Chapter 37
Blake wistfully looked back at the continent of Menagerie. Over the rising waves, her homeland slowly faded, as if it were waving wistfully at her, too. Even if it was her second time leaving Menagerie, it was still a new memory.
It had been too eventful for her tastes, to be honest.
It was supposed to be a relaxing getaway, from everything that had happened at Beacon. And yet, it was far from as relaxing as she had hoped. There had been White Fang business to take care of (that she still didn't want any part in), and Hazel Rainart had showed up.
Sun had been an integral part of it all, she admitted, as she looked to her right. The monkey faunus looked content to bask in the sun's rays, as the ship gently rocked under them.
Sun was a dork, yes, but he was intelligent enough to understand the subtext of everything. He still acted like a dork, but, when he got serious, he revealed his true self. On the surface, he was the happy, go-lucky monkey faunus, but inside, he was far more serious, while maintaining his optimistic outlook on life.
He brought a new perspective to the table, contrasting her own... pessimistic outlook, she admitted.
He had helped calm her down and see the reasonable side of things. Despite his... overly enthusiastic attitude at times, Blake was grateful for him. She really was.
She hadn't known him all that well at first, and never really paid him any attention, but when he had followed her to Menagerie, they were forced to spend time together.
Sun was mischievous, yes, but also kind, caring, and affectionate underneath. He was nice and wasn't put off by her past with the White Fang, or admittedly, her habit of being passive-aggressive, or her tone, ever... he was persistent, and put up with her ramblings.
Now that she took a second look at him, he wasn't really bad looking, even if he walked around parading his abs like they were the gods' gift to women...
Still, his baby blue eyes, and light blonde hair contrasted nicely with his features, and his build wasn't anything to scoff at either...
Blake shook her head. Where had that thought come from? Yes, maybe she had come to see Sun as... more than a friend, but...
Hadn't she told herself to focus on equality for the faunus before pursuing any romantic relationships? And now, Salem? There wasn't any time to undertake such fruitless endeavors... right?
Once again, she didn't really know what to do. But either way, they had to go to Mistral. They would meet up with Pyrrha and the group, and then they would decide what to do from there.
Could they defeat Salem, even with Percy on their side?
Only time would tell.
Percy looked around, as he stepped out of the limousine, thanking the chauffer. The man, who seemed to still be in equal parts of fear and awe at his presence, nodded, trying to awkwardly bow in his seat. Percy waved him off, grimacing internally, and the man drove away, back down the long driveway.
He turned to look at the Schnee Manor, noting its beautiful architecture. Large pillars and arches could be seen from the sides and in front of him, with gray and blue accents, forming the theme.
As he walked, he adjusted the collar of his tailored suit, which Ironwood had gotten him. The man was always reliable.
Even when he revealed his ascension to godhood, Percy recalled, as he moved forward. It was... surreal. After denying godhood, he was now being forced to become one. Aether and Erebus had appeared to him in a vision telling him so.
He was... conflicted about it, to say the least.
It was only augmenting slowly though. Prayers and worship must have increased after the Fall of Beacon, which caused his increase in power and the gold flecks in his blood...
He never wanted it, but he grudgingly accepted that it would be necessary. He would not take any chances with fighting the Queen of the Grimm... who knew how many Grimm she had at her fingertips, and her own power?
He felt resigned to it, now. Everything that had happened to him... it was almost as if it had dulled his senses.
Soon enough, he made it to the front of the Manor.
Thankfully, there was no paparazzi or cameras this time around; really, he couldn't stand those guys.
And his "bodyguards"? Well, they couldn't really be bodyguards if he didn't want them with him there. He didn't want Mercury and Neo to be seen anywhere, really. So, they were off in middle of bumfuck nowhere in Atlas, probably having fun pickpocketing rich Atlesian elites with Neo's semblance. Old Percy might have stopped them for some moral code, but Percy right now didn't care. Mercury and Neo were now chaotic good.
He reached his right hand up, and knocked loudly, tapping twice, just to make sure.
The great double doors opened before him, revealing the blue and white interior of the Schnee Manor. There was a long, white staircase with a blue carpet in front of him, and marble statues on the sides of the staircase.
"Klein Sieben, at your service. Mr-" a man with warm, brown eyes poked his head around the door, looking at him inquisitively, "Jackson, should I call you? Or do you prefer Apollyon?"
He was a relatively stout man, with balding, brown hair, and had a large, light brown mustache.
"Percy is fine-"
"Oh, that is nonsense," the man cut him off, "Considering your status, you shouldn't be addressed so informally, Lord Apollyon."
"Perseus is fine..." Percy insisted, or tried to insist, but the butler turned away, shaking his head fervently, "Lord Apollyon."
"I-"
"Percy!"
He turned, seeing a certain blue-eyed, white-haired girl rushing down the stairs.
"Weiss!" he grinned happily at the sight of his friend and teammate. He hadn't seen her in nearly a month, now that he thought of it.
She beamed at him, rushing up to him and wrapping her arms around him. She leaned into his chest, and he ruffled her hair slightly, a smile coming over his face.
Weiss was one of his closest friends, and she had matured over the time that they had spent together as a team at Beacon. She had turned from a bratty heiress into someone who would give life and limb for her team, who was one of them. He would do anything for a friend like her; his fatal flaw was loyalty, after all.
But, he reminded himself, he was keepiing secrets about his godhood. He planned to reveal it to the entire group when they met in Mistral.
"I missed you so much..." she murmured into his chest.
"I missed you too, Weiss-cream," he quipped, prompting her to smack him on the shoulder.
"Idiot."
"Lord Apollyon," Sieben, the butler, called him, "Mr. Schnee is awaiting you in his study."
"Of course," Percy obliged, untangling himself from Weiss' arms. He turned to walk up the stairs, but Weiss suddenly reached out, and clasped his arm.
