Chapter 18: Xenophile

A/N: I know I said that I'd presumably continue AFTER my irl gets settled, but boy my brain had other plans.

Okay, in truth, this was one of the MAJOR plots I'd had tacked in my brain for so long it's not even funny.

Was it handled well? Eh, screw it. I'll flesh it out more as I go along.

So, with that out of the way, I am once again, asking for feedback and reviews. I can't force you, and I won't ridicule and make a fool of myself or my readers either. However, engagement once again helps to better the story… hopefully.

Have a good year, everyone!

The carriage jerked, nearly throwing him off his seat. Internally, he cursed their luck, having to arrive at a time like this. He took long breaths steady himself, but the pressure building in his head refused to alleviate on its own.

In front of him, a man laughed.

"My, today seems to be full of the unexpected. Don't you think?"

He forced his lips into a smile.

"Yes, sir. Most certainly."

A deep rumble sounded past the constant pitter patter of a heavy downpour. This place was misery incarnate, so it didn't surprise him. It was so dark out the window that the antiquated light above them could hardly even illuminate the droplets on the glass pane. He'd half wondered if their driver had a super form of Semblance to be able to navigate in this weather.

Why were they even here again…

"Because, if not us, then no one else is going to ask these people to at least consider opening their borders for trade. The MTC is anathema by nature of being Mistrali-based. We're the only other entity with both weight and the means to begin large scale extraction of Dust at a moment's notice."

He winced ever so discrete upon realising that his thought had been vocalised.

The man across and to his left turned to him. His hard features matched the snow-white hair. Both were the result of years of intense labour, and when combined with the 7-piece suit, produced an air that amplified his respect for tenfold. Not that he wouldn't have respected him otherwise.

"That, and Shanyuan himself approached me for this. You know that tough bastard. if something has gotten him to back off, then it certainly is worth looking into."

He struggled not to roll his eyes hearing that. Honestly, it's a wonder their company hasn't sunk sooner with him at the helm. If it were him, he wouldn't have dared stepping on any airship to the Eastern Kingdom without the might of Atlas' behind his back. He wasn't stupid and had heard all the reports of missing ships of those who dared step foot in the south.

"Nonetheless, I heavily object to this venture, sir. We're putting ourselves in jeopardy for no valid reason. With the talks down in Vale, we could still stand to recuperate our losses just fine."

"That may be," the man nodded with a subtle, sluggish gait. "That may be, but once word gets out that we've brokered a deal with the Southerners, think about what our counterparts in Mistral would think? They're frustrated just as us with how the Vacuo venture went down. How do you think they'll take with us hitting it big first in Vale?"

"I am aware, and can assure you, there are safety measure I've put in place. If you just let me explain to you fully, I'd-"

A gloved hand swept the air between the men.

"Even if those plans of yours are sound, son, they almost never take into account how people around and within those plans would feel about them. You can't just break everything in the world down into numbers and hundredths, you know?"

"But people's feelings often don't take into account the bigger picture," he pressed. "Think about it, you think all our people back home would've imagined getting to step off the coast after the war? Let alone the walls of their own city? They called you a fool twenty years ago, now look where you stand!"

The man in front of him stared long and hard into his own eyes. He'd grown used to these long looks. It usually meant less him contemplating on the person and more on himself.

"I'm saying that we can't gain nothing from being here, but please do at least second guess yourself once in a while, alright?"

"Second guess? Like speaking to you directly before doing something?"

This time, he couldn't resist rolling his eyes. "Well, not exactly, but it would certainly help given how I'll get dragged anyways."

"Well, what can I say? At least spending my money on a second set of brains was something I did right."

"You have my humble gratitude for the way you think of me, sir."

"Oh, blow off, choffer."

The two men shared a brief, soft laugh. Brief, for how the older of the two men started coughing violently.

"Sir!"

"No! No," the gloved hand stopped him. "I'm… well…. It stopped at least."

He didn't need to see to know the small puddle of blood that now no doubt contaminated the other gloved hand. Pulling out a small spare cloth he kept for these occasions, he expertly wrapped the hand until it was fully enwrapped underneath the fabric. He then pulled back and peeled both the cloth and the glove underneath it to reveal the thick, calloused and sunburned hand underneath it.

All the while, the older man wheezed.

"You need help, sir," he frowned hard as he carefully extracted another cloth to wrap the bundle and prevent possible spillage. "There aught to be someone from the Medical University whom could help. Treatments shouldn't be too costly, given your status. Worse comes to worse, those new transplant techniques can help if we can secure a dono-"

"Jacques."

The remaining gloved hand, the one unstained by blood, placed a firm grip on his left shoulder.

"We all have to lay down our tools sometime."

