I want to go home and then edge.

Disclaimer: neither RWBY nor Bloodborne belongs to me.

So, that Bullhead thing you mentioned before—what exactly is that?

The next morning, as Vilhelm met up with Qrow, he was surprised to hear that Qrow had sent a message to the academy, before informing him that he unfortunately had some unfinished business in the Grimmlands. Because of that, Qrow would only escort him to the nearest city, which had something called a Bullhead station.

Since that conversation, Vilhelm couldn't stop wondering how a bulls head could help travelers. Up until now, every single explanation he came up with was more absurd than the last.

"Never seen a Bullhead?" Qrow asked with an amused grin.

"Never even heard of it," Vilhelm replied.

"Well, it's a flying machine, the fastest way to travel, and—"

Before Qrow could finish his sentence, an excited Vilhelm interrupted him.

"Ah! So it's some kind of flying machine! I've seen plans for one. They were drawn by a certain Sir Cayley. And while his designs were mostly gliders, am I correct in assuming that it flies by generating lift through a downward thrust, like one of Da Vinci's designs? Yes, it's been some time since those plans were published, so it should have been enough time for—"

"Something the matter, Qrow?"

Shaking his head, Qrow replied, "No, not at all. But you seem quite knowledgeable about something you've never seen before."

"Yeah, I had an outrageous amount of free time, so I just spent it dabbling in whatever interested me at the moment. Yet, I can't wait to see one of these Bullheads! While it's been a while since I read through Sir George Cayley's designs, I believe I know what to expect."

I didn't expect that at all.

The Bullhead, as the contraption was called, looked less like the head of a bull and more like a metallic cross—if, on the two ends of said cross, there were two cylindrical contraptions. A part of the front section also seemed to have been removed, only to be replaced with glass.

But what boggled Vilhelm more than its ability to fly, or the apparent wastefulness of using precious metal on such a construct, or even questioning why he was sent to such a strange place, was…

"Why exactly is it called 'Bullhead'? It looks nothing like the head of a bull."

"I don't know," Qrow replied. "Probably some creative liberty taken by the designer. And while I'd love to hear your incoming rant about naming conventions, I really should be going. Did you understand everything?"

Fighting the urge to give a rather un-noble reply, Vilhelm answered, "Yes. This Bullhead will take me straight to your so-called academy, where the Headmaster will be waiting for me. If he doesn't appear immediately, I should simply wait a while, even though that seems highly unlikely."

"Great," Qrow exclaimed. "Now I really must get going. A quiet journey to you, Vil."

"To you as well, Mr. Branwen."

As Vilhelm watched Qrow round the corner, he couldn't help but think to himself:

What a strange individual. If he weren't so eccentric, he would have fit right in with the Powderkegs of old. Yet at the same time, there's this nagging feeling about him. The first time I met him, I assumed my senses were dulled by my last death, but that feeling never disappeared. Well, I suppose a more pressing issue would be my first flight. Knowing my luck, the pilot will probably manage to bump into a Great One or something equally absurd.

"Yes, Qrow, I presume you managed to send the individual on his way?"

A voice from his Scroll inquired.

"Of course. He should arrive in three hours. He's a bit taller than me, wears a black coat with expensive-looking stitching, carries a flintlock pistol and a two-handed sword, and his hair… calling it white would be an understatement—it looks as if it was bleached. If he hadn't mentioned being from a place called Cainhurst, I would've thought he was some long-lost Schnee heir."

"Very well. I will greet him upon his arrival. Is there anything else, Qrow?"

"At the moment, nothing. And honestly, I doubt I'll find anything, considering I wasted an entire day escorting him."

"Try to find something anyway. But if you're certain you won't, you may return." The voice explained.

"I will." was Qrow's curt reply.

How surprising.

To Vilhelm's surprise, the flight in the Bullhead was not only relatively fast but, to his astonishment, also relatively boring. No Great One decided to grab the metallic craft for a quick snack, nor did it spontaneously combust. It wasn't even attacked by an airborne creature.

