Ch 3 - Under the City in the Sky
A/N: Oh, I'm sure you guys and gals (or whatever-the-Izalith-you-identify-as, I don't discriminate) aren't expecting this little entry. But since we don't have a Weiss in Atlas in this timeline...
You wouldn't know this if I didn't say anything, but I made several edits to this and other Roman-centric chapters between here and chapter 14. These edits were made to line up this story more with the canon established by Roman Holiday, and if you haven't read the book for whatever reason, there will be spoilers for it from this point forward. I'm not bending over backwards to fit the book, but the timeline wasn't different enough at that point for things to go majorly different compared to canon. Of course, Patches does come into play, but again, my timeline only has him step into Roman and Neo's lives after the Vanille mansion explodes.
Edit in March 2024: I'm not marking that with spoilers because the book has been out for several years by this point. Additionally, Delta404 left a very good guest review. I love it when people start speculating on what's going on in both lore and in the world in general. You people SHOULD be wondering what else from the Age of Fire might be lurking about, either buried beneath the earth, or hidden in the forgotten corners of Remnant. Even in book one, I gave a few hints as to some of the things that are waiting in the wings for one or more of the cast to stumble upon. To continue with that analogy, there are quite a few actors who have yet to step onto the stage. As for Adam… maybe bringing him back and him making the decision to get revenge on the main cast is the plan. As for what caused Vyliria to finally wake up after all that time… I don't think I'll ever say it outright, but if you pay attention to her personality, her motivations, and how she thinks, it's possible to figure it out. I'll admit that since I'm the guy writing her, I'm definitely biased since I KNOW the answer to that question, but while it's very, very, VERY difficult, it's still possible.
Edit 4/19/2024: It's my Birthday, so have a chapter!
Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Souls or RWBY. Dark Souls belongs to From Software and RWBY belongs to RoosterTeeth. I only own my OCs.
(Roman)
Atlas. Remnant's northernmost kingdom, nestled in the frozen tundra of the frigid continent of Solitas. A shining city in the clouds (literally, it was floating in the damn sky), a technological marvel, boasting the most cutting edge technology available, home to Remnant's only professional military, and the beating heart of the world's industrial complex. And for all of the corporation's faults, it was still the headquarters of the SDC, who provided dust, and ultimately energy, to all of civilization.
Mantle was not Atlas. Though technically, one could argue that it was, as the kingdom was renamed from Mantle to Atlas after the nation's defeat in the Great War some eighty years prior. However, the city of Mantle had been left behind when Atlas ascended to the heavens, literally placed in the newer city's shadow. Its buildings were older, its technology lagged behind its sister city, and its residents, a disproportionately large number of which were faunus, many forced to work in SDC mines, had a noticeably poorer quality of life when compared to the city above.
Though one benefit of Mantle being left behind when the kingdom was renamed was that it was much easier to go unnoticed within its walls. And that included getting into it, even as General Ironwood worked to tighten the borders, and ruthlessly vet any incoming foreign nationals in the wake of the attack on Beacon Academy in Vale. So while stepping foot on Atlas unnoticed was out of the question, when one had the right criminal contacts and a good stack of lien, getting into Mantle proved to be no hassle.
The apartment Roman Torchwick had acquired was more than adequate for the needs of a single person, with two bedrooms each bearing two beds. Which was damn convenient, if you asked Roman, because if that wasn't the case, his unexpected tagalongs would have forced him to sleep on the couch. As it had turned out, using Junior to set up his transport to the kingdom of Atlas was a mixed blessing. His aid had made the trip leagues easier than it would have otherwise been, but it had come with a caveat. Two younger caveats, to be more exact. Taking Melanie and Miltia Malachite with him had been the condition by which Junior's expertise in clandestine transport was secured. When Roman had asked why he was being forced to take the brats to Atlas, especially considering his track record with the twins (read, the half-dozen times they tried to render extreme violence upon each other, and the fact that their mother still wanted him dead, which in turn meant he couldn't set foot back in Mistral without Lil' Miss Malachite's Spiders looking for his head), his response was, "After all the shit that's just gone down, I don't have the confidence that I can keep them safe in Vale anymore. And Avalon's going to Mistral, so I can't send them home to their mother because wherever that walking corpse goes the apocalypse seems to follow. Patches kept my dad's criminal network from imploding when you got him blown up, and somehow, you're on a very small list of people that Patches trusts, so if you want my help, you're gonna keep them safe."
