For those that didn't catch the memo, I was very badly sick last week. I'm only marginally sick this week and I'm starting to feel better today (or it's too early in the day for it to kick in, lol). Anyway, onwards!

We also have a cover by Aristeo Storm but only if I can get the download link working and only if this site decides to upload it in time.

Also, tiny reminder that Qrow went back in time at the point of Tyrian's attack, so he doesn't know some future stuff like Ironwood going insane and turning Atlas into an attempted space colony, etc.

Edit: Never mind, due to the cloudflare "checking you are human" loop interrupting literally everything on the site, I cannot upload the image =/

Cover Art: Aristeo Storm

Chapter 20

While the adults talked (as much as it painted him to say that) Qrow and Willow sized one another up. He was a new person to her, curious and interesting, while she was an absolute enigma to him. How the hell had this spitfire that reminded him uncomfortably of Yang crossed with Winter ended up being a broken alcoholic trapped in a loveless marriage? And what the hell was he supposed to do about it? Ruby would have a fit if her best friend didn't end up being born, but Jacques Schnee was a massive bell-end.

But he'd been the bell-end the SDC needed, hadn't he? Something about the company doing poorly and Jacques stepping in to save it. In a very real way, the SDC had needed him. It was times like this Qrow was annoyed at himself for being such an insular prick. He only had his friends and his nieces and Ozpin, and he stuck to them and drink, ignoring news and history and never bothering to look into how the SDC turned into what it had been in the future. Why bother? It wasn't like he cared about business, and it wasn't like he was going to travel back in time and need the knowledge, was it? Welp.

About the only thing he was sure of was that Willow's father was dead or dying at the time or died soon after. That gave him some idea of a timeline. And, obviously, he must have had a few years left in him for Willow to join an academy.

"Enjoying the view? You should take a picture."

"Huh?"

"You're staring," said the girl, not at all embarrassed or weirded out like Summer had been. "I'd accuse you of being a creep if you didn't look like you were trying to figure something out."

"Am I that obvious?"

Willow shrugged. "I've had guys fantasising about me before and you don't have that look."

"Nice to know." He'd stick his head in a blender before he fantasised about a child. "I'm just trying to figure out what kind of weapon you'd use. You're not what I expected."

"Yeah?" Willow perked up, her eyes growing a little wider and a smile spreading over her face. "What did you expect? Someone rich and spoilt? Someone being a fussy little princess?"

She didn't seem upset about the things she was saying so Qrow shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah."

"Thought so." Willow smiled proudly. "I get that a lot, but money and fame don't matter when you're a huntress. Grimm won't care either way – and I've fought Grimm," she added, puffing out her chest. "I've killed some myself, too!"

"Same."

It was amusing watching her deflate, the wind whistling out her sails. "W—What?"

"I've killed a Grimm too. We had a field trip to Beacon, and I was picked by the teachers to fight one. It wasn't that hard."

Willow struggled to regain her momentum. "R—Right, but most people our age haven't!"

"I'll give you that."

"So that means we're both proven. I was right to say you looked strong but looks can be deceiving. I had to be sure." Willow's voice dropped, the girl leaning in to whisper. "There are a lot of posers in the huntsman world. Those that think they're something amazing. But did you know less than 10% of people who join a starter academy end up as huntsmen?"

"Wasn't it 15%?"

"Eh?" Willow leaned back, then dragged out her scroll and checked it. Her eyes widened. "Ha! 10%! See!" The device was shoved in his face and, sure enough, the official stat was 10%. It must have improved over the years, because it had been better in his time. "I'm right!" she cheered. "Yesss!"

Qrow bit down on his snort. Now Willow really was reminding him of Yang.

"I guess you are. My bad. So, what kind of weapon do you use? It's not an axe, is it?"

"Ew. No. Axes are lame."

He could just imagine Summer screaming.

"A sword?"

"Swords are okay but they're so common. What's the point of having a custom weapon if you're going to make it the same as everyone else's?"

