Wahooo! This story finally made it to 150 followers and 130 favorites! Thank you so much for the support everyone, to both my old and new readers.
Just a quick note that there'll be a break from me next week, as I've come down with a pretty nasty cold and I'm gonna be pretty busy with work in the coming week.
With that, enjoy the chapter everyone, and as always have a great day.
Cheers, Searoar.
"The Schnee manor is much bigger on the inside than it looks." Daz hummed as he passed through what had to be his tenth lengthy hallway.
The hallways illuminated by the moonlight that shined through the large intricate windows that matched the bright navy carpet, Daz found himself on the fourth floor of the manor which was reserved for the final hours of tonight's banquet.
However, while Crocodile and his kids busied themselves on the lower floors where the loud chatter and song resided, he decided to allow his curiosity to get the better of him and explore the wonder that was the Schnee manor.
"Hm, this is different," Daz said as his eyes landed on a widened section of the hallway. Posted on the tall walls was a portrait of a man adorned in a full suit of armor with a red cape held by a golden chain around his shoulders. In his left hand was a spear with its point toward the sky, and in his right was his helmet which was engraved with silver symbols that Daz didn't understand.
Atop all this flashy armor, was the head of a man far past his prime. Silver hair with a touch of white draped around his shoulders, the bangs were longer on the right side of his fair face but did not cover his icy blue eyes. Yet, despite their winter-themed complexion, the eyes of the man were not cold or dismissive and held a certain warmth that one could associate with a jovial senior.
Daz's sights wandered to the golden nameplate below the portrait.
"Nicholas Schnee... so this is the founder of the questionable SDC. Not a bad beard you've got old man." Daz shrugged and leaned over to read the paragraph written below the nameplate.
"Born and raised in the northern sections of Atlas, Nicholas Schnee will always be remembered for his contributions during Mantle's darkest hour in the Grimm siege of the north in 1994."
A chill passed under his chin once he finished the sentence which broke Daz from his internal monologues. Turning toward the end of the hallway, he was met with the sight of a slender woman adorned in a dark navy dress, sheer black stockings, and shoulder-length gloves, with her cream-colored hair tied in a braided bun.
Her ice-blue eyes boring into the early intruder, Daz held his ground as the woman hurriedly made her way over to him with a sour face.
"Can I help you?" Daz said as she stopped a few footsteps from him.
"This floor is prohibited to guests until eleven o'clock." The woman said sternly with crossed arms.
"Yet you're also here." The former assassin pointed out, raising his thick unibrow as he said so.
"Do you not know who I am?" The woman growled.
Daz shrugged lazily and remained silent.
"I'm Willow Schnee, my family owns this manor!"
Daz nodded, "I'm sorry if my presence bothered you, I just wanted to stretch my legs and get away from all the noise downstairs. Also, there's no need to be so rude. It's not like I was vandalizing your property. I was just reading what was beneath's this old man's portrait."
Almost immediately, Willow's angry expression deflated and was replaced by a somber one. She glanced at the portrait, and the moment she laid eyes on it she couldn't look away.
"This is my father..." She whispered, her voice so soft that Daz really had to listen in order to hear her.
"This night was supposed to be a combined celebration for the company that he established, but my husband has turned it into a mixed joining of business opportunities and has only left the final hours to honor the man that gave him his job!"
Willow's fingers dug into her biceps as her visage grew angry.
"If it makes you feel any better, there are a few folks who spoke highly of your father downstairs. Like that Winchester man, he definitely seemed to be on the side of the Schnee's." Daz drawled. He wanted to leave but figured that this opportunity would uncover some dirt he could use later on.
"Hmph, Griffin's company I can tolerate, but his wife is someone I'd rather do without. Honestly, I don't understand how such an honorable man would settle down with such a snobby woman."
"Yeah, that's the initial impression that I got from that pairing as well. Guess it goes to show that it's the honorable people who are the most naive." Daz tilted his head as another brush of cold air passed under his chin.
"Is something the matter?" Willow asked.
"It's nothing," Daz waved a dismissive hand then turned back toward the portrait of Nicholas, "so does all of the nobility in Atlas stem from the northern territories of Mantle?"
A glint appeared in the corner of Willow's eyes as she unfolded her arms and gladly spoke of the rich history of Mantle before its separation.
Daz cracked his neck and got comfortable. He didn't really have anything to do at the moment, so learning some history sounded better than tolerating the pompous voices of the guests in the main hall.