After a few hours, a structure that could only be the academy—where the Huntsmen, as they were called, were trained—appeared on the horizon. While Vilhelm was accustomed to castles and gothic architecture, he still found himself impressed. The academy looked less like the fortress that Cainhurst was and more like something that had escaped from a fairytale. It was made entirely of marble—or at least a stone remarkably similar. The centerpiece of the entire structure was a gigantic tower, surrounded by several smaller ones.

Yet, nothing was as strange as the figure that approached him after the surprisingly soft landing. At first glance, the man didn't seem to possess any outstanding qualities. He was of average height, wore a deep green suit, and carried a mug in one hand and a cane in the other. His gray hair was the only thing betraying his age.

But when Vilhelm tried to observe him with Insight, things started to look—for lack of a better word—weird. His figure seemed to flicker, as if submerged in water. This alone was enough to cause concern, but what was truly unsettling was his shadow, which changed every few seconds. At one moment, it seemed to wear a crown; at another, it looked draped in heavy robes; and then, just as suddenly, it shifted into the form of armor. A truly strange—if not outright dangerous—individual.

Vilhelm was so preoccupied with the gray-haired being that he almost didn't notice the other person approaching him. Almost.

She was slightly taller than him, dressed in a white blouse and a black dress, with blonde hair and… was that a riding crop?

Before Vilhelm could dwell on why someone would carry a riding crop, the being in human skin spoke to him.

"Ah, you must be Vilhelm. I am Ozpin, the Headmaster of this academy, and this is my assistant and the combat instructor, Miss Goodwitch."

Quickly formulating a reply Vilhelm responded:

"Indeed, I am Vilhelm of Cainhurst. I am most thankful for you spending your valuable time on my woes. For that, you have my deepest gratitude."

Thinking to strengthen his words, Vilhelm performed a Hunter's Salutation as a sign of respect. This seemed to amuse the Headmaster but elicited no reaction whatsoever from his assistant.

"You are welcome, Mr. Vilhelm," Ozpin said. "However, I believe the specifics should be discussed in my office. If you would follow us?"

The Headmaster spoke with a slight grin.

"Of course, Headmaster. It was not my intention to hinder our endeavor with my lack of foresight."

Well this can't be good if they were to try to attack me i would not only have to fight whatever creature the headmaster is, but also his assistant who is the combat instructor of a academy of warriors but i would also have to escape from his office. I only hope that the office wont be to secluded, that would help with an escape attempt on my part.

Well, I'll be damned.

Every single plan that might have allowed for a quick escape was immediately shattered the moment Vilhelm entered the Headmaster's office. It was a large, circular room at the very top of the academy's highest tower, with gears lining the walls and ceiling. While it was certainly an impressive space, it offered nothing in terms of a quick exit.

Which meant that, as usual, the noble would have to kill everyone in the room just to have a chance at escaping—an option that made success highly unlikely.

"Mr. Vilhelm, would you please take a seat?"

The Headmaster's voice came out of nowhere, breaking Vilhelm's train of thought. He hesitated for a moment before sitting in the chair opposite Ozpin's desk.

"Now," Ozpin exclaimed, "I believe we can begin. How may I help you?"

"I was told by an individual called Qrow Branwen that the Headmaster of Beacon Academy would be my best chance to return to the city of Yharnam."

Ozpin seemed to think for a moment before responding.

"Well, I would love to help you, but I'm afraid there is no place in Remnant that goes by the name of Yharnam."

Vilhelm's eyes widened in shock, but before he could respond, Ozpin continued.

"Indeed, I have traveled across all of Remnant many times, yet this is the first I've ever heard of a place with such a peculiar name. However, I still believe I may be able to assist you."

Hearing this, Vilhelm looked up.

"Beacon Academy has access to the largest stockpile of information in all of Remnant, and as its Headmaster, I have full access to it. I will do my best to find as much information regarding Yharnam as possible."

That's too good to be true—especially coming from something like this.

"I appreciate your help, Headmaster, but it beggars belief that you would do all this purely out of the goodness of your heart, without expecting any favors in return," Vilhelm said cautiously.