The point was that swords worked and being able to use one of the most common weapons around was a benefit if you ever lost your weapon. Still, it was nice to know Willow was still a child. He'd had a similar conversation with Ruby, who would have crammed every weapon in existence into Crescent Rose had her budget (and the principles of physics) allowed it. He expected he'd have been much the same had he grown up in this world and not a bandit camp.

"Mr Ozpin showed me the work you did on—"

"Omen."

"Huh? Oh, right. The name. Yeah. He said it could bring out different dust blades, each an elemental attribute based on the dust inside. I'd like something like that, especially since we're the Schnee Dust Company. I can get as much dust as I need." There was nothing quite like nepotism. "But I want a polearm. A spear."

"Really?"

Polearms were uncommon amongst huntsmen. Not rare – he'd seen a few in the Vytal Festival – but the whole point of a polearm was that you could keep your enemy away, which wasn't much use against other competitors with aura who could, and would, tank their way past the tip and get in close and personal. But if you ignored the competition scene and focused solely on killing Grimm, which was their main job, then it was a perfectly good weapon. He could respect the fact she was focused on the job.

"It should be adjustable in case the enemy gets close," she continued. "Either the haft is telescopic, or the blade can disconnect to be used like a sabre. I also want a gun barrel at the end of the haft – or a shotgun blast. As big a gun as you can make it!"

This was familiar territory. "It can't be a spear then unless you want the spearhead to be shot off when it fires. I could attach it off-centre, like a musket. The overall weapon would work more like a halberd or glaive than a spear. Is that okay?"

"Would it be balanced to factor that in?"

"Of course." Did she take him for an amateur? Oh, right. He was still a teenager. Damn it. "The haft will be too narrow to put in a revolving cartridge, but I could make a firing mechanism with separate barrels that you could change out manually. I could do a shotgun, a flamethrower and maybe even a dust grenade launcher."

They'd have to be pulled off and replaced, meaning the barrel would have to extend a little past the glaive itself, but he was of the firm opinion that more options meant less suffering. You never knew when you'd end up against a Grimm that was less or more resistant to one type of weapon over another.

"What about the dust blades?" she asked. "Can you do those on the glaive?"

"It wouldn't work so well if they can't quickly be replaced. My sister can replace them by sheathing and drawing, but that won't be an option for a glaive. You'd be better off with the strongest metal I can use. But I suppose I could make one or two attachments for the barrel that turn it into more melee. Like it'll shoot out a two-foot dust blade spike and detach the glaive, turning it into the spear you wanted." He saw her eyes brighten. "But be aware if you detach the glaive and break the dust blade, you're going to reduce yourself to a staff."

"That's fine! I can take the head off and store it on my belt. Would the spearheads be interchangeable?"

"Yes. I'm basically thinking a six-foot shaft with an extra seventh-foot being a barrel you can change out at will. Some will be gun barrels with a firing cartridge and dust supply, and some will be spearheads. You'd have to carry them all on you and either decide in advance what you want to use or switch them out on the fly. But even without them, you'll still have a perfectly usable glaive that can be shortened down to a sabre in a pinch."

It'd be modular more than anything, less hidden mechanics and more screw-on extras. That'd make it easier both to make and maintain than something like Crescent Rose which could, with one mechanical fault, seize up like a bitch. The fact it never did was testament to how much weapon care Ruby put into it each and every night. Few people were as dedicated and willing to spend half an hour every single night pulling apart and cleaning their weapon, though. He'd known mothers who put less time into their children than Ruby put into her weapon.

Though given he was Raven's brother, that probably wasn't a great accomplishment.

"Willow, dear." Nicholas Schnee interrupted them. "You haven't yet asked if Mr Branwen will agree to make you a weapon."

"He will."

The old man tilted his head down.

Willow grimaced. "Uh. Um. Please would you make me a weapon? Please?"

Qrow looked to Ozpin for help.

