"If I have the teachers, I have the Kids."
-Ludwig Ahgren
"So we can do it?"
Shiro rubbed his forehead, scrolling through a spreadsheet of bank account values with one hand while his scroll was nestled in between his shoulder and ear.
"Yes, we can. It'll be costly but yeah… we're able."
"Good, then do it."
"Can I recommend something first?"
"What's that?"
"I get that you don't want to set up a new company — an actual company, that is — , because it can be a lot of work, but what about just buying shares in this arms manufacturer? Buying them outright would net you some profit, but buying their shares now would turn your investment from a few million to buy a penny stock of a failing company, to a several billion dollar cash cow if they manage to get back on their feet again."
"I need them because it'll be cheaper to supply weapons to the White Fang if I own the facilities for it, not because I need to make a profit off them. Nobody else is buying their weapons. We're the only ones. I'll be keeping it afloat by myself."
"But that'll change, right? There's nobody buying weapons because there's no need for them. But what happens when the richest company on the planet gets their supply line disrupted by an armed militia."
"They defend their product."
"Of course. Because demand has been so low for the better part of a century, there's only one major small arms manufacturer left, which would be…?"
"Johnson and Wesserschmit."
"Sales skyrocket, stocks shoot up as people predict a long term conflict, and both the White Fang and SDC use weaponry in training and battle, in a conflict which takes place in the middle of desolate areas where railroads and mining colonies happen to be, with no civilians around. It's the perfect situation."
Percy was silent for a few moments. "I don't like it. It's war profiteering."
"I agree it's a bit morally gray, but this is going to happen anyways. The only difference here is you make more money from selling both sides weapons. You could even go further. Develop more advanced weaponry and give it to the White Fang. If they get their hands on it, the SDC will have to as well, right? Higher prices mean more profits, better profit margins—"
"Shiro, stop. I get it, it's better. I trust you. I don't wanna hear about this sort of stuff anymore, but you can go ahead with it. I'll trust you on this."
Percy couldn't see it, but Shiro nodded. "Thank you. I'll get to work right away. I should be able to cut a deal with some or all of the board members to buy their shares at a lower price than market value. The selloff will create panic which will cause the stock to tumble even more, leaving the company practically—"
"Shiro."
"Right, sorry. As far as dust sales go, we're having a hard time getting the rights to actually sell dust here in Mistral. Despite buying the name we are forming a whole new company here, and the SDC has the business locked down tight. If you have any friends in Mistral, now might be the time to use them to get that license."
"And assuming I can do that? How much will we make?"
"Well." Shiro pursed his lips, pulling up another spreadsheet. "The White Fang is just getting started, so it's hard to really say, especially because most of these thefts are so recent that they haven't even reached Windpath yet. But assuming we get the license, and the White Fang meet their estimates, which is a big if—"
"Shiro! Spit it out."
"Billions. More money than we make from the entirety of Windpath, and we essentially own the city. I don't know what we can even do with the money."
"Is there anything else to invest in?"
"Well, you couldn't use the money. It's technically owned by the Mistral Trade Company, which is owned by Mistral City Quality Exports Incorporated, which is owned by a chain of about three dozen other businesses all over the world, which is then owned by you, but yes. You could put it in Vale or Atlas's stock market, or use it to boost the Windpath economy so much it becomes an unofficial fifth city. That'd net you about ten percent a year."
"What other options are there? Can we use the money to set up actual mines for the MTC?"
Shiro held back a scoff. "You want to… mine. You want to actually set up another company that mines dust. The SDC controls the whole market. We can get away with stealing from them and getting a tiny percent of their consumer base, but actually mining and taking up a part of the market share? They could afford to make every vial of dust they sell free for the next century and then still be the richest company on Remnant. We wouldn't stand a chance."
"And what about when the SDC has supply issues? When they're too preoccupied fighting a war to care about some startup. When they slowly stop being able to sell dust because they're not pulling any up from the ground. When the White Fang frees the workers in their labor camps and creates so many gaps in their supply line they're no longer capable of selling dust in the first place, much less undercutting our prices."
