Author's Notes
Quick Note: I want to clarify that this isn't a Jacques Schnee redemption story or something. He's still a thoroughly bad person doing good things for bad reasons. He's going to be a consistent antagonist in the true main character Weiss' story, just one who understands the value of good PR.
This first chapter will be about him, setting the scene. The rest will be about Weiss.
Happy rats, and don't do crime!
Chapter 1 – A Bad Person with a Bad Reason
In which Jacques Schnee does a good thing but only when everyone's watching.
"Thank you, doctor," Jacques said brusquely, holding the piece of paper that…
"Of course, sir. W-We can run it again, if you'd like, but these tests are nearly one hund–"
A pointed look cut the doctor off. He smiled in a very controlled manner and exited the room, leaving Jacques to himself, his daughter's test results, and his absolute bafflement.
The clinic that had conducted the tests was one firmly beyond the Schnees' control. That had been the whole point of this exercise – to avoid Willow or her buffoon of a father from feeding him more garbage. Oh, they always dressed up their garbage with the finest of herbs and spices, nonsense like her unbroken wedding vows or timetables on her scroll from 9 months ago proving her fidelity, but it was garbage just the same.
And yet, Jacques' own independent investigation produced the same garbage. He'd overseen the blood being taken from the infant Faunus, and he'd felt the needle pierce his own skin just the same. Willow had been sampled as well, just for verification, and Nicholas too, having volunteered himself.
He'd been expecting…by the Brothers, he'd been 100% certain that the results would be the proof he needed to expel the animal from his household once and for all. After all, there wasn't much Nicholas could do when Jacques held DNA proof in his own two hands that those 'unbroken' wedding vows of his daughter weren't quite as pristine as she claimed.
But then…
There was no way this could be real. Jacques understood basic biology:
Human + Human = Human.
Faunus + Human = Faunus. Always. Without fail.
There was no way it could be true, and it somehow was, for the very tests (which Jacques had vehemently requested he be allowed to witness being sealed up) that were intended to exonerate him now…he wasn't sure what they now did.
Dust, he'd even switched his own and Nicholas' sample, just to make a fool out of those damnable Schnees when they informed him that Sample B and Sample C were parents and Sample D was the grandparent. But now, the official results of the switched DNA test (interpretable only by him as anything other than inbreeding) informed Jacques Gelé Schnee that he was the one and only father of Weiss Schnee.
And that means…
It meant a lot of things.
It meant that something about the Atlesian educatory system had failed him, if apparently humans could breed and produce Faunus.
It meant that his wife was faithful – hardly a meaningful concern to Jacques, but it would avoid future embarrassment down the line when he rose to the level where things like reputations tended to matter a great deal.
It meant that disowning the child on grounds of bastardy was out of the question.
Is it, though? I'm the only one with tests proving that…
Jacques shook himself away from those thoughts. If the baby truly was his, Willow could royally bugger him if he attempted to remove it from his life only to be disproved later in life. Backpay of child support could grow to ruinous amounts if Jacques' ambitions panned out, and he had wild ambitions for the burgeoning Schnee Dust & Mining Enterprises.
Having a late, late, late, late term abortion was out of the question as well; it would be impossible to not be a prime suspect. Parents of suddenly dying infants always were.
That meant Jacques only option was to keep the Faunus with him.
To keep his 'daughter' with him.
For a brief moment, Jacques' brow creased with deep thought as he wondered whether or not there was veracity to Willow's claims that Weiss was his daughter. She was far too young to see familial resemblance, but Winter had appeared roughly similar as newborn, in so far as one might be able to distinguish one baby from another.
Biology dictated human-Faunus relations could not produce human offspring, but there were exemptions from the natural rules under certain circumstances.
Furthermore, as a female, Willow hardly possessed the constitution or resolve (or brains) to conduct an affair behind Jacques back. Her incessant gestures of romance grew tiresome, but if there was one thing Jacques was any good at…well, that would be finance. But if there were two things Jacques was any good at, they were finances and seeing through deceptions. To an extent, the skills were one and the same, with the former being on a large, economy-wide scale.
Willow always struck me as straight-laced and quite dull both in personality and wit; that was why I chose her as the inheritor to wed myself to. She consented to the DNA tests, suggesting she felt confident in their results…
Perhaps Weiss truly was his offspring. It mattered little, at the end of the day, whether he sired a human or an animal. She could have been a giraffe for all he cared, as long as she –
Shaking his head, Jacques folded up the test results and placed them in his breast pocket. The doctor had left the room to him, and in a clinic as professional as this one, it might be the only time he had some true privacy to think by himself.
