Aftermath, Continued

On the cracked concrete floor of an old, much abused warehouse, dappled with dust strewn motes of light, a small boy with mouse ears rolled a marble back and forth. Fen was bored. All of the adults were busy, and Miss Emerald hadn't visited him in a couple of days. Even Mata, who was one of Fen's favorites among the people in the warehouse, hadn't had time to play with him.

"Sorry, little one, there's a lot to do right now," he had told Fen, grinning an apologetic grin. Fen had scowled at being called little, but had gone off to play by himself anyway.

The city had been attacked, Fen knew that much. There had been a lot of wind and blowing sand. Sirens had gone off, so loudly he had tried to roll his ears in on themselves to help mute their air-raid cry. Then something else had started to make a terrible shrieking noise, and he had hidden under his bed. The sand eventually stopped blowing, but then he saw lightning and heard thunder, and it had rained.

That had been a pleasant surprise. They had never gotten proper rain in Mantle, unless you counted snow that melted as it passed through the climate barrier, and there hadn't been any rain in Vacuo since he had been here either. The adults also got a lot happier with the rain, and Fen had come out from under his bed. Khali had found him and reassured him that everything was ok. Fen liked Khali. She was nice, and always had some sort of treat to give him. She, like all the others, called him little one, but he didn't mind it so much from her. She reminded him of Miss Lilac a bit, or of what he imagined his mother was like.

Back and forth the marble rolled, the green band inside catching the light and glimmering softly. It disappeared in a flash as Fen heard the familiar deep rumble of Poppa Ghira. The mouse boy darted off, quick and quiet, and hid in his cubby by Ghira's makeshift office. He had found out quite by accident that he could stay there, unnoticed, and hear the things they talked about inside. He was hoping to hear news about Emerald. He really wished she would visit him.

"Have you found anything else out, Brezo?" Fen heard Ghira ask through the wall. Fen knew Brezo was Mata's brother, but he didn't like him as much. He didn't smile very often, and always had a scary look on his face. Fen pressed his ear against the wall, to better hear the reply.

"Nothing yet, no. We know that the men were carrying SDC emblems, but still haven't figured out if they were working alone or with someone," Fen heard Brezo say.

Ghira heaved a sigh. "Very well. The meeting will continue, as scheduled."

"Sir, don't you think that's unwise, given the circumstances?" Brezo asked.

"I need to know if Whitley or Willow knows about the attempted attack on us. We will move forward, as originally planned."

Attack? Everyone knows about the attack. Those sirens were too loud for people to not know about it, Fen thought, a little confused.

"Alright, but I insist that me and Ilia go with you. Preferably with a few more in reserve, just in case," Brezo said.

"The meeting is taking place at a residence, Brezo. It's not like I'm walking into the Schnee Dust Company headquarters. Willow and Whitley have been very accommodating so far," Ghira replied.

"Of course they have been. If this is a trap"-

"Brezo, enough. If you insist, then yes, you and Ilia can come with me. That's it."

Fen kept frowning to himself. Poppa Ghira could be loud when he wanted to be, and he had scared Fen when the Grimm had attacked. Yelling orders, making sure that his people were accounted for and not running off into the storm. It had almost sounded like he was ready to yell at Brezo. Fen still didn't know what exactly they were talking about, but he had recognized the name 'Schnee Dust Company', and it gave him an undefined apprehension. He associated that name with bad things, but he wasn't sure why.

He kept hidden as Brezo left the office, scowling. After Brezo disappeared, Fen eased out of his hiding place and then scampered towards the front of the warehouse. Khali saw him coming and beckoned him to her.

"Good news, Fen! Emerald just got in contact with me, and she'll be down this afternoon!"

Fen, his worries about whatever Ghira and Brezo had been talking about evaporating immediately, broke into a wide grin. Good! She hasn't forgotten about me. I can't wait to show her that disappearing marble trick I've been working on.

Ghira was getting himself ready for his meeting with the Schnees when Khali stopped in. His wife was carrying a gently steaming cup of her signature green tea. He knew that she had to be running low on tea leaves, as they weren't being prioritized in the aid shipments from Menagerie, and savored his first sip.

"How do I look?" he asked his wife, setting down the teacup and straightening his jacket. Khali took his hands in hers and smiled at him.

"Like the Chieftain of Menagerie. Nervous?"

"Always, when dealing with these sorts of things. I really hope that Jaune Arc was right and that these two are cut from a different cloth than Jacques."

"Jaune seems like a level-headed man. As unfortunate as that situation with those men is, I trust that the Schnees themselves aren't behind it. They've thrown themselves into the defense of this city wholeheartedly. Are Brezo and Ilia going to be ok? I know they were very staunch supporters of the more… radical side of the Fang." Khali asked with some worry.

"They better be, or they'll spend the rest of their time here in the warehouse." Ghira drained the cup of tea and picked up a small, jingling bag which he tucked into one of his trouser pockets. He gave Khali a quick kiss.

"Be careful," she told him.

"Always," he smiled back at her.