"Remember, people see you as a god, so if he calls you by your first name, or something else, he's being disrespectful..." Weiss warned.
Percy laughed it off. Weiss was being the usual worrywart that she was.
"Relax, Weiss," he flashed her a smile, "It'll all be okay."
He threw her one last grin, but for some reason, she seemed a little... nervous. It wasn't about this, though.
Maybe it was the SDC concert performance that she had to give tonight, he reasoned. And then the banquet after that. Dealing with so many elites would irritate her after so long away from Atlas.
It would irritate him, too, but he knew how to keep himself in check. At least he would have to, to manage a man like Jacques Schnee.
Percy entered, noting the same blue, white, and gray accents that seemed to rule and lord over the rest of the Schnee Manor. Here he was, in the office of what was probably the most hated man on Remnant. Faunus hated him for faunus work conditions in the mines, humans hated him for the skyrocketing dust prices, and Weiss called him a sperm donor.
"Mr. Jackson," Jacques Schnee stood, smiling genially.
The smile looked like it reached his eyes, but Percy knew better. It was a fake smile, honed from years of business deals and manipulation.
From the start, Percy already knew: Jacques Schnee did not see him as a true god, as many others did. He saw him still as a hormonal teenager, who didn't know what he was doing, and was out of his element.
Oh, the irony. Jacques Schnee would be the one out of his element here.
"Please, call me Percy," he countered, and Schnee smiled, "Then, please call me Jacques."
Percy reached forward, and they shook hands.
The man's grip was strong, for a civilian. And Percy made sure he knew that.
He held the handshake for just a little too long than was necessary, squeezing just a little too much, until he saw the businessman wince slightly, and then he released him.
The man probably thought him a bumbling idiot of a teenager, who had applied a little too much pressure by accident. It was the perfect persona to play.
"Please, take a seat," the CEO of the SDC smiled again, and Percy had to internally applaud him for how convincing it all was.
They seated themselves in the blue, plush chairs.
"Would you like tea, or coffee?" Jacques Schnee started.
Percy smiled, "Of course."
He wasn't scared of being poisoned, or anything – it was an illogical move by someone who was supposed to be a shrewd businessman, and he was sure he would be able to detect it anyway, if it was there.
Klein Sieben, the butler, entered with a tray, pouring them tea, and setting the porcelain cups down with practiced ease, before leaving quickly. The dark, mahogany door closed behind him.
He was desperate to impress, Percy knew. Then again, Percy kinda needed lien; not that he was desperately short or anything, but...
This was a proposal of a contract, or sponsorship. If the SDC could bind itself to him, they would profit immensely, and they would offer him a flat income of perhaps one million lien, and then tack on perhaps some shares of the company for they would make from his name.
"Allow me to cut straight to the chase," Jacques started, curling his lips, "I believe any frolicking about would only bore you, and you surely have many matters to attend to."
"I'm partial to this," Percy agreed, smiling as warmly as he could.
"Many believe you to be a god on Remnant. Of this, I am not quite sure; however, you have demonstrated incredible power, and you are good with the public," Jacques started, shamelessly trying to butter him up, "However, you did fight and successfully for Vale. As you know, dust is quite necessary to even run the world; it is needed to power all things, from bullheads, to cars, to even certain weapons that use it.
"We, the Schnee Dust Company, are the most prominent supplier and miner of dust to the market, as I'm sure you know. Without us, Remnant would not run the way it does, and it would be nowhere as nearly technologically advanced," Jacques leaned forward, seemingly ready to deliver the finishing point.
"If we formed a partnership with you, it would greatly benefit the people. We would decrease the price of our dust by a dozen, and through both your promotion of this product, and a public stance on it, dust sales would rocket! Civilian's daily lives would become easier, and their money spent on dust would flow back into the economy of Atlas! Vale, Mistral, and Vacuo, too, of course, but Atlas and Vale are the centers of the world!" he proclaimed, smiling.
Jacques had stumbled in his word choice; he'd realized Percy was, to the rest of the world, a true and true Valean, and the businessman and modified his wording. Percy caught on, though.
"Huntsmen would no longer need to pay so much to fight the Grimm, and it would benefit society as a whole! Of course, for me and you, we would earn profit. One million lien as an initial deal for you to sponsor the SDC. We are already planning to decrease dust prices across the board by a dozen lien for every type of dust. We will grant you five thousand shares of the SDC company, making sure that you earn passive income through dividends. All you need to do to secure this deal, is to sign this contract."
The shrewd businessman leaned forward again and slid a pen and the contract across the coffee table.
Percy, in response, leaned forward, picking up the pen. He tapped his chin with it, pretending to actually be considering the deal as he read the contract.
So, Jacques thought he had a hero complex, and had combined the deal with thinking he was in need of lien (not to say that he wasn't). At least it was better than assuming he was just outright greedy.
And he had perfectly predicted what Jacques would offer. Some shares and one million lien. Five thousand shares, to be exact.
Five thousand shares of the SDC was nothing. Percy had done his research. Although he didn't know exactly how many shares the SDC gave to stockholders, he knew big companies back on Earth gave millions, if not billions of shares out. Five thousand shares would net him barely anything through dividends.
But when considering the one million lien, it was a lot... for a normal person, and even for him. Part of him just wanted to walk away from the deal, but he could also weasel as much money as he could out of the richest man on Remnant.
Really, since dust prices were soaring upwards, reducing them by only a dozen lien was nothing. Jacques had implied it would be a big loss so that civilians and huntsmen could better afford it, but Percy knew better.
Percy sipped his steaming tea in amusement, swirling the exquisite taste on his tongue, before swallowing.
He frowned externally, as he slowly put down the pen.
Jacques Schnee's eyes widened, imperceptibly, that even Percy barely picked up on it. But he did, and that was the key to winning.
"Is there something unsatisfactory? Is the baseline offer too low? Or perhaps the share?" Jacques offered uncertainly. He was out of his element here.