His frown couldn't have gotten worse, but hearing those words somehow did just that.

There was another jerk. Much softer this time than before. It was then both men took note that the pitter patter had stopped, or at least became much more subdued.

A figure appeared on the door to his left, and a moment later it opened to reveal what he assumed was the valet.

"Sirs, you've arrived, we bid you to come down," spoke the red-vested man, confirming his assumptions.

Neither of the two were in a hurry as they got down. Out of curiosity, he peaked right and saw the drenched driver of their carriage as he worked to rid as much of the water that'd soaked his coat. He almost pitied the sight.

"As representative for our fine resort, I bid thee welcome, Mr. Schnee and Mr…"

"Jacques," he replied. "Jacques Gele."

The valet gave him a look. He knew that one. It'd followed him all his life, and a spark to an old flame seemed to burn in him whenever he earned said look.

The might've realised it as well and quickly corrected.

"My apologies," he quickly replied with a bow. "Please, follow me sirs. The main event shall start soon, and our patron for this evening shall not want you to miss it."

"Right on!" came a enthusiastic nod from his senior. "Let us be off!"

Another nod, and they were off. The older of the two men gave an apologetic look his way, to which he didn't bother responding.

Walking side by side, the two Atlesians headed deeper into the building. Their first exposure to this strange outlier in the world was the foyer of the building they were in.

Jacques had the pleasure of seeing many different cultures and customs in his travels. It came with the territory of being next to someone like Mr. Schnee, or Nicholas as he knew him. The best way to describe what he saw was that the culture was certainly Mistrali, but one that was uniformly and simplistic in its design. It lacked any of the animal and spiritual motives that were synonymous with the Heart of the Dragon.

Yes, he recalled now, there were people on this continent's west coast, the Helleni.

"My, I have to admit, this is much more splendid of a place than I imagined," came the gruff voice of Nicholas. "I was half expecting something more rundown given the recent times."

Jacques stared at Nichol wide eyed.

"That would've been the case if it'd been up to the desk-jockeys further up the street. It was quite frankly more than a pretty penny to get this place ready, could tell you that."

Both men turned to look at the new voice. The most notable were his almost, Atleasian features. His pale, smooth scalp seemed to glisten the light from the overhanging chandeliers.

"I'll take it from here. Get the next guests," the man snapped at the valet, who acknowledged and left.

"Gentlemen, please to meet you," the greet was emphasised with a bow. "Frank Fontaine, at your service."

Jacques gave the man a discrete onceover. To say that he was underdress would've been wrong, but the man wasn't lavish either. A thought at the back of his head warned him of just how assuming he looked, as if he was looking at a two-way mirror. His simple dress shirt and a black vest seemed to express this well enough.

"Nicholas Schnee, and a pleasure to meet you too," the two shook hands, their movements in near sync. "I have to say, you're not what I expected coming here."

"I get that a lot," Fontaine smiled back. "But the same could be said for you, Mr. Schnee. Coming out here, and for what? There ought to be plenty more scores to be made elsewhere than in Mistral's underberlly."

"Danger is but a spice of life, and I live for risk."

"My kind of man! We may get along just fine," the new acquaintance shifted into an ecstatic tone.

That was when the announcement came.

"To all our esteemed guest this evening, please proceed to the main auditorium. We are pleased to announce the main event for the night is about to begin shortly. Map brochures will be provided to all attendees, and staff will be ever present to attend to your needs."

"Shame, we'll have to continue this later. Now, come on, I won't wish for you to miss this one," Fontaine gestured to a set of double doors.

"Do tell, just what are we in for?"

"And ruin the surprise? No, can't do that," Fontaine sported a rather sly, but disarming look. "What I can promise, however, that it's going to be breathtaking."

Jacques had to snort at that. He's heard such high tales before. While there were definitely impressive ones, he'd seen one too many to consider himself easily taken aback anymore.

Starlight bright as day illuminated her. They were concentrated cones that seemed to individually spark each diamond of her sleeveless dress. He pale skin was the finishing touch for her figure.

A lone hand emerged from the overflowing detached sleeve. It was soft and gentle, but dextrous. Her entire form moved like it was stringed. The hand was pulled back, and in one motion, the palm rested on a heart-shaped face framed by smooth, reflective, midnight hair.

"You need to show me, babe,

Ohhh,

So, I'm not just a doll you manipulate,

Remember it's my role and I play it well,

You're giving me attention, beautiful affection.

"You got me, now turn me loose."

She twirled. Her hair following her like silk in the wind, draping her frame like a fabric.

"You're on my mind, you're all I ever wanted too,

So I was blind, now I see the brightest light,

So good, I cry…

I've fallen and I can't get up

What have you done with my heart?"

