Chapter 5: The power of words

This story is a work of fanfiction based on the RWBY series. I do not own the copyright to the original series mentioned. This work of fiction has been created in order to explore the vast possibilities of the imagination and, above all, to provide entertainment. I hope you find pleasure in reading it,...I do not own batman either...that is obvious.

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Have you ever had that strange feeling that the rules don't quite apply to you? Like you're a video game character with a 'god mode' activated, where the laws of physics and logic bend to your whim. Things that to others are insurmountable obstacles, to you are mere anecdotes on the road to victory.

Our protagonist was a firm believer in this theory of personal exceptionalism. Not that he was conceited, not at all! But the last few years had given him reason to think so. Every challenge, no matter how colossal, ended up yielding to his ingenuity and determination.

It was as if the universe was conspiring to pave his way, or so it seemed!

But as they say, the world has a peculiar way of reminding you that you are not the center of the universe. And sometimes, that way includes an angry mob that wants to set you on fire.

—"Burn him!" a voice from the crowd shouted, followed by a chorus of ,—"He doesn't deserve to live! Kill the bastard!" and an impatient,— "Why are we still waiting? Just light the fire!"

Whitley, who until a few moments ago felt like an invincible demigod, now found himself tied to a pole, surrounded by people who stared at him with the same intensity that a child stares at a chocolate cake.

—"When did this all go wrong?", Whitley wondered, a cold bead of sweat running down his temple. —"Just a few hours ago, I was enjoying a tea and biscuits and planning my next strategic move. Did I forget to pay the cosmic parking meter?"

The crowd continued to shout, waving torches and whitewashing banners with unfriendly messages. Whitley tried to reason with them, but it was like talking to a brick wall - with a broken megaphone!

Whitley now stood on a wooden podium of sorts, surrounded by an excited crowd who were staring at him with the same intensity as a child staring at a chocolate cake. The straw crunched under their feet, as if the stage were about to come to life and run.

In the middle of this peculiar scene, an imposing wooden pillar stood, like a defiant tree that refused to be cut down. And on that pillar, Whitley and her great friend Emma were handcuffed, as if they were Christmas decorations on a giant tree.

—"They look very angry," Whitley said, with an eerie calm, as if he were talking about the weather and not his own execution.

Emma stared at her with wide eyes, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing.— "Really? Is that really the only thing you can think of to say? We're about to be burned alive, Whitley!"

—"Well, I don't want to be negative," Whitley replied with a shrug. —"Besides, I've always thought there was something... dramatic about fire."

Whitley hadn't made the best decision by coming to Menagerie. I guess he should have heeded Emma's warnings. She'd told him it wasn't a good idea, that the people of Menagerie didn't like him, that they would lynch him on sight. But Whitley, true to form, had ignored the warnings and ventured into hostile territory.

He knew, in a way, about the situation in Menagerie and the hatred the faun population had for him and his family. Consequently, even if he had done nothing, his life was in danger. But Whitley was Whitley, and his curiosity and sense of adventure always got him into trouble.

The fauns' opinion of Whitley was not particularly aggressive, practically because he employed many fauns with his company and also paid them twice the salary that his father made with the fauns. In addition, he had many fauns in positions of power, administrative, executive, in everything! He did not discriminate, if you were skilled, welcome sea.

But, practically, this good treatment was limited only to his companies and also to the other kingdoms. It seems that Menagerie is particularly ignorant of this situation.

—"No, I can't believe it! I warned you a thousand times that coming here was complete madness, Whitley!" Emma shouted angrily, exasperated, annoyed, aggressive, wrathful, all the feelings related to anger! She was frankly on the verge of madness.

—"It's easy to blame someone, don't worry, I accept your words, you need to vent," Whitley commented calmly, the boy didn't even flinch at his friend's aggressive tone.

—"It's easy to blame someone when it's more than obvious that they screwed up big time!" Emma exclaimed, her voice tinged with frustration. —"Do you have any idea how we're going to get out of this mess?"

Whitley, for his part, remained composed, although inside he felt like a headless chicken. The situation had become murkier than he had anticipated. He never imagined that the fauns of Menagerie would hold such a grudge against his family.