Taking the letter out once more, he unfurled it and read over the scant few sentences just to confirm it to himself another time.
Sample B and Sample D are the parents of Sample A. 99±0.5%
Sample C is the parent of Sample B. 97±1.5%
"Perhaps I shall pay young Weiss a visit," Jacques said to himself coolly. Folding his arms behind his back, he exited the room and reentered the public body of the clinic.
The infant babe was probably less than a full day old. Its scrawny arms and disgustingly reddish skin practically induced nausea, but for a professional businessman like Jacques, the ability to reign in one's disappointment at a revolting sight and force a smile. It helped that there was a pane of glass between him and the humanish thing.
"Hello, darling daughter," he cheerily said, well aware that this viewing was far more public than the office in which he'd received the DNA test results. He offered a wailing Weiss a single small wave, one that would satisfy any undercover reporters or bribable witnesses. "So precious…oh, don't you cry. Daddy's here."
Something bumped into him, but Jacques did his best to ignore the distraction.
"Gorgeous. The only word for you is gorgeous." Jacques held a hand over his mouth, pretending he might be crying for the sake of propriety.
The side of his stomach was nudged again, and this time he glanced at the source of this interruption.
A short, stout nurse wearing a surgical mask failed to meet his eyes, finding something on her clipboard more interesting. However, with a barely visible tilt of her head, she motioned towards another baby, one right next to Weiss.
Jacques squinted at the child that was apparently so important that it…oh.
Taking a wide sidestep so that he was now standing in line with the correct infant rather than the one he'd just been gushing over, Jacques cleared his throat. He considered saying something more but elected against it; it would probably be better if he shut his mouth.
Such tiny things, those wings of hers are. I couldn't see them on her or the other baby when she lies on her back. Hopefully, they shall stay just as forgettable in the future.
He knew they wouldn't.
Rather, he knew that he would need to prepare for the day that they did grow. Even if it never came, he simply couldn't take the risk of not having a contingency plan for this monumentally unexpected deviation from his and Willow's plans.
Weiss Schnee was a bird Faunus, and her 'father' Jacques needed to think of a solution.
Suggesting their removal would be a mistake. Nicholas, sentimental fool that he was, didn't see a stain on his family's legacy but another grandchild for him to spoil, and he still legally owned a controlling share of the corporation Jacques now operated, coordinated, and elevated. The old man wasn't going to have to face the burden of raising an animal, and as such, he could afford to live within a fairytale where Winter and Weiss were his little angels…literally, in regard to the latter and her mutation. Willow, with her mind of jelly, did whatever her grandfather or husband asked, in that order.
If Jacques suggested correcting this mistake of the gods, the old man would balk at putting his child under the knife for what he perceived as cosmetic surgery. Even requesting it would alienate Jacques from his benefactors, the Schnees, and he could not afford to be divorced or, worse yet, removed from his position. He was already an outsider to them, and until he secured his position, his existence in the business world hinged on their favor.
In the best-case scenario, Nicholas would die a timely death sooner rather than later, but Jacques couldn't count on that. No, he needed to figure out the proper course of action to this right now. There was a small window of time to seize control – the doctor who'd delivered Weiss had at least had the foresight to keep it quiet and withhold any announcements before calling Jacques in, meaning that as far as Atlas knew, Willow was still heavily pregnant and not yet a mother of two.
Clearly, the best solution is to sequester the infernal growths away from the public eye until Weiss reached the legal age, then convince her to remove them. By that point, neither Schnee will have any sway…or perhaps even any power left, if things go well at the company.
Jacques looked at the pudgy nurse who'd pointed him in the direction of his daughter.
Except that would be borderline impossible. We are already magnates, and I have designs to become a titan. Such things bring media attention, and girl children always receive more time in the eye of the camera. Winter is my heir, and Weiss is my spare. They will be seen and studied, and there's no telling how voluminous those wings might get.