Every movement was dazzling. Every vocalisation struck. There was no force or faux. Just a constant resonance.

"Cause now it is only beating fast for you,

My friends say that you will never be true,

…But you're where I wanna be, and you know,

It's a bad candy and I'm sick of it!"

He recalled somewhere…. An old ship's tale about woman-like sea creatures that lured sailors to their deaths. He should be chastising himself right now for not remembering, but he couldn't.

Was this the same kind? He wondered.

The performance went on, and throughout, he never heard nary a single gossip or small talk. Normally, it only took less than halfway through for people to get bored and engage with the real reasons for a gathering, which included business, threats and negotiations. Yet, he could pick up none of that energy here.

All eyes were on the figure on stage. Not even he could tear off his gaze from the performance.

Perhaps, it wasn't surprising then. As the performance ended, there was thunder as over a hundred claps echoed throughout the hall.

He didn't think it was enough.

The claps from Nichol's two hands were what brought him back into his seat. The man was in full dredger mode, not even bothering to hide his blue collar self. Jacques had to pinch the bridge of his nose, unable to hide the embarrassment that was his boss.

Taking the time to rub his eyes, he was able to catch sight of her as she made her exit. It didn't take a genius to know the gathering wanted more of her, but alas, the night must go on.

Her own gaze seemed to sweep the room one last time before she made her exit.

…. Did it end with her looking at him?

"I have to say, that performance earlier was splendid!"

"Thank you, Maria is one of a kind. You don't get that many dames like her, especially with that kind of voice."

"Tell me, was that a Semblance of sorts?"

A snort. "Semblance? Ha!"

Dinner was being served. The performances had ended an hour ago, and the guests were now being served a fine meal consisting primarily of seafood, much to his surprise.

He turned to the source of the voice, his heart beating harder than ever at the man amongst them.

"Maria is many things, but a cheat she. Is. Not. Everything you saw on stage is by her own effort alone. A pride of our people, that one."

The man's use of cutlery was less than refined, or mayhaps that may have had to do with how large his fingers were. Nonetheless, the military uniform was a deadgiveaway just who he was.

"Manners, Amaris. For goodness sake man, you're embarrassing me in front of my guests."

A fork-holding hand waved their way, and he cringed at the small splatter. "You are what you eat, and I eat with honesty."

… That didn't make any sense!"

A long, drawn-out sigh escaped Fontaine. He then turned to the two Atlesians.

"I'm sorry for the good colonel. Man has never known the difference between a tent and a banquet."

"Well, I've never been one for the pompous lifestyle myself," Nichol waved it off with a shrug.

"That's surprising," the Fontaine eyed him. "Word has it that Mantle is the forefront of the civilised world, second only to Vale."

Jacques felt his blood go cold. The crack of glass only served was like Ice Dust powdering his bones. He turned to look at the destroyed wineglass. The crimson liquid staining the Schnee's pants and the carpet beside him.

"Hit a nerve, did I? Sorry about that," Fontaine quickly responded. Even Amaris stopped in his gluttony to look.

Perhaps realising his mistake, Nichol turned to them with a downtrodden look.

"My apologies," he breathed. "Allow me to pay for that."

Fontaine waved off. "Bah, my screw up. Besides, if we don't get through this night without a few broken beds, I'd call that a failure of an event."

The man signalled for a waiter. Three came and handled the small mess quickly. A new silence settled onto the four, only broken when all of their plates were empty.

"So," Fontaine began. "As I've come to understand, you're here to act as intermediaries between the Mistral Trade Company and the Kuchinashi authorities."

Sensing the change, Jacques took the lead for his superior's sake.

"That's right, it is with great interest, that the MTC hopes to engage in a profitable venture with the People's Representative. We of the SDC, are long-time business partners and rivals, and perhaps the best possible option to bridge the divide caused by the bitter history of both cities."

"Very altruistic of the SDC to lend a helping hand," Fontaine nodded. "Brave at that, considering you two came here."

"Shanyuan is an old friend," Nichol joined in. "We've crossed more paths than a Huntsman fights the same Grimm. Besides, I can trust him as he can trust me to have a plan in case things don't work out."

"Do you now? And even that were the case, can you trust us?" queried Amaris.

Nichol looked at the mercenary. "Well, you had every reason to refuse us before we arrived here. I seem to recall that Kuchinashi was very protective of its borders to the North."

"The colonel isn't talking about those pencil-pushers in the admins district. He's talking about us."

Both he and Nichol looked at each other.

"I'm sorry, what?" asked Jacques.

"Our contract with Kuchinashi only extends to keeping unwanted people away from the city walls. Not whatever happens out there in the forests. As a matter of fact, Kuchinashi has refused numerous times to lend aid when they could to the surrounding settlements. They claim its none of their business."