—"Dear Emma," Whitley replied with an almost sepulchral calm, while he adjusted the collar of his shirt and shook his head as if he were in an elegant tea room.— "At first, I was intrigued that a beauty like Miss Sienna Khan is still single, without an army of suitors at her feet, but after getting to know her, you understand why. She's sourer than a lemon and has less charisma than a brick! I bet even women wouldn't want to share a bed with her. Her destiny is loneliness, poor wretch!"

Emma glared at him, but Whitley didn't flinch.

—"Heavens!" Emma screamed, she tried to raise her arms to the sky in a gesture of theatrical desperation. —"What kind of karma am I paying?! ,! Brother gods, what did I do to deserve this?! !", A solitary tear rolled down her cheek, as if she were filming a Mexican drama.

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—"We're going to Menagerie!" Whitley announced, with all the determination of a general commanding an army.

Emma, sitting at her desk staring at a mountain of papers that seemed to multiply by magic, didn't even bother to look up. Her eyes briefly rested on the boy, as if she were analyzing a new species of insect, and then returned to the maze of documents.

—"No," Emma replied, as coldly as an iceberg in the desert.

Whitley frowned, puzzled.— "Why not?" he asked.

Emma, with the patience of a saint, leaned back in her chair and looked at Whitley with a mixture of disbelief and condescension. Was he really asking that? She wondered if Whitley's brain, for all its genius, came with an instruction manual for "understanding the real world for dummies." It seemed the boy genius believed himself invincible, like a comic book superhero without powers.

—"Listen, Whitley," Emma whispered, with the patience of a teacher explaining fractions to a group of children. —"The fauns hate your family. I know that, maybe you have nothing to do with what your father does and his abusive labor practices", Emma pointed at Whitley with her finger, the same finger she then used to slam her fist on her desk, sounding like thunder in a living room. —"But the opinion about you and your family is different, the fauns have a favorable opinion of you, they kind of like you."

Whitley, confusion plastered across his face like a tangled road map, couldn't understand where this conversation was going. It seemed like the expression on his face was telling Emma what he was thinking, as if his face was an open book with a giant letter saying, 'What do you mean?'

—"The point is that that good opinion is only limited to the four great kingdoms and some other towns near the kingdoms' walls, but Menagerie is the exception, they hate your family," Emma said, with the same solemnity as a judge passing sentence. She put a lot of emphasis on the word 'hate', as if she were talking about a three-headed monster lurking in the darkness. No one understood the fauns' hatred towards the Schnee family more than her, since she was also a faun.

—"I don't think it's that bad," Whitley said, as naively as a child who believes candy grows on trees.

—"That bad?" Emma repeated, an eyebrow raised.— "The White Fang, the organization that has been tasked with destroying your family, originates from Menagerie, the population of that place is 100% faunus, and although the White Fang is also seen in that place as a criminal organization, it does not prevent that criminal organization from indoctrinating the common population in a systematic hatred of your family," Emma sentenced, her voice as sharp as a chef's knife. She spoke sternly, but also with concern. She hoped that her words could truly bring Whitley to his senses. And then there was the fact that, why would someone like him, knowing the dangers of going to that place, want to go there in the first place?

—"Please, Emma, don't be such a spoilsport!" Whitley exclaimed, brushing off his friend's concerns.— "I'm sure I can convince them. They are civilized people, after all!"

—"And why are you dying to go to Menagerie?" Emma replied, with an arched eyebrow.

—"A resource, Emma, a priceless resource!" Whitley replied, his eyes sparkling with excitement,— "Listen, if I can get my hands on this resource, it could change the course of history! It's of the utmost importance that we get to Menagerie!"

Emma knew that look in Whitley's eyes all too well. She'd seen her defy the impossible, shake the world economy, and stand up to her own father, Jacques Schnee himself.

Whitley had become his father's main competitor in the energy sector, which meant only one thing: declare war on Jacques Schnee! And the most ironic thing of all was that Jacques himself had been the one who had paved the way for Whitley to become his worst nightmare.

In the business world, Jacques Schnee was a ruthless shark, a master of deception and manipulation. But to Whitley, his tactics seemed like cheap magic tricks.