"Ahem." The teacher cleared his throat. "Mr Branwen has a lot of paying commissions from other students for his work, so money isn't much of a motivator for him. However, he's asked if the SDC might be prepared to help by sponsoring a local orphanage here in Mistral, as you do for many charitable organisations in Atlas. The one Mr Branwen and his sister lived at before being admitted to Signal. As I understand it, they're quite overstocked and underfunded—"

"Daddy agrees," said Willow. "We'll adopt every orphan."

Qrow stared.

"Darling," said Nicholas. "I think funding the orphanage is enough. Which I will gladly do." Mr Schnee boomed out a laugh and shot Qrow a huge smile. "Such a selfless young man. How could I ever say no? Just give me the name and location of this place and I'll visit them tomorrow myself to set things up. I'll make sure they need for nothing."

"Thank you, sir." Qrow could be polite when he needed to be, and this was a man who deserved it. There weren't many in Remnant like him, which made it even more of a shame that the one who would replace him would turn out to be a massive bastard. "I'll make sure your daughter has the best weapon available."

Willow jumped in. "Can we do that right now?"

"I do believe we'll need time to gather supplies," said Ozpin. "And you don't want a weapon made of substandard materials."

"We'll cover those," said Nicholas. "Your budget is functionally unlimited, young man. Simply have the bill forwarded to me and I shall cover it. Willow, my dear. Leave the young man alone for the day. You can badger him tomorrow."

"Yes daddy." Willow rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, then shot Qrow a glance. "I'm looking forward to seeing you work tomorrow." The casual assumption that he'd be fine with her watching felt so very Schnee. "Maybe we can have a spar after—"

"Willow…"

"He's a huntsman-in-training, daddy." She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes at such a civilian mentality toward training, while her father clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at how pompous his daughter was being.

Qrow simply stood by and enjoyed the family interplay.

Had Jacques stepped in and fucked this all up, or was Willow doomed to shatter when her father died? Not everyone handled grief the same way, or well at all. He'd turned to drink. Maybe she had as well. Hell, maybe it was the alcoholism that did her in more than it was Jacques.

He really didn't need more responsibilities, but it just didn't feel right to stand by and do nothing with someone he knew was going to go through the worst shit imaginable. Summer wouldn't have stood by, and neither would Yang or Ruby.

And really, how could he be the cool uncle if he didn't?

/-/

Raven and Summer wanted to know everything about Willow for some reason he couldn't explain. Were he Taiyang, he might have thought they were jealous, but that obviously wasn't the case here. It felt a lot more like gossiping, with Summer wanting to know whether the richest girl on Remnant was a spoilt bitch, and Raven just wanting to know what kind of weapon he was making.

"Willow did say axes were lame."

"I see endless money hasn't improved her sense of taste."

"I approve of her already."

"Heh." He enjoyed their little banter, especially when Summer would glower at Raven. It was so very Team STRQ, except in munchkin form. "Honestly, I was a little surprised at her myself. I thought she'd be overly formal and arrogant, but she was down to Remnant. Wants a dust spear with a detachable glaive-sabre and alternating barrel heads for ranged fire."

He was already sketching something out and let Summer and Raven look. Being a good weapons engineer didn't make him a good artist, so the picture was kinda shit. That was what the copious amounts of notes were for. Yeah, his lines may not have been straight and his drawing of the shaft might have looked more like streaky bacon, but it was the proportions that mattered. He was much more capable at judging balance and weight when he was working with the materials.

"I still can't believe this stranger is getting a weapon before me!"

"This stranger is prepared to support the orphanage and pay all their bills."

Raven perked up. "They agreed?"

"Yep. The father is going down tomorrow to cover their costs and make up a contract." He wasn't sure if it'd last once Jacques took over but there was no point letting that get in the way of it helping now. Those matrons needed support as soon as possible. "They'll be able to spruce the place up and get those kids real toys and teaching."

"Hngh. Good." Raven would never admit to looking after children, of course, so her approval was more of a grunt than anything. Both of them knew what it meant, though. "Did she look strong?"