"… You're saying that the ones who've been keeping people from entering the Mistrali South are your people, colonel?" inferred the Schnee.

Jacques had to swallow at the statement. He felt as if a blade was poised behind him now.

"Not exactly," the colonel shook his head. "You see, I don't think your MTC friends have been exactly honest with you on what's been really going down."

"The MTC head claims that they simply can't enter, didn't they?" Fontaine continued. "Did they explain why?"

"It was the Council's decision to restrict any and all traffic between the two cities to avoid raising tensions," Nichol spoke. "Despite having already been a year, a majority of the upper class of the city still holds great resentment over what happened, and some would rather there be a…. violent seizure to restore control."

"Just speak it, Mistral wants war, but they can't since it'll look even more bad on them than it already was!" Amaris growled. "Didn't stop them from trying to force us though."

"The old breed wants payback, and the MTC needs a new reservoir to stay afloat. It was the perfect partnership, and the two have been using any means to send goons down here and make our lives and the locals difficult," Fontaine added.

"Do you have any proof of this?" Jacques pressed. "These are some serious accusations you're throwing here."

Another snort from Amaris. The colonel reached into the underside of his coat, before pulling out two things, a case and a set of photos. The latter was tied with a simple string.

"I've lost good men to these people, and they call us brigands!"

Warily, Jacques reached out first and untied the string holding the photos. They were a rather unusual set but disturbing all the same.

The first showed a downed airship. Men surrounded it, but most concerning were the crates with the MTC logo barely visible as if they were scratched off.

The second was obviously an MTC overall. He noted the bullet holes, but dared not question where they came from. He noted the signed documents behind them but couldn't read the writing.

The third was what looked like a destroyed village. What he assumed was a merc was watching over the area whilst two women mourned over a body.

"Those bastards came at a bad time. Some of my men had gone out to suppress a new Grimm horde. Their aircraft stopped at the village and started a fight with the militia there. We don't know how, but they blew a hole in the wall and the panic led the Grimm inside. It was all we could do to dig the survivors out of the rubble."

"So you see, we don't have a nice relationship with the North. But, it's not like they haven't been doing us any good favours," Fontaine sipped from his cup, his face set in a stern expression. "I've been working around the clock as is to just scrounge up materials to keep the folks here supplied. You ever realised just how tough it is to keep the heaters running in the winter?"

Jacques passed the photos to Nichol, who upon appraising them, took a deep breath.

"This," the old Schnee wavered. "Shanyuan is an old friend. This is concerning, if it were true."

"Which is why we're not asking you to act on it."

"Pardon?" Jacques blinked.

"You came here to strike a deal," Fontaine explained. "It's a deal you'll get, just not one that'll put you in bad light. We're more than willing to open up trade with Mistral, but it has to be through the SDC."

"So, you basically want us to cut ties with the MTC whilst we're at it, is that it?" Nichol narrowed his gaze.

"No, no," placated the patron. "Just, bend the bench in your favour, so to speak."

Reaching into his pocket, Fontaine pulled out a calling card. On it, was clearly written the words, 'Fontaine Works'.

"Commercial and cheap goods. Lot of folks needed jobs, and it just so happen they needed new stuff for the houses too. Me and my partner put them to work over down the street, right beside the military district."

"Partner?" Jacques parroted.

That's when she arrived. Fontaine, almost as if sensing the presence of said person, smiled and turned to look.

"You're late."

"Sorry, got cornered by a bunch of the guests. Old dogs who don't know when to quit chasing."

"Aw, had fun?"

"Barely, but it died down quick. Shame I had to get Simeon involved."

She had a dark fabric wrapped around her shoulders this time, but otherwise, it was the same outfit. This close, he could make out her dark chocolate irises.

"Gentlemen, pleasure to meet you," she greeted, her tone was…. much deeper than previously.

"Meet Maria Teya," Fontaine introduced. "My partner in business, and the greatest dame this side of the world!"

Everything had gone into a blur right after.

'Maria' as she was called, acted both differently and not. She held her ground and gave more input into the following negotiations than he expected. She was also much more cunning, almost as if she was Amaris' kid.

He shuddered at the thought.

Eventually, a combination of wine and mental mathematics was enough to drive everyone out of the banquet. Nichol's health seemed to deteriorate fast the moment they stepped out. Damn that man, and moreso damn this twist in fate.

Unfortunately, they couldn't make it to their assigned rooms before Fontaine discovered them. The man looked between ready to pale or scream. Upon understanding the nature of his declining health, the revealed businessman had called for his own doctors to do a check up on the man's health.

Which was why he was out here, in the courtyard. The rain had long since stopped, and the first order was to give the old man fresh air. No one but the two doctors and their patient were allowed near as they worked to stabilize his condition.