Whitley was immune to the smear campaigns, the low-price strategies, and every other trick Jacques could come up with. It was as if Whitley was playing a different game, one where Jacques' rules didn't apply.

And now, this young prodigy was fixated on a resource in Menagerie. What kind of treasure could be so valuable as to spark such a flame in Whitley? Emma had no idea, but she sensed that trouble was brewing, and big trouble.

—"Whitley, are you sure this is a good idea?" Emma asked, frowning.— "Menagerie is a dangerous place, don't you think we should think twice?"

—"Emma, please don't be so dramatic!" Whitley replied, with a mischievous smile.— "Nothing bad is going to happen! Trust me!"

—"That's what worries me!" Emma muttered to herself, her heart racing.

If this resource was so crucial that it could change the course of history, why not look for it somewhere else? Were there no safer options than the dangerous Menagerie? The Vacuo Desert, the Mistral Jungle... Anywhere was better than this!

—"I'm sorry, Whitley, but my answer is no," Emma stated firmly, she is determined not to give in to her friend's insistence. —"I'm not going to allow you to risk yourself in such a dangerous place."

But Whitley was as persistent as he was methodical.— "I'm sorry, Emma, but I can't take no for an answer," Whitley replied, a determined look in his eyes,— "You're coming with me, whether you like it or not. We've got to go to the menagerie."

—"And what are you going to do about it?" Emma challenged, with a mocking laugh—. "Are you going to kidnap me?"

—"Please don't take it that way," Whitley replied, a complicated expression on his face.

At that moment, the entire office began to shake. Emma watched in disbelief as the walls she knew so well transformed into a shiny metallic surface. The objects that had once adorned the place, such as the bookshelf and the books, disappeared, leaving only an empty, metallic booth. Her office had become a steel chamber, with the desk and her chair the only elements that remained in place.

—"What's going on?" Emma exclaimed, her heart in her mouth.

—"Don't worry, Emma, everything is under control," Whitley replied, with an enigmatic smile that did not bode well.

Emma looked around the place in confusion, not understanding what was happening.

—"You see, last night I hired some workers to demolish the top of this building, where your office is," Whitley explained nonchalantly. —"Then, I installed a Bullhead as a replacement. Obviously, this would be noticeable from the outside, but I knew you wouldn't pay attention to such details. You're so focused on work that you just walk into the building, go up to your office without looking around, you don't check the shelves or the furniture, you sit in your chair and go through the paperwork."

Emma couldn't believe what she was hearing. Whitley had kidnapped her!

As the Bullhead took off into the sky, Emma asked in disbelief, —"Who the hell is piloting this thing?"

—"Autopilot," Whitley replied with a cocky grin, —"The Remnant's GPS navigation system is rubbish, it only works well about 3km outside Mistral's walls. But don't worry, I'll learn to fly a Bullhead in my spare time. Aircraft need to be learned, that's for millionaires."

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The journey itself was an odyssey worthy of Homer, two months of flight in an aircraft that looked more like a hybrid between a dirigible and a toaster. Whitley never imagined that reaching Menagerie, that remote corner of the world, would take longer than an expedition in a forest.

When the aircraft finally touched down, well, the word 'landed' is a figure of speech, rather it crashed in style on the sands of the beach, about 500 meters from the main town called Kuo Kuana.

Whitley and his faithful companion Emma emerged from the ship, only to be greeted by an angry mob.
Oh, the irony! Instead of a warm welcome, they found themselves surrounded by a mob of villagers armed to the teeth. Gleaming machetes, dubious-looking weapons and sticks with rusty nails on the end, the scene looked like something out of a B-movie.

Whitley, oblivious to the menacing glances and hostile murmurs, was unfazed. With a naive smile, he addressed the crowd,— "Hello, citizens, my name is..."

But before he could finish his presentation, boom! The mob rushed toward him like a giant wave.

In the blink of an eye, Whitley found himself behind bars in a cell, wondering whether Menagerie was a tourist destination or a death trap.

Emma, for her part, watched the scene with a mixture of surprise and amusement.— "I don't think they liked you very much, Whitley," she said with a nervous laugh.