/-/
Meanwhile, on the lower floors, a certain mystical witch found herself amidst the chaos.
"Ah, it's so nice to see you, Caitlin! How is everything? Well, I hope?" Mr. Winchester stroked his stubbled chin as he joined the secluded Goodwitch family near the dessert tables.
"Griffin, it's lovely to see you as well. Tell me, have you considered joining the brigade that has plans for retaking the lost Mistralian territories?" Caitlin replied with a hopeful grin.
For the mother of the Goodwitch Household, Caitlin wore a splendid scarlet dress that hugged her waist and assets nicely while emphasizing the contrast in color of her pale green eyes. Dark brown stockings fitted into beige heels, Caitlin fluttered her long eyelashes as she plucked a martini off of a passing silver platter.
Griffin slowly shook his head in the negative.
"While I would proudly swing my mace at a nasty Grimm, I wouldn't want to run the risk of clashing with the Mistralian government over the reclaimed territories. There's too much politics there for a simple man like me."
"Oh... I see." Caitlin's posture sagged for but a second before perking back up. "Then perhaps you'd be interested in the project that Atlas' headmaster has invoked?"
Griffin's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, has George already received clearance for his project? I thought we'd still be waiting until the end of next month before its reveal."
"Honey!" Chimed in the voice of Ms. Winchester. "Why are you dawdling here when the Marigolds are around? Didn't you know that their entire family would be partaking in this event? We need to see if-"
Ms. Winchester stopped talking when she registered a blank look of Caitlin on her person. The lips of the noblewoman spreading into a coy smile, she wrapped her arm around her husband's and politely excused them from the area.
Griffin made sure to make a hasty, but polite goodbye, and reluctantly followed his wife to the heads of navy blue hair, fair skin, and amber eyes.
Her spirits dampened by the departure of a well-regarded man, Caitlin finished what was left in her martini with a swift gulp and turned her attention to her silent daughter.
Glynda, who wore a light purple dress with a pink sash, tan stockings, and black heels, had her hair done in a braided ponytail that barely made it past her shoulders. She'd already received many positive comments about how splendid she appeared, but she didn't care for the cookie-cutter comments and dismissed the ones who spoke them almost immediately.
Her mother, on the other hand, was glad to hear what others thought of her delightful daughter and made sure to emphasize the fact that Glynda was still single. Which of course, annoyed her child to no end.
"Pardon me, mother, but where has father gotten off to?" Glynda looked about the room, but it was impossible to see past the large groups of posh guests.
"Hm..." Caitlin pressed a finger against her chin. "I'm not quite sure, he actually asked me to leave him be for a while, as he needed to have a word with a close colleague of his."
"Or maybe you just abandoned him as soon as we arrived..." Glynda muttered under her breath.
"Ah, there you are!" The voice of another woman was quick to halt any frustrating thoughts Glynda had as the current presence was someone of great stature.
"Oh, Carmel! I was wondering when I'd get to see you." Caitlin stepped forward with an award-winning smile and shared a quick hug with the head of the Arc household.
Pushing aside her braided twintails, the head of the Arc household adorned herself in an off-white dress with tan stockings and blue heels. Behind her, were two young girls, both had blonde hair, but one had their golden locks tied in a ponytail while the other allowed her hair to run freely past her shoulders.
"Ah, so this is Portia and Elise I assume?" Caitlin smiled as the two girls gave a polite curtsy.
The noise around the group grew as more guests joined the conversation, Glynda was soon overwhelmed by all the chatter and politely requested to excuse herself. Surprisingly, Caitlin complied, but Glynda assumed this was mostly due to the fact that Carmel had taken most of the spotlight.
Her pale green eyes scanning her surroundings for a place of private solace, Glynda's gaze found itself trailing the wide stairs that led to the upper floors of the manor. So, as quickly and silently as she could, the mystical witch escaped to balconies that oversaw the courtyard.
"This looks like a safe place..." Glynda sighed as she took off her glasses and rubbed her forehead.
As her hands drifted to her ears, the clink of her earings caused her mind to pause as a chill wind brushed against her skin. With an uncertain hand, Glynda reached into her sash where she'd kept a secret pocket for her scroll.
With a flick of her finger, she searched through her friend list but was saddened at the fact that they were all offline. Except for one that is. This number, however...