"Then they'll just pay some politicians to take down your company."
"And what politician would? If they took down the MTC in this scenario, there would be no more dust left. You can't donate enough to a politician's campaign to save that career. I can handle things in Mistral, and I might be able to get something worked out with Ozpin in Vale."
"Alright, alright. I get it. I'll start looking into some properties with potential dust reserves to buy up, maybe do some prospecting too. Nobody's bothered competing with the SDC's controlled and limited supply, so there could be some out there."
"Great. Is there anything else?"
Shiro shook his head. "Not really. Just that we'll be low on cash for a little bit. Buying up a company as large as this that's this far in debt and making sure it won't go bankrupt will be a financial strain, even with market manipulation. But it'll turn around soon enough and we can turn it into a win. Getting that license will help us with our cash situation sooner."
"Got it. Thanks, Shiro." There was a beep signalling that Percy had hung up, and Shiro's scroll closed.
Shiro sighed, massaging his temples as he stared at monitors full of spreadsheets and financial information. "I'm not cut out for this work. You'll be the death of me, I swear."
Percy strolled casually into the Nikos villa, still marvelling at just how rich some people could be. In Mistral, where property was incredibly expensive, and even more so near the top of the mountain, not even Percy could afford something close to this. This level of wealth was ancestral — built up over thousands of years of heritage and wealth.
Percy's hotel on this level alone was enough to make his cost of living above that of anyone in Windpath. Yet this villa made his hotel room suite look like a shack.
Percy shook his head as a servant opened a gate. Even the servants were richer than most anyone on the bottom half of the mountain. The concentration of wealth here was… absurd, to say the least.
But that wasn't his problem. Not right now, at least. Right now he had to work on doing a recently gained ally of his a favor.
"Perseus."
As soon as Percy entered the arena off towards the right side of the villa, Alexandros was there to greet him with an extended hand. Like, a full arena. With training dummies, weapon racks, stands (albeit limited), and changing rooms. It even surpassed what had been available to demigods at camp half-blood, which was a camp of dozens of kids to train the next generation of demigods.
At the moment, a single, normal kid was using this arena.
"Alexandros." Percy shook his hand, following him further into the arena at his gesture.
"Thank you once again for agreeing to this. I hope my daughter will be able to meet your expectations."
"I wouldn't worry about it. I'm sure she'll do fine. And she has her aura unlocked?"
Alexandros nodded. "She's not old enough to attend a combat school until this upcoming year, but I've managed to get her aura unlocked. Normally it would be illegal, but—"
"Loopholes, got it."
"You'll be here alone with my daughter, if that's alright. Unfortunately, something came up, and I won't be able to stay."
Percy nodded, following Alexandros through the short tunnel to the arena. He doubted they would actually be alone. Leaving a fellow criminal with your family alone was the height of foolishness. But he wouldn't likely see anyone who was watching him. "That should be fine. I do have something to talk to you about when you return, however." At his questioning glance, Percy smiled. "Just need a rubber stamp on something. I'm sure it'll be no problem." Alexandros nodded, turning back towards the arena.
"Phyrra!" Alexandros called. A girl stood up from a bench across the arena and jogged over to them. The first thing Percy noticed is that she was young. Incredibly, incredibly young. Maybe younger than him when he had gotten into his first war. He didn't know whether preparing her young would be preparing her for when she was an adult, or just ruining her childhood.
"It is an honor to meet you, my lord." Phyrra gave a small bow. She was rigid like Percy would expect a soldier to be. Except, he essentially had his own private army, and they were less formal with him.
Percy held a hand out in return. "Likewise. And call me Perseus."
That startled her. Blinking, she stared at the hand for a moment as if she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do, before reaching out and shaking his hand.
Her handshake was weak and dainty, likely from being raised as a pseudo princess. Well, that could be fixed.
