A/N: And here it is, yet another one of these, Chapter 23. University is back and job hunting is on. Wish me luck, lads. Strangely enough, this means that I'll be posting more of these.
RhoMarck: Aye, thanks lad. That's a trend I'm noticing, Bemaia seems to be the favorite, especially in AO3... Am I writing too much of him? I know I should focus more on the third librarian, Fred, but I just can't help it. And yes, Fred should be the focus of the following chapters.
konmek43: Bemaia's grind will never stop. Aye, Jaune is pretty much a sandbag in the first four volumes of RWBY. I don't plan on making him a powerhouse, but I am aiming towards making him competent, after all, it's only natural that being around strong fighters eventually something would rub off on him. And, uh, Carmen shenanigans, maybe. The tiniest maybe.
The trip from the hospital to the Schnee manor was promised to be a short one, but it sure felt like an eternity to Bemaia. The bullhead they entered was nothing short of luxurious, incomparable to the one he'd ridden to reach Mountain Glemm. Cushioned seats, air conditioners despite the freezing temperatures on the outside, and even armed bodyguards inside the aircraft.
Four of them in fact. Each armed with a box-like rifle-like gun, a pistol without a barrel and a yellow-tipped end the likes of which Bemaia had never seen before, and a knife on the other side of the belt. Each of them, was very obviously, beneath their helmet, stealing glances at Bemaia.
Bemaia was not thrilled by this.
What's worse is that he could tell that Weiss, who sat across from him, was acting restless.
She couldn't stop bouncing her leg, her eyes tried their best not to stare at one place too much, her breathing was irregular, and Bemaia could almost see a bead of sweat running down her face.
'If it was this much of a sacrifice, she shouldn't have brought me here in the first place.' He thought.
Now that Bemaia thought about it, why would she leave this comfort? Why leave Atlas for Vale? It's like choosing to leave a Nest and find a job on the Backstreets.
Completely absurd to even consider.
"..."
The two kept their silence, even though Weiss was silently screaming discomfort, Bemaia couldn't give a shit about that. She put herself in this situation, therefore, she brought this feeling of restlessness to herself.
Now, onto more pressing matters;
'What the fuck was that?' Bemaia thought to himself. 'His wing did something to Adam. And yet, in the end, it was all for naught.' His wing shuttered, as a chill ran down his spine. 'Was that his semblance?' And even if it was, he couldn't control it just yet. 'Power-nullification? If that's the case then I have much to discuss with Ozpin.' He thought to himself.
Indeed, with a semblance as powerful as that, Bemaia should consider going all-in in the huntsmen business.
After a few minutes of excruciating silence, the bullhead finally came to a stop. "We're here." Weiss declared, prompting Bemaia to unbuckle his seatbelts and rise from his seat.
One of the guards pushed the door open, letting the chilly air from the outside rush inside. One deep breath was all Bemaia managed before feeling the sudden shift of temperature. "Holy...!" He shivered from the cold.
The guards remained inside the bullhead, leaving with it as the two students left.
As the bullhead left, Bemaia was finally able to get a hold of himself and take a look at his whereabouts.
What lay in front of his eyes was a gigantic building, akin to a castle more than anything. Bemaia was immediately struck by the grandeur of the estate. The manor stood tall and imposing, surrounded by beautifully manicured gardens dusted with a light layer of snow. The cold air was a sharp contrast to the warmer climates Bemaia was accustomed to, and he couldn't help but shiver slightly as they approached the entrance.
The architecture of the manor was elegant and sophisticated, with intricate designs and carvings adorning the exterior. Large windows reflected the light, creating a dazzling display against the snowy landscape. Bemaia had never seen anything quite like it, and he found himself momentarily lost in the beauty of the scene before him.
As they entered the manor, Bemaia was greeted by the warmth of the interior, a welcome reprieve from the chill outside. The foyer was grand and spacious, with high ceilings and luxurious furnishings. Elaborate chandeliers hung from above, casting a soft, warm glow over the room. Paintings and sculptures adorned the walls, adding to the air of elegance and refinement.
Despite his discomfort with the cold and unfamiliar surroundings, Bemaia couldn't help but be impressed by the beauty and opulence of the Schnee Manor.
The Librarian kind of already knew what to expect when it came to rich, he's been to some nests in his prime. His raid on Kayleneath was located in M-Corp's nest, not to mention his job at L-Corp, so needless to say he knew luxury... But this was excessive.
"Klein!" The sudden yell coming from Weiss pulled him from his thoughts.