Percy was a demigod, and he had the high ground. Jacques knew it, but he didn't know that Percy knew it. Since he was Perseus Apollyon, he could easily walk away from the deal, and go to some minor dust company, and sponsor them instead. And the SDC might not lose completely, but they would lose a large portion of the market, being undercut by a new company.
"I just... don't know," Percy shrugged, still acting the part of someone out of his depth, "I mean... I don't know about all this business stuff. I'm a good speaker, but..."
There was a brief silence, before the SDC owner spoke.
"I... see," Jacques finally intoned. Percy could see that a new idea began to form in the man's mind.
"The SDC earns billions of lien each year," he began confidently, "Much of this lien goes back into funding our efforts. And even five thousand shares of the company that result from this sponsorship would earn a multitude of lien in dividends-"
"But doesn't the SDC have billions of shares outstanding?" Percy asked innocently. He had to hide a smirk as Jacques coughed awkwardly.
The CEO spluttered, trying to find something, "Well, considering the amount of dividends that the SDC pays out to each shareholder, you would earn a lot. Of course, if this is unsatisfactory, I could double your shares to ten thousand..."
Percy pretended to think about it, but in reality, he was already decided. He wasn't going to sponsor the SDC anyway. They were a company with extremely questionable labor practices, and sponsoring the SDC, let alone any company, wasn't something that a god did. A god distanced themselves from humanity, and Percy agreed, at least here.
After a few more seconds, Percy stood up, "Thank you Mr. Schnee, but I humbly refuse your offer. I must get going now."
He turned towards the door, leaving a stunned Jacques Schnee gripping the arms of his chair.
"W-Wait!"
Percy turned around, raising an eyebrow. What card did Jacques want to play this time?
Jacques clasped his hands together, seemingly having gotten to a conclusion, "I understand. Only promote the SDC at this charity event and you will receive compensation. Then, promote the SDC for one year, and the rest of the deal will still be carried through."
"I need at least..." Percy paused, still playing the persona, "Five million lien total."
"That's ludicrous!" Jacques cried out, even though Percy knew that it was, in fact, not at all ludicrous. Jacques was a damn good actor; if he was on Earth, he would have won an Oscar for that performance.
How unfortunate that Percy could just walk away from this deal right now. It didn't hurt him in the slightest... maybe except for lien.
"Oh well," Percy acted disappointed, "I guess I'll have to go, then. I have much to attend to, after all-"
"No, please," Percy smirked internally, as Jacques took the bait, "I'll meet the demands... Five million."
Hook, line, and sinker.
Percy rubbed his chin, as he pretended to think more, "I... I'll think about it."
It was good to hold off a little bit. That way, Jacques wouldn't know how much he needed exactly to appease him.
"S-Six million lien!" Jacques tried, "One million for you to simply put in a good word about the SDC at the banquet tonight, and five million if you sponsor us for one year!"
"I'll think about it," Percy repeated, still looking uncertain, "I'll put in a word about the SDC at the banquet, though."
"Very well then," Jacques clapped his hands together, standing up, "The one million will be deposited into your account. I will have my daughter deliver the modified contract to you later tonight at the banquet."
"Thank you, Jacques," Percy said as respectfully as he could for the horrible man that stood before him.
"No, thank you, Perseus," he returned the favor. That genial, nearly convincing smile appeared on his face once again.
Percy walked out, and gently closed the door behind him.
He could have walked in there, and gone with the edge lord act, and thoroughly cowed the most hated man on Remnant into submission. Instead, he wanted to have a little fun, for once. That, and he kind of needed that lien.
Being a hero did not pay well.
"I want you to go out with me."
"You mean like a date?" Percy asked, confused.
"No, you dunce!" Weiss slapped his chest, glaring furiously up at him. Percy stopped himself from snickering. She looked like an adorable puppy.
"Although, I wouldn't mind it..."
"But isn't that what going out with someone means?" he asked in response, even more confused.
"You dolt!" Weiss took a step back, taking a breath.
"You're attending the SDC charity banquet as my date tonight, and all eyes will be on you."
"See, and then you go and spring that on me," Percy pointed out, "So right now, I'm not your date, but later tonight I am? How does that make sense?"
"Just shut up and accept it," a red-faced Weiss growled up at him, but Percy had to muffle another laugh. She was too adorable.
"You're attending as my date, so my date needs to have adequate clothes."
"Of course..." Percy groaned, recalling the last time they had went shopping in Vale. Weiss had dragged their entire team out to dress for the dance...
"Of course, I already have your measurements, so-"
"Wait, how did you get my measurements?" Percy cut her off, confused. Weiss wouldn't meet his eyes.
"I... might have asked General Ironwood for them. From the suits we ordered."
"Ah..."
"Yeah..." Weiss cleared her throat awkwardly, "I have another outfit planned too; the stores we're going to visit already have everything ready."
"Well, shall we?" Percy smiled down at her, getting one in return.
Weiss obliged.
"We shall."
Instant regret.
No, it wasn't from what Percy had initially thought would happen. He thought Weiss would lug him around from store to store, browsing and selecting dresses for herself, while he suffered. The eternal fate of all men who accompanied women to stores. They shared in their misery, in their suffering.
No, instead, he was so ignorant as to forget about the cameras. The paparazzi, that also haunted him eternally. The press and media that could generate a windmill of rumors from one photo. They were good at their job, yes, Percy could acknowledge that, but that didn't mean he liked it.
"Ugh!" Weiss huffed as she crossed her arms, seated next to him inside of the limo.
"Annoyed?" Percy asked her with a knowing smile.
"Yes!" she threw her hands up, pouting, "They used to follow me everywhere, although it wasn't as bad as it is now. Now, whenever I go outside, they're swarming us. It's like we're trying to fight to even walk!"
"I know the feeling," Percy gave her a wry smile.