Percy glanced back at Alexandros. "I think we'll be fine here."
Alexandros nodded. "Very well. Do not let our family down, Pyrrha."
Percy smiled. "I'm sure she'll do fine."
Percy turned back to Pyrrha as her father began walking out of the arena.
"Let's start with your beginning stance."
Pyrrha did as he asked, raising her shield and holding her spear at the ready behind it, bracing herself against the dirt ground of the arena.
Percy circled her. It was good enough, especially for her age. She could do with tensing her shield arm a bit more, and raising her spear a bit higher. But those things could be improved. That wasn't what caught his interest, though.
"How long have you been training?" Percy asked casually, coming around to her front again.
"Just over a year." Pyrrha responded, staying tense.
Percy nodded. "You're trained to fight Greek, right? Makes sense, with your heritage and all."
Pyrrha furrowed her eyebrows. "Greek?" she asked.
Percy sighed, shaking his head. "Where does your ancestral family come from?"
Pyrrha blinked. "South West of Mistral. The ancient tribes which settled the sea of Anima. Forgive me, I thought you were from the same area due to your name."
Percy waved it off. "Right, South West of Mistral. Do these people have a name in Mistral?"
Pyrrha looked even more confused, as if wondering how someone older than her could actually be asking her that question.
"My people are known as the Graeci." she responded cautiously.
Percy scoffed. Damn Romans.
He kept his thoughts silent and nodded anyway.
"Alright, let's run some stances then. I hope your instructor taught you properly."
Before Pyrrha could ask him what he meant by that, Percy spoke. Shouted, really.
"Nysso!"
Pyrrha launched forward, stabbing empty air a foot away from Percy and then drawing back into herself.
"Typto!"
She dropped low, turning her ready position into a low duck.
"Tanyo!"
She popped back up and quickly went back down, taking a knee and holding her shield up in front of her, bracing for a heavy hit.
"Anichistrofos!"
Pyrrha returned to her original stance, before glancing at him hopelessly. Percy tsked inwardly. It was too much to hope that she'd be entirely trained, or rather, that Ancient Greek managed to survive in its entirety here.
She was pretty good for her age. She would have put Percy when he was her age on his ass, that was for sure. But there were still things to improve. Quite a few, actually.
Percy went to stand in front of her, right in the path of her spear.
"I need you to do what I say. You won't hurt me, I promise."
Pyrrha nodded, furrowing her eyebrows.
"Nysso."
Pyrrha launched forward in a jab yet again. Percy casually swayed to the left and grasped her wrist, lightly yanking on it and sending her sprawling forward into the dirt.
"Your stab leaves your right open, and your stance makes it easy to take you off your feet. It might be alright for grimm with no tactics, but against huntsmen, even in training? You'll get laid out flat. Get up, let's try it again, but try to keep your body from leaning so much to the right."
Pyrrha nodded quickly and stood up, sinking back into her ready stance.
They continued like that for the next hour, Percy pointing out the myriad flaws in her stances and positions, and Pyrrha working quickly to correct them. She was far from a professional huntress, but she was a good learner, and she was still very young. She had time to learn.
After an hour, Percy noticed that her breathing was particularly strained, and she was covered in sweat, her skin a bright red.
"Let's take a break." Percy said as she once again tumbled onto the ground.
Pyrrha tried to hide her relief, quickly fixing the sag that came to her shoulders at the news. Getting sent onto the floor over and over again for an hour and getting back up immediately after was draining no matter your discipline.
They both walked over to a bench at the side of the arena and sat down, Pyrrha trying to seem like she wasn't on the verge of collapsing, and Percy enjoying the summer day.
"You can breath, you know. If I don't see you panting your lungs out, I'll just assume you're still good to go." Percy said, discreetly reaching a hand to his side and calling a water bottle to his hand from somewhere in the locker room.
Pyrrha stared at the side of his head for a moment before deciding it wasn't worth it and letting out her deep breaths, gulping down air.