From the top of the stairs in front of them, a sharply dressed man with a thick mustache and a... Unfortunate hairline was spotted by the Heiress, prompting him to dash down the stairs.
Weiss met the man halfway through, pulling him in a deep hug. "Ah!" The man grunted from the sudden act of affection but did not pull away. "Miss Schnee! It is so good to see you!" The butler spoke, with an overly friendly voice.
Just with this short interaction between the two, Bemaia understood one thing about this 'Klein'; If an assault by the White Fang were launched on this building right now, if the windows came crashing down and the whole world descended upon her, this man would hurl himself in death's way to save Weiss, despite the clear discrepancy in strength and resilience between the common man and a huntsman, even if still in training. Bemaia was sure of this, though, he didn't know why.
"Your father told me you were assaulted by those White Fang miscreants during your travel..." While Bemaia watched from afar, he could still see the man's eyes fill with sadness whilst he recalled his memories. "I did not manage to get but a blink of sleep when I heard the news!" The butler held the girl tighter while laughing out of concern.
"I'm fine, see?" Weiss was, in fact, in pristine condition. Bemaia could recall it perfectly. All damage she took while he was still conscious was absorbed by her Aura. However, he couldn't recall if it broke, nor did he know what happened between him passing out and the Atlesean scout finding them. Did she manage to fight off all the White Fang goons with that dingy sword? Worse yet, for how long was he out?
"But where were you earlier today?! I came here and looked all over the place for you!" Weiss complained. "I did manage to get that ticket refunded, as tiring as that was. I wanted some coffee and you were nowhere to be found! Explain yourself." The heiress glared at the man, as serious as someone of stature could be, pulling away from the hug.
Klein relented, shivering under her cold gaze. "Well, Jacques found my performance lacking once I heard you were in danger..." He leaned in and whispered something in Weiss' ear. Bemaia did not hear, nor did he make any attempt to.
The heiress stifled a laugh. "Oh, you did not! In front of Father?!"
And while the girl appeared amused, the butler looked embarrassed. "Not so loud, Miss Schnee..." Klein looked to the side, trying to advert his gaze from hers, and in doing so, he looked at Bemaia, who's been standing near the front door this whole time. "Oh! Uh, I did not know you brought company..."
Although this was a touching moment between what appears to be family, Bemaia was here for but a singular reason; Money. "Please, come in," Klein said, prompting Bemaia to nod and walk towards the two.
I'd be disrespectful to simply waltz in without being welcomed.
"A pleasure to meet you, I'm Klein, a humble butler for this steemed household," Klein said with a small, but polite bow. It appears that his aged back did now allow him to bow any further, despite his wishes to do so.
Weiss was quick to introduce him. "Klein, this is Bemaia, a classmate of mine. Please, treat him well."
Bemaia offered his hand to the butler, which he took with enthusiasm Bemaia did not expect from a simple butler. "A pleasure to meet you, Bemaia." The librarian nodded, letting go of the older man's firm handshake. "Likewise."
"Though, I was under the impression your name was Bermia... It looks like someone made a mistake before the information got to us."
Bemaia's left eye twitched. "What." It was not a question. "Bermia? How?" This was a silly mistake, so silly that it was unbefitting of a place of status as high as this. This manor, this family's name, held as much pedigree and reputation as a Wing, so a mistake like this should be impossible- nay, unforgivable!
"Ah, no worries, I'm sure it was just me hearing it incorrectly." Despite Klein's kind and comforting words, Bemaia did not feel so comforted. "Seems like my age is getting the better of me."
He sighed. "I hope so." Bemaia reminisced about the past, mistaking someone's name was high on the list of things you absolutely should not do when dealing with the good people of the Thumb, and he did not feel like putting up with this simple mistake.
"So!" Klein exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "What can I do for you, Bemaia?" He asked, looking at the librarian. Bemaia didn't say anything, instead, chose to glare at Weiss, expecting her to explain everything.
Fortunately, she did notice. "Do you recall father having issues with almost all of our previous chefs?" She asked the butler.
"Yes… Unfortunately, I do." Klein's cheery expression fell flat, bothered by that fact. "Poor Katherine… I still keep her contact."
Bemaia shuddered at the thought. He? Being mistreated as a chef? He'd sooner end up in jail for intentional food poisoning before being told a singular ill-intended syllable.
Weiss then continued, "Well, Bemaia here is… Basically the best chef on the…" Weiss must have realized how dumb that would have sounded out loud and closed her mouth before another word could exit her mouth. "Huh."