"Ugh... I really wanted to see you in that outfit, you know," she mumbled.
"Don't worry Weiss, I'll wear it as my combat outfit after the banquet, when we go to Mistral to meet up with our team."
"You better. The entire thing is done anyway. I had top-tier designers on it, and I added a few tweaks myself."
"All that, just for little old me?" Percy teased. Weiss blushed and looked away, refusing to meet his eyes as she huffed. Percy smirked in response.
He turned around slightly, looking towards the sections toward the back that were blocked by a door. Namely, the bar.
Looking through the window, he could see Mercury and Neo fucking around... again. They were absolutely trashing the back of the limo, drinking the most expensive wines and champagne, feasting on whatever expensive snacks they had in there, and whatever sauces they had in there...
What did he expect of those two? He didn't know. Maybe they were the Bonnie and Clyde of this world.
Once they had caught wind of the thing, they wanted to be let onto the limousine and "chill out", as Mercury had said. Percy had obliged, because, well, it was better than letting them cause chaos everywhere in Atlas again. And besides, who cared if they trashed Jacques Schnee's expensive ass limo? Besides Jacques Schnee himself, obviously.
Percy was pretty sure one of the ice cream stores that sold a specific flavor of ice cream, namely Neapolitan, had gone bankrupt in the day that they had been here in Atlas. He had absolutely no clue why.
"Welcome Weiss Schnee!"
Percy clapped politely with the rest of them, watching attentively as Weiss took the stage.
Her beauty seemed to entrance the audience, so that they missed the little details. Percy knew that she had performed before, before Beacon, before he had arrived on Remnant. Her entire performance was to raise money for Vale, and the reconstruction of Beacon after the Fall.
The piano began, slowly, one note at a time, a quiet, enthralling melody.
Weiss stared into the crowd. She seemed to be looking for something, or rather, someone.
Sea green eyes met soft, ice blue ones, and Percy smiled, nodding reassuringly.
Weiss smiled back, a slight upturning of her lips, before she recentered herself.
"Mirror..."
"Tell me something..."
"Tell me who's the loneliest of all?"
The violins and violas began playing in symphony with the piano, ramping up.
And Weiss dazzled.
Percy entered the high ceiling, white-marbled room. As he stepped foot into the expensive venue, and began descending the stairs, a hush fell over the crowd at the sight of him. They had never seen him before, in person. Many of them must had been hoping, in some small crevice of their minds, that he wasn't real.
But, he was, and he was here now.
The elite of Atlas were used to being the top of the top, priding themselves on being high status, in the greatest kingdom on Remnant. And now, he stood before them.
They wouldn't be cowed so easily. They shot hostile glances at him, but Percy ignored him, like the dirt beneath his feet.
They were mortal civilians, and their weapons were only words and stares. They had never seen a Grimm in person in their life; they lived a life of comfort and luxury and had never gotten their hands dirty. A select few deigned to stare at him with a look of disgust.
Valeans, they muttered.
Percy changed his plan.
His patented wolf-stare was enough to cow them into submission. As he looked through the crowd, he finally found what he was looking for.
Before he could, though, he was tapped on the shoulder. He turned, coming face to face with Jacques Schnee.
Jacques didn't say anything, only moving to step onto the podium that held the microphone. Percy assumed Jacques wanted him to give a speech sponsoring the SDC.
The shrewd businessman approached the microphone, stepping up to it.
He cleared his throat loudly, gathering the attention of the guests. When everyone quieted down, he finally began.
"Thank you all for attending this charity banquet tonight," he said, as camera setups recorded him, "As you all may or may not be aware, Beacon Academy of Vale has fallen, and Vale was attacked, unfortunately. Many lives were tragically lost. My own daughter, Weiss, fought against the White Fang and the Grimm that terrorized Beacon Academy."
"The purpose of this banquet is to raise money so that we, the people of Atlas, can show the world that we care. For ten million lien, a painting by the legendary Mistralian artist Leonardo Da Vinci can be yours. All proceeds shall go directly towards funding the repairs for Beacon Academy. And now, a word from our esteemed guest, who singlehandedly held back the Grimm, the Savior of Vale, Perseus Apollyon."
Jacques ceded the stage to him, and Percy stood up to the microphone, to the intense gazes of the audience. A hush once again fell over the crowd, a comforting blanket of silence that allowed Percy the chance to speak.
"Good evening, everyone," he smiled, "I'm sure all of you saw the destruction of Beacon Academy. It was tragic. Many innocent students' lives were lost. To compensate this, and the rising dust prices, the Schnee Dust Company, the world's greatest dust provider, has generously agreed to lower dust prices by a dozen lien across the board, stimulating the economy for all of us."
And then, Percy decided to pull the stunt he had been planning.
"In addition, they have promised better working conditions for the faunus workers in the mines, and a twenty percent increase in wages," the crowd began murmuring amongst themselves, "Simply put, this does not do much, but it is a step in the right direction."
"At the end of the day, the Schnee Dust Company wants to show its generosity to the people of Remnant, which is why they are holding this banquet in the first place. Thank you everyone, and enjoy your night!"
Percy stepped back off the podium.
He caught Jacques glaring at him, and Percy had to hide a smirk. Throwing in that little faunus wage thing was planned.
He couldn't get sued. First, Jacques had made a critical mistake: he had told him to put in "a good word" for the SDC. Ambiguous wording was a rookie mistake.
Second, the agreement was only verbal, which was another rookie mistake. Percy hadn't actually signed the contract, meaning he couldn't be sued for anything.
Third, Percy had already checked that the one million lien had been deposited into his account. He didn't really care about the five million on the table for sponsoring the SDC further anyway.
Now, if the SDC didn't better their working conditions and raise the faunus' wages by twenty percent, they would be publicly scrutinized by the media, and attacked. After all, the media would sooner believe that the SDC was lying, then believe that he, a god in their eyes, would lie so blatantly.