And so it was that the hatted hoodlum found himself in this situation, with an unexpected pair of wrenches tossed into his master plan. Though he was confident he could turn this to his favor… though he missed it when the only kid in his life didn't talk. Case in point, he could hear Melaine whining about the fact that the mattresses were hard as she walked into the room that Torchwick had converted into an impromptu scheming room, which gave him half a mind to steal some softer mattresses just to shut her up. The pale green-eyed twin with the longer hair still had it at the same length, with the bangs just about reaching said eyes (which continued to bear cyan highlights), but her outfit had undergone an overhaul for the colder kingdom. A long sleeved shirt that matched her eyes was for the most part hidden by an off white coat with cyan fur along the edge of the hood, the sleeves, and the bottom of the coat itself. The coat went slightly below her hips, but not enough to impede the movement of her legs, and split into two separate tails at the back. Boots of an identical color scheme, also adorned by fur at the top, went to just below her knees, her blades now sitting on the back of this pair of footwear in the place of her heels, though the boots were large enough that a function was added to retract them to a point where they appeared to merely be sharpened heels. While Melanie had complained, Junior had insisted that walking around in Atlas with obviously weaponized footwear was a terrible idea. A pair of thick cyan pants kept her legs from the polar air, and her gloves, while the same design as the ones she wore in Vale, were now far more insulated. The white, flower-shaped hairpin on the left side of her head had been replaced with a much smaller rectangular (in a horizontal manner) one.
Her (thankfully) quieter twin Miltiatades (literally everyone except her own mother called her Miltia), younger by a pair of minutes, with identical hair, eyes and eye-shadow (though the first was a shorter bob-cut, albeit it still obscured her eyebrows, and the last was a heavy red), wasn't joining in the complaining, but she'd also changed her attire for the colder climate. A crimson shirt sat beneath her buttoned coat, which was red patterned with black streaks, resembling her old dress, but without actual literature stamped on it. The coat went past her waist, transitioning into a half-skirt with black fur lining the bottom edge, hood (which was down), and the sleeves. Her heels were replaced with knee-high red boots with black lining, and thick, black leggings were visible in the space between the boots and the skirt. Her claws (attached to her red gloves) had undergone a much more extensive mechashift upgrade than her sister's heels, able to fully retract and be hidden, with lower caliber pistols added in to boot. Not something that would even bother a bulkier or more heavily armored Grimm, but the addition of a ranged option would certainly shake things up for anyone that fought the Malachites. It seemed that the more mellow twin had taken a page from Blondie- Yang's, Roman begrudgingly corrected himself, book after the beating she'd given them scant days before the start of Beacon's least fortunate school year.
Kids… Roman grumbled in his head, already mentally adding an exception for his precious ice-cream cone, however far away Neo was at the moment. Roman took a deep breath, calming himself down. "Look, Mel, we got here two days ago, I wasn't expecting I'd have to chaperone you two brats for this escapade, and I'm still getting settled in and haven't even gotten past brainstorming a plan right now. Can you just wait a couple more days until you whine to me about some dust-damned mattresses!"
"But, like, they suck!" Melanie responded.
Roman forced himself to calm down, and then gave his reply. "Look, if I agree to make sure that the first thing we steal here are some better mattresses, will you shut up?"
The older twin scoffed, but still replied with a "Yeah, whatever," before she strutted back out of the room. Roman put his head in his hands and sighed. He took out a small pocket mirror and checked his reflection. He muttered a curse under his breath when he saw bags under his eyes, realizing that he'd need to call it a day early to make sure he got enough sleep. While he'd added some thermals as an underlayer for the colder climate, a demand to keep his image meant that he'd done minimal changes to his outfit. Granted, it had undergone a minor overhaul, though. The shoes and the pants were the same as before, though with the added theremals and the fact that the whole of Mantle was heated with dust meant that he could get away with unbuttoning his white overcoat. Or well, his new overcoat. Nice and white, with red on the inside, looking just like the old one, save that it split into two tails at the back, which both went down to his knees, and a more flared collar, almost looking like a Mistralian hand fan framing his neck, with the tips just shy of either shoulder. Just beneath the collar the coat flared open on both sides again, and small pins with his jack-o-lantern emblem rested on each corner. Visible beneath the open overcoat was a brown vest, buttoned diagonally from roughly halfway down its height on the right side to the bottom middle, the last three brown (of a slightly lighter shade) buttons visible. Beneath that, one could see the top of the black turtleneck shirt he wore, and over it, but under the coat, was his gray scarf, now tied at the back instead of the front. His beloved bowler hat (the seventh one since his arrival in Vale all those years back) and his facial appearance were kept the same, though the feather in its red band had been dyed, pink on the bottom, brown at the tip, with a small streak of white in between, in order to remind himself of Neo. Damn, he missed her already. Lastly, the black gloves that now almost reached his elbows were held in place at the wrists and forearms by some red straps. Said gloves also had some lightning dust (for now) hidden away, so he had a nasty surprise waiting for anyone who thought they could get into a melee with him and only have to worry about his cane, which on the surface, had only undergone a single change: the bit of previously red plastic between the curved head and the shaft had now had a few more colors to its name.