"Uhh… Miss Schnee?" Klein inquired, prompting the girl to take a deep breath.
The heiress was quick to gather both herself and her thoughts. "He's here to discuss business with father." Yes, that seemed much more plausible.
Klein nodded in understanding. "Ah yes, how could I forget? Please follow me, Master Schnee should be finishing up his meeting."
As Klein led Weiss and Bemaia through the manor, the opulence of the interior continued to impress. They passed through grand halls adorned with intricate tapestries and elegant furnishings. The walls were lined with paintings of past Schnee family members, their eyes seeming to follow the group as they walked.
"You know," Klein broke the silence, turning his attention to Bemaia. "Weiss never once brought any friends over… Not to mention a man." Klein chuckled at his own comment, "Imagine what her mother will say once she hears of this."
And while Weiss' face was invaded by a hue of red, Bemaia felt nothing but the smallest of fragments of pity for the girl. Bemaia wasn't a complete imbecile like his partner, he understood the intricacies of a girl inviting a boy over to meet their parents, but still, he was a grade 3 Fixer, he was almost immune to these kinds of things.
Weiss pulled on the shirt of the butler. "Klein… That's uncalled for!" The butler struggled to not burst into laughter, it seemed that the desire to bully Weiss Schnee was something that surpassed age.
"Of course, Ms. Schnee, I jest. I meant nothing of it." Klein clarified, in an attempt to clear his name. "Although…" He then glared at Bemaia. "I don't think Master will be thrilled to meet you."
The librarian did not answer Klein's speculation, but his singular wing did shudder when he said those words. 'Surely,' Bemaia thought to himself, 'Weiss' father won't be a complete and utter asshole because of my wing.'
He wished he wasn't cursed with the bard's tongue for that one.
The butler led them up a sweeping staircase, the banisters adorned with delicate carvings. As they ascended, the soft glow of the chandeliers above cast a warm light over the staircase, creating a sense of grandeur.
Finally, they reached the top of the stairs and continued down a long hallway lined with doors. The walls were decorated with more paintings and the occasional sculpture, all dedicated to the Schnee name.
One of these paintings, in particular, showed a man Bemaia had seen before somewhere. It was a caricature of a lean man, with short white hair and a matching mustache, this caricature had the man facing to the side with his eyes shot towards the sky, looking at a light source of sorts.
This man, was very obviously, Jaques Schnee. Bemaia had seen him before in advertisements in the streets and on his scroll.
Klein stopped in front of a door made from a darkened wood, ornately carved with the Schnee family crest in the middle. "Master is currently in a meeting with a new investor, wait patiently and please, call me if you need anything." The butler said, making his leave.
Though Bemaia did not listen to a single word that escaped Klein's mouth, he was too busy incredulously staring at a man who stood quietly still across the door, waiting as well.
This man was taller than most, definitely taller than both Weiss and Bemaia, both in height and in thickness. 6 foot, likely. He had dark skin and was wearing a white suit that bulged against his muscular frame.
Most would simply dismiss him as some hired muscle or some Zwei agent hired for protection, but Bemaia knew exactly who that person was.
Truthfully, what gave away who this person was, was the weapon he rested upon- A great hammer, it had its head covered by strips of cloth, but the outline of the cloth, and the fact that the thing slowly yet rhythmically contracted and expanded slightly made it clear to him that it was a mouth of sorts. The pitch-black bar that barely passed as a handle, and the feint smell of rotting flesh greatly masked by cleaning products and lavender perfume, painted a clear picture of what that hammer was.
And only three people in Remnant knew of a weapon like that. Well, four.
The man looked at Bemaia, but both remained silent, simply nodding at each other as Bemaia leaned against the wall next to the man.
"You're waiting for Father as well?" Weiss asked, assuming they had to pass through a line.
A glance was shot at the heiress by the taller man. "No." He said, simply. "I'm waitn' for the nerd who came to talk to 'em."
Weiss took a deep breath, only to immediately scrunch up her nose from the smell coming from the tall man. Choosing to not say anything out of class and respect, she turned to Bemaia, "A-Actually, I'll go check on my mother and Whitley. I'll be right back." She said, leaving the two alone.
Bemaia and the man shared a glance, in silence.
Seconds passed.
"..."
"... That your type?" The taller man asked Bemaia in a mocking tone.
In turn, Bemaia simply shook his head. "Nah," He clarified, turning his head towards Weiss who was still in viewing distance, "You know I prefer larger breasts," He then turned his look towards the man. "Gus."