He grinned at Weiss as he waded through the crowd on the floor.
A nearby waiter offered him a glass of champagne. After only a moment's hesitation, he graciously accepted; here on Remnant, he was of age. It was a banquet after all. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted.
He finally reached Weiss.
"We didn't get a chance to talk before we left to the venue. You were enchanting with your performance," he told her honestly. He sipped the champagne, swirling the taste on the tip of his tongue. Needless to say, he wasn't a drunkard; ahem, Qrow, Dionysus, but he liked the taste nevertheless.
"T-Thank you..." she cleared her throat, looking up at him, "I liked the little stunt you pulled there."
"What stunt?" Percy asked innocently.
Weiss giggled, "What stunt indeed. I liked what you did, you know. Taking things into your own hands. I hope I can do that when I own the SDC one day..."
"Perseus!"
Percy turned around to see who was calling him and saw General Ironwood waving at him from the corner of the room.
He turned back to Weiss, "I'll be back in a bit, just hang tight, Weiss, okay?"
"...Yeah..." she replied.
"Hello, James," Percy greeted, smiling at the General. They were colleagues, pretty much friends at this point. To say that they had an amicable relationship would be an understatement. Percy appreciated Ironwood's input, Ironwood his, and vice versa.
However, Ironwood didn't greet him back. He looked serious.
"We should discuss this, away from," Ironwood took a cursory glance around, "Prying eyes."
"Of course," Percy instantly agreed, knowing that Ironwood wanted to speak to him about something important. He could already feel someone lurking in the corner with his sense of water.
As Ironwood led them to the balcony, the person followed, and Percy tightened and exerted his will over the person. The person froze up. They were physically unable to move.
It was a cruel way of scaring them off, but it worked. They scurried away, and Percy was able to continue with Ironwood to the balcony.
He stepped out onto the balcony of the Schnee Manor, which boasted the highest point in Atlas. He could admire the view below him, the great city of Atlas stretching out under his bird's eye view.
He sipped his champagne again.
He understood why they called Atlas the greatest kingdom. It was futuristic, housing the most advanced technology on Remnant. Skyscrapers stretched out below them, almost as far as the eye could see, stopping at the edge of Atlas.
"There was someone there, wasn't there?"
Ironwood knew. Of course he did, considering he wasn't any slouch himself. He was the General of Atlas.
"Yeah," Percy chose to admit, "Just a regular eavesdropper, nothing to be worried about."
And then the person he had felt on the roof dropped down. Riptide was in his hand in the nick of a second, and he cast a silencing ward onto the floor, powering it with his aura.
He was sure to balance champagne in his hand, making sure to not spill it. An expensive drink was still an expensive drink.
The man landed around Ironwood's neck, squeezing his legs together to try and keep Ironwood in a chokehold.
A fatal mistake.
Ironwood was experienced and didn't panic. It seemed like he expected it. He lowered himself, and dipped the man, and running towards Percy.
The black tentacles came out, and Percy was expecting it.
Percy parried away the tentacles that came out of the man's back with Riptide, cutting them away. Their hide was tough, but it was nothing to celestial bronze, a divine metal.
The man flung himself at him, trying to stab him. It was pitiful, but Percy leaned to the side anyway, weaving under the strikes. Some champagne spilled onto the floor, and Percy frowned. That had been a perfectly good drink.
Remembering Taiyang's teachings, he flowed behind the man, before grabbing him and putting him in an arm hold with the help of a holding ward.
His other hand carefully brought the glass of champagne to his lips, and he sipped.
"Who sent you?"
The man only snarled, opening his mouth to reveal large, sharp fangs, that seemed to salivate. Even more black limbs came out from his back, as he tried to renew the attack.
Alright. No more fucking around.
Percy twisted the man's arm, tearing it in half, before brutally ripping it out of its socket. Even aura couldn't protect the man from him.
The man screamed, but it was muffled by the silencing ward. Ironwood fired at him, but the man launched himself backwards.
Percy was about to pursue, when he noticed something. The man's flesh... it seemed to be regenerating. The flesh, the bone, the tissues on his arm...
The tentacles came out again, but this time, they were faster than before. Ironwood fired rapidly, but they were blocked by the man's tentacles, which seemed like a blur.
They were still too slow for Percy, though. He decided that he didn't like how the man was regenerating his arm.
He ducked, cutting and slashing through the barrier with Anaklusmos. Momentary flashes of golden arcs could be seen trailing behind his swings, as he reached the man's neck in no time.
He slashed it, decapitating him. And it was over.
He was covered in black dust, his suit already messy. Ironwood was the same.
And the glass of champagne was, thankfully, mostly intact.
He had killed a human, Percy realized.
Well, it wasn't really a human. It was almost a feral, intelligent Grimm, he rationalized to himself.
And so, Percy couldn't find it in himself to care. Maybe it was a byproduct of his ascension, but he was emotionally detached from killing a former human. He dusted off his suit and disintegrated the arm by using a small expel ward, before releasing the silencing ward.
On second thought, he re-placed it, not wanting anyone to overhear their conversation.
Neither of them were really perturbed the events that had just occurred. Earlier that day, Percy had warned Ironwood of the hybrids, and of their assassination attempt on him. He had warned him of the hybrids that would attack. And here they were.
Percy was the first to break the silence.
"Well, that happened."
"Indeed."
"What did you call me out here for?" Percy asked.
"It is clear that Mistral is the next target of the Queen," Ironwood reasoned, "Which is why I would like to ask... what is your plan?"
"My plan?" Percy asked, confused.
"Yes, your plan," Ironwood rolled his eyes, "You have a plan, right? The Queen seems to be attacking Mistral... I would like to send Winter Schnee and Penny Polendina to Mistral, but I trust you and your plans."
It was a large show of respect, for a military general, and not just any military general, but the General of Atlas, to tell him that he trusted him.
