. A single rail line followed the lowest path between the mountains, which were lined with low trees and shrubs for the lower third of their ascents. The next third was grassy, while the upper third was bare rock or snowcap. Weiss could tell their peaks would cast shadows over the town even in high summer. The place was likely a twilight town in winter.

The buildings were painted in bright colors, but looked rather the worse for the wear. At least two of them had collapsed and been left in that state indefinitely. Large piles of uncollected junk had accumulated here and there, many of them around the three buildings surrounding the railhead. A breakwater protected a surprisingly long and machinery-laden pier, but said pier was empty for three-fourths of its length; the local fishing flotilla fit into half of one side of the pier. Only the combination watchtower/gun emplacement seemed in good repair.

"It does seem… penurious," said Winter.

"Is that diplomacy? Insult a place, but by using a fancy word you think they won't recognize?"

"I was concurring with your opinion," said Winter coldly, "but I won't be sharing that with the locals any more than you will."

"Speaking of which, you mentioned you were in contact with the mayor."

"Yes," Winter said as the airship began its final descent. "I told him when we'd be arriving. With any luck, he'll have someone waiting for us."

There was, in fact, someone waiting for them when the rear ramp of the airship came down. It was the tallest man Weiss could ever remember seeing, a beanstalk who towered above the sisters; with how much he loomed he felt twice as tall as Weiss.

(Weiss made a mental note to invest in even taller heels.)

He was less than imposing despite his height, though. With his shaggy blonde hair and beard, slim build, and jovial expression, he seemed more like an inflatable Winter Holiday decoration than a person.

"Are you on the mayor's staff?" Winter asked.

"The name's Leif, and I am the mayor's staff," was the affable reply, "as well as the mayor's secretary, the mayor's driver, and, when I have the time, the mayor."

It had the easy feel of a practiced joke. Leif's smile was disarming as he continued. "In a small place like this, we have to multitask. Take the town librarian: she doubles as the cook at the hostel. We like to say she can stuff your head and your belly both!"

"I'm sure," Winter said, though her voice was not. Weiss could tell her sister was having trouble comprehending an informal authority figure. "We'll be with you in a moment, we just need to unload our cargo before the airship takes off."

"Well, I'll help you with that," said the mayor, and he gamely walked up the ramp ahead of them. Weiss raised an eyebrow at her sister, who returned the gesture.

The mayor grasped one of the crates and heaved. It didn't budge. "Or… phew, or maybe I won't," he said, letting go of the crate and wiping his brow. "Lemme go get a handcart."

"We'll handle it," Winter said stiffly. She and Weiss were able to take a crate each, thanks to their Auras—the only way a human could have lifted such a load. It told them more about the mayor than he probably realized.

"Wow, you two are really something! Are you Huntresses?" he asked.

"I am licensed, but that's not why we're here," said Winter, putting her crate down and signaling the pilot. The airship's turbines spun up again and it lifted off.

The mayor waited until the noise had died down to speak again. "In that case, I remember your letter said something about you doing a survey and using our town as your base camp."

"That's right."

"A Dust survey," he said, and Weiss could detect a contained excitement in his voice.

"Right again," said Winter.

"Well!" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'll get the truck and we'll get your gear to the hostel—unless you wanted to carry it."

"The truck is fine," said Weiss.

"Be right back."

When he had turned to walk away, Weiss used the opportunity to look around. The town looked worse up-close than it had at a distance. It reminded Weiss in a way of the Crater slums. This place was much more colorful and there was evidence it had been built with pride, but upkeep seemed to be lacking, like the spirit had gone out of it at some point.

People were trying, at least. She could tell that much, even if they weren't "trying" with much in the way of resources. There were gardens behind or beside almost every house, wherever they could get that ephemeral sunlight. All seemed productive.

Weiss frowned and made a mental note.

Within minutes, the mayor had transported them and their gear to the hostel. It was warm but dim, with no windows. It felt like stepping inside a brick. Soon he had them seated around a meeting table that, judging from the shakers, was also used for dining.

"It's just there hasn't been a Dust survey in these parts for decades," Leif said without preamble, like the intervening time hadn't happened at all—no, like he hadn't been able to think of anything else since Winter said it. That was definitely excitement in his voice he was trying to tamp down. "Almost fifty years, I think."

"Methods have improved since then," Weiss said. "We thought it worth our time to take another look."

"Be our guests," said Leif. "We'd be delighted if Dust was discovered around these parts."

"I believe you," said Winter. Weiss fought the urge to wince. This was 'diplomacy'?