This 'Gus' nodded. "Ha! You and me both man." He spoke with genuine happiness in his voice. "So, how did ya get here? Backwards clock? Blue Star?" Gus quickly relaxed as he began talking to Bemaia.
"Worse," Bemaia said, solemnly. "Angela happened." He wanted to end his explanation there, but Gus didn't quite understand what Bemaia meant by that if his facial expressions were anything to go by. He sighed. "After you used the clock, all meltdowns were cleared and we managed to actually damage the Arbiter and get through Day 49, but..."
Gus nodded his head as Bemaia recounted the events. "But what?"
Bemaia really didn't want to remember anything of these few days, but his mind worked against him on this one. "Day 50 happened, the seed of light that the manager planned occurred, but well... Angela happened."
Gus opened his mouth to speak. "The machine betrayed us?" To which Bemaia nodded. "I fuckin' knew it. That's why we can't trust those things in high places. Shit's fucked."
The librarian let out a dried laugh. "Well, she ate the light and made a Library in the place of the old L Corp. Then a few things that don't really matter happened, and now I'm here with the couple, and I guess you."
Gus grinned. "Aw damn. Francis's here too? Fucker still owes me a beer for saving his ass." Bemaia couldn't really understand why, but that comment made him smile slightly. "Oughta' meet him soon."
Still, something did not add up in Bemaia's head. "How come you're here of all places? What happened?"
The former L Corp employee shuffled in place, feeling somewhat ashamed of what he was about to say. "Well... Turns out, that whole 'Will take you to the safest place' is total bullshit. It took me to a place where no sun shined, and was infested with some pretty mean creatures."
Bemaia assumed he meant the Creatures of Grimm. "They were black and white and red and sometimes yellow too." Yep, those are the Grimm alright. "And worse still, there was some lady who controlled them inside a castle made of black crystals and stuff."
Bemaia simply nodded, taking the information as the man continued. "She asked if I was sent there by some Ozpin guy, and then tried to kill me with laser beans and black tar after I said I didn't know what she was talking about!"
'Huh.' The librarian thought to himself. 'I know that guy!' As such, he relayed that info to Gus. "I work for Ozpin." That took Gus off guard. "Well, the lady, Salem, had this to say..." Guz then leaned in and whispered something in Bemaia's ear. "Or something to that capacity, I don't remember what she said exactly."
He chuckled. "Want me to tell that to Ozpin next time I see him?"
Gus gave it a moment to think it over. "Eh, do whatever."
Bemaia nodded. "Well, you seem to not be In hell, how did you escape?" Bemaia asked him.
Gus chuckled to himself for a moment. "Well, It's 'cuz she's weak as shit, and couldn't damage me through the EGO Suit." He then remembered why he wasn't wearing the said suit at that moment. "But uhh, if a drop o' water drops on your back five times every second, for two months, your back will give out eventually, and so did I."
Those are some juicy pieces of information to relay back to Ozpin, even if one of them wasn't a very professional thing to say. "Why didn't you just, crush her head or something?"
The former L Corp employee scoffed. "You honestly think I didn't kill her? Well, I did, countless times actually! But she just wouldn't stay down..."
Wait, if the woman couldn't be killed, she's just like an abnormality then? Surely, Gus tried other methods, right? "Did you try sleeping with her?" Was the first idea that popped into Bemaia's head. "I did, but she was hell-bent on killin' me. I only got out because the nerd in there works for her, and thought I could still be of use to him by not bothering her anymore, so here I am. After he's done there, I'm free to do whatever." He nodded to himself, solemnly. "Indeed, the suit is gone, and without it I was basically powerless against her, not to mention that the weapon is in serious need of repairs..."
He sighed. "I'll have to get a job soon if I want to get the hammer fixed."
Many things passed through Bemaia's head. A way to help his friend, but he wasn't in a good spot to actually aid him in any way. "In Vale, I'm a huntsman in training, but I basically lucked into that one. So... Good luck?"
The doorknob shifted and spun on its axes. "Aye, good luck is appropriate." Gus bounced off the wall and approached the man who exited through the door. The conversation inside could be heard, ever so slightly.
"Please, do keep in touch." The thin man said to the other inside, closing the door, and glaring at Gus. "Kept your mouth shut, I hope?"
Gus nodded, raising his hammer and resting it on his shoulder. "Aye, not a word came outta my mouth." Then, just like that, the two left, without as much as a nod or a wave to Bemaia.