All it would take was a single loose pair of lips, a hidden camera in one shower, a tailor or medical practitioner or wet nurse who didn't know the meaning of the word discretion. Weiss would eventually need to entertain suitors who might expect physical relations, and it would be impossible to keep her back to the bed at all times without arousing some suspicion. Jacques could be thorough to an exceptional degree, but there was no degree that guaranteed absolute security over his daughter's bodily secrecy at all times. The recently released sex tape of the teenaged daughter of the CEO of the largest investing firm in all of Atlas and Mantle was proof enough of that, as were existing nude photos of Jacques' own wife circulating around certain upper-class circles.
And if he hid it, that would be the end. It mattered less what a secret was and more the desire to keep it secret when dirt-seeking media vultures were concerned. Hide something from them, and they would only wonder for what reason you chose to hide it. If and when the truth came out, Jacques' attempts to keep it secret would have essentially been confirmation of Weiss' illegitimacy.
The paper in Jacques' breast pocket felt surprisingly light. It was most bizarre, having to prepare for the eventuality that his daughter would be seen as a bastard despite having proof in his own two hands that she was not. Sadly, the tests themselves would not be proof – that they even had been taken would be enough for wandering minds to realize that Jacques himself had doubted the circumstances of Weiss' conception, and that would be a death sentence.
He was boxed in, truly. Having a Faunus for a daughter, secondary heir to his future success and fortune, was not something Jacques wanted or needed. Winter's gender was already an encumbrance as it was, and now he had a non-human girl on his hands – two problems neatly compressed into a single squirming newborn.
Jacques gazed out at the baby in the nursery that was giving him so much grief and was briefly taken by the paradoxical nature of something so small giving him so many big problems. Weiss, despite her name, was not his snow white heiress. With those accursed feather-sticks of hers, she was guaranteed to be far more of a black sheep in the Schnee family.
But what if she didn't have to be?
Jacques interest in Weiss was twofold: avoiding potentially ruinous embarrassment for suffering a bastard by an unfaithful wife, and ensuring her place in his legacy – to take on the business that he was already making great and make it even greater. By the time she came of age and took her place as CFO at his true heiress Winter's side, the world could be a very different place. He could make it a different place.
Sure, it would require effort and cost money – lots of money – but Jacques wasn't a child. Every investment required capital, but the greatest risks paid out with the finest rewards. In the long run, this would be to his benefit.
No. No, it could be to my benefit immediately, provided I play my cards right.
At the current moment in time, he alone controlled the flow of information. No one outside of this establishment knew of Weiss Schnee's birth yet; as far as the narrative was concerned, Willow Schnee was simply eight and a half months pregnant. And it was the narrative that mattered, not the truth. After all, Jacques could only manipulate the former.
The working-class brutes looked back at Jacques with confusion written across their simple faces. Fortunately, Jacques had come to this mine anticipating their uneducated ignorance and was fully prepared to repeat himself.
"You have heard me correctly. Your wages are being updated in order to ensure consistency with those of the company's…other employees, those in equivalent positions. Rest assured, management is fully aware of your hard work and intends to reward you for each and every day of it." He adjusted his necktie, only to instantly regret the smear that appeared on it from his dirty fingers. "It is your efforts that keep Schnee Dust & Mining Enterprises afloat. You deserve to be compensated just the same as…the other employees."
He meant humans. He knew it, and they knew it as well, but neither particularly cared to use precise language. These mines were run almost exclusively by animals, save for a rare desperate human – typically convicts, indigents, or others with poor enough prospects enough to risk their lives for below minimum wage.
The Faunus before him didn't erupt in cheers, fortunately, instead electing to excitedly whisper among one another. All but a handful had smiles on their faces at this notice of their augmented salaries.
"This has been a change long overdue," Jacques continued on, getting to the part that mattered. "I have only been in charge of mining and refinery operations for a few years, but the plight of our…of your people is one that must not be ignored. Company policies to root out discriminatory practices that have long been in the works are finally being implemented in a company-wide overhaul."
He was now lying through his teeth; he'd merely written up some notes on the back of an envelope, edited them for a few hours until he had removed all inflammatory language, then sent them out in several memorandums over the past few days. But these animals didn't need to know that, nor would they ever be able to find out.
"From this day forth, Schnee Dust & Mining Enterprises shall be reorganized into a new creation – one free from old prejudices that have historically held us back. Today marks our rebirth, ladies and gentlemen, and a birth deserves a fitting name. Welcome to the Schnee Dust Company family, all."
That got him a smattering of polite applause. Marketing truly had been working on a rebrand for a while now, having decided that SDC rolled off the tongue better than SDME in focus groups. Jacques had simply chosen to piggyback off this name change and add in his 'reforms.'