"Here." Percy held out the water bottle he had just summoned. "It may be tempting to chug the whole thing, but just have a mouth full. It'll upset your stomach and impact your ability to fight if you have too much."
She took it from his hands, muttering a quick 'Thank you' and taking a large gulp.
She seemed to want to have more, but she reluctantly took his advice and lowered the water bottle, screwing the cap back on.
They sat there in silence for a few moments while Pyrrha recovered, and Percy sighed. Nothing was ever easy.
"You don't have to be quiet, you know. You must have some questions about the mysterious guy your parents have asked to train you, right?" Percy prodded, hoping he could have an actual conversation with the girl.
Pyrrha pursed her lips. "Your training is… different. I'm taught the stances and technique, the same way my ancestors did. You knew the stances, even from the beginning you drilled me on them. But then you actually fought me. And you challenge everything I've been taught about the stances my ancestors used, without actually changing the stances themselves. Where did you learn to fight?"
"I learned from some of the best. A small village, with mostly younger people, like you, and just a few older kids and adults. It was kind of like a fighting school, but… it was a family, a community. Have you actually never fought an instructor before?" Percy asked.
"Well, I've sparred, but not like you spar. They always use the same stances against me, push me to become stronger and quicker. They've not corrected my technique itself in a long time, and they've never used such… unorthodox methods." Pyrrha blushed, likely remembering that Percy hadn't so much as pulled out his weapon or thrown a punch for the duration of the hour.
Percy nodded. "Sorry, but if your instructors are still teaching you techniques that our people used thousands of years ago, they're a bit outdated. Those techniques have been improved upon and perfected. It'd be stupid to stick to tradition over that."
"Our people?" Pyrrha wondered aloud. He had had to ask her the name of the Graeci, there was no way he could be descended from them. Right?
Percy grunted an affirmation. "Our people. I come from a rather ancient line myself, which mostly teaches by experience. We're expected to fight the grimm from your age — sometimes younger. I picked up my sword for the first time when I was about your age, and killed a grimm with it in the same minute. We have some… methods, which allow a more accurate picture of the culture than you guys in Mistral."
Pyrrha's eyes widened. "That's… I've never heard of anything like that. Even at combat academies I've heard they're not allowed to fight Grimm. The Nikos are one of the last great Graeci families, too. For an entire village of us to be out there…"
Percy smiled slightly. "Yeah. You won't find them, though. They don't really like to be found. And it's Greek. Graeci is a… a Mistralan translation of the word for our people."
"Greek." Pyrrha tested the word out, tasting it on her tongue.
"We come from Greece, the cradle of philosophy, arts, and democracy. Don't ever forget that. Be proud of your heritage, and the greatest warriors to ever live. But also be aware that they lived thousands of years ago, and we've had a while to learn better than them. They weren't perfect, and they wouldn't be aggrieved that we improved upon them."
Pyrrha nodded. "Is that… were you taught those forms, then?"
Percy contemplated how to answer that question for a moment.
"Between me and you, I barely know how to use a spear. I learned most of what I know from my cousin, but most of what I'm teaching you is just flaws I've spotted in your stances. Experience is the best teacher by far, and that's especially true when your actual teacher barely knows how to use your weapon of choice. Of course, we have to get some of the basics down before then, so I have to take it easy like this until we can properly train."
Pyrrha couldn't help herself. "That was you going easy? What does proper training look like?"
Percy snorted. "It'll be the closest thing to experience I can give you without actually killing you when you fail. I'll fight you, going just easy enough to give you a half-decent chance at winning. You'll probably lose, we talk about what you learned, and then repeat. There is no knocking you down and then letting you get up. If you hit the ground, you can expect a foot to the head until you learn how to get up quick enough to avoid it."
It may seem incredibly cruel to train a twelve year old in that way, but Percy knew it was the best teacher, by far. Pyrrha seemed the dedicated type, and the torture in the ring would go lengths to prepare her for the real world. If everything went well, she would be leaps and bounds ahead of her competitors.