Speaking of him, he did not have any time to take a good look at the 'Nerd' Gus talked about before he remembered he had to meet the most important man in the building, reminded of that by a singular, "You may come in."
As Bemaia stepped into Jacques Schnee's office, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease.
The room was a testament to the Schnee family's wealth and influence. Rich, dark wood paneling covered the walls, giving the room a sense of grandeur. The desk at which Jacques sat was large and imposing, made of a polished ebony wood that gleamed in the light filtering through the tall windows.
The windows themselves were adorned with elaborate drapes, made of a rich, velvet fabric that added to the room's luxurious feel. The floor was covered in an ornate rug, its intricate patterns adding to the room's elegance.
Shelves lined the walls, displaying various trophies and awards won by the Schnee family over the years. There were also several paintings, depicting scenes of the family's history and achievements.
Overall, the room exuded an air of power and prestige, reflecting the status of the man who occupied it. Jacques Schnee sat behind his desk, a symbol of authority and wealth, his demeanor reflecting his high standing in Atlas society.
Jaques Schnee was a man of imposing stature, with a commanding presence that filled the room. His hair was a stark white, matching his daughter Weiss's, though his was neatly groomed and styled in a sophisticated manner. His sharp, icy-blue eyes seemed to pierce through whoever he looked at, conveying a sense of authority and power.
He was dressed in a well-tailored suit, the fabric expensive and the cut fashionable. Every detail of his appearance spoke of wealth and refinement, from the cufflinks on his sleeves to the shine of his shoes.
To Bemaia, Jaques Schnee was the epitome of everything he despised about the wealthy elite. The man's demeanor oozed with an air of superiority, and Bemaia could practically feel the disdain Jaques held for him, hidden beneath a thin veil of politeness.
Despite his distaste for the man, Bemaia knew he had to tread carefully. He needed Jaques's support and approval if he was to secure a hefty sum of money for the Vytal festival. With that in mind, he needed to choose his first words very carefully, should anything be antiquated or even the slightest- "Hello."
Off to a good start, are we?
Bemaia approached the table, and Jacques watched him very carefully, resting his hands on the table in front. "Ah yes, Bermia…" The man began in a friendly tone, cheerful even, only for his eyes to fall on the wing on the librarian's back. The momentary silence told Bemaia everything he needed to know. "Please, have a seat."
After calming his nerves after having his name mistaken for the second time today, he wordlessly sat on the cushioned seat in front of Jacques. "Before we begin," Bemaia said, making himself comfortable in the armchair, "I just want to say that I'm a huge fan." He said, in a polite tone, "But I'm afraid you've been misinformed."
Jacques raised an eyebrow, despite feeling somewhat flattered. "The name's Bemaia, not Bermia, as your sources state."
The president and CEO of the Schnee Dust Company did seem somewhat surprised at that, but not enough to give Bemaia a clear sign, his poker face was simply too good. "Ah, so that's why nothing came up when we searched for you in our data banks. Oh well. I suppose I'll have a talk with a certain soldier after we're through here."
There were a few other reasons why nothing came up when searching for Bemaia, like the fact that he did not exist in this place until a few weeks ago, be that was something he chose to omit.
"So, my daughter says you're a cook. She says you stand on equal footing with Kyleneath. Care to explain yourself?" Of course, he didn't want an explanation of how he became a great cook, rather, he wanted to know how he was able to fly under the radar for so long.
'And therein lies the issue.' Bemaia thought to himself. Jacques is, for the lack of a better term, everywhere, if his stay on the train taught him anything, that is. Any lie he could try to conjure, or anything factual about his past on The City, would be sniffed a mile away before he could do anything about it. So what to say? How to answer this question? And worse yet, this was the very first one, out of probably many more.
So, Bemaia conjured up the highest tier of bullshit he could muster on the tip of his tongue, "Classified."
Jacques frowned, it was clear he didn't like that answer. It was barely noticeable, but Bemaia managed to catch a glimpse of the Schnee's eyes tarting to and from Bemaia's Wing and back at his face. "What's that supposed to mean? Classified? Explain."
That couldn't have been the best play, but alas, it's done. "Simply as that. Though, if you must know, the people who went to Kyleneath's place can tell you pretty much everything you want to know about me. I have a contract to uphold, they don't.
Bemaia observed Jacques write something on a notebook of sorts that rested on his table. "So James, Weiss, and… Winter." Despite the short pause before saying the name of his oldest daughter, Bemaia didn't see anything that could indicate a shift in emotion. "Quite troublesome." He then shifted his attention back to Bemaia. "Although I am happy my daughter decided to think of the family business for the first time in her life… You're quite the handful."