Reforms they were, but net losses they would not bring. The revenue stream would remain steady – the increase to the Faunus' pay would be offset by a complete removal of all onsite medical services as well as select benefits and a standing order to halt safety investigations and maintenance of active mining facilities, but that would be advertised far less than Jacques' progressive new stance towards racial equality. This was not a permanent strategy, but Jacques had some ideas on how to fix that. In due time, of course.
This mine was the last of them all, which he had been visiting on a grand tour in order to spread the news. As of today, his company was an equal opportunity employer.
Jacques did his best to refrain from becoming sick until he was back in private.
"Good evening, gentlemen. Ladies," Jacques said to the other businessmen at the table and their wives. "Apologies for my tardiness."
"Think nothing of it," said Montfranc, who was very clearly thinking much of it. He had been the one in whose name their table at the Chennerie had been reserved, and that was the reason Jacques had chosen to make a late appearance.
"No Willow?" asked Crawford's wife, a ditzy woman that Jacques could barely stand.
Fortunately, he had been in need of someone to ask that very question. "Sadly not. Her pregnancy remains quite troubling, and she needs all the rest she can get."
Willow, per Jacques orders, had been confined to the manor to oversee care for the baby. Like the lovestruck thing that she was, she complied, trusting her husband when he insisted she refrain from public appearances until he could reset the desires narrative onto its path.
"You must be very excited for the baby," said Montfranc's wife, smiling.
Jacques nodded in response. "Another Schnee in this world is always a blessing. Why, my dear father-in-law has been simply over the shattered moon in excitement. Delightful man, he is."
All of the other men knew Jacques despised him, as did most of the women, but perhaps one of the wives had not yet heard of his distaste, so propriety insisted they all refrain from acknowledging his blatant lies.
"The Schnees – certainly an interesting family," said Hue, his smile and tone of voice not at all matching the predatory glint in his eyes. "You must be so pleased you were able to join them, Jacques."
It had been fairly transparent bait, and Hue had fallen for it like the idiot he was in his desperate attempts to one-up his rival. In another world, Jacques might have prepared some wittier retort to fully utilize his awareness of Hue's blatant animosity towards him. Sadly, though, this was not an option today; Jacques needed to pretend that the others controlled the flow of conversation. That way, when it eventually landed on the topic he needed, it would appear that they had taken it there, not him.
"Q-Quite so," Jacques said, pretending to have to grit his teeth at having had to marry into their little circle. "A proud lineage, a resounding familial sense of pride, a treasured history in…" Mantle. "…our kingdom."
"Oh, and that semblance of theirs that every Schnee possesses," Hue added in, providing the obvious trait of the Schnees that Jacques had deliberately left out. After all, why would the Schnee by marriage choose to mention the one trait that drew attention to his ignoble origins?
"Perhaps," Jacques said, sipping his wine to cover his smile. Hue had truly outdone himself, and it was impossible not to release some of his superior sense of elation in the form of a quick grin at the slow man. "Perhaps."
"…perhaps?" asked Hue's wife. "Whatever do you mean, Jacques?"
"Well, genetics are a poorly understood concept. No semblance other than my illustrious family's has ever been confirmed as hereditary – definitive proof of the strength of the Schnee line, of course, but only serving to highlight how many holes there are in modern science's understanding of how traits are passed on. After all, despite extensive research, no one has ever been able to explain precisely why Glyphs are passed on from parent to child."
Jacques took another sip from his wine glass, then politely thanked the server as their dinners arrived. This was not the type of restaurant where one ordered – no, the Chennerie anticipated what you wanted and brought it out for you. A high end establishment for high end men.
"There is merely so much about hereditary inheritance that we cannot comprehend," he went on, keenly aware of the table's attention on their food and not his words. "Why, I once knew a man with two blond-haired parents who was born with dark brown hair of his own. He took after them perfectly in every aspect otherwise – a spitting image of his father, and with eyes that matched his mother perfectly, but not the hair."
"Curious," said Yujinara, who was far too focused on his salmon to ever hear the words Jacques was saying.
"And, my own mother," Jacques said. "Despite having a wingspan of nearly seven feet across, neither myself nor any of my siblings have even a feather."
"I see," said Crawford. He took a bite of his food and swallowed, then paused. A moment of confusion passed across his face as Jacques' words caught up to him, and then he set down his utensils. "Pardon?"