The smell of wet grass and leaf wasn't something Jacques liked. It made him feel…. Uncomfortable for lack of a better word. Almost like snow, which was worse and one of the two things he and Nichol shared commonality.

Pressure in his head was worse than ever. Checking to see that no one else was around, he reached into his own coat and pulled out a case. Opening it, he pulled out one of the three remaining cigars and took out the lighter as well in the same motion.

Both the case and lighter were Nichol's gift. As much as he hated to think about it, they may be the only thing left he could remember the old man by once he was gone.

Click..

Click…

…..

Click. Click. Click.

'Gods, damn. Why NOW of all times?!'

Try as he might. The damn thing wouldn't even let out a spark. When was the last he'd used it? The trip on the airship?

So caught up he was on the lighter issue, he almost didn't here a different set of clicks. It was the heat that warned him that someone else was there. Dust-fire had a different feel compared to old fashioned fuel.

He, of course, had to take a double take just who it was. Her slender hands held a lighter of her own. The steel case was as slender as hers, and made of some form of translucent material. She nudged with her eyebrow at the flame, motioning with her extended hand for added effect.

Not eager to turn down, he set the tip of the cigar to the flame. In mere moments, he was breathing in the familiar taste of tobacco.

"Smoking, you should know, is bad for your health. It'd be wise to consider other options before doing so."

His gut twisted as he realised, he'd neglected the woman beside him. Turning to her, he caught her lighting her own stick. He'd noted the paper roll, even in the lowlight. When she exhaled, the smoke added a certain hue to her that shook his heart.

"What's the matter? Never seen a woman smoke?"

"Uh, no- I mean, not really. But then again, I… shouldn't be surprised," he took the opportunity to tap his cigar and buy time. "Anyhow, you were saying about something being bad?"

"Smokes? Yes, they are bad," she took another inhale. "Then again, it's rules for thee, not for me. That's what the world loves to run on."

There was another silence. He took a drag, collecting his thoughts. Then, he decided to be direct.

"So, what's your story? How did you land a job out here in Kuchinashi?"

"If you think I had a choice, you're wrong. What I did have, was opportunity. The convent taught me well enough, before I decided that I had to go out and find my own fortuities. Next thing I knew, I got picked up by a roving band of mercs and made their property."

It took a second for him to register what she'd said. All of a sudden, the cigar felt a lot less comforting.

"Please, don't think of it that way. I was much younger, and many of the men back then were a lot older and no longer chased skirts. By the time fresh blood was introduced, I'd grown a proper spine and knew how to sleep with a knife. It was around the same time I got handed to Fontaine."

"Why Fontaine?"

"The man may not look like it, but he's been handling a lot of the heavy work when it comes to relations. He started as a simple peddler who followed along some no names looking to strike it big. Wherever they went, he made a profit from the spoils. He could swindle an entire city if you let him."

Jacques internally balked at that. Even his business was barely getting by in these times. He doubted someone like their host this night could magically produce enough to sway a Kingdom's leanings. At best, the recent disclosure of the MTC's dealings were the closest thing made possible.

His musings stopped when she questioned him this time.

"And what about you? That man, Schnee, he seems to hold you in high regard. Are you his bastard son or something?"

Once more, Jacques was ready to do a double take and choke on the smoked-ridden air. His companion seemed to reap some form of comedy from it.

"What made you think that?"

"I don't know. Perhaps, the fact that your always covering for him? You seem to be in pretty good habit of doing so. In fact, I doubt you even notice it yourself."

"Nick and me, we go aways back," he admitted. "He's someone you could always trust to watch your back, or someone to stand behind when things were rough."

"And where did this endless streak of admiration come from?"

Jacques pondered, then decided to go with the earnest answer.

"He was a Huntsman himself once. I don't know all the details myself, but I think he had a really big falling out with the people above. You should've seen how he reacted back in the banquet when Fontaine accidentally brought it up."

"Fontaine actually screwing up and pissing off his client? Now this I got to hear."

And that was how the night went by. At some point, tobacco sticks were traded. Stories got swapped, and soon laughter filled the air.

Two adults got tired of standing around underneath a cloudy sky. Admittedly, the Atlesian man's heart leaped when he was offered by the mystery woman to take their conversation a place more…. Secluded. The line between cigars, wine and otherwise was getting blurred, and he honestly believed this was all a dream by now.

When they returned to the place that Nicholaus was being attended to, a staff member of the resort was waiting for them. Apparently, the senior Schnee had been stabilised and was taken to his room for the night. The doctors had asked that no one disturb him, as the man was the restless sort. Jacques agreed, reasoning that perhaps the stress of keeping the company afloat had done plenty of harm as is.

The company.