"Yes," Percy admitted, looking out into Atlas again. He took a couple seconds to gather his thoughts, and then he spoke.
"All of this is a ploy. They likely have connections everywhere and know where the Spring Maiden is. They will focus forces there, and they have a high chance of actually obtaining the Spring Maiden... which is why they know I'll be there to stop it. They likely know I will go to Mistral, though."
"Then what?" Ironwood asked, confused. To an outsider, it would seem like a game of "he knows that he knows that..." but it was psychological warfare at its finest.
"When you send Winter Schnee and Penny Polendina, what will happen to Atlas?"
Ironwood's back stiffened, showing Percy that he'd made the connection.
"They will attack Atlas," he finally said, connecting the dots.
He nodded silently, allowing Ironwood to gather his thoughts.
"But..." Ironwood clenched his fist, thinning his lips. Percy understood. It went against his very nature of a military general, to bank on guesses and predictions instead of solid evidence.
"Salem is cunning," Percy said, "She will move on Atlas with a multitude of Grimm, if I am not here. She knows where I am at all times. She knew that I was on the bullhead to Atlas, she knew that I was at this charity banquet, and she will know that I am in Mistral. She will attack where I am not."
"Despite your status, you cannot be everywhere at once," Ironwood agreed, frowning, "Then what am I to do?"
"Keep Winter Schnee and Penny Polendina in Atlas," Percy suggested, "And I will advance to Mistral."
"Ah, but you forget," Ironwood said, as an idea began to form in his head, "The Ace Ops, my most elite team of huntsmen are here to defend Atlas. The Special Operatives unit in general will be able to assist. "
"Are they aware of the situation?" Percy asked, referring to Salem and the Relics.
"Yes," Ironwood nodded, "With Ozpin gone, I needed my own team of people that I could trust. Penny and Winter, as well as the Ace Ops, are already aware of the situation. The Special Operatives are not, however."
Percy nodded. That was reasonable.
"Additionally, we have Fria, the Winter Maiden. She is old, but still in fighting condition."
"Is she vulnerable?" Percy raised an eyebrow, "Would you risk that?"
"To protect Atlas?" Ironwood nodded firmly, resolutely, "Yes. I would die for Atlas."
It was this kind of dedication that inspired others' devotion. It was why Ironwood was such a great general.
"Then you would still send Winter Schnee and Penny Polendina to Mistral?" Percy mused, sipping his drink, "You have changed my perspective. Perhaps this is more of a two-for-one, than a ploy for the Winter Maiden... I should stay in Atlas, then."
"No," Ironwood refuted him, "Atlas has the world's greatest military, and the Winter Maiden. Battleships and bullheads are plenty, and we still have the Relic. You need to go with Mistral... your team needs your help."
Percy had to reluctantly agree with Ironwood. As much as he wanted to stay and protect Atlas, Mistral could fall, even with the number of fighters they had on their side there. Qrow, Tai, Winter, Penny, and Team PRWBY and JNPR weren't enough to stop all of Salem's side. Percy had no doubt that Salem must have millions of Grimm on Anima alone, and superior fighters on her side like Tyrian Callows, Hazel Rainart, and Cinder Fall.
"Very well then," he finally said, "And for Atlas... there will be a Grimm invasion, there is no doubt of it."
"It is best to check everywhere on Solitas..." Percy warned him, taking a sip of the champagne, "Salem's network likely stretches all across Remnant. She could be building up Grimm in the North of Solitas, just getting ready to run you all over."
"Nothing is out there," Ironwood countered, "And even if it was, they would have to cross the Withered Highlands or go around to the Southern Tundra to even come close to Atlas. We'll spot them long before they even make contact."
"That's assuming they take the straight-line route," Percy countered back, "They could cut around the continent, or trek at a steeper angle to cut to Atlas. Even if Atlas levitates further into the atmosphere, it will leave Mantle unprotected."
"...You are right again, Perseus," Ironwood admitted after a short pause for thought.
"I will be careful. You be careful too, Perseus."
"Thank you, James. That is all I can ask for," Percy placed his free hand on Ironwood's shoulder, patting it gently, as he left the balcony.
"Apollyon..."
Percy turned around. It was Jacques Schnee, again.
He expected him to look disappointed, angry even, with a patronizing look on his face. Instead, he looked... indifferent.
"Yes, Jacques?" he raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his champagne.
"That little stunt you pulled earlier... you have my respect."
What? Percy was taken aback for a second. Wasn't this Jacques Schnee, a shrewd businessman?
"But... do not do it again," Jacques glared at him.
It might have been frightening for someone else, but for Percy, it was a puppy's glare, and he had to stop his lips from twitching, and to not laugh.
"My daughter will deliver the contract to you tonight. Please consider it."
That was... odd. Hadn't he said that Weiss would deliver it at the banquet? Why hadn't she? It was probably because they hadn't had any alone time... but it was strange she hadn't made an effort to give it to him yet. She didn't have a purse on her either...
Percy pondered all of these questions as Jacques Schnee walked away.
His scroll buzzed in his pocket, and Percy pulled it out to check.
One new message from certain old crow.
It was a good thing these text channels were end-to-end encrypted.
"Shion, huh? Interesting..."
"So... I saw your concert performance! It was... lovely- you were lovely," he tried to compliment her.
Weiss didn't respond to him. Instead, she stared at the painting in front of her, admiring the skill displayed.
Who was this idiot who was trying to chat her up? Douchey-looking blue hair, he seemed like another member of the Atlas elite families, who wanted to "make connections".
"It's a lovely painting, isn't it?"
"Do you even know what this is for? Did you pay attention to the speech he made?" Weiss' eye twitched.
"Tch," Marigold scoffed, "You mean that Valean scumbag?"
"Perseus Apollyon is my date," Weiss stated coldly. Although, it hadn't been much of a "date" at the banquet so far, since she'd never really had the chance to talk to him.