Bemaia simply shrugged, not really knowing how to respond to that. "Enough of that, we're here to talk business, no?"
The so-called 'King' sighed, but relented, he was in a good mood today. "That is true." Then, he reached for a microphone of sorts, from behind the table, out of Bemaia's sight. "I take it you drink?" Bemaia nodded, prompting Jacques to press a small red button on the base of the apparatus with a satisfying click. "Klein, bring me two glasses and an Arturian Wine Bottle, from before Nicholas would be preferred."
Bemaia could almost chuckle at his current situation. Talking to the father of a colleague for money whilst being unable to even say where he's from. What a joke.
In no time Klein arrived with the requested goods on a literal silver platter, placing the glasses on the table, and serving both of them. Before leaving, he stopped at the door and turned to Jacques. " should be with you two in a few minutes." And then, closed the door as he left.
Bemaia took the glass of wine, and observed it for a moment, taking in the fragrance it exuded. "I was under the impression you were going to have me cook something to prove myself."
Jacques could only chuckle at that. "Ha, well no. Weiss has yet to tell me a lie, and I'd be a failure as a father if I didn't trust my own daughter, as rebellious as she's become anyways, as such, I don't need proof of your competence, if Weiss said you're good, then you're good." Bemaia could feel a 'But' coming. "However, I do not need a better cook, not at this manor anyway."
That was to be expected, Bemaia thought to himself. "Then, why did you agree to talk to me? If not for my culinary skills, then for what?" He asked, taking a small sip from his wine. The taste was nothing special.
Feeling the underappreciation for the drink, Jacques did not hesitate to clarify some things. "This, my feathered fellow," Jacques began, his voice smooth and cultured, "is a wine with a storied history. The Arturian vineyards are renowned for producing some of the finest vintages in the world, and this particular bottle is no exception."
He took a sip, savoring the taste before continuing. "The grapes used in this wine are harvested only once every ten years, ensuring that only the finest fruit is selected. The aging process is meticulous, with the wine being stored in oak barrels for decades, allowing it to develop its complex flavors and aromas."
Jacques leaned back in his chair, a look of satisfaction on his face. "You see, Bemaia, wine is not just a drink. It is an art form, a representation of the land and the people who cultivate it. This wine, in particular, speaks of a time long past, a time of elegance and refinement."
He poured a bit more on Bemaia's glass, refueling it. "I chose this wine for our meeting because I believe it embodies the qualities I seek in those I do business with. Sophistication, taste, and a deep appreciation for the finer things in life."
Bemaia accepted the refuel, taking a sip and nodding appreciatively. Despite his disdain for Jacques, he couldn't deny the quality of the wine. It was smooth, with a rich, full-bodied flavor that lingered on the palate.
After taking a good minute to enjoy himself, he then turned his gaze back to Bemaia. "I have a network of contacts, contracts, and associates that spreads far and wide, high in the echelon of the four kingdoms and down to the most forgotten ditch in Vacuo, yet… You don't appear anywhere, almost as if you appeared one day."
A singular bead of sweat ran down Bemaia's face. 'Does he know?' was all he asked himself. "I know you, the illiterate, and the other one exists and are in Beacon, but aside from that, I know nothing… Aside from a little thing."
Jacques conjured a scroll from his pocket and placed it on the table, a holographic rectangle appeared above it, with a white circle on the middle. The circle had a singular darkened triangle in its center, its tip was pointed to the right. It's a play button. A video?
"What am I seeing, Jacques?" Instead of answering, Jacques simply pressed the button and the video came to life.
It was a recording of a night he was close to forgetting. A night somewhat uneventful in Mount Glenn. The first few seconds were shot from a security camera, and it depicted five to seven White Fang corpses stretched out on the floor, gore and viscera painted the grey cement red. Moving by them was him, with a hand cannon in hand still smoking.
Jacques then paused the video, it was pointless to show any more of it. "It was quite difficult getting my hands on this little .webm, and yet, it's even worse to get anything on you."
Alarming. Alarming was the only word that echoed in Bemaia's mind. One thing was to have enough power to search and catch a confidential video, another thing was to know the video's existence in the first place. Was there a leak? Was Ozpin compromised? Yet another thing he needed to tell his employer. "Oh, don't worry, I don't plan on doing anything with this… Display of heroism. In fact, I appreciate that you dealt with those animals the way you did."