The rest of the table performed similar maneuvers. Jacques was known among their group as the one with something to prove, so his words tended to be discounted as bluster much of the time (again, propriety prevented them from ever acknowledging this). However, this admission of his had keenly captured their attention, even among the women. In fact, especially among the women, known for their gossip.
"My mother? Oh, I suppose I never mentioned her before. Passed away, sadly." Jacques closed his eyes and solemnly nodded. "Lung cancer…chronic inhalation of particulates tends to do that to a person."
"Lung…what did you say just a moment ago?"
Jacques' brow furrowed. "At which point?"
"About feathers, I believe?" said Yujinara.
"Someone related to a…a wingspan?" asked Montfranc. "Unless I misheard."
"Oh, I merely mentioned that my mother's Faunus trait did not pass on to me or any my brothers. Her gorgeous swan wings sadly passed on from this world when she did. Or perhaps it shall skip a generation; I know not."
Weiss was actually a seagull Faunus, according to the doctors, but swans were far more graceful creatures.
Well, all beasts are merely food or wastes of space, but public perception of swans is superior, and the wings are indistinguishable.
"Swan…Faunus," repeated Crawford's wife, slowly. "Swan Faunus. You're a Faunus?"
Jacques smiled congenially and shook his head. "Alas, no. Merely half Faunus, though as I mentioned, no trait came my way. Thus, in that regard, I am fully human."
The confounded men and women of the table rapidly glanced to one another, unsure of what to make of this statement. Each looked to someone else in the desperate hope that they could clarify this, or perhaps to see laughter and confirm that this was all some sort of caustic joke at animal people's expense, but no one found what they were looking for.
"W-Well," said Hue. "I'm sorry for your loss, then. About your mother's passing, that is."
Friends, they were not, but not even rivals knew what to make of it. No sane man in their upper Atlesian circles would ever willingly admit to ignoble origins, least of all when those origins involved a Faunus relative. Such things tended to be shameful affairs, tales of daughters eloping to engage in acts of bestiality and spite their parents, or sons developing mad obsessions with the help when pretty eyes were batted. Rarely, if ever, were there instances of a Faunus progenitor. Jacques was probably the first.
"I've never…you've never…"
Yujinara paused, carefully considering his words, only to shut his mouth and go back to the food on his plate.
Jacques Gelé was a no one who came from nothing. Not a single member of his birth family was alive. Before his marriage to Willow Schnee, he was just another man, disconnected entirely from their world. As such, it was thoroughly impossible for them to ever verify if what he said was the truth. Their only recourse was to base his history on his words…which they would trust. After all, why would a self-conscious man like Jacques ever willingly offer this damning information if it weren't true? Why subject himself to the humiliation of being part-animal over a lie? A Faunus might pretend to be human, seeking to elevate itself, but a human claiming to be part Faunus? Unthinkable.
"You've never mentioned this before," said Hue's wife, picking up where Yujinara left off.
"Haven't I?" Jacques tapped a spoon to his lips. "I thought I…hmm. I suppose I haven't." He shrugged.
"You spoke of chronic Dust inhalation," pointed out Crawford, quite incorrectly. "Was she a miner?"
Jacques scoffed gently with a mirthful smile. "Why do you think I chose to become a part of the SDME? Rather, the recently-renamed SDC."
"I thought that Faunus-human intermarriage always produced…"
Hue didn't have to finish the sentence for everyone at the table, men and women alike, to figure out where he was going with that.
"As I said, it's the genetics – a most tricky subject indeed. It's a well-documented fact that Atlas is home to the finest scientific minds across Remnant, and even our noble kingdom has not yet cracked the code to such mysteries as selective genetic modification and controlled implementation of phenotypes."
Crawford's wife, far more outspoken than her husband, refused to let it drop. "I've simply never heard of human children of Faunus."
Jacques raised an eyebrow. "And here I am," he declared.
"Before you, then."
"Familiar with many Faunus-human families, are you?"
Her face scrunched up, and Jacques was unsure if it was to being called out on talking like an expert on a subject of which she knew little, dismay over being painted as a potential bigot in such an overt way, or a general distaste at the thought of Faunus as a whole. Perhaps all three.
The last of those feelings was which Jacques himself was keenly feeling at having to force this insulting conversation where he compared his own intellect and physical capabilities to an animal. He might've felt his Gelé family honor at having to pretend his mother was an animal or his father a fornicator, but that would imply he had any Gelé family honor whatsoever.