"Tch," he scoffed again, with that irritating voice of his, "He's nothing but a one trick pony."
How dare he! That arrogant, pretentious scumbag! Weiss took a quiet, deep breath. Her fuse was about to blow.
And she ignored him, staring forward at the painting. Silence was the ultimate weapon.
She could feel the atmosphere begin to get awkward, but she didn't feel awkward herself. The immature boy at the corner of her eye began fumbling awkwardly.
"Henry... Marigold," he eventually said, holding out his hand for a handshake.
Weiss ignored him. He didn't exist to her, just like Vale apparently didn't exist to the Atlesian elite; they were above it.
"O-kay..." he finally got the hint through his thick skull, as he left.
Weiss sighed in relief. Idiotic, scumbag, boorish Marigolds...
They were always trying to get in their family's good graces, which meant Winter and Weiss being primary targets for them. At the end of the day, they were just another family of ignorant Atlesian elites.
"Hey, Weiss," she heard, as she turned around. Finally, there was the person she had been looking for.
"Hey yourself, Percy," she smiled at him, "I liked the little stunt you pulled there."
"Heh," he chuckled softly, "It was nothing..."
Now, they could just relax. Away from Salem, the relics, the maidens, everything...
Her scroll buzzed, again
No... no... the contract.
The contract she had to get him to sign, to restore her allowance... she had to get in her father's good graces if she wanted to keep her position as heiress of the SDC. Her hands felt a little clammy, and evidently, she showed it on her face, too.
"Weiss?" he sounded worried, "Are you okay?"
She didn't answer for a few seconds, gathering herself.
"...Yeah..." she looked down.
"Hey," he smiled, reaching out. His hand touched her chin, and it occurred to Weiss that it was comfortingly warm, as he gently lifted her chin upwards. Ice blue eyes met enchanting sea green, and Weiss' breath hitched momentarily.
It was mesmerizing, the colors that seemed to swirl around relentlessly, yet calmly, like a somber, powerful ocean that seemed to have no end. They were electric, too, and she felt a little thrill run through her just looking at them, lost in the endless sea.
"Weiss?" he asked, confused.
"I... yeah."
She cleared her throat awkwardly, shaking her mind to the task at hand.
She had to seduce him... to get the contract... to keep her position as heiress and get her allowance back...
She- she was going to r-rape him... l-like a harlot...
Weiss could feel her hands, her palms, getting a little clammy... she swallowed, trying to gather herself, under his concerned gaze.
"Are you alright?" he asked unsurely.
She forced herself to smile.
"Of course. Dance with me, Percy."
In truth, he was enchanting.
She was enchanted to meet him. They danced to the slow melody.
He twirled her, and she felt her heart flutter. She smiled, leaning into his arms, his scent, as they intertwined.
Please, please don't let there be someone else, waiting on you, she thought.
She didn't want him to be the one that got away.
They slow danced to the beautiful sounds of the orchestra, to the gentle rainfall. Her feet hurt a little from dancing in her heels, but it was worth it.
She could feel the warmth of his embrace, of his hands, as she stared into his sea green eyes, utterly enraptured.
Why? Why couldn't she kiss him on the dance floor?
Why couldn't it be like that? She wished it could be like that.
Because she was his the moment he commanded it.
She wanted to stay like this forever.
As the dance drew to a close, her smile faded. She removed her hands from his shoulders, taking a step back.
Now was the perfect opportunity.
"I-I feel a little tired," she declared, her heart palpitating, "I-I would like to retire to my bedroom for the night."
"Of course," Percy said, "I'll come with you, if you don't mind?"
Of course, Percy, being the perfect gentleman, offered to walk her to her room.
Weiss internally shook her head. She was horrible, despicable, for this. This was going to ruin their friendship, and her relationship with her team.
But she had to do it. She would inherit the Schnee Dust Company and make the world a better place.
Anything to change the world, right?
The cold, dark winters of Solitas were as harsh as they were never-ending, and desolate. With constant subzero temperatures during the winters, and from fifty to sixty inches of snow a year, the northern mountains and tundra of Solitas that divided the continent were a wonderland of ice and pure danger.
To the south of the Withered Highlands was the Kingdom of Atlas, and the City of Mantle, its former capital.
Living in such harsh conditions costed too many resources, and too much energy. Living so far north wasn't an option for citizens who were used to the heating and food of Atlas and Mantle. The weather was far too cold for the crops to be grown, not to mention that the soil was extremely lackluster, and poor, even if there were not several feet of snow on top of it. If Atlas tried to expand outwards like Vale had with Mountain Glenn, they would run the risk of the Grimm. And so, for these reasons, Atlas dared not to expand far beyond its borders.
The Withered Highlands served as a natural barrier to potential invaders, not that any would come from the far north; not a single person in Atlas believed anyone could survive in those conditions. The sea served as another natural barrier, and of course, the air. Atlas levitated above Mantle, so that any incoming invaders would immediately be spotted by them. And so, the citizens of Atlas always felt safe.
For decades, there had been no sign of invaders from the North, and slowly, as the years went by, Atlas forgot about the North entirely.
Because, to the north of the Withered Highlands was a cold, desolate tundra, where none could survive. Or so one thought.
In truth, escaped faunus from the SDC mines had formed a small society here. Now, one would think the White Fang was in charge of these people, but then why would they live here?
The answer was that it wasn't the White Fang who had freed these faunus in the Far North. It was the Covenant.
The Covenant which raided SDC mines, the Covenant which granted them faith to the all-powerful Goddess.
They, were Gaul. They were a small kingdom, but with resources provided by the Covenant, they were able to survive. They lived off the wildlife. Fish, polar bears, wooly mammoths, snow foxes, and small rabbits, they could all hunt.
Blessed by Salem, the people of Gaul were resistant to cold, but still needed clothes, built from fur from the wildlife that roamed the region.