—"Nonsense, Emma," Whitley replied optimistically, —"I'm sure it's all a misunderstanding. You'll see, we'll be invited to tea with the Mayor tomorrow."

And then he met Miss Sienna Khan, a beautiful and sexy woman, with a penetrating gaze that seemed to see right through him.

The brothers Fennec and Corsac Albain, two ruffians with an easy smile and dubious manners, who greeted him with an overly firm handshake and a series of impertinent questions.

And then there was Adam, a really strange guy, with a dark look and an aura of mystery, who watched him from a distance with a mixture of curiosity and fury.

The guys were too prejudiced, in fact they tried to hurt him essentially, but they only verbally insulted him, accused him of crimes such as mistreatment of fauns, slave wages, inhumane work hours, lack of health insurance and an unfair retirement system. And among other things.

He had to say it, he knew about all the crimes he was being accused of, but he was not guilty of those crimes, his father was, he was a separate issue, he had his company, his father had his company, they are both... different people.

But it seems that was not enough.

He even met the mayor of this place, a huge man, this guy must have been almost two meters tall. So was his title, 'chieftain', Ghira Belladonna, a guy who exuded presence and authority. But he had to say it, the guy was a softie, not even with his title of mayor of this town could he do anything to free him.

It was stupid that someone who has the authority to make laws had no power, but I guess this is a democracy and the power lies with the people, but they should have at least given him a hearing, but not even that.

And that's how we find ourselves in this situation, Whitley and Emma tied to a log surrounded by straw, with an angry crowd with torches in the middle of the day.

—"Listen up, citizens!" Ghira Belladonna announced, his voice echoing over the clamor of the crowd. He knew that Whitley wasn't guilty of anything, and that his father was the one who had given the Schnee name a bad name. But that didn't stop people from wanting to kill Whitley. He was also uneasy about the boy's calm demeanor. He didn't seem to be scared, that smile on his face was disturbing him, as if his life wasn't in danger.

—"I hate to admit it, Ghira, but you're right," said Sienna Khan, leader of the White Fang. Her voice was cold and calculating, as always. —"The boy is not guilty of anything, he just had the misfortune of belonging to that disgusting family. Although that does not exempt him from being complete trash." In truth, she did not want to be there. She did not want to be next to Ghira. There was a lot of bad blood between the two of them, their two ways of seeing the world clashed. Ghira was a pacifist, and Sienna, although she was not ashamed to say it, was an extremist, someone who imposed power above all else.

—"Why can't we kill him?" someone in the crowd said. The voice was male, full of hatred.

—"Yes, he must die for all our faunus brothers who suffer abuse because of his family!" another person in the crowd shouted.

Mass hysteria was at its peak.

—"Silence!" Ghira shouted, trying to impose his authority. But the crowd was out of control. —"We can't do this! They don't understand that we have to have a hearing first to even sentence him if he's guilty!"

—"We've had enough of an audience!" someone shouted. —"The Schnee are guilty, and so is this boy!"

The crowd roared in approval. Torches rose into the air, threatening to ignite the straw surrounding Whitley and Emma. The situation was desperate.

Whitley remained oblivious to what he was hearing, the hatred towards his family was something he already knew, but boy did these guys drip with venom.

—"Very well, Emma, free me and get me out of here," Whitley said calmly, as if he were asking for a favor rather than facing imminent execution.

—"It's useless, we can't escape," Emma whispered tiredly and exasperatedly, with a hint of fear for the situation around her. But she, more than being scared for herself, was scared that something would happen to Whitley. Her eyes reflected the worry and fear she felt at that moment.

—"I thought you were an ex-hunter, this place shouldn't be a problem for you," Whitley raised an eyebrow at Emma, a mocking smile on his face. He seemed to be enjoying the situation, as if it were all a game.

—"Do you see that red-haired boy?" Emma said, pointing with her nose at the red-haired boy who had two small bull horns on his head and a mask covering his eyes. —"This is Adam Taurus, he is an expert assassin with hunter training, he has killed many people, including members of your family. He would not be a problem for me, but we also have Sienna Khan, leader of the White Fang, and we also have the White Fang among the crowd, many of them have hunter training and are at the level of one, they outnumber me, it is impossible for me to escape from them, even more with you," Emma sighed, she was tired of the situation, the tension and fear were consuming her. —"We are dead," she said with resignation, feeling that hope would fade away.