"Hard to say. I didn't see her with a weapon, obviously, and I've no idea how advanced she is, but she said she'd killed a real Grimm so she must at least be competent." He was betting on the Schnee Semblance himself. That thing was ridiculous. "I'll let you know tomorrow since she wants to spar with me."

"I want to spar with her as well," said Raven.

"You won't even be there."

"What? No! Why not!?"

"Because this is happening at Haven instead of Sanctum, and because Ozpin is taking me there directly. Honestly, it's going to be boring sitting around watching me work in a forge for three or four hours. You two should enjoy the city or get in some spars between yourselves."

"What's the point?" snarked Summer. "Raven just keeps slicing the practice weapons in half with Bromen."

Qrow twitched. "Then both of you should use practice weapons."

"What's the point of having my own blade if I don't get to use it?" asked Raven.

"Uh. Fairness!?" Summer growled back. "Giving me a sporting chance?"

Raven picked at her fingernails. "Sounds like bitch talk to me."

"Oh, you piece of—"

"Moving on." Qrow did generally enjoy their fights but was trying to sketch a complicated weapon and didn't want to be the one to tell Willow his sibling had eaten his homework. "I've got a good idea. Why don't the two of you see if you can find some people in Sanctum to spar with? They'll have different styles and Semblances."

Raven sat up. "Hey, yeah. And we can show these Mistral losers who the real huntresses are!"

"I was going to say you could broaden your horizons—"

"Over the spilled blood of our foes!"

"They're your peers, Raven. They're your allies."

"They're prey!"

Eh, whatever. Taiyang hadn't been a pushover in the past (he'd kicked Qrow's ass at the time) and he'd probably be able to look after himself. Maybe he'd even develop a crush on seeing Raven crush his classmates. Qrow had always suspected the guy had a bit of an M fetish. Why else would he have put up with Raven's years of insults and abuse? He must have liked it.

Was it unfair to dangle his sister like bait to try and land a Taiyang?

Probably.

But if Taiyang was prey, then Qrow was a predator.

He paused and looked up from his drawing and shuddered. "I did not mean it like that."

"Mean what?" asked Summer.

"Nothing. Just… Just go beat up other children."

"I don't normally like your ideas," said Raven. "But this one, Qrow? This one, I like."

"You're going to get us in trouble, aren't you?" asked Summer.

"We can only get in trouble if we leave witnesses."

"Yeah, I'll clear my calendar for the detentions…"

/-/

Willow did her best to remain silent while Qrow worked on her weapon. It felt strange to have a boy less than a year older than her work on the weapon that might last throughout her life, but she'd seen a video of Bromen in action – stupid name, but she wouldn't judge – and she could tell it was an excellent piece of equipment. Not a work of art, but art was flimsy and made to be collected and stored away. It was an exceptional tool designed for a single job of killing Grimm, and that was what she was after as well.

So, while it was strange to watch someone like him work the forge, she was able to push it away. It was less strange than those three-year-old chess prodigies who could take on grandmasters, wasn't it? Qrow being able to work a forge one or two years ahead of when he'd learn it was less freaky than a kid not even in school casually winning chess tournaments.

The way he worked wasn't hypnotic or anything. She wasn't sure what she'd expected but he was honestly pretty boring to watch. He'd check his notes, gather materials, melt stuff down, set moulds, portion out dust and constantly check the measurements with a big ruler left in the forge. In her head, she'd imagined it'd be like magic, but it was looking a lot more like science and hard work, which was kind of a relief. It made the idea of him being so good at it less awe-inspiring.

Not that she wasn't greatly impressed, though. Having been taught by private tutors, her experience with other students was saved for the once a week she went into Atlas' pre-academy to train with other students and socialise – something her father wanted more than she. Other kids her age were so obnoxious and pointless. They talked about dating and games and TV shows and all the other things that wouldn't help them one bit out on the field. They were part of the 90%, the ones who wouldn't make it, and given how hard it was to convince daddy to even let her try for this in the first place, Willow was determined to be in the top 10%. No, the top 1%. The world would be in awe of the achievements of Willow Schnee – greatest huntress of her time!