"Well, it is less of a favor and more of an opportunity," Ozpin replied. "You see, Qrow has described your battle prowess, and while I will gather information for you, I would also like to see you enrolled in my academy as a student. Of course, the moment I find the location of your city, you are free to leave. However, should you change your mind during your stay, you are welcome to continue your studies here at Beacon."

And here comes the bait.

Vilhelm doubted Ozpin was luring him in simply to do... whatever he did to those figures in his shadow—especially given that this seemed to be a prestigious academy. However, the claim about his battle prowess couldn't be the real reason. After all, he had only grabbed Qrow's arm and pressed the barrel of his Evelyn against his chin—any ruffian with a day's worth of experience could execute such a maneuver flawlessly. Maybe it was because of his expensive clothing? No, that was even more unlikely; this was a school for warriors, not nobles.

Thinking over his response, Vilhelm finally spoke.

"Headmaster, while I appreciate your offer, it is no less unexpected. I did not fight alongside Mr. Branwen, nor does my family hold any reputation here whatsoever. I simply cannot make sense of your sudden invitation."

"Not to worry," Ozpin reassured him. "Qrow is an experienced Huntsman—I trust his judgment completely. Besides, you survived in one of Remnant's most dangerous regions alone—a feat even licensed Huntsmen would struggle with. In short, while we may not have directly witnessed your skill, your actions speak for themselves. So, what do you say?"

Still not fully convinced, Vilhelm nonetheless asked: "I have one final inquiry. You mentioned that I may leave when you locate Yharnam. However, if I find my stay here unproductive, would I be permitted to leave of my own accord?"

"But of course," Ozpin answered, to Vilhelm's surprise. "There would be no issue with that."

After a few moments of contemplation, Vilhelm finally said, "Very well. I accept."

"Wonderful," Ozpin said with a smile. "But first, we must create your student records. Worry not—only academy staff will have access to them. Now, while this may seem like an unnecessary question, do you have your Aura and Semblance unlocked?"

"Aura? Semblance? What exactly is that?"

Seeing the surprised expressions on both the Headmaster and his assistant, Vilhelm deduced that they had not expected such a response.

Eventually, Ozpin was the one to break the silence.

"Aura is the protective power of the soul. It manifests as a faint glow around one's body and acts as a shield, preventing physical harm. Its color is unique to the individual. Those who have had their Aura unlocked for some time often discover their Semblance—an ability unique to each person. It can range from throwing fireballs to something more subtle, like always appearing confident. And you're saying you possess neither?"

Now that is interesting…

If such abilities are natural here, then I wouldn't have to worry about using my blood in public. But Aura… that's something else entirely.

"I believe I possess something similar to these Semblances. It is not unique to me, however, as my family shares the same or similar abilities. But Aura… I fear I lack it entirely."

This time, it was the assistant who broke the silence.

"Semblances can be hereditary, so sharing one with your family is rare, but not unheard of. However, a Semblance is never discovered before an Aura. Your lack of Aura should not be possible."

"In that case, how does one unlock their Aura?" Vilhelm asked, genuinely curious—thinking about all the times in Yharnam where an all-encompassing shield would have been more than useful.

"Normally, Aura is unlocked through rigorous training or a dangerous situation. However, an experienced Aura user can unlock another's Aura manually. Would you like me to unlock yours, Mr. Vilhelm?" Ozpin asked.

Now that is truly an enticing offer… and I doubt he would try anything suspicious, given that having an unlocked Aura seems to be the norm here.

"I would be honored, Headmaster."

With a curt nod, Ozpin instructed, "Very well. Kneel, and I shall take care of the rest."

Vilhelm knelt as commanded, and Ozpin stepped forward, placing a hand on his chest. A few seconds passed…

Nothing happened.

Noting the confused expression on the Headmaster's face, Vilhelm asked:

"Is something supposed to happen?"

"Normally, your Aura should flash around your body." The assistant explained.

"That is correct," Ozpin added. "However, I can't feel your soul. That is very concerning indeed."

"Well, in that case, I'll simply unlock my Aura the traditional way. And I can't think of a better place to do that than a school meant to train warriors." Vilhelm said with a shrug.