"There isn't any problem in calling him is there? He does listen at least... probably." Her violet-polished nail hovering over the newest number on her scroll, Glynda paused and rested a hand against the balcony railing.
Why was she nervous? She'd spoken to the opposite sex many times before, and though she loathed to admit it, she was used to putting on a polite facade whenever the situation called for it. Yet with him... she didn't really have to hold anything back as the man actually made a game of outwitting her during their banter.
"Well... out of all the people here, I suppose I could tolerate a few minutes of your time..."
The number dialed, and the happy jingle rang for a few seconds until the line was picked up.
"Hello? Who is this?" Came a stoic and somewhat gloomy tone.
Glynda rolled her eyes but felt her lips twitch into a small smile.
"Hello, Hawkins, it's Glynda... have you arrived in Vacuo yet?"
"Ms. Goodwitch? Hold on, give me a minute..." The magician grumbled as he fumbled with the scroll in his hand.
Glynda giggled. While Vale was considered a more traditional kingdom, it was no slouch when it came to keeping up with the world. Yet, here was a very intelligent man who was stumped by a simple scroll. It was rather ironic, to be honest.
"Here we are..." Hawkins pressed the blue button on the bottom of his scroll and without warning, a projection of his entire person flashed into sight.
Glynda's eyes widened as she moved away from the railing in order to have Hawkins' projection in clear view.
"I'm still a few hours from Vacuo, but I've finally escaped Ms. Yuki's insistent pestering," Hawkins said with a groan.
His crimson pupils lowered for just a second then snapped back to eye level.
"You're dressed rather meticulously, are you at an event?"
Glynda nodded. "I'm at the SDC's charity banquet that was supposed to be a celebration for the original owner of the company. I can't imagine that Jacques' wife is happy with the whole affair, but I can't really say that I'm enjoying it either."
Hawkins shrugged. "I assume the company you have is less than desirable?"
Glynda gave a stifled laugh. "Oh, you have no idea. My mother has already gone out of her way to announce that her lovely daughter is attending this banquet, so the moment I entered the premises, I was swarmed by all sorts of handsome men who don't know the meaning of personal space."
"I see, well I can't say I can relate to your situation. Unless you count the annoying pestering of Ms. Yuki." The magician replied in a somber tone.
"Ms. Yuki?" Glynda's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"It's Monet's surname, as I prefer to address others by their surname instead of their first if I can help it."
A brief pause in his speech, Hawkins' posture slumped as he quickly vacated wherever he was. Once he was content with his new spot on the bullhead, he returned his attention to the person on the other end of the call.
"Is everything okay?" Glynda asked in concern.
"I'm alright, I just had to avoid a certain green-haired nuisance..."
"I see, well I hope she doesn't bother you anymore, as due to the current circumstances; you're the only person I'm able to talk to."
"Is there really no one else?" Hawkins deadpanned. "If I recall correctly after you lost your tenth chess match in a row, you said that you'd rather eat a bowl of sour gourd soup instead of seeing my gloomy face."
"T-That was only in the heat of the moment!" Glynda quickly defended. "Besides, it's not like you experimented with different lines for fun either!"
"Fun?" Hawkins curled a brow. "As I recollect, it was you who was arrogant enough to demand that the winner be rewarded at the loser's expense. So I don't really see why I would play for fun."
"It's your fault that I've had to recalculate my food budget over the past two weeks..." Glynda pursed her lips in a cute pout.
"I did offer to pay for a few dinners, but you always ranted about honoring the agreed terms of our bi-weekly chess games. I didn't really enjoy your petty tantrums either, so I simply allowed you to do as you pleased and foot the bill. I even tried to go out of my way to order the cheaper selections on the menu."
Glynda's brow twitched as her pride had been taken down a notch. She hated to admit it, but other than a few draws and close victories, she had never won a single game to this day.
"Then perhaps you should select a restaurant of your choosing the next time we see each other and pay for the meal?" Glynda huffed.
Hawkins blinked. "Are you asking me to prepare a proper date for the two of us?"
The witch's voice hitched and her eyes widened.
"T-That's not what I meant at all!" She stammered. "I was talking about when I'd lose our next chess game! N-No, I mean the next game that I win!"
Her voice unsteady and loud, Glynda took a deep breath to compose herself and gripped her scroll a tad tighter.
"I see, so would you like to adjust the terms of our games? Perhaps we could agree on a less expensive punishment?" Hawkins suggested.
"Yes, that would be beneficial for both of us."