Whitley let out a sigh that echoed through the air like a tired sigh, his ears ringing with the clamor of the frenzied crowd, like a horde of angry fanatics, demanding his head on a silver platter (or, well, maybe a makeshift grill). Ghira, with the patience of a saint and the determination of a general in battle, struggled to keep the frenzied mob at bay, even Sienna, with her usual aplomb, seemed a little nervous at the prospect of a human barbecue.

Adam, for his part, stood aloof, arms folded, his expression fluctuating between indifference and a secret desire to see Whitley burn like a carnival falla. 'I'm not going to kill him,' his gaze seemed to say, 'but I'm not going to stop them from doing it, either.' In fact, he gave the impression that he would be delighted to light the fuse himself.

—"jajajaja," Whitley's laughter interrupted the coven of shouts and threats. It was a laugh so loud and contagious that it managed to silence the crowd, who looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and renewed fury.

—"What's so funny about that, you idiot?" Adam growled, his hand fiddling with the hilt of his katana, ready to silence Whitley as expeditiously as possible.

—"I'm sorry, I just can't help it", Whitley replied with a mischievous grin.— "It's just that this whole situation seems so absurd, so ridiculous... It's like a comic play! I know you hate me and want to fry me like a barbecue, I understand that, but do you really think that's going to solve your problems? Do you really think that my death is going to bring world peace and chocolate rain? Please!"

Adam clenched his jaw, his hand tightening its grip on the katana. He was about to lunge at Whitley and turn him into meat for the spit when Sienna, with a swift and graceful movement, stepped between them.

—"Adam, stop," she ordered in a firm voice, her gaze warning the warrior that she would not tolerate any recklessness.

Adam grumbled but complied, though his gaze remained fixed on Whitley, as if he could glare at him. Whitley, oblivious to the tension around him, continued to smile, enjoying the show as if he were watching a comedy in the theatre.

—"Listen, killing some distant cousin or godson of my family is a horrible attitude, which gives a bad image to the White Fang and, by extension, to all fauns in general," Whitley said with a bored look, as if he was talking about the weather or some other mundane thing.

—"But killing someone from the main branch of my family, be it my father, my mother or myself, I mean the consequences will be very serious," he added in a tone that oscillated between warning and pleading.

Sienna, frowning, retorted, —"Killing you will only bring justice to our race. Your family has taken advantage of our people as slaves, we are second-class citizens in every kingdom."

Whitley nodded, acknowledging the validity of Sienna's words. —"I know, and it's horrible. I can't imagine the pain he must suffer. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I have all the privileges in the world, I'm the son of the richest man in the world, but I know my father is a complete idiot and a bastard," he admitted honestly.

—"But the image of the White Fang already makes fauns look very bad, their actions only make them look like people completely lacking in empathy," he added with a worried tone.

Adam, unable to contain his anger, snarled, —"You dare speak to us of empathy, you filthy Schnee?" He was about to disobey Sienna's order and attack Whitley, but was stopped by a warning glare from the faunus leader.

At that moment, Whitley raised his hands and stepped down from the podium before everyone's incredulous gaze.

—"I dare to speak of empathy because, in a way, I am accused of things that I have not committed," Whitley replied with an enigmatic smile, leaving the crowd perplexed by his audacity.

Sienna, frowning, couldn't help but ask,— "How were you able to break free?"

Whitley let out a mocking laugh.— "I was always able to break free, I wasn't tied up in the first place," he replied in a tone that bordered on arrogance.

He then turned his gaze to the crowd, scanning each face with his piercing eyes. —"Killing me will only give the kingdom of Atlas an excuse to start an armed conflict against you," he warned in a serious tone.

—"Besides, my father wouldn't sit still knowing of my death, let alone knowing that you're the culprits," he added, although he actually doubted his father would lift a finger even if he knew he had been murdered. But a ruse is a ruse, right?