A woman approached the city's walls, treading across the snow. And yet, despite the subzero, freezing temperatures, she wore only a thin cloak. She was unaffected by the cold.
She possessed a charismatic, ethereal kind of beauty, that, in her youth, had caused her to be considered to be blessed by the gods themselves.
Her eyes were an unusual rainbow aurora, swirling around her irises, like florescent lights... she had dark, stained purple lips, curved in the perfect cupid's bow... her hands and hair were both a pale, deathly white, contrasting her long, pointed nails that were stained with the same gradient as her eyes. With one look at her, one could tell that she stalked forward with a hunter's grace. She wore sleek, black, combat boots with deadly bronze heels, with a pleated skirt. Mesmerizing patterns crossed over her form-fitting cloak, contrasting perfectly with her eyes.
As she approached, the guards felt her presence. It was something innate inside of them, intrinsic, which caused them to open the gates, without question.
She entered, the blessed faunus of Salem felt their presence, and, one by one, bowed to she who ranked above them.
One man did not bow, however, and instead approached them. He was their leader, their jarl.
He was a yellow-eyed, black-haired man. He would have looked unassuming, if it were not for his clothing. He wore a long purple cape hung behind him, nicely contrasting the gold chest plate and bracers. He had black trousers, cut off at the knee and tucked into a pair of high, solid black boots that crunched in the snow. A crown of iron thorns sat on top of his head, designating him the ruler of Gaul.
Still, the expression on his face was utterly apathetic, without even the slightest hint of emotion, as he went to greet his fellow apostle.
"Lower Apostle Two, Discordia."
"Lower Apostle Three, Ørsted. Shall we take this inside?"
"We shall."
They walked in a comfortable silence, as they approached the main headquarters. Ørsted stepped up, pushing open the great, white double doors, giving way to an exquisitely spacious, marble interior.
They stepped in, and the doors, almost as if having minds of their own, closed behind them with a powerful thud.
The Lower Apostle Two was the first one to break the silence.
"Oh come on," Discordia pouted, "Loosen up a bit! You're so uptight!"
"Is being uptight a bad thing?" the Lower Apostle Three simply replied.
The Lower Apostle Two would not let up, "Come on, we should get drunk!"
"I'm assuming you have something to report?" Ørsted asked, bored. Eerily, there was nothing on his face, no expression at all... it seemed as if he was clinically apathetic.
"Ugh, fine... the Goddess would like me to proceed to Mistral. You are to take over operations here when Apollyon goes to Mistral."
"Is this not what I have already been doing?"
"Yes, but now I get to be with my Percy~ he's such a cutie, isn't he? Isn't he?"
Before he could say anything, Discordia continued, "But I'm keeping him. He's mine, and mine only, got it?"
"Despite your carnal desires, the Goddess seems to have a claim on him," Ørsted pointed out.
The Lower Apostle Two whirled on him, her expression suddenly changing into a snarl.
Long, fangs protruded from her mouth, as she glared up at him. A knife appeared in her hand, tickling the bottom of his chin.
A drop of reddish black blood oozed from the contact point, dripping onto her blade. He had retracted his aura from the area.
Ørsted did not move.
Not out of fear, no, even if Discordia was ranked higher than he was. His eyes were flat.
Disinterested, uncaring. Apathetic.
He merely stared down at her passively. The shadows in the corner of his poisonous yellow eyes lengthened like tendrils, beckoning.
"Are you done?"
Discordia snarled, withdrawing her blade with the flick of a wrist. Her fangs shrunk back in, and soon, she appeared like a normal huntress once more.
"The Goddess commands that I head for Mistral to support Upper Apostles One, Two, and Four: Lilith, Tyrian, and Cinder respectively. Hazel Rainart is approaching from Menagerie as well. They have located the Spring Maiden. Lilith will achieve Spring. Then we only need half of Fall, Summer, and Winter."
"And Lower Apostle One?"
"No suspicion on her as of yet. Her movements have not been hindered," Discordia replied.
"Ironwood will likely send Winter Schnee, and possibly Penny Polendina to Mistral to assist," Ørsted began speaking, his voice bland and monotone, "My sources have also reported Qrow Branwen and Taiyang Xiao-Long present in the area, and Pyrrha Nikos, the quarter maiden, is bound to participate."
"Even if Raven Branwen and the Spring Maiden join their side, their possibility of victory is low without Apollyon. Therefore, having Lower Apostle Three in Atlas will be a large advantage if the kingdom's only primary protector is Ironwood, and an old maiden."
"Yes," the Lower Apostle Two nodded. Her smile was all teeth.
"The Goddess ordered a perfect distraction. All signs point to Mistral, yet Atlas will be the one to fall. Or, in truth, Mantle."
Ørsted nodded, "Gaul will move against Atlas, prompting the General to make a decision. Based on scouting reports, he may choose to protect Mantle, stretching Atlesian forces thin. Or, he may choose to abandon Mantle. Either way, we will have the ability to move against Atlas or Mantle."
"There seems to be no technical issue. Have the three sentient Grimm dragons awoken?"
"Not quite. They will awake in time," Ørsted responded, monotone.
"On the dawn which Apollyon leaves for Mistral, the siege of Mantle will begin."
AN: And that's a wrap!
Disclaimer: I don't do stock-trading, I'm just talking about it from an outsider's perspective so it could be inaccurate.
Remember, Blake never dated Adam in this story. Honestly, I think it makes more sense, given the age differences, and how Blake initially describes Adam as a mentor in canon.
Percy likes his champagne. A warning to Salem: don't touch his champagne.
The Weiss/Jacques Arc is coming to a climax next chapter!
And look! More Lower Apostles for Salem, who plan on moving on Atlas and Mistral!
Join my discord for previews of the next chapter every week!
Discord links
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How'd you like this chapter? Review, comment, favorite, follow, vote, but only if you enjoyed! It helps motivate me to write more.
'til next time!
-thann3