"Mostly you." Hawkins showed a small smirk at his fellow blonde's petty frown.
The sound of a loud bell in the near distance, Glynda groaned as the bell noise had come from the lower floors. This meant the ballroom dancing would begin soon and she would be forced to partake in it whether she wanted to or not.
"Well, shouldn't you be attending the banquet instead of wasting your time with me?" Hawkins asked after a moment of silence.
Glynda frowned. "Why, are you eager to end our conversation? Despite being aware of my poor circumstances?"
"No... It's not that, it's just that I've lost track of Ms. Yuki, and I don't want to be found-"
"Oh, there you are, Hawkins! There's one more stop before I have to leave the bullhead, and I wanted to make sure to give you a nice goodbye!" The sweet voice of Monet pierced through the magician's scroll as a cartoony nerve bulged above Glynda's head.
"Ms. Yuki..." Hawkins tried to close the call but his gloved fingers fumbled to press the right button.
By the time Monet entered the picture, it was too late and the greenette's amber eyes got a peek at the person Hawkins was conversing with.
The moment their gazes locked, neither woman looked happy as their faces shifted to a disappointed expression.
"Oh, I see that witch hasn't stopped bugging you. Here, let me help you with that!" Monet said a tad too eagerly and snatched Hawkins' scroll.
With gleeful eyes and spat-out tongue, Monet pressed the end call button and finished the conversation right then and there.
"That woman..." Glynda said with a trembling breath of anger.
She wanted to press Hawkins' number again to continue their talk, but another ring of the bell from the lower floors stilled her hand.
"It's fine... you'll see him again along with your friends when you go back to Vale." Glynda sighed and turned toward the balcony door.
However, her advance was halted by a man who literally blocked her path.
A thick cigar between his lips, the golden hook that replaced his left hand. His scarred face was set into a natural condescending gaze that intimidated nearly everyone he met. Glynda was no different, and though she did little to show it, she was curious as to why the head of the RDI had decided to impede her path.
"Hmph, to think a posh noble like you would be affiliated with a man like that." He said in a gruff tone.
"Crocodile?" Glynda asked hesitantly. "What are you talking about?"
The former warlord rolled his eyes. "I'm talking about the magician you were talking to."
The witch stepped back and tucked her scroll back into her pink sash.
"You're not a friend of Hawkins, are you?"
Crocodile chuckled. "I only know him by name, as I'm sure he's also acquainted with my former reputation. So a member of that generation is on this planet, eh? I haven't heard about any of the other ones, so the chances of them being around are pretty low given their excitement to cause a ruckus." "Tell me," the warlord continued, "does the magician live in Vale?"
Glynda bit her lip and felt her aura waver. While not dressed for a physical confrontation, she would be able to hold her own long enough for the other hunters and huntresses downstairs to notice her distress.
Not to mention her own mother, Caitlin Goodwitch, who Glynda would still argue held a stronger skill in terms of aura manipulation.
"Tug~"
"Hm?" Crocodile veered his sights to the little girl who pulled on his coat.
"You don't have to wait for me if you want to join your brother. He's just on the other half of the balcony and you can see him and his lackeys if you squint hard enough." Crocodile grunted.
Neo continued to tug on her father's pant leg, much to his ire, and he eventually got tired of his child's antics and lightly tapped her head with the dull end of his hook.
Neo puffed her cheeks but decided to stay by her father's side. The corners of her eyes were still moist, but she seemed much better than when Crocodile first found her.
The final bell from the main floor, Crocodile shrugged and moved to join the rest of the guests.
"Wait..." Glynda bit her lip. "What... What can you tell me about Hawkins' past?"
The former warlord smirked.
"Lots of things that you don't want to hear."
With that, the hooked man departed with his daughter in tow. Leaving Glynda to ponder on her lonesome.
Once Crocodile was out of sight, the witch made her way down the hall and then the stairway where she could see all the women and men lining up on either side of the dance floor. Her mother waved to her from the line on the right, the expression she wore a tad strained as she was no doubt annoyed by her child's long disappearance.
Glynda also saw her father, who stood on the left side with the other men and he also waved to her with a warm smile.
The lines sorted in a way where the older men were in the front and the younger ones in the back, Glynda groaned internally as she registered the many lustful gazes that were already on her.
"Hawkins wouldn't look at me in such a greedy way..." She muttered to herself before joining the other women on the dance floor.