—"Besides, everyone knows I got here, so if I disappear, the only one they'll blame is the people of Kuo Kuana," Whitley lied with a sly smile.

Fennec Albain, with determination in his gaze, declared, —"Then we will fight and win that war, just like the previous revolutionary war."

Whitley beamed smugly.— "Of course they will fight," he replied in a sarcastic tone. —"But they have to be aware that time has changed. Back then, you had the advantage thanks to your traits: smell, night vision, and animal qualities. But technology has advanced so much that any Atlas military can counter your traits."

—"Besides, today's weapons could easily pierce a hunter's Aura. There will be many casualties from both armies, but in the end you will lose this battle," Whitley said in a grim tone.

Whitley left everyone in a deathly silence. Sienna, with a hint of surprise, had to admit that the young man had a valid point. Even though they could obtain weapons on the black market, they were no match for Atlas' war machine. A pitched battle against such an army would end in a massacre for the rebels.

—"I understand that you don't want me here," Whitley said with surprising calm, —"but have you ever wondered why, knowing that my family is hated by all fauns, I risk coming to a place where they clearly despise me?"

The question rang in the air, no one had stopped to think about it. What motivated Whitley to come to a place where his life was in danger?

—"Gentlemen," Whitley continued with an enigmatic smile, —"you possess something that, frankly, interests me greatly. So much so that I am willing to risk my life for it. No one in the world knows the value of this resource except me. And only I possess the machinery and technology to harness it."

The revelation left everyone perplexed. What valuable resource could he possibly have that would pique the interest of a Schnee?

Corsac Albain, with a hard and defiant look, sentenced: —"Even if we knew the nature of that resource, we would not give it to you, Schnee." His words resonated with the force of an irrevocable sentence.

Whitley, unfazed by the aggressiveness of those words, replied with studied calm,— "But I am not here to seek your permission, or that of Lord Ghira Belladonna, or anyone else who holds a title of authority in this place." His voice, though serene, carried the weight of an unwavering determination, a boldness that defied established conventions and hierarchies.

Whitley turned his gaze to each common faun around him, his eyes scanning each face for a spark of understanding, an echo of rebellion. —"I am addressing myself personally to the village of Kuo Kuana, because you, after all, are the ones who have the final say in this matter."

The crowd remained silent, waiting at the audacity of this man who dared to question the power of their leaders.

—"Despite the poor start we've had," Whitley continued,— "I know you are people of your own mind, capable of thinking for yourself and not being influenced by the opinions of your superiors." A slight smile played on his lips as he spoke these words, a smile that promised not submission, but rather a tacit alliance between equals.

Adam, unable to contain his indignation, shouted, —"Don't listen to him, he's just trying to trick you!" His words, tinged with rage and despair, echoed through the air like thunder, but failed to divert the crowd's attention.

Whitley, his calmness at odds with Adam's fury, replied,_ "I think you underestimate your own race to think they wouldn't be able to tell when someone tried to manipulate them." Then, with a gesture of camaraderie, he patted Adam on the shoulder, as if to restore the importance of his words and extend an olive branch.

—"I've come here with a proposition," Whitley announced, his voice ringing with new vigor, —"a chance to get rich at your expense."

The brutal sincerity of these words left the fauns stunned, their eyes wide and their breaths held. They had not expected such honesty, such disarming crudeness that openly exposed the man's true intentions.

—"If you allow me to invest in this place, to do business with you, it is very likely that your quality of life will improve considerably," Whitley said, his voice resonating with the promise of a better future. His words, although tinged with self-interest, were not lacking in sincerity, for the situation in the village was evident to anyone with eyes to see.

—"And they really do need it," Whitley continued, his gaze scanning the crumbling structures and weathered faces. —"The infrastructure is poor, it looks like a town on the edge of one of the great kingdoms, forgotten and lost. And their economy is very weak, barely enough to survive." His words, though harsh, reflected an undeniable reality, a truth that resonated with each and every one of those present.

Sienna, with the urgency of one who sees danger, shouted, —"Don't believe him, he's trying to take advantage of you!" Her words, though well-intentioned, seemed to fall on deaf ears, for the fauns, captivated by Whitley's words, were too interested in what he had to say, at least before deciding whether his promises were just empty words or a real chance . . . to change their fate.