He was brought out of his self-assessment by his scroll chiming, and he looked over it to see an official broadcast was being sent to every scroll in range by the Atlesian council. Deciding to sate his curiosity, and hearing the twins doing similar in their own room, he opened the broadcast, and listened as the voice of General (and two council seat holder) James Ironwood began to issue from the scroll's speaker.
"People of the kingdom of Atlas. I'm sure many of you are concerned about recent events in Vale, and how disastrous they nearly were. Therefore, I will be the bearer of good news. We have, earlier today, received word via courier that Vale expects its tower, and therefore global communications, to be repaired within a year. Rest assured, Atlas is doing its best to send experts and materials to expedite those repairs, so that timeframe will likely be even shorter in reality. In more local news, much like the media, I'm sure many of you have also been speculating on the alleged news that the Maidens of the Seasons from folklore are actually real, and that the attack on Vale was carried out to attempt to steal the powers of one." There was a pause that lasted a pair of seconds, almost as if Ironwood was building up the dramatic effect of his next sentence. "We have confirmed the validity of those claims." Huh, Roman thought, thought they were gonna deny that for sure. "A contact in Vale who was involved with the events around the Fall Maiden there-" You mean yourself, Roman corrected in his head "-has informed us that throughout their time keeping the Maidens hidden from the world, that one Maiden of each season typically resided in one kingdom, and that the powers would typically return to that kingdom if the Maiden in question left before their passing. The Maiden on Solitas is the Winter Maiden. And… unfortunately, the Kingdom of Atlas does not have the whereabouts of the current Winter Maiden. The council has come to the unanimous decision that we desire to put this woman in our custody for her protection, and to this end ask that if she hears this broadcast, to come to us, so we can offer our best and brightest to ensure her safety. In addition, the council is offering a hundred thousand lien reward for any information that directly leads to finding the Winter Maiden, and a ten thousand lien reward for any indirect information that leads to that same goal. We ask that no one confronts the Winter Maiden, as her powers means she has the potential to do great harm to even the best specialists we can offer, but to instead report what they know as soon as possible. The Atlesian military will do its utmost to ensure this goal ourselves, but when it concerns the safety of the entire kingdom, we humbly ask all of our people to do their part in ensuring the safety of the whole. Thank you for your time, and if you see something, say something."
Roman took in a breath as the broadcast finished. Well, that's interesting. First and foremost was that Atlas was out looking for the Winter Maiden, which meant they didn't already have her. But more importantly was what he read between the lines. Atlas was stepping its game up in looking for her. Which meant that there would be an increased presence of military units and law enforcement in Mantle, which in turn meant his job just got harder. Then again, the challenge is half the fun. He grinned, before a yawn forced its way to his lips. Come to think of it, maybe I'll move stealing those mattresses up the time table. Or just buy them outright. I mean, what use is all my stolen lien if I ain't gonna spend it?
(Whitley)
The Schnee manor was quiet. It was a bit ironic, considering that the head of the family was using it as his headquarters to plan his (disastrous) campaign for a council seat, but all things considered, it was also quite fitting considering the state the Schnee family was in. His mother Willow, forced into a marriage she didn't care for with a man she didn't love, forced to have three kids with him and watch as he subverted the company her father had founded. More often than not, she was found with alcohol in hand, her coping mechanism turned into an addiction as she became a shell of the woman she was. His eldest sister, Winter, in an act of revolt against Father, had renounced her inheritance of the SDC and joined the Atlesian Military. His father, Jaques, who saw even his own children as tools to further his own goals in the amassing of wealth and power. And Weiss, who'd left them alone, left their mother behind, left him behind, to galvanize with some foreigners in Vale, one of which was a Belladonna, just to spite her Father, who retaliated by disinheriting her and appointing him to take on leadership in the SDC when he passed. She'd certainly accomplished that last goal, as the knowledge of the now-deceased Adam Taurus having the company initials branded to his face meant Father now had the record of worst electoral polling in Atlesian history, and it was all he could do to throw money at his lawyers to stop anyone trying to further investigate the company.