Jacques Schnee was in this for himself and his own legacy, not the pride of some man who sired him or female who bore him.
He could see his victory in their eyes, Crawford's nosy wife having ensured it. Well, Jacques' clever maneuvering had ensured it, but she'd raised the question.
Although, again it was my machinations that pushed her towards asking such questions, so this success is mine after all, but she was the instrument of it.
For, in reminding the businessfolk that she and they all had little to no experience with Faunus reproduction (or Faunus whatsoever for that matter), she'd planted a seed in the minds of Jacques' compatriots. It was the idea that they, as non-experts in the matter, might actually have heard wrong information and been operating under an incorrect assumption about crossbreeding. Their entire lives, they'd all known as a fact that Faunus birthed Faunus children, but not a single head among them had witnessed the act or any evidence of it. None had any proof, and the doubt alone would be enough of a plot of land for Jacques to build up the house of belief in which he wanted them to live.
And who knows – the DNA tests showed Weiss as mine. Unless I had an affair with a bird unbeknownst to me and she switched the babies when my back was turned, it would appear as though two humans truly did produce a Faunus. It's certainly not from my side, but Willow could have feral blood. After all, Nicholas is certainly enough of a bleeding-hearted bumpkin to lie with one of their kind.
It was far to early to broach the topic of their prejudices against Faunus, but today was only the first meeting. These men controlled much of Atlas' eastern quarter's commerce, and Jacques would accept only being able to sway them into believing his rubbish. That way, when Weiss was 'born' in a few weeks, he would have already set the scene for the belief that she was no bastard.
Oh, some might wonder if I falsified the truth to avoid shame (as I did), but I'll have the timeline of events on my side. After all, I admitted to this nonsensical Faunus heritage of mine well before Weiss was 'born' – how could I have possibly known that she was part pigeon when she was still in her mother's womb? No, it'll be easier for them to simply believe the narrative that I've fed them than the truth.
"A toast, then, is in order," said Oqu'ana, easily the most silent and thus the most dangerous member of their group. He raised a glass of wine in the air, smiling with an indecipherable look in Jacques' general direction. "To Jacques Schnee, our newest member, and to all that he has risen above."
As Jacques raised and sipped his drink, ignoring the meaningless applause, he committed every smug prick's face to memory. When one day he could put these small men with their small businesses and small wives behind him as he'd put his working-class origins behind him, he would enjoy looking back on the memory of this night, when they'd all thought themselves better than the half-Faunus mongrel who'd taken Nicholas Schnee's seat.
"Ah, Mr. Schnee, sir," said the chief of marketing, some forgettable fellow by the name of…never mind, Jacques had already forgotten. "Sir, you're in for a real tr–"
"Yes, excellent. Now, you have the commercial?"
The advertiser nodded. "Ready for your viewing, sir."
The two of them filed into the dark theater of about thirty seats, filling in the last two available seats. It was little more than a viewing room with chairs, a projector, and a blank wall, but it served its purpose. Inside already were much of the advertising department, Jacques' own CFO, a handful of analysts, and the actors who starred in the commercial as well. Jacques only cared for the opinions of one of those groups.
One of the women in the theater, a bright-eyed young lady wearing a suit far cheaper than Jacques', sat up the moment he was seated. "Ladies and gentlemen, today you are going to witness the collective labor of over…"
Jacques stifled a sigh of disgust and rolled his eyes. It seemed that these people were so eager to get on his good side that they failed to comprehend the concept of his time being more valuable than theirs. A pity, but at least they had already finished the commercial – that would mean downsizing their department could begin at once.
When the female finished speaking, the film began at long last. Jacques watched, matching his eagerness with a discerningly critical eye for mistakes.
A dog Faunus with two very visible ears similar to those of a bloodhound rose out of bed groggily, taking care not to rouse his still sleeping wife beside him. Their room was barely big enough to accommodate the two of them, especially given the woman's pregnancy.
An alarm clock at his nightstand, while not centered, clearly displayed a time of 4am. Jacques appreciated the subtlety there. He understood the value of allowing an audience to figure out something for themselves rather than have it shoved down their throat.
The Faunus opened up a nearly empty pantry and grabbed out a loaf of bread. Taking two slices, he popped them into the toaster, only for the machine to spark briefly when plugged in and die. The Faunus sighed, briefly considering the failed breakfast, only to decide against it and exit out his front door.