—"I think I've made my intentions clear enough," Whitley replied with an enigmatic smile.— "But if you refuse to listen to me just because you have the last name Schnee, then I must say that you are nothing more than a bunch of sheep, blindly following in the footsteps of the shepherd who guides you." His words, though harsh, sought to awaken a spark of rebellion in their hearts, an invitation to question the status quo and forge their own path.

—"I am not guilty of my father's sins," Whitley continued, his voice taking on a more personal tone.— "As I could not blame your son for the mistakes you have made." With these words, Whitley pointed to a man standing next to his young son, drawing a parallel between his situation and that of his father, seeking empathy and understanding in their hearts.

—"I come here, even though I know my life is in danger, because I have the opportunity to make my own name. I have long since distanced myself from my father, I speak for myself. And if I come here, it is because the risk is worth it."

Whitley, his gaze fixed and his voice booming, addressed the crowd gathered at the Menagerie. His presence, charged with tension and defiance, did not go unnoticed. Every word, every gesture, revealed the determination that drove him to defy the hatred that his name aroused in that place.

—"I come with a proposition," Whitley announced solemnly, his voice cutting through the murmur of the crowd.

Sienna, fury in her eyes and veins throbbing in her neck, replied disdainfully,— "And what could you possibly offer us? Do you think your treacherous tongue will make us trust you? Do you forget that you come from a family that has taken it upon itself to abuse our people, our citizens?"

Whitley, unfazed by Sienna's hostility, raised his hand to silence her. His gaze, calm but penetrating, rested on each of the fauns present.

—"All right, people of Menagerie," Whitley said firmly, —"do not take my word for it, take the facts I am about to lay before you. Every one of you lives from day to day, your people are underdeveloped. Many of you devote yourselves only to fishing, the only viable profession in a fishing port, but the money you earn is barely enough to cover your basic needs. Saving for a better future is an unattainable dream, a chimera that fades before the harsh reality of daily subsistence."

Whitley's words resonate in the hearts of every faun. Some, with downcast eyes, saw themselves reflected in the mirror of their own lives, lives marked by scarcity and lack of opportunity.

—"Don't trust my words, trust them," Whitley continued, pointing to Ghira, Sienna, and the Alabín siblings.— "Trust those who, despite proclaiming that they are watching over your safety and prosperity, keep you submerged in this system that impoverishes you day by day. What have they done to improve your situation? How long has it been and you are still in the same place, in the same house, with the same profession, eating exactly the same thing?".

A deathly silence fell over the crowd. Whitley's words, spoken with the force of truth, had struck a chord in the hearts of every faun.

Whitley's gaze, full of determination and hope, remained fixed on each person's face, inviting them to reflect on their own reality.

Many fauns looked at each other closely, examining their clothing with growing unease. Some remembered that their clothes had not been new for a long time, and that their homes had not been remodeled or acquired new furnishings. A feeling of oppression took hold of them as they realized that their world was limited to Kuo Kuana; they were unaware of what lay beyond its borders. What information they had about the four great Kingdoms came from the export ships that docked at its port, bringing with them goods that most of them could not afford.

Whitley's voice rang out loud and clear, like a hammer blow, filled with conviction and reproach.

—"Your leaders will try to convince you that I am lying, that I am trying to manipulate you. And you will probably believe them. I don't blame you. But I tell you that yes, I am going to take advantage of you. However, I prefer to tell you the truth rather than feed you the falsehoods that your leaders have been spreading for years."

He paused, allowing his words to echo through the crowd, before continuing with greater vehemence.

—"They will tell you that they will work tirelessly to improve your lives, but the reality is that they have no idea how to achieve this. They are trapped in a farce, and you are intelligent enough to realize that, although they look out for your safety, they are deeply incompetent."

A murmur of agreement ran through the crowd. Whitley's words reflected a truth that many fauns had suspected but had not dared to articulate aloud.

Emma watched the scene in disbelief. Whitley, with his overwhelming charisma, wove a spell of words over the fauns of Kuo Kuana. He appealed to their dreams of prosperity, to the ambition that slumbered in their hearts. He spoke to them of a future where their people, until now humble, would rise as a kingdom of greatness.