Just the mere word now was giving him a new migraine. He would stand to his dying days attesting that Nicholaus Schnee was the greatest man he'd ever had the pleasure of working with and under. But to say this night hadn't given him a moment to reflect on his life, and that of his superior was an understatement.

An all because of the woman in front of him. The same one who'd taken his hand to a room not his, or Nick's.

He didn't realise just how alone he'd been before this night.

When he awoke, it was to an empty room, and a half-cold bed.

He'd hoped and prayed that last night was but a fantastical dream. Alas, his disrobed state spoke otherwise. He wanted to feel despair, but he couldn't. She had it drilled into very well that brute force wasn't going to work.

As his senses fully awoke, he became increasingly aware that he was the only one in the room. A shower later, and it all but confirmed she was gone. However, he noted the gift she left for him.

Her scarf was folded neatly on the back of a chair in the room. Picking it up, he noted the strong scent of her perfume on it. Wisely, he pocketed it in the deepest part of his attire, determined to not let others find out.

The clock showed the time was nine. He didn't have any delusions of what awaited him out that door.

Hence, why he was surprised to find that Nichol was waiting for him at the lobby with nary a suspicion.

"Worry not, my friend. I just came down myself. If anything, it's me who should be sorry for making you wait for so long. I heard you had a splendid breakfast in your room."

It took no small amount of control to keep his features from showing bewilderment. Instead, he opted to lean into whatever had been told to the old man. Glancing to his left, he had a hunch just who he owed for covering his back.

"No place on my payroll hasn't got nothing but the finest service available," came the smug reply of Fontaine. "I will take one big praise as payment, thank you very much."

"Words mean little to action," Nicholaus turned to the man. "And I owe you a lot given what happened last night."

"Just give a good thought as to what we'd discussed last night in the banquet," Fontaine expressed, his tone switching to a more serious one. "Perhaps there may be hope for both our sides to find an agreement. But that won't be today, you need help and we can't give it to you here."

A feeling of trepidation struck Jacque's heart at those last words.

"You have my word, Mr. Fontaine," came the grave response. "We of the SDC will work to provide the best we can to bring your people into the wider world. Once the rest of the board has been informed, expect a small branch to be assembled and sent your way."

"We'll look forward to it," the businessman then glanced over the Schnee's shoulder. "Oh, and there's your ride. Better hurry on, now."

Like he said, the carriage was waiting outside. A part of Jacques dreaded going on board that thing once more. Both, his movements and thoughts were interrupted, however, when he felt someone come close behind him.

Fontaine looked taken aback by his sudden turning to face him. Both his hands were raised in a placating gesture.

"Woah, there, just thought I'd share a brief word before you go."

"Yes, you've a need of me?"

"Oh, nothing, just thought I'd ask," the man's features twisted into a devious look. "Just how was your night with Maria? She looked positively glowing this morn."

Whether or not it was possible, Jacques felt pure ice in his veins. The sudden laughter that broke from the man didn't help.

"I kid, boyo, I kid!" he added backing off. "If you gotta know, Mari isn't some maneater. Girl has a good head on her shoulders. If she like you, then I think your both gonna get real acquainted in the coming days."

"Jacques!"

Both men turned to see that Nicholaus already had one foot into the carriage. Turning around, the two men shared one last look. This time, Fontaine had switched to more gentle features.

"Better get going, forget what I said. Seriously, Maria will kill me if she heard what I said to you."

Caught between getting exposed and his, hopefully, clueless superior calling for him to get a move on, Jacques wisely heeded the businessman's advice and quickly jogged to the carriage.

From inside, both Atlesians noted the friendly farewell wave that Fontaine gave them as they left the premises. The first thing they noted was just how sunny day the was. It also provided them their first real look of the city.

Both had heard their fair share of rumours and gossip.

'Kuchinashi was nothing more than a pile of filth these days!' some would say.

'That place being held hostage by the brigands? Pitiful place, certainly,' as others would note.

Yet, those words couldn't have been further from the truth.

Apart from some ruins of what might've have been buildings belonging to nobles' the city was clean. Granted, there seemed to be immense reconstruction going on still, but otherwise, no misery was to be found. People milled about, some even engaged in conversations with the occasional mercenary or militiamen on patrol. Even the few alleys the glimpsed seemed relatively safe, with lights left on where the spaces were darkest.

It was nothing like they expected of a city post-disaster. Nothing like Mistral's underbelly, or that of Mantle

And for that, a small budding flame bloomed within the old Schnee.

"Jacques, I wish to ask of you two things."

The younger of the two men was caught by mild surprise. Still internally squirming and begging to the Heavens that Nichol wouldn't ask him what he'd been up to last night. Yet, when he turned to look at his superior, he saw none of the usual face from him. No, he saw a grave face he hadn't seen in a long while.