"Well, we're not exactly hiding that we've hit a bit of a rough patch," said Leif, and his enthusiasm dimmed. "A fifteen-year-long rough patch, actually."

He thought for a moment as he twiddled his thumbs. "My grandfather founded this town fifty years ago. He hoped it'd become a supplement to Port Solitas—you know, offer a more convenient port for ships coming from the east, give some extra capacity for when Port Solitas was slammed. For a while, it worked, and we had pretty good traffic. Then they beefed up Port Solitas some more, to where no one needed excess capacity, and Port Solitas had more and better rail access, so the ships stopped coming here, and, well…"

And Weiss had seen the results: urban blight. No, that was too generous a term for a town this small. Was "rural blight" a thing?

"We've worked hard to stay afloat, and we've done some things to help offset," he said with notes of pride. "Our Grow Local campaign, for example—when everyone has a garden, it does a world of good overall. Still, gardening may put food on the table, but it doesn't bring in the lien. If we get to the point where we can't afford Huntsmen for our quarterly culling missions, well… we'll have to make some hard choices."

He took a deep breath. "What I'm saying is, if you ladies are looking to bring business to this town, we will go out of our way to accommodate you."

"That'll depend on the survey results," Winter said—and Weiss was glad she did, because her mind had stuck on a detail from Leif's speech and she was having trouble figuring why.

"Will it really?" said Leif, half-wincing. He gathered himself before saying, "We're trying to attract not just people, but businesses back to this town. I'm authorized to tap our rainy day fund for it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that we've put advertisements out. Any family that moves here and starts a business is entitled to a one-time lump sum of…" he swallowed. "…5,000 lien."

Weiss blinked heavily. 5,000 lien? At a Schnee Dust Company business meeting, 5,000 lien wouldn't have paid for catering.

As if she needed a reminder of the different circles she ran in now.

"We'll keep that in mind," said Winter, and though her voice was flat, that was more gracious than Weiss' scorn.

"I-I know the rail line's out of date," Leif said, losing his composure as he went for broke, "but it works! It's functional, even if it's not as fancy as the grav-lift systems out of Port Solitas. A-and the pier's been, you know, underutilized, but if you needed it, we'd have a whole team of people willing to fix it up for you for cheap. The buildings near the pier, the warehouse and the admin building and the machinery building, they're all available to anyone who could put them to use. Like, really available."

Business training told Weiss to secure the best deal possible by pouncing on someone's desperation. She felt too much pity to do it. "We appreciate the offer, sir, and we're grateful, but we have to get the survey done or this is all moot."

"Th-the survey. Right." He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. "Right. Got carried away there. Uh… you said you were staying here for four days, right? Put down a little lien up-front and you can have the truck the whole time. Here are the keys, just… bring it back in the same condition and we'll call it good, okay?"

"I understand," said Winter, smoothly grabbing the keys before Weiss could so much as look at them. "It will go a long way towards expediting the survey."

"Well, you know me. I love expediting." He lingered for a bit, like he was sure he was supposed to do something but couldn't think of anything helpful. When the awkwardness got painful, he waved, murmured something indistinct, and let himself out.

"Charming," Winter deadpanned.

"He knows the stakes," Weiss said as she rose from the table. "We'll either exceed his wildest dreams or crush his last hopes to pulp. There's no in-between."

Winter turned sharp eyes on Weiss. "Don't let your sympathy cloud your judgement," she said sternly. "We're making a Dust company, not running a charity."

"O-of course," said Weiss, stunned at the accusation—and then resentful. "You really think I'm as wimpy as that?"

"You were quite the bleeding heart in the Crater," Winter said.

Weiss crossed her arms. "If you remember, we agreed on the path forward there, and it was based upon the business case, not on charity."

Winter held her gaze, unflinching, for several more seconds. "Alright," she said, rising from the table. "So long as you're keeping your personal feelings out of it. When I put this site on our list, it had everything to do with the location and the infrastructure, and zero to do with sympathy for the locals. Keep it that way. Now let's take a look."

A few minutes later, with their personal gear stowed in the hostel and their equipment in the truck, the sisters started their drive. The streets around town were pitted and cracked, like they hadn't seen much upkeep in years, and at that they were much better than the road that led out of town and spiraled in the same direction as the railway. The truck was bouncing so often and so hard Weiss worried she might crack her teeth.

Despite all the jostling and bouncing, Weiss paid attention as they ascended, curling around the mountain behind town towards the gap between. The fields directly behind town were full of crops before giving way to the trees she'd seen earlier.

"Stop the truck," Weiss said, almost before thinking.

"Why?" said Winter.

"I want to check something."

"You can't check it while we drive?"