Pyrrha stared at him with a mix of what looked like hope and fear. "Does that mean you'll be coming back, Perseus?"
Percy nodded. "I think it does, Pyrrha. And please, call me Percy."
"You're interfering more than I thought."
Percy jumped out of his chair, tipping it over and nearly tripping himself. A moment later Riptide was out and at the intruder's throat.
And then quickly retracted.
"Fucking hell Monty." Percy cursed as he sat the chair back right side up. "Didn't I ask you to stop doing that?"
"Sorry." Monty shrugged, but one look at his face told Percy he was absolutely not sorry.
Percy shook his head. Trying to get Monty to realize he had done something bad was an exercise in futility. Percy just gave up, sitting back in his hotel living room chair and gesturing for Monty to do the same. "Now what's up?"
Monty sat down and yawned. "You're interfering with things a lot more than I thought. I'm not sure that's a good thing."
"Oh… sorry?" Percy tried. He really wasn't sure what to say. It's not like Monty had given him any restrictions or guidelines, other than an unwritten 'don't tell anybody about what I tell you, especially the public.' "Would you… like me to stop?" He offered. He really wouldn't like to, but being forced to not engage with the potential end of the world would take a good bit of weight off his shoulders. Sure there would be nights where he'd be awake thinking about what kind of difference he could have made, but if God said no… Percy wasn't strong enough to try and contend with that. So he would just try and live a nice, normal life.
Monty shook his head. "It's fine for now. It's just… surprising. If you start to do anything I don't want you to, you'll know."
Percy winced. "Like, 'being disappeared' kind of you'll know or the 'you'll get an email' type of you'll know."
Monty frowned into a mug of coffee which hadn't been there moments before. "The latter. I'm hardly a murderer."
Percy decided not to comment that technically he killed millions of people a year by just causing something like heart disease to exist on Remnant. The morality of an omnipotent being seemed incredibly ambiguous to Percy, but he had no real idea how Monty saw it.
Percy raised his hands defensively. "Sorry, sorry. Just wondering if I can be expected to be poofed soon or anything."
Monty shook his head. "Just… keep doing whatever you want. You're making a small enough difference that things should still progress normally enough, at least right now."
Percy winced. As much as he was glad because it meant there was no risk of Monty poofing him into non-existence, it also meant that he still wasn't making much of a difference in the big picture. That for all his progress, he hadn't accomplished much.
That was… pretty true, actually. He had the money now, he had a small army, and he had some reach. He could definitely start looking for some relics now. Why hadn't he? The most obvious answer was 'he forgot', but that wasn't really true. He hadn't forgotten that they existed, or that they were the end goal of all this money. He had just gotten caught up in the game, in getting as much money, as much reach, as much power as possible so that he could acquire the relics with as much ease as possible when it came time for it. But he could start now, right? Why hadn't he?
He didn't have an answer.
He made a mental note to text Lil' Miss Malachite after this to start feeling for some info on the relics, at least. He could wait until he expanded a bit more to start manual search efforts, but there was no reason not to try and gather intel.
Percy quirked an eyebrow. "So, what… bored?"
Monty shrugged. "It's always fascinating to interact with something in my creation that's not under my direct control."
"Not under your direct control?" Percy wondered aloud. As far as he knew, Monty was the God of this world, not 'God except I can't do anything to Percy.'
Monty pondered for a moment, taking another sip of coffee. "With everyone and everything else in this world, I can just… think them out of existence. They don't exist, never did exist, and never will exist. Or create anything from a person to a continent with a thought, and make it so that it's always been there, for millions of years. For you, though, it's a bit more complicated than that. Instead of thinking you out of existence, I'd have to do something weird. Create a virus that instantly dissolves people with your exact genetic code and then make it present everywhere or something. But I can't affect you directly."
Percy blinked. "I'm gonna pretend that didn't just go right over my head."