"Yes, sir," came his brief, composed reply. His focus hastening to the forefront.

"First, what do you think of these people? Of Fontaine and his co. and that of their ties to the mercs?"

The answer was loaded, and he didn't have much evidence, that was certain. He wasn't stupid, Fontaine wanted them out not because he wouldn't cater, but because he wasn't in a place to. Nichol's condition was getting worse.

"…..I'll preface by saying that I can't be certain just how trustworthy they are by simply inspecting a few photos," Jacques began. " It's clear at the very least, these people don't do what they do out of some manner of goodness."

"Yet, they were the ones who agreed and even invited us in."

"Indeed, which is why we should be all the more careful. However, I don't see what we could lose from agreeing."

"Oh," Nichol mouthed, his eyebrow raised in curiosity. "You've come up with a contingency already?"

"Quite the contrary, no. What I do think, is that Fontaine, and those like him, aren't the kind to be constrained by a mere embargo, let alone hostilities. Something tells me that given that blood's already been spilled, they'd use it as an excuse to pressure and expand North."

The cloth inside his coat felt a lot more solid as he said so. Maria had a rather blunt opinion about her partner, and it was clear the two didn't hold any love for one another. At least, that's what he hoped was right.

Nichol hummed. "So, you're saying we should go through with their counteroffer?"

"Yes," Jacques nodded. "However, we should take on our terms. Make it obvious that we have the greater weight in this deal. Fontaine isn't in a position to say no, and we can use our boon to get a better glimpse into what he's selling."

"But didn't he already tell us just what exactly he sells?"

"Nichol," the younger man moaned. "How many times do I have to tell you to not simply take someone at their word? That's dangerous and before you say it, yes, it's hypocritical, given that I'm giving them the benefit of the doubt myself."

"So, are we proceeding forward? Yes, or no?"

"….Yes, I'll begin preparing our side of the deal when we return."

Almost immediately, Jacques noted how Jacques began to deflate before his very eyes; leaning back into his seat and closing his eyes. His own heartbeat ramped up, seeing the strong man begin to dissipate and reveal the sickly interior that was the true man.

"Good, good," breathed the old Schnee. "That takes care of one problem.'

When he opened them once more, the aide to the Schnee patriarch noted something in those blue orbs. Something that made him rather uneasy.

"The second thing is more of a personal favour…. Are you willing to hear it out?"

Swallowing, Jacques straightened out in his seat. "That depends, is this about our sudden departure?"

Another nod. "Fontaine's doctors were pretty grim about the results of a blood test they'd showed this morning. Suffice to say, my time is very much shorter than I would've liked."

He wanted to speak out, but Nichol held his hand up.

"I know, I know," he repeated. "Don't be too trusting, but this is something admittedly that I've felt was coming as well. The truth, if you will, for us coming here is that I was hoping an opportunity would arise to save the company. So much investment, so many hopes and dreams. I can't just let everyone down. Not my family, let alone my men and their families."

The aged man adjusted himself, leaning forward and allowing his front bangs to hide his eyes, almost as if he were ashamed to face his right-hand man.

"Jacques…. I need you to marry into my family."

"…"

There were few times that the man known as Jacques Gele had ever felt truly lost for a direction in life. Much of those came from childhood, but he never gave them much thought as all children do feel lost one moment or another.

But this time, he was truly left with nothing to grasp for a direction.

"I know I'm asking a lot," Nichol continued. "But you should understand. Mantle's laws aren't exactly as progressive as Vale's yet. Inheritance can only be given at a fraction to the daughters, and Willow has no one left that I can trust."

Two calloused hands rubbed the old man's face.

"Jacque's, I need you to marry my daughter."

All at once, it felt as if he'd hit both rock bottom and fell off the edge of the world. Mercifully, Nicholaus held back on further explaining his second request, perhaps realising just how absurd it sounded.

During the time spent in transit from Kuchinashi to Mistral, he had ample opportunity to actually digest all the happenings within the last 24 hours. Of course, none of it was exactly pleasant. He wondered just how things could spiral from a business conspiracy to his personal life being put to centre stage. Once more, all the pressure that had dissipated the night before now came back in full swing and he felt almost the need to slam his head on a wall.

What stopped him was the piece of cloth he pulled from his pocket, and a memory from the long night.

"Tell me, Jacques, what do you think makes a man?"

He looked up from his wine glass. The woman before him was seated on a chair like his. The fractured moon hung low in the night, and the humidity that before discomforted him now felt like a soft, cold pillow.

The balcony provided an ample view of the recreational area below. The same one that so happened they'd spent hours talking together.