"How old are you?" Willow blurted out.

"Hmm? I'm fifteen, sixteen in two months. Why?"

"Just wondering. I'm fifteen, but only a week ago."

She'd wanted to know if he was in her year group, which, sadly, he wasn't. He was a year above her. She wasn't sure why she cared, but given he was the first student she'd met in a while who took things seriously, she'd briefly considered letting him onto her future team.

"I'm older than you…?" he asked, showing some genuine surprise. "Seriously?"

Willow wasn't sure why he looked so shocked, but she'd take the compliment. Girls her age generally wanted to look older, especially if it meant being seen as a woman instead of a girl. To be told you looked like you could be sixteen or seventeen was a compliment, plain and simple. Plus, it meant she'd killed a Grimm before him.

Victory!

"Yep. I guess that means I'm a year below you, but don't look down on me. I can fight at the top of my class even without using my Semblance." Which she did her best to do ever since one sore loser had accused her of only being so good because of it. "Who knows, maybe I can get moved up a year and get into an academy early."

"Maybe you could."

Willow perked up. When she said that to her father he always told her to enjoy her younger years. "You think so?"

"Sure. I knew a girl who got in two years early, but that was a bit of an extreme case. Only downside is not being old enough to do things that a lot of the other students do, like drinking or going out or getting drunk."

"You said drinking twice."

"Yeah…" There was a forlorn tone to his voice. "Yeah, I did. Damn age laws."

"I don't really like alcohol."

His head snapped to her. "What…?"

"I mean, I've tried wine before at fancy dinners, but I didn't really like it." Willow shrugged, unsure why he was looking at her so furiously and why it made her feel so uncomfortable. "It tastes awful, and it made my head feel fuzzy."

The headache in the morning certainly hadn't been worth it either.

"Drink is…" Qrow hesitated. "Actually, you know what, you're right. You shouldn't drink. Stay sober. It's better that way."

"Hmm. Is it nearly done?"

"Nearly." He'd gotten most of the metal parts made and set out and now came the work of fitting them together. "I'm not going to bother with paint or decorations since you can decide what you like on your own there. I know some people like tassels on spears but keep them short if you do."

He worked the barrels down a boring machine to make a screw-on component for them, then tested them on the shaft and worked a little more metal off there as well. The whole thing was metal, obviously. There wasn't much point in taking a weapon with a wooden shaft into a battle with the Grimm. It'd be heavier as a result, but that was something she'd just have to get used to.

It was refreshing how he didn't try and talk a lot with her or tell her how pretty she was, too. If more guys were like him, she might have been more excited for her visits to the pre-academy. Her father had done a little research on him to make sure he'd be a safe influence around her, and something that'd come up aside from him being an orphan was how both he and his sister had fought in a tournament in Mistral. Even if she didn't think much of the stylised combat in those kinds of places, it meant they were skilled.

"Are you willing to have a spar after this?" she asked.

"Ha. You sound like my sister."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"It's not awful." He smiled fondly, and Willow giggled. She didn't have siblings, but she liked to imagine they'd have gotten on if she did. "Raven is obsessed with fighting, though. She wanted to fight you the moment I mentioned you. I convinced her to go beat up kids in Sanctum instead."

Willow shrugged. "I'd have been happy to face her. She's the one with that sword, right?"

"Yes. And the main reason I didn't bring her here was because she'd be a pain in my butt while I'm trying to build this. Raven has the patience of a Beowolf. I'd give her ten minutes before she gets bored and wanders off to insult someone – and since this is Haven…"

"She'd get her butt kicked."

"Yeah. Not that she'd admit that."

Willow grinned. "I'm not afraid to say I'd lose to people here. I'd really hope I would lose, or that'd say awful things about the calibre of students in Haven."