An hour later, Ghira was seated on an uncomfortable divan, sipping a very medicinal tasting tea while Ilia and Brezo stood on either side of the small couch, the first shifting uncomfortably and the other almost ominously still. Across from them sat Willow and Whitley Schnee, both of them with cups of tea as well. Whitley was surprisingly composed, Ghira thought, considering how young he was. His mother, next to him, kept nervously smoothing her skirt, very clearly uncomfortable. As well she should be, Ghira thought. Standing aside and letting her husband run amok with her father's company.

Their hosts, the Sahras, were keeping out of the way. Khadra had greeted Ghira and the others warmly, welcoming them into his home. His wife, Savir, had served them refreshments, cheerfully told him it was a genuine honor to have him in her house, and bowed her way out of the room, followed by her husband. The two parties sat in stiff silence, neither one starting the conversation.

Ghira shrugged internally. He could be very blunt when he wanted to be, and decided to break the ice the uncomfortable way. He pulled the jingling pouch out of his pocket and tossed it onto the coffee table between him and the Schnees. It landed with a soft jangle of metal. Willow and Whitley both looked at it, perplexed. After a quick look at Ghira, Whitley picked up the bag and undid the drawstring and overturned it. Out of the bag slid three small snowflake shaped emblems.

Willow looked at Ghira. "I don't understand," she said, confusion coloring her voice.

"Where did you get these?" Whitley asked, eyes narrowing as they met Ghira's.

"My people took them off the bodies of three men, who were found dead of apparent grimm attack behind our warehouse," Ghira said, his voice even.

Willow gasped and put a hand over her mouth. Whitley paled, an impressive feat given how light-skinned he already was. "When did this happen?" he asked.

"During the attack on the city. My people were in the warehouse, or just outside the entrance ready to defend from grimm, when they heard gunfire and screaming. When they went to investigate, they found a pack of grimm and the bodies. After they had dispatched the grimm, they checked for survivors. None of the men lived, and they found two things. Those emblems, and a bomb." Ghira leaned forward on the divan, eyes never leaving Whitley's. To the young man's credit, his gaze didn't waver either.

"I don't understand, are you saying these men were going to bomb your warehouse?" Willow asked, hands snatching convulsively, as though to grab a bottle or glass.

"That's precisely what he is saying, Mother," Whitly said. "And they all carried Schnee Dust Company emblems.

"Who would do that though?" Willow asked.

"There are plenty of malcontents who are not satisfied with how I've been using our money," Whitley replied, sour look on his face. "Chieftain Belladona, do you know what happened to the deceased?"

"They were, ah, torn up pretty bad. They were taken away when the city was taking care of the fallen. I did have the presence of mind to take some pictures." Ghira started to pull out his scroll.

Whitly winced. "That won't be necessary. I notice that you haven't directly accused me of sending them after you."

"And you haven't yet professed your innocence in the matter," Ghira replied.

"I didn't do this, or put anyone up to this, I promise," Whitly said, his pale blue eyes meeting Ghira's cat yellow ones.

Ghira held that gaze for a long moment while Ilia and Willow fidgeted, and Brezo oozed tension. Then he nodded. "I believe you," he said, leaning back.

Whitly blinked, and Willow sighed. "Thank you. I thought it was going to be harder to convince you."

"You had an adamant supporter claiming you were working very hard to clean the stain off of your family's name. I trust him, and so I trust you," Ghira said.

"That's… very noble of you. What would you suggest, moving forward?"

"A statement made to my people from you directly wouldn't hurt. You making it in person would be even better. I can assure your safety, if that's a concern."

Whitley mulled this over, twisting one of the emblems over in his fingers as he did. "Ok. I can do that."

"Just like that?" Ghira asked.

"You've shown me a remarkable amount of trust, Mr. Belladona. It would be churlish not to reciprocate. I would also like to relocate the White Fang, if you'd allow it. Somewhere further into the city, easier to protect. You can pick the location, of course. I wouldn't want to put you any further out of ease. I've been working on a number of projects with my associate Klein, and an aid distribution center is something we want to get going. As an act of good faith, I'd like you or your people to run that. Menagerie has been doing a lot for refugees in this city, that hasn't gone unnoticed."

"Will you get pushback from the other high-class Atlesian families?" Ghira asked.

Whitley laughed, without humor. "Of course. They're already complaining about everything I've been doing here. But, thanks to my quick thinking, and my father's merciless business practices before his death, the Schnee Dust Company fortune survived the Fall of Atlas mostly intact. As I was the sole heir, what happens with that money is my business, not theirs. I've been trying to establish a production facility as well. The other families are not thrilled with the idea of giving Vacuo a means to catch up to us from a technological standpoint, but as you may have noticed, Mr. Belladona, Atlas no longer has a place to call home. They can all 'kick sand', as I believe the Vacuans say." Whitley sipped at his cup of tea.

"I must say, you are not quite what I expected. And these other families are very likely the culprits behind the attempted attack on us," Ghira said with the smallest glimmer of amusement at the younger man's ire.