"I cannot allow that." The assistant interjected. "Joining a Huntsman Academy without an Aura is incredibly dangerous, Headmaster, I'm afraid—"

"Not to worry." Vilhelm interrupted. "I can simply wear my armor during sparring lessons. It's incredibly durable and has saved my life on numerous occasions."

"Still, it's too dangerous—"

"Are you certain about the protective nature of your armor, Mr. Vilhelm?" Ozpin asked, cutting off his assistant before she could finish.

"Positive. It's far more protective than steel and much lighter as well."

"Still, it's too dangerou—"

"Very well." Ozpin said, overriding her protests. "The semester will begin in a few days. Until then, I'll arrange for a room in a hotel in Vale for you. You'll receive instructions the day before classes start. If you would return to the Bullheads, I'll signal a pilot to take you to your destination. But first, we need to finalize your paperwork."

The moment Vilhelm left, Ozpin slumped back into his chair.

"That is probably the strangest student file I have ever had the displeasure of seeing," Miss Goodwitch remarked with a bitter smile.

"Indeed," Ozpin replied, glancing at the document.

"Blood manipulation… what a brutal Semblance."

Though Vilhelm had assured them that he could only control his own blood, it did little to ease the concerns of the Headmaster and his assistant.

"I was actually referring to his place of birth and the city closest to it," Glynda continued. "You don't meet many people born into aristocracy—much less in a castle."

With a sigh, Ozpin closed the file and turned to his assistant.

"I know. But the simple fact that he possesses silver eyes is more than enough reason to take him in."

"Even if that entails the possibility of him working for Salem?"

"Yes, even then," Ozpin affirmed. "Young Ruby has shoes to fill that are far too large for her. Having someone else with silver eyes—someone with more experience than her, even if only by a few years—is worth the potential risk."

"YOU ARE NOT INTENDING TO PUT HIM ON THE SAME TEAM AS MISS ROSE."

Glynda screeched, loud enough to make Ozpin wince slightly.

"No, no, of course not," he assured her, which seemed to calm her down slightly.

"I intend to place him on a solo team for the safety of the other students. Fortunately, with his enrollment, we'll have an uneven number of first-years, so singling him out during initiation shouldn't be too difficult."

"You are still putting the other students in serious danger by letting him enroll in the academy." Glynda said, frowning.

"I am well aware of the risk," Ozpin admitted. "But as of right now, the danger you're speaking of is only possible, not guaranteed. If having two silver-eyed Hunters on our side means the eventual downfall of Salem, then it is a risk I am willing to take."

"I hope you're right, Headmaster," Glynda said quietly.

"For the sake of our students—and for the future of the Four Kingdoms—I have to be."

Author's Note:

Well, hello there! As you can probably guess, this is my very first story, and I believe it really shows in the writing. So, constructive criticism is not only appreciated but encouraged!

In addition to this being my first-ever story, English is not my native language, so I have to rely on ChatGPT to proofread my text and make it readable. While I do go over it afterward to ensure nothing was corrected incorrectly, please let me know if I missed anything.

Now, onto the story:

Just to clarify, Vilhelm's silver eyes are not the Grimm-annihilating Death-Star laser that the Remnant version of silver eyes are. However, they are still not natural, and their origins will be revealed later in the book—along with the nature of his Messengers.

As for his weaponry, I decided to give him a custom Trick Weapon for two reasons:

Weiss already has a gunrapier, so giving Vilhelm the Reiterpallasch was out of the question.

I don't like the Chikage—simple as that.

His weapon is essentially a Zweihander-sized Flamberge from Dark Souls 3, with red accents and a knuckle bow. More details will come when Ruby shows up.

And of course, what would a Cainhurst knight be without his trusted Evelyn? So, naturally, I gave it to him as well.

Now, many of you are probably wondering about my upload schedule, so I'm terribly sorry to shatter your hopes and dreams—there isn't one.

I'll try to put out chapters weekly at the very least, but I can't make any promises.

That said, I hope you had a lovely day, and I wish that every fanfic you read (starting now) won't be abysmal trash.