He got the general idea, but it was hard to conceptualize the difference.
They sat in silence for a few moments, and Percy was beginning to wonder why Monty was taking so long to respond when his scroll began ringing.
Percy rolled his eyes. Of course Monty would have known that was going to happen ahead of time. It was kind of weird, in a way. Everybody he had gotten to know in this world was just what, a figment of Monty's imagination?
Percy shelved that thought on the chance that it'd cause an existential crisis, and glanced at his scroll.
He held back a wince. It was Qrow.
He and Qrow weren't on… bad terms, necessarily. At least, he didn't think so after he had been able to let off some steam on the guy in the ring. But it still wasn't super comfortable talking to him. Qrow was in this weird gray area for Percy. He liked him, but couldn't trust him with anything he wouldn't tell Ozpin to his face.
Percy answered the call before it went to voicemail.
"What's up?"
"Hey kid." Qrow greeted. "I kind of… could you do me a favor real quick?"
Percy raised an eyebrow, sharing a glance with Monty. Or really, Percy glanced at him, while he stared passively back.
"What kind of favor?" Percy asked, his interest reluctantly peaked.
"You're in the city, right? I need you to deliver a message for me, to headmaster Lionheart."
Percy scoffed. "Am I doing a favor for you, or for Ozpin?"
He could almost hear the wince in the older man's voice. "Ozpin asked me to, yeah. But it's my job, and it'd make my life a hell of a lot easier if you could do this for me. Tai's out on a mission right now, so I got babysitting duty."
"Yang!" As if to prove his point, a girl shouted in the background, and something heavy hit the floor.
Percy smiled, assuming 'Tai' was his brother, and he was currently babysitting his nieces. Really, his nieces had been the only bit of personal life Percy had actually gleaned about the guy. He clammed up when it came to… anything else, really. Not that Percy was all that much better.
"Can you do me a solid, man?" Qrow was moving now, his heavy steps stalking towards the source of the disturbance.
Percy snorted. "Just out of curiosity, why can't you just call the guy? He's a part of the Illuminati with Ozpin, right?"
"Illuminati?" Qrow sounded confused, and Percy silently cursed. He had forgotten which world he was in for a moment. "Whatever, anyway, there's always a risk of communications being tapped, or there being a bug in one of their offices… okay, there's really only a risk of there being a bug in Lionheart's office, but still. It's not as secure as it needs to be."
"And what makes you think this call is any more secure?"
Percy imagined Qrow shaking his head as the calls from two young girls loudened from over the phone. "It's not. It's far from it. But this is a call from me to some random guy in Mistral. You've made waves kid, but no offence, you haven't made enough waves to have your phone tapped by the kind of people we're worried about. I'll send you an encrypted file, and I need you to get Lionheart to upload it onto an air gapped computer, he'll have the decryption key. Can you do that?"
Percy checked the time and shrugged. "Sure. I have a little time to kill. I can head over to Haven right now."
"Thanks, man. You're a lifesaver. And please, don't do anything stupid when you do get to Haven. Oz is rather protective of the huntsman academies."
Percy winced, he had gotten that impression himself.
The last thing Percy heard before Qrow hung up was the crash of something glass breaking in the distance.
When Percy's scroll shut, he glanced up at Monty, to see an… odd look on his face. He wasn't sure exactly what that look was — he had never seen it on anyone's face before. It was a weird combination of… pride? And something else.
Before Percy could say anything about it, the look was gone, and so was Monty.
Percy shook his head. His mysterious omnipotent friend would never fail to confuse him.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I've been looking forwards to getting some main characters involved, and this is the beginning of that. I can't promise every chapter from now on will have main character stuff (in fact, I can promise they won't.) but get used to Pyrrha sticking around for a few chapters, and the appearance of some more of the main cast, gradually.
Yes, I did quote Ludwig at the beginning of the chapter. It's a really good quote, sue me.
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Next chapter: January 23