"No, and besides, I want your take on it."

Winter reluctantly stopped the truck. (She would have pulled over, but the road was so narrow there was nowhere to pull over to. Luckily, there was no other traffic to block.) Weiss unbuckled, opened the door, and leaned out of the cab to look around fully.

"Did it interest you," she said, "that every house had a garden growing well?"

"No," said Winter.

"Does it interest you that there's farmland here, when there wasn't anything like it in other parts of the coastline, even around the other villages?"

"No," said Winter, though she sounded less sure of herself.

"Does it interest you," said Weiss, pointing to the other side of the fjord, "that there's so much more vegetation on these mountains than on those?"

Winter looked to what Weiss had noticed: that there were almost no trees on the far side of the fjord, and the shrubs and other growth ended far below where they did on the Skjulte Perle side.

"Should it?" said Winter, looking back at Weiss uncertainly.

"I think it should," Weiss said as excitement bubbled up within her. "I think the population here doesn't even realize what it has."

"What does it have?" said a bewildered Winter.

Weiss smiled. "Plant Dust."


"Plant Dust?" Winter repeated.

Weiss' expression faltered. "One of the eight complex forms of Dust?"

Winter had to reach way back to her Atlas Academy days… ah, there it was. "Yes, of course," she said, recovering badly. "It's not one of the weaponized forms, so the Academy didn't dwell on it, and I haven't had occasion to think about it for years."

That feeble excuse would have disappointed Winter if it'd been offered to her, but it just made Weiss look more excited. She mimed clearing her throat, then spoke with officiousness. "Plant Dust is photoreactive. It vibrates and eventually decomposes when exposed to light, which is why it was one of the last types to be discovered and categorized—there were no surface deposits for us to compare it to."

Winter recognized the body language of someone desperate to put arcane knowledge to use. In any other setting, she might have cut it off there, but there was a small chance this was relevant, which meant she had to suffer through it. For now.

"When activated on its own, the result is non-deterministic plant growth—you could get anything. In the presence of existing vegetation, however, the Dust is absorbed into the plants as bonus growth. That's why it's colloquially known as "the farmer's friend": it amplifies agricultural yields in even the least arable farmlands."

That made sense to Winter. She'd long wondered how any agriculture could happen on the Rock of Atlas. The answer, as with everything else about how Atlas worked, was Dust. "So it's a fertilizer."

"No, actually. If anything, Plant Dust accelerates soil exhaustion. Farmers using Plant Dust need to make more and more careful use of crop rotations and fertilizer. It's just worth it. The increased output pays for all."

Winter looked at all the vegetation Weiss had pointed out, and compared it to the other side of the fjord. The difference was inarguable. Still, she didn't know nearly enough about agriculture to know the causes. For all she knew, different sunlight or different rainfall or different something-else were to blame.

"Why are you so dead-set on this being from Dust? I don't remember seeing Plant Dust on the survey from last time."

Weiss raised her scroll snappily. It took her only two seconds to bring up and project the survey in question. "That is true," she admitted. "But it's like I said: that survey was done fifty years ago, probably when the town was founded. Methods have improved since then. For all we know, they didn't even know to look for Plant Dust. There wouldn't have been any farming to give visual evidence yet."

"We'll have to see for ourselves when we do the survey," Winter said. "I'll believe it when I see the results."

"Is that something they teach you in the military?"

Winter's train of thought derailed. "Is what?"

"Being contrary on principle," Weiss said, not looking Winter in the eye. "Disagreeing with someone out of habit."

"That's not a military thing, no," Winter said. The opposite was closer to the truth. "Why?"

"I just noticed you doing that with me," Weiss said evenly, still looking away. "Your first instinct when I speak is to tell me how I'm wrong."

"No, it's not."

Weiss looked at Winter as her shoulders sagged.

Winter swallowed and returned her attention to the truck. Weiss didn't push the point, instead returning to her seat and buckling up, which Winter was grateful for. It gave her a moment to stop and think.

As she looked back, yes, that seemed to be a pattern for her. She did feel the need to correct Weiss an awful lot. Maybe… maybe even too much.

"I see what you mean," she admitted.

Weiss huffed, but Winter might have imagined it. It was an awfully bumpy road, after all.

"It's useful," Winter said, trying to salvage the situation. "It means we'll avoid groupthink. Challenging each other forces us to do better. Steel sharpens steel, you know."

"Just like your approach to my Huntress training," Weiss said heavily.

"Yes!" said Winter with relief. "Yes, just like that."

"…okay." The fight had gone out of Weiss. Somehow, that made Winter feel worse.