—"I do not promise you an easy path," his voice echoed, —"I offer you an opportunity. The opportunity to build a better future together. I do not promise you instant riches, but I assure you that if you allow me to invest in this land, together we will make Kuo Kuana a beacon of greatness, a kingdom that will resonate in history."

His words, spoken with passion and conviction, struck a chord in the hearts of the citizens. The seed of hope sprouted in their hearts, defying their initial skepticism. Could this young man make the seemingly impossible a reality? Could he transform his small village into a glorious kingdom?

Whitley, his gaze fixed on the crowd, added with a touch of eloquence, —"I don't want you to believe me for what I say, I want you to believe me for what you see. Observe your present, compare it to the future we can build together. Isn't it worth taking a risk, taking a leap of faith in search of a better destiny?".

Whitley's speech resonated in Kuo Kuana's heart, but a shadow of doubt hung over the crowd.

—"He's lying!", Adam cried, the fury in his voice like thunder. He pointed an accusatory finger at Whitley. —"Humans are all the same! They only look out for their own benefit! Don't fall for their tricks!"

Whitley, unfazed by the interruption, replied in a voice that echoed through every corner, —"Of course I seek profit! Doesn't every person in this world? A father fighting for the well-being of his family, a mother longing for a better future for her children, a son wishing to see his parents laid to rest after years of hard work. We all seek profit, and I am no different! But my profit is tied to yours. I must prove to you that my words are not just empty promises. It will be a difficult road, filled with obstacles and challenges. But if you allow me to invest in this land, if you allow me to work alongside you, you will see your lives transformed from humble to rich! To riches surpassing the wealthiest man in the great kingdoms!"

Whitley's words, spoken with passion and conviction, resonate in the hearts of every citizen. The flame of hope, which they thought was extinguished, was rekindled with force.

Whitley's words were not just promises, they were an invitation to build a better future together. The people of Menagerie, who had lost hope for a better future, felt a spark of hope in their hearts. The opportunity to change their lives, to build a prosperous future for themselves and their children, was within their grasp. And this time, they would not let it fade away.

An expectant silence hung over the crowd,

They hated Whitley, they hated his family, but most of all, they hated the situation they found themselves in. They had tried every solution under the sun, and desperation had driven them to a point where they were willing to consider the impossible.

—"What is this resource you seek?" asked a citizen of Menagerie, stepping forward as a symbol that he was willing to give Whitley a chance.

An enigmatic smile appeared on Whitley's face, a smile that reflected cunning and determination. It was not an arrogant smile, but a smile that conveyed the confidence that he had achieved his goal.

—"You will help me look for oil,"

-{}-

Hello! First of all, I want to express my sincere thanks for taking the time to dive into the pages of this chapter.

This chapter is also more comfortable than another introductory chapter, before Whitley transforms into the Dark Knight, I think one more chapter would be missing, Whitley is now very involved in building his intelligence bases and also making money.

While this story is a fanfic of the RWBY series, it won't be 100 % faithful to the original canon, so there will be some inconsistencies. I hope this won't be a bother to fans.

To clarify, Whitley is only a year younger than Weiss, or just a few months younger .

You are also free to give me some constructive criticism, you know, "this doesn't seem right to me," "I think you got this wrong," I'll be happy to read it.

And you are also free to give any suggestions.

I hope this is well received.

If you find yourself in a moment of leisure and looking for something to delight your imagination, I cordially invite you to explore my other literary creations.

A crossover that weaves the essence of Naruto into the vibrant world of RWBY, "A Hopeful Beginning" is designed to be a beacon of light and possibility. Realistically, though, it doesn't look very hopeful.

"The Jaune Classified Files Arc" follows Team RWBY and JNPR on the adventures of the most self-preserving man.

These stories may not be the crown jewels of literature, but they are written with the heart and the hope of offering you an escape, a smile, and perhaps, a moment of reflection.

I again invite you to share your impressions of the chapter. And if you liked what you read, don't hesitate to follow me for more adventures. Until next time, dear readers!

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