"What?" Bemaia expected blackmail, yet, he was receiving praise? "Wait, before we get into that, how did you know of this video?"
A low chuckle was all Bemaia heard. "Well, when I received the news my youngest daughter was going on her first-ever official mission, It's only natural for me, her father, to gain interest." Jacques clarified, taking a small sip from his wine. "But to think the White Fang came so close to harming my blood?! Of course, I went out of my way to search for anything related to her mission." His tone increased rapidly, but he calmed down just as fast.
"With that in mind, I wanted to personally say my thanks to you, for delivering justice to those wretched bums, and for a… Compensation of sorts." He then stored his Scroll back in his pocket, deactivating the hologram in the process. Then, with a practiced movement, he pulled out a silver suitcase, alongside an envelope. "You see, the White Fang lieutenant you eliminated, I put a bounty on his head a while now. As such, in the envelope, is the bounty you won, plus a little extra for… the extras, yes."
Without skipping a beat, Bemaia took the envelope and opened it. Inside, was a paper sheet, and a card. Eyeing the sheet of paper, Bemaia noticed that it was instructions on how to operate this card alongside all information on the account connected to it. Effectively, what Jacques gave him was an Atlesean Bank Account, unbounded by his name. "Appreciated."
The Schnee nodded, sipping his wine. "Your appreciation is appreciated. See this as a token of my esteem, and perhaps a to-do list."
This was perhaps one of, if not the worst outcome that could happen. To Bemaia, what Jacques had just told him to do, was kind of against everything he had agreed upon to team RWBY. By dealing with them, he meant killing them, the White Fang. Was this worth breaking what little trust they still had with him?
Moral dilemma aside, this was pretty good money, more than enough for his expenses for the Vytal Festival, and even more than enough to turn a profit. Perhaps he should hand a bit of this money to help his friends get better gear? Maybe finance Francisco's project? 'Nah, It's mine.' Was the conclusion Bemaia reached.
Jacques then opened the suitcase. "Those animals are hunting you, correct? Hunt them first, huntsman. For each one you deal with, a compensation shall follow suit."
Lo and behold, inside the suitcase laid Honestus Finis and Reliquit Custodiam, clean and in pristine condition. "You had them?" Bemaia asked in honest curiosity.
"They were… Forwarded to me by my good friends at the Atlas Military. Take them, they're yours after all." Bemaia quickly puts Reliquit Custodiam back on his right arm. It fits like a glove. It also feels great to have a way to defend himself back. Honestus Finis had no ammo, but it wasn't a problem.
Though there was a fear of his gear being tempered with by some of Jacques's people, Bemaia was sure that Francisco would spot and fix any issue in the blink of an eye. "Never thought I'd drink with one of your ilk, but I suppose there are first times for everything," Jacques spoke, finishing his glass. "I have nothing else to discuss. Weiss should have your travel back to Beacon covered. Now leave, I have other matters to attend to."
Bemaia obliged, pocketing the card and the folded sheet of paper, and left the office.
The air outside Jacques' office was cold, a chill ran down the librarian's spine. "Bemaia!" Or perhaps it was just Weiss appearing from around the corner. "Where did you get your weapons?" She questioned.
Bemaia glanced at the closed door on his left and gave Weiss a shrug. "I should have known..." She muttered to herself, while also saying some other things that Bemaia couldn't hear. "You're done already? I was about to join you!"
From his pocket, Bemaia pulled out and showed Weiss a singular red card. "I got enough to start something in the Vytal Festival if I have permission from the organizers, but that shouldn't be too much of a hassle." Then, he promptly pocketed the thing. "But, It doesn't look like I'll be working here anytime soon."
The heiress frowned, but color soon returned to her face. "Oh well, I suppose I'll have to wait until the festival begins in order to eat your food again, 'Bermia'" Weiss said, chuckling at the end.
Failing to prevent his eyes from twitching, Bemaia was quick to remind Weiss of his origins. "I swear on my late Office's name, I'm going to eat the next person who calls me that."
Weiss raised her hands defensively, faking a laugh while doing so. "Haha. As if." She dared.
Oh, It's on. Bemaia will remember those very words. "You're lucky you're my only way outta Atlas." Bemaia sighed as Weiss scoffed at him.
"Moving on," The librarian said, "I think we should be looking into returning to Atlas… Cuz I don't plan to have a tour around the city, nor do I care enough about this place. At this point, I just want to get back to Beacon and... I don't know, relax I guess? Maybe drink a bit with the lads? A brothel perhaps... Well, Fred doesn't drink... Bah, I'll think about it later." As baffling as that comment on its own was for Weiss, all her mind would default to was 'He's a literal alien.' as such, what could be considered average for your average Joe, did not apply to the Librarians.