"I've been running through that in my mind, trying to determine who would be most likely to do something like this. I'll have to get someone on that, someone that I can trust. I'll keep you in the loop on what I find out," Whitley replied. "Will you take my offer to run the distribution center I've been trying to get up and running?"

"Let me run that by my council, but I do very much appreciate the offer. And thank you, for taking the matter of the attack seriously." From beside Ghira, Brezo made a small, contemptuous noise in the back of his throat.

Whitley nodded. "We are all in this together, which is an alien concept to a lot of my peers. I have had the benefit of two older sisters that recognized that from a young age and made their own way, leaving that narrow-minded way of thinking behind. It's my turn now, to help where I can."

"I just wish I had put up more of a fight after Jacques let his true colors show," Willow said. "I hid at the bottom of a bottle and let things just get worse and worse as Jacques took over the company."

Ghira gave the Schnee Matriarch a considering look. He knew that it had been her father that had started the company, and that after she married Jacques and her father had died, she had been content to raise her children and let Jacques run the show. All of her children had shown more fire than her, and she had let the company become a monopolistic tyranny of Jacques' creation. Still, she was here now and no longer trying to hide.

"You've got a lot of ground to cover, to make up for all the hardships your company has put my people through. I know my people haven't been blameless, either. I stepped down to let a more action-oriented leader take my place, and we all know how that turned out. However, a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step, and that step has been taken. I look forward to moving into the future with the faunus working with you as equals, Mr. Schnee." Ghira stood and offered Whitley his hand.

Whitley stood and took it, looking surprised but gratified. "I'll do my best not to let you or the Faunus down, Chieftain. Thank you."

Willow stood as well. "Thank you for agreeing to this meeting, Ghira. I'm truly sorry that there are still people that would attack you and yours just for being different than them. I hope that we can make a brighter future, for all of us."

Ghira nodded to her, and then with Ilia and Brezo in tow, left the house. As they began the walk back to the Warehouse, Brezo spoke up.

"You're really going to believe that that boy didn't have anything to do with the attack? We know what his family and the other Atlesians are like. I don't trust that they really want us to take charge of a project either. This whole thing stinks," he said.

"Brezo, are children beholden to the sins of their parents? That boy is not Jacques Schnee. He is of his blood, yes, but he is not him. I would hope that by now you could see that if we keep this cycle going, our future generations are going to keep fighting, if for no other reason than that they've always been fighting. Bloodshed and hatred, year after year, decade after decade. Someone needs to stop that cycle, and we have a chance, now, to do it. No, it isn't easy. We're trying to make peace while standing in a pool of blood from thousands of dead, surrounded by their bodies, still mourning their deaths. But if we don't try to find that peace, thousands more will die." Ghira's voice was low, and tired. There was a weight to it, a solemn timbre of time and grief that made the younger man bite back the anger in his reply.

Brezo sighed. "I can't just forget that my brothers died, working the mines or fighting for the Fang. There were seven of us. Seven. Now it's only me and Mata."

"And would you deprive your mother of her last two sons?" Ghira asked tiredly. "You're already taking a huge risk, being here in Vacuo with me. I'm very grateful for your aid, and I know she gave you her leave to be here, but is her grief worth it?"

"If I kill someone that would have otherwise killed more of us, and that stops others from grieving, then it might be, yes," Brezo said stubbornly.

"And what of the relatives of the enemy dead? Will they not mourn, and rage, and swear revenge? When will it stop, Brezo? How much pain does there need to be before it ends? How deep must that pool of blood go? How high must the bodies be piled? No, we shouldn't allow them to massacre and enslave us, but we can't do that to them, either. We must find a way to make peace." Ghira's voice had risen, and while he wasn't yelling, he wasn't far from it, either.

"The Chieftain is right, Brezo. Fighting each other only leads to more grief. I know it isn't easy, to leave the past behind and move ahead, but we have to, for the sake of our future generations," Ilia said, joining the conversation. "As long as Salem doesn't kill us all first," she added darkly.

"There is that," Ghira mused, joylessly. "That's up to the Huntsmen and Huntresses, though. We need to focus on what we can do, which is helping the people that can't fight."

"I'm still not sure I understand the merits of making peace with the Schnees and Atlas, but I'll try to be more open-minded," Brezo said, scratching at one of his ram horns, still scowling.

"Talk to Mata," Ilia said. "He's got a good head on his shoulders, and isn't as stubborn as you."

"Yeah yeah. He's grown up, hasn't he?" Brezo said.

"He has. He's a fine young man. You both are," Ghira said, smiling. "Come, there's a lot to discuss with the others.

Author's Note

Hey all. Just wanted to make a quick announcement, given the recent ffnet issues. I'm new to this whole thing, uploading my writing and sharing it with you all, and last weekend was the first time I've run into a site issue here. According to google and the forums on ffnet, it isn't all that an uncommon occurrence, but I still wanted to let you all know that I cross post on Archive of Our Own as well, same profile name, same story title. So if ffnet ever goes down, you can find my work there as well.

Thank you all for your time, and I hope you're all still enjoying the story.

Happy Reading!