Hours, was that right? He couldn't tell no more. The wine Maria had pulled out from her stash was very potent. He was glad that he'd had his Aura unlocked long ago and learnt from Nichol for basic control.

"Jacques, are you listening?

Snapping to attention, he noted the beauty before him. How her hair seemed to reflect and take an almost white hue in the moonlight. Her eyes, that had a strong gaze that complemented that beauty.

It took more focus than he'd liked, but he remembered what was asked and took an answer out of the murky waters of his mind.

"A man's worth, should be in his mettle. He should have the means of achieving anything and everything he should please."

She hummed, swirling her own glass of wine. "Perhaps, and very close. Do you know what I think?"

"What?"

"That you already have half the answer, but to complete it. A man should be able to act based on the world around him. He shouldn't be beholden to the circumstances around him, but he should neither deny them. To deny is to be a slave to his material self."

She adjusted, just enough for him to get a view of what lay under the veil.

"A man should act on his instincts and ego, he shouldn't be a slave and obey the cruelty of both world and fate. A man must take matters into his own hands, even if it eclipses the will of others. Remember, Jacques, a man acts, a slave obeys."

"That doesn't sound healthy. Would following one's own vices not result in an impossible scenario, inevitably? Would his own sight not fail him? Recent history seems to disapprove of the notion that you can just…. Force behaviour."

"Perhaps, but that doesn't mean that it is wrong. Afterall, you could argue that the King of Vale had an impossible dream. That didn't seem to stop him from achieving the accord that binds the four winds."

"That king…. Was monstrous."

"But he was a man still, Jacques. A man who acted, who disobeyed the world and its will. He didn't become a slave to another."

"What are you getting at with this?"

Her gaze seemed to soften, taking on an almost pitiful look he didn't seem to understand.

"Oh, Jacques, if only you could see just where you stand now, and what kind of reigns you hold in your hands. The ambition for power would fit so right with you."

The more he kept thinking, the less any of it made sense. Why him? He was just an executive for a failing business. He could be just another man to be drowned in the sea of absolute debt his superior had made for himself.

Why him? Why DAMMIT!?

With a meaty thud, he crashed his head onto the wooden table within his cabin on board the airship. He had to bite his tongue to not let out a yell.

None of it made sense. Why. Couldn't. He. Make. Sense. Of. It.

His white-knuckled grip on the cloth threatened to tear the fabric. Bile stirred in his gut.

Infuriated to the point of near irrationality, he opened the cloth up wide before him. Just as he was getting ready to tear it to shreds, he noted something.

Stretched as it was, and suspended in the air, he noted the pattern on the surface of the fabric. No, he realised it was words.

Blinking, he carefully laid it on the top of the table, curious at this unexpected development. He became confused as the words disappeared, and when he tried using the lantern in the room, the words failed to appear. No, it was only when in moonlight that they appeared, for whatever reason.

Pulling up into the air, and facing the moon, he carefully began appraising the written text.

"A little gift for you. Assuming you find this, I hope we can meet and have more intimate talks like before. Time should not separate us and neither should fate. I had gotten too heavy handed in our talk and I would not be surprised if you don't remember it in the morning.

May peace be upon you. Love, Maria."

Upon reading the end, something stirred again in Jacques. His tension didn't exactly fade, but he didn't feel as if it threatened him like before. No, he assumed now to know why he no longer felt like he was going deranged.

He found an outlet.

It felt improbable. No, it was almost outright impossible for them to meet, let alone find alone time together enough to engage in private. Yet, the thought of confronting that woman seemed to excite him.

What was that thing she said?

A man acts. A slave obeys.

Yes. That was it. Of course, he knew that the meaning was very subjective. But without context, he could see how such a simple phrase could be so beneficial.

Perhaps, he could indeed make his current situation work. It wouldn't be him at fault to make full use of his circumstances. Nichol, his friend, was not going to be around for long, and his legacy was almost in ruin. He may not be able to change it alone. No, but with some help, he might just save and even build upon the ruins.

And who would blame him if were to deepen the bonds along the way?

The thought of one woman, however, also made him think the other woman that was about to get involved with his life. In truth, he knew little about Willow. They'd met last when Nichol and Jacques were first about to set off on their venture into Vacuo, and she'd just finished her secondary education then. Indeed, the age gap was around easily a decade.

Still, he couldn't fault the old man. Nichol, as good as he was with people, rarely surrounded himself with people he could actually trust. He'll honour his friend's wish and take care of her as the man of the house.

The more he though about the intricate web of his future, the more he saw it as almost impossible. Yet, what was impossible if not simply viewing something as too hard?

Yes, he will choose the impossible. For that was what a man's worth was. To choose and overcome the hardest challenges.

He must act. He must not obey.

He will achieve his rapture. His peace. Through. Power.