Upon arriving at his place of work, the video showed a Dust mine with a logo of a red hexagon plastered all over the walls in the background (one that closely resembled that of Jacques' competitor Dustivity, but in no way that could be considered slander or copyright infringement). The second he strapped on a worn down hard hat, the color faded out of the video, and the audio became dimly muted.
A human, dressed to be portrayed as a vague boss-cum-foreman, jeered some unheard manner of abuse. His eyes were on the Faunus' ears, but the sound in the commercial had become too faded to hear the precise words he used (thereby keeping it vague and applicable to any trait; another well-executed scene). Nonetheless, the Faunus merely ignored the comment, his dirty face steady in spite of the implied racial profiling.
The depressive Faunus stayed steady at the center of the screen as the background behind him and the tools in his hand switched to denote his numerous tasks throughout the day – mining with a broken pickaxe, drinking coffee in a cramped breakroom, being yelled at by a different human boss-like figure. All the while, his expression gradually grew more and more sullen, and the video slowly became mute and grayscale.
At the end of that short segment, he walked past the same human and received even more insults. The dog-eared man took off his helmet, but his facial expression was still just as defeated as he was when it was on. The color and sound did not return.
The camera then did a frontal shot, showing only his face as it lit up with curiosity that turned into shocked joy. He stepped forward, with the mine disappearing into the background as his smile grew.
At last, the camera rotated around to the back of his head, showing that he was standing in front of a large billboard with the words 'Now Hiring' and a proud Schnee snowflake. The black-and-white world returned to color, and a pleasant melody played as the background noise of the world resumed.
A relieved-sounding female voice came on, with no speaker visible. "What they do – isn't worth it. Schnee Dust: the only cruelty-free, ethically-sourced Dust you can count on. Buy Schnee."
Clapping followed as the commercial drew to a close, but Jacques himself could only press a hand to his face. He'd had such high hopes, only for the commercial to fail in the final moment.
"So, Mr. Schnee," said the forgettable little toad who'd disappointed Jacques so. "What did you think?"
The entire room seemed to lean towards him.
"What I think…" he began. "…is that you shall need to redo the entire commercial."
The clapping stopped.
"We are not trying to hire new employees. The goal is to draw attention to the fact that our existing employees are well-treated. Your commercial spends more time trying to convince those…to convince prospective employees to apply for jobs than it does persuading our clientele to purchase our product."
One of the analysts stepped forward. "W-Well, focus groups have determined that an audience can commiserate with–"
"I don't care for whatever focus group told you to film that hippy drivel. Our biggest clients are distributors, be they kingdom-wide chains or family-owned corner stores. Their primary concern is whether they can sell our Dust on the market, and I assure you that the public associating a dirty little Faunus on the brink of suicide with our Dust will do them no favors."
Jacques forced himself to breathe. As much as he wanted to fire the entire room full of people on the spot, he still needed them. His vision was a very particular one, meaning that it would take very particular imagery to promote it. It wasn't as though a replacement set he hired would be any better suited to generate what he had in mind.
"We are planning to sell Dust for a 500% markup compared to our previous prices in order to offset the recent wage changes, which were previously lower than most other vendors. Our quality, while above average, will not be enough to justify this. We need a selling point, and I have decided that our image is to be 'Faunus-approved' Dust, or 'ethically friendly' or 'pro-cruelty' or whatever it is we need to call it. Do not waste time depicting broken toasters or whatever pity shower that was."
Jacques looked back at the project, which was now replaying the video on a loop and attempted to salvage something of the costs they'd sunk into this project. "I do approve of the depiction of Dustivity as a brand associated with racism. Keep that angle. The portion of the video showing the squalor is also acceptable; if you must, you may keep that in. But trim it down, save the artsy waste for the Mantle Film Festival, and add a portion where the SDC is portrayed in a favorable light for the second half. Don't make the moral of it 'You can be employed by the SDC.' Frame it instead as 'Those employed by the SDC love it here. You, as a consumer, are contributing to their happiness, to the happiness of the poor disenfranchised Faunus if you buy from us.'"
Jacques surveyed the room and saw an intently listening audience. He needed to be careful with his words and his actions.
Nicholas had been a man of the people, someone the average fool off the street could look at and mistake himself for. Jacques was trying to become the hero of the story, a cut above the rest. He was leading the charge, tackling the issues that others dared not face. An explosion in which he lost his temper or called one of the animals under his employ an animal could ruin everything.