Whitley Schnee, youngest sibling and only son in his dysfunctional family, sighed as he stalked the halls of the manor, on his way to Father's study, since he'd requested a meeting with him. He walked alone down an immaculate halfway with crystal clear windows letting the pale sun shine in. Out of force of habit, he glanced at his reflection in the glass, to ensure nothing was amiss for Father to critique. Not a single snow white hair was out of place, the length kept short, and mostly pushed to the left, save for an intentionally undisturbed cowlick. The light blue eyes he had flicked over his fair complexion, verifying a lack of blemishes. He drew his gaze back ahead, the only sound in the hallway being the taps of his black dress shoes on the floor. His right hand moved from its position behind his navy blue trousers- perhaps I should look into breaking my habit of having one or more hands behind my back, he thought -drawing upwards to adjust his light blue vest, which had two lower pockets, a right breast pocket (in which sat a black handkerchief), and buttons that were colored an off white that had a hint of a faint, paler blue. That same color graced his short sleeved untucked dress shirt, said sleeves fastened just above his elbows by navy blue cuffs, each bearing twin gold buttons.
At least Klein made crepes this morning, Whitley mused, trying to find some kind of silver lining to his situation. He was brought back to the present when he arrived at the door to Father's office, hearing voices inside.
"I'm not talking about the good of my company, I'm talking about the good of Atlas! Our entire kingdom!" Father shouted.
"That is a load of garbage, and you know it," the voice of General James Ironwood replied evenly, and in a significantly more calm manner, as Whitley gently put an ear to the door without moving to open it.
"I beg your pardon?" Father barked back.
"Jacques, will you please just hear me out?"
A glass slammed onto the chess table in his office, and the sound of a chair creaking issued as Father shifted in his seat. "You are a trusted friend and ally to this family, James, but what you're suggesting is absurd!" Father continued at a softer volume, a fist slamming into an armrest giving emphasis to the statement.
"You are blowing it out of proportion," Ironwood calmly replied.
"The council will never agree to this."
"You forget," the general said, his tone picking up an undercurrent of hostility, "that I hold two seats on that council, and that your own prospects of election to that body grow more unlikely by the day."
"Your dust embargo has already cost me millions, I can promise you I have not forgotten!"
"So this is about you!"
Deciding that enough was enough, and that it would be better to get this over with before Ironwood put Father in an even worse mood, Whitley knocked on the door, and when the conversation on the other side halted, he hesitantly said, "Father? You wanted to see me?"
Footsteps issued from inside, the door opening as Whitley took a look at the general on the other side. He'd grown stubble since his return from Vale, and his hair was more unkempt as well. Above the waist was a white, double-breasted tailcoat, belted at the waist, with dark blue and black accents, most prominently at the cuffs and shoulder pieces. Beneath that was a black collared shirt and a red tie. Both hands bore white gloves, and his white pants hung over his black boots. "Mister Schnee," he began evenly, "my apologies. I should have been gone by now."
The apology seemed genuine enough, so Whitley quietly murmured, "It wasn't an issue sir. I'm sure whatever you and Father had to speak about is important."
Ironwood's eyes showed pity for a split second, and Whitley felt a spike of anger at that, but he pushed it down even as the general's gaze hardened once more and he turned back to Father. "We'll continue this at another time."
"Indeed," Father spoke tersely. His cold blue eyes showed that the argument was far from over. "Klein can show you out."
The general scoffed. "Don't worry, I know the way out. Until next time, Jacques." He looked to Whitley once more. "We would be willing to go over an application to Atlas Academy, Mister Schnee. We'll be back in session before you know it." His gaze softened as he looked at Whitely for a few more seconds, before he strolled out of the room, the door gently clicking shut behind him. Leaving him all alone, with Father.