"Same." He didn't sound as convinced as she. Was he that arrogant, or just that good? Willow didn't believe it, though. Even if he was a good fighter, he wouldn't be able to beat adults training here. "But you shouldn't expect everyone in an upper academy to be good, either. Even with only 10% of people making it, there's still drop-outs from the academies themselves. Not everyone takes it seriously."

"I will," she promised.

"Hm. Yeah. Atlas, right?"

"Probably, but I could change my mind if I felt a good reason to. Who knows, maybe someone in the festival will impress me and I'll want to go to Haven or Shade instead, or even Beacon." She paused, waiting to see if he would say anything about that, but Qrow just hummed and kept working. "What about you?" she poked. "Beacon?"

"Yeah. Beacon."

"Any reason why?"

"Best school."

"Is it?" Willow tried to keep the disbelief out her voice. "Atlas has won most of the Vytal tournaments recently and Vale has fallen to third place behind Mistral. I don't know if I'd say Beacon is even in the top half of academies. You and your sister should consider coming to Atlas instead."

"So says the Atlesian."

"I'm judging this on more than just being born in Atlas, you know. The survival rates are higher in Atlas, too. Our military supports huntsmen in the field, so if you need a lift you can get a military-sanctioned Bullhead to pick you up. Vale is so stingy they make their huntsmen walk to and fro."

"It builds character."

"It builds graves."

Willow cursed as she said it, knowing that was a step too far, but Qrow surprised her by laughing. And not even a sarcastic or bitter laugh, either.

"Ha! I guess that's a fair point. But I don't know that I'd be able to survive in the military atmosphere. I prefer being a free spirit and being away from it all. Old people who think they can order you around because they earned some medals for sending other people to their deaths. Old, bitter bastards who think they know best. No offence."

Willow shrugged. Her father wasn't military, so he obviously didn't mean him, and she had no real love or loyalty to the military machine. It was just a part of life in Atlas. Still, he made a good point about getting away from it all. In Atlas, she'd constantly be under her father's influence, and while she knew he'd never do anything to make her life hard, he absolutely would do stuff to make it easier. She really didn't want her teachers thinking they had to go easy on her because her father was funding the school, or her classmates being afraid to fight her because she was the delicate Schnee princess.

Maybe I should see how Beacon does in the tournament, she thought. Even if I'm not in his year, it would be nice to have someone I know in the academy I'm going to, and I could spar with him and his sister. If they're really as strong as they make out.

"I still want that spar once we're done here," she said.

"You'll get your fight. And I'm sure Raven would love to as well, if she wasn't busy smashing heads right now."

/-/

A small crowd had gathered to watch the force of nature that was apparently a student from Signal out in Mistral for the tournament churn her way through the competition. The girl flew around the arena with a thick mane of pitch-black hair, her eyes sparking red gems and her smile stretched wide and confident. With pale skin, long legs, and a body to die for, it was little wonder so many boys were lining up for a chance to get torn to pieces by her.

And her friend, though she was much less popular.

"Damn, she's gorgeous!"

"Don't do it, man. We've all tried and she's vicious!"

"Yeah, but… I mean, look at her. Have you ever seen someone who looks so… so…" He couldn't find the right words. Teenage compliments like hot and sexy didn't fit her well enough. "So passionate! She's loving every moment of it. It's making my blood rush just looking at the way she swings that sword!"

"You're not the only one, man, but trust me it's a lot less sexy when you're on the receiving end of it."

"I'm going to challenge her."

"No! Man, no. Don't— damn it. There he goes."

"There goes another one," grumbled a boy covered in bruises. "Lured into the spider's web like a fly. He'll have the life sucked out of him just like everyone else. That girl is a psycho. Maybe I should try my luck with the other. At least she smiles at people."

"You don't think he has a chance?"

"A chance at what? Getting her to go out with him or beating her in a fight? I'm voting no on both."

"We should cheer him on anyway."

"Yeah. I suppose we should." The boy sighed and raised his fist. "Go Taiyang! Die with honour!"

Next Chapter: 2nd March

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