It was a delicate line he walked. When Schnee the elder had placed him in charge after his successful courtship of Willow, he'd managed to increase profits by an order of magnitude by undercutting competitor's costs and outselling his rivals in the market. To do this, he'd had to decrease expenses both upstream and downstream, and the best way to do this was to simply hire a desperate workforce that would mine and refine his Dust for pennies. It was a standard industry practice, one that everyone did but no one had done better than Jacques Schnee.
Now, he'd completely switched up his image, which was why the marketing needed to perfectly justify why. Slavery in all but name of the Faunus could no longer be his modus operandi, meaning that he now had to find a new way to make his company stand out. Why would people want to buy their Dust from the SDC when it was no longer cheaper?
The answer was to make his product 'the specialty' instead of 'the commodity.' High end, ethical Dust that promised what others couldn't – the feeling of superiority. Spend just a few more lien, and you get to convince yourself that you're a good person for having done so.
And in time, we'll push it further. Set up the SDC Humanitarian…and Faunitarian Foundation. A percentage (one, of course) of every lien spent goes to charity. Sponsorships and collaborations with up-and-coming Faunus causes – and every single one of those will be proudly displayed over every inch of our promotional materials. We'll milk each PR move for every lien.
Questions will eventually arise for my competitors' cheaper Dust products that they can't answer. If the SDC can do this, then why are you not doing the same things, Duste Cleopatra? Why aren't you labelling your products as Faunus-friendly and supporting our beloved causes and charities, Red Raider Refining? What is going on in your mines that my weak little bleeding heart can't bear to hear of, Dustivity? I eagerly await the day when I can drive those…those simpleton chumps out of business. This will be their market no longer.
Trailblazing was a foreign concept to Jacques. However, he was no stranger to investing. It was time to bind himself to the future, rather than the past.
Next Chapter: Seagull
In which Weiss Schnee's close friends and family size has a net-zero change.
Author's Notes
My fellow Americans…I am once again s̶t̶e̶a̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ p̶o̶p̶u̶l̶a̶r̶i̶t̶y̶ o̶f̶ ̶a̶ ̶b̶e̶t̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶f̶i̶c̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶b̶o̶t̶t̶o̶m̶ ̶f̶e̶e̶d̶e̶r̶ w̶e̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶ k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶I̶ ̶a̶m̶ taking inspiration from a respected and established story that has become an institution in the RWBY fandom community.
This time, my victim is none other than najio, author of 'Craving the Sky.' However, much like my own Murderess and 'The Divine Comedy' off of which it was based, I merely was inspired by the premise (Weiss unexpectedly born with Faunus wings) and am writing my own story. This isn't a rewrite, prequel, sequel, spin-off, or interpretation, but an entirely new tale that's merely a variation on the prompt. You don't need to have read that one to understand this one (though you might want to, since it's objectively better, and I'm a talentless hack).
Credit goes to najio, of course, for being the original author of the story that inspired this whole thing in the first place. Additionally, I feel like I ought to shout out to Trackhawk / ShinraSorceress / Alucard45 for the story 'Clipped Wings,' another story inspired by the OG. It was when I was reading 'Clipped Wings' and actually saw one particular line about Jacques Schnee insisting on having Weiss' tested against him for legitimacy where I actually had the idea for Jacques Schnee's B- Parenting.
So many people have written up the Faunus Weiss experience, but I've somehow only ever read stories starting at the same point: tortured, miserable Weiss (albeit with happy endings). So I thought, why not give Weiss a live her life and a have some friends right off the bat? There's still conflict aplenty in 'JSBMP' (oof cringe acronym), but it's going to be classic RWBY violence and villainy as opposed to gaslighting, parental abuse, and the works. Well, actually there's that other stuff too, but it's in lesser quantities.
This is my fluffier fic comparatively, but there will still be sadness and sorrow, just less of it, (less soul-crushing and more teen angst) and more fluff.
Stats: written in advance, updates Mondays, 53 chapters (this one's gonna take a full frickin' year to post), 286k words or so. Extremely heavy Checkmate ship, no big surprise there, but only Checkmate. Comments are encouraged as always, typos will be corrected if noticed.
Naturally, I don't own RWBY. If I did, I'd probably live in a much bigger house.
Happy rats, and don't do crime!