He looked up at the man who didn't raise him. Jacques Schnee was fair-skinned with white, slicked-back hair. He had a large, thick white mustache on his upper lip. He was dressed in a pure white double-breasted blazer with a red handkerchief in the breast pocket, below which was a light-blue dress shirt, vest and a white clip-on tie, printed with the Schnee emblem. His silver-colored wedding ring was on his right hand.
"Can you believe that despite what we did to save Vale, that people still blame Atlas for what happened to Beacon?" Father complained, as he walked over to his desk and sat down in his chair, spinning it to gaze at a portrait of his younger self on the wall. "Ironwood can't even save a kingdom right!" he was now back to shouting. "It's a wonder he wasn't stripped of his rank!" He resumed grumbling. "I suppose the council trusts him, for better or worse."
"I would trust him," Whitley hesitantly responded. "Regardless of what others think, he did save Vale. Though… it would be better if he hadn't banned us from exporting dust to other kingdoms." There, he thought, support a man doing his best in terrible circumstances, but then immediately and preemptively agree with Father to placate him. That should keep his mood even.
"Yes, 'a precautionary measure,' at least until we're sure no one will declare war on us," Father mocked, "How anyone would see that as sound logic is beyond me." He took a breath. "Which is why the Schnee Dust Company will be holding a charity event in the coming days." Father adopted his best "business pitch" voice, "We need to show the people of Remnant that we are on their side. That we are all victims of the attack on Beacon."
"That's wonderful news, Father," and Whitley could be completely honest with that sentiment, "and it will also help the company's image, along with your own prospects at the election."
"Indeed," Father agreed, "And it would make the both of those look even better if the family were to present a united front for the event. Unfortunately, with Willow indisposed, and your sisters off in the world and in the military, that means in order to project an image of our family's philanthropy and strength, that you will need to attend this event."
"Of course Father," he immediately agreed, whatever opinions he had pushed aside in order to appease the man, "I'll start preparing immediately."
"Good, that's my boy. You're free to get on with your day." Father opened a terminal, already getting back to work, so Whitley egressed from the office as fast as he politely could. When the door clicked shut behind him, he took a few steps to the side, before leaning against the wall and slouching back as he let out an explosive sigh. He slid further down to the floor, wrapping his arms about his knees. He felt anger suddenly surge through him, and he clenched his fists and grit his teeth. You left us, Weiss. Did you even think about us when you told Father you wouldn't return home? Did you even think about your mother, and what it would do to her? What it did to Father? The anger started draining. What you did to me…
"Hot coffee, Mister Schnee?" came the sophisticated voice of the butler that had done more to raise them than their parents, Klein Sieben. Whitley jerked his head up, looking alarmed that he hadn't heard the man's approach, before rationalizing that a butler learned to move quietly to avoid notice as he did his duties. At least it was Klein, so he didn't have to worry about the effect on the family image of someone seeing him in that state. Nonetheless, he stood up, hands reaching for the proffered tray as he retrieved a steaming cup of the stimulant, grabbing the mug and taking a grateful sip.
"Thank you, Klein," Whitley responded.
"I always find that he keeps his study dreadfully cold," Klein offered as a way of response, light brown (at least at the moment) eyes twinkling in mirth. He was a man that was roughly Whitley's own height, slightly heavyset and with balding brown hair and a large mustache. His butler's uniform consisted of a white collared long sleeved shirt, a black vest with a cyan tie, black trousers, and black shoes, to which he personalized with the addition of a silver pocket watch kept in his right vest pocket, and clipped to one of the two rows of silver colored buttons on the vest.
"But do you know what I think?" Klein asked, moving the tray that had borne the coffee Whitley was currently enjoying to block the view of his face, before lowering it to show that his semblance had changed his eye color to red, and with it, his personality. Now in a much more grumpy tone, yet still with a smile, he continued. "I think it's to balance out all his hot air." He chuckled.
Whitley turned around, gazing at the door behind him, terrified that Father had heard, but when nothing happened for a few tense seconds, he turned back, whispering, "Klein! Father's right there!"
Klein blinked as he sneezed, and when his eyes opened they were now light blue. In a much higher pitched voice, he said, "Oh, sir, my apologies for making you tense, I… ah… ah…" He sneezed yet again, and then a third time, and Whitley found a smile starting to break across his face despite his best efforts. Klein brushed a finger against his lower nose, looking down at it as he wiggled his mustache, and said, "Ahhhhh," blinking, his eyes now yellow, he continued, his voice more reasonably pitched and much more jovial, "there's my happy little snowball." His grin was wide, infectious and spreading to the youngest Schnee near-instantly.