She felt even worse at the end of the first day of the survey.

"What's your progress?" she asked.

"It's going," Weiss replied waspishly.

Winter wasn't so easily deterred by a petty tantrum. "Well, what results do you have for Plant Dust?"

"I haven't done those tests yet," said Weiss with a sharper edge than many swords Winter had seen.

"Why not?" said Winter, rising to Weiss' level. "You were so very excited about it this morning."

Weiss' eyes flashed. "Yes, I was, but when you ask a question like that, you're saying I don't know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" Winter challenged.

"Yes!" Weiss exploded. "You can't just start a survey looking for Plant Dust. There is an order and a sequence to these things. For example, you look for Gravity Dust by measuring displacement. You look for Plant Dust with light, measuring vibrations in the ground from its photosensitivity. Those are similar qualities, so your results will interfere with each other if you're not careful.

"That means you have to do the surveys in order, even when that's slow. Otherwise, you get false positives all over the place, which is the second to last thing we need! So you getting on to me about things you don't understand is the very last thing we need!"

She folded her arms and legs in a huff. "But it's also typical," she grumbled.

Winter was halfway to yelling at Weiss about how immature she was being when she realized she'd just be reinforcing Weiss' point.

"I'm going to bed," Weiss said resolutely. "We'll continue this in the morning."

Winter would have preferred the argument to the silence.


Weiss didn't sing that night. It bothered Winter more than she'd dare admit.


Apologizing was not the Schnee way.

So Weiss was taken much by surprise when she descended to the ground floor of the hostel the next day to see Winter on the stairs looking almost contrite.

"I will continue to use all due rigor in your operations and Huntress training," she said in lieu of a greeting. "You need the help. However, I…" she pursed her lips. "I… realize that there are areas where I… lack expertise. I don't care for it. It makes me uncomfortable that there are things you might know better than me.

"But whether I like it or not, that is the reality. So, if you continue to show me proper deference when I'm training you, I will… try… to follow your lead more on other topics."

For a moment, Weiss wanted to shout at Winter, Oh, way to make this all about you and your feelings! But, she realized, it was the best Winter knew how to do, and she was trying. That had to count for something.

It did make Weiss feel a lot better.

"Very well," she said with a gracious curtsy. "We will both work to make sure this partnership functions."

"Partnership," Winter repeated in a mumble. "I don't think I really appreciated what I was getting into. I'm starting to see the shape of it, though."

There was nothing Weiss could say to that; she was as unused to receiving apologies (even apologies that didn't sound like apologies) as Winter was at giving them. When Winter finally said, "Shall we get going for the day?", Weiss couldn't follow her quickly enough.


"Are you sure you don't have enough information yet?" said Leif, a poorly-concealed desperation in his voice. It almost moved Winter.

Almost.

"We're still compiling the results of our survey," she said, semi-truthfully. "We have several prospects, but only enough resources to choose one. We'll have to do a full evaluation and comparison before we pick."

Leif seemed to lose several inches of his considerable height. "Of course," he said wearily. It made Winter wonder how many times he'd thought someone would rescue his town, and how often they'd turned away.

"We'll keep you in mind," she promised, more because of his face than because she'd planned to. "We'll let you know once we've made our decision so we don't keep you waiting."

He sighed. "Yeah, sure." He glanced at his scroll. "And you paid for everything up-front, so we have no tab to settle. You're clear to depart."

Winter inclined her head at him before turning towards the airship. She saw that Weiss had completed loading their gear and was up behind the cockpit, ready to relay their launch clearance as soon as Winter finished.

She did a final check of how the crates were stowed before flashing Weiss a thumbs-up. Moments later she'd strapped herself in, and just in time; the airship was already lurching vertically.

"I didn't enjoy being so obtuse with Leif," Winter said once Weiss was strapped in opposite her.

"So why were you?" Weiss said.

"Leverage, of course," Winter said, blinking in surprise. "If he knew the full results of our survey, it would give us a weaker bargaining position. I thought you knew that."

"I understand it, I just don't like it." Weiss frowned and made a note on her scroll. "That said, I'm ready to review the survey if you are."

"Unless Leif has somehow snuck aboard the airship behind me. Which would actually be impressive. More power to him if he did."

The two, unable to help themselves, gave one more glance around to ensure they were alone, before looking back to their sister and saying together,

"This is the place."


Author's note: I know what you're thinking- "Plant Dust?" I swear it's canonical, I wouldn't have used it otherwise. As Winter says, it's not exactly a weaponized form, so we haven't seen it much in the show, but it is listed in the reference material as a thing, promise.


Next time: Objects of Desire