Whitley sighed, feeling slightly better once more. "Thank you again, Klein."
()
A/N: Bear with me here, this is an entirely original plot thread I'm coming up with (besides like 3 canon scenes where Whitely is taking Weiss' place), and I have no idea of the specifics I want to take it to. Honestly, as of late April 2021, my plan for this consists of: Roman and the Malachite twins make merry mayhem for the SDC in Mantle, run into Robyn Hill and her Happy Huntresses, shenanigans ensue, Whitley gets (unwillingly) involved at some point, [REDACTED] shows up and causes problems of the violent variety, [ALSO REDACTED] shows up and caused even WORSE problems of the mass murder variety, and eventually the fustercluck down there gets so bad that Ironwood and the Ace-Ops get involved, and at some point Roman rolls the dice and embarks on a dangerous gambit directly against Jacques Schnee himself. The latter stages of the plan (everything past [REDACTED] showing up) are also entirely up in the air, and I may scrap them and go for something else entirely. I kinda have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm excited to try.
Now, Roman's got an image to upkeep, though he's got layers of clothing underneath. So while the design is new, it's also similar to the old. I drew heavy inspiration (read, basically copied) from an idea of a timeskip Roman that was drawn by fudgemintguardian on tumblr. And also electric gloves, because those are cool, and I wanted to give Roman something to up his game with. Not enough to shoot electricity, but enough to shock people, block weapons and the occasional bullet safely, and augment punches. Maybe even short out an electronic lock or two, and definitely the odd droid. The Malachite twins are more free to change their fashion statements up, however, so I went with a more heavily winterized version of their previous outfits.
You may be wondering why Atlas just publicly put a bounty out for a Maiden that we (the readers) know they currently have. No, I'm not changing canon and making up a different Winter Maiden. There's a reason Ironwood lied (beyond the fact that Robyn isn't currently holding his hand). That reason, of course, is misdirection. The world now knows about the Maidens, because of Patches and Roman, and then the news traveling by word of mouth and by letters after the CCT went down. Since the people know about this, they want to know who the woman with insanely powerful magic in the kingdom is. If Ironwood says he has the Winter Maiden, that tells Salem she merely has to attack Atlas Academy to get to her. If he convinces his fellow councilors to lie (if he even tells them to begin with, I haven't actually decided if he's shared anything yet), however, Salem will be forced to conclude Atlas has no idea where the Winter Maiden is. Now she has to clandestinely search the entirety of Mantle and Atlas, and there's also a chance the Maiden is living as a hermit somewhere else on Solitas, if she's even on that continent in the first place. Basically, by lying, and offering some cash he will never have to actually pay, Ironwood forces anyone after the power to run on a wild goose chase, at minimal cost to himself beyond making it look like his military is searching for someone who's already secretly in his custody. And since Roman only knows that the Maidens are real, and not who any (besides Emerald) are, he falls perfectly for the ruse.
Also, hey, Whitley is relevant since Weiss is doing Epic Team Boat Trip things with her team on the other side of Remnant. I'm gonna admit, I wanna do something with him, (because Volume 8 made me like him, which is probably the only good thing to come from the emotional trainwreck that volume enacted upon my soul- I MISS YOU PENNY! WHY, RT?! WHY BRING HER BACK JUST TO KILL HER AGAIN?! WHY PLAY WITH MY HEART LIKE THIS?!), even if as of writing this A/N I'm not really sure what that something is. I think I'm gonna enjoy playing around with him. Maybe not as much as I'm looking forwards to more Oscar, but I am looking forwards to Whitley as well.
Whitley not entering his father's study during the argument between Jackass and Ironwood is a small change, but one that's important to point out the distinction between him and Wiess. As are other things that are slightly different from canon. I also moved up the timetable for the charity event from weeks to days because it won't really fit for the vague plans I got for Atlas at the moment. I don't really know why I added that last sentence, as this is all still subject to some pretty heavy change, but whatever.
As a quick addition several months after I first wrote this, it turns out that I'd been spelling Whitley as Whitely. Going back and correcting every single instance of that was the opposite of fun. I swear to Gwyn, this is like me thinking vermillion was a shade of teal/green all over again…
I'm also aiming to move back to more standard chapter lengths going forwards. Anyways, see you all next time!