Weiss scoffed. "So you don't even want to have a walk around the most advanced and beautiful kingdom? Haaaa…" She loudly exhaled. "Yeah, I guess Atlas' paisage can get repetitive after a while…" And, in truth, Weiss pretty much ran away from home in order to attend Beacon, so she couldn't really blame him for not wanting to stick around.
Surprisingly, In but a few swipes of her finger in the Scroll, a pair of tickets had already been purchased in the name of Jacques Schnee heading to Vale in a few hours from now. This one, unlike the tickets bought to travel from Vale to Atlas, Weiss managed to acquire air travel, transforming a four-day train plus bullhead journey, into a ten-hour flight.
"I suggest we begin making our way towards the airport... Our airbus should leave in five hours, about the time I'll take to bring some things I left here back to Beacon, and also prepare for the flight." Weiss said, prompting Bemaia to take out his Scroll.
"Tell me the address of the airport and I'll meet you there in four hours because I will not stay in this house for another five hours. I'll go buy some Dust Francisco asked me to, then go there." Bemaia said, and Weiss could only raise an eyebrow at that.
As Bemaia turned to leave, the heiress was quick to shut down his idea. "Do you even know where you are?" Prompting Bemaia to stop dead in his tracks. "This is the Schnee manor, you know, the family known to be the largest producer of Dust in Remnant? If you want some, just ask and we'll deliver, you are speaking to the heiress of the company after all."
Despite the needless flex on Weiss's part, she was pretty much correct. "Hm. Who could've guessed, that the next in line to take control of the SDC has contacts inside the SDC." Bemaia sighed. How did he not think of this before? Oh, yeah, maybe it was because she used to view him as a monster. Aye, that ought to imply she wouldn't help him, but since she gave the idea... "That's very resourceful of you, then yes, that'd be much appreciated."
The moonless night sky, what a beauty. A kaleidoscope of dots, shapes, and colors. The wind howled consistently, but it did not matter. This was a special night.
"Breathtaking, isn't it honey?" The older man spoke, lying in the sand, looking at the stars.
"Hmm... Maybe." This time, a woman responded in a taunting tone, accompanied by the sound of the few waves crashing onto the shore. She too, laid on the sand, adjacent to her significant other.
A sigh came from the man. "Oh, don't you start it. You're loving it and I know it." And, truth be told, what's not to love about stargazing?
The sky was clear without a singular cloud above. The location chosen was within the permitted location, so no Grimm, and also far enough away from any man-made structure, so that no light could obfuscate such a view. "Ah... I remember how we used to stargaze."
The woman raised her head a bit, resting on her elbows. "Your old team?" Sand particles stuck to her skin and clothes as she raised her head. Oh no, there was also sand in her hair.
"Mhm. I wonder how they're doing... I heard one of 'em became a teacher." The man said, reminiscing about the days of old, well, not that old, he was just an adult in his prime after all.
"Ugh." The woman groaned, passing a hand through her hair. "How are we going to clean all this sand off? The hotel is five kilometers away..."
The man, however, was unperturbed. "That's then, honey." He chuckled a bit. "So let's enjoy the now, okay?" He raised his body a bit, closing the distance between his face and hers.
"You know what?" She said, undoing her frown. "Let's do that." She smiled, as she placed a playful kiss on the man's cheeks.
The two rose to a sitting position, now shifting their attention to the unfathomable body of water ahead of them.
"Hm..." She hummed, resting her head against her lover's shoulder.
"Wait, is that..." She squinted her eyes. It was difficult to see at night, especially with the current phase of the moon, effectively camouflaging it with the utter blackness of the cosmos.
"Hm?" The man, however, did not have that problem. A small help from genetics dictated he had night vision, albeit, limited due to his Faunus heritage, noticeable by a fluffy tail attached to his back.
The woman could barely make out the silhouette on the shore. "On the shore, is someone there?"
"Huh... Yeah... There is." The man could see the silhouette of a person, slowly rising from the water. "Wait here, Imma go talk to them."
Perhaps sensing something amiss, the woman asked one last thing. "Take your weapon, maybe?" To which the man promptly declined.
"Ah, please, that's probably a diver, maybe they need a light. I'll take my scroll though." The man then stood up, intentioned to help this person.
The woman would observe the man approach this silhouette. "Ay!" She heard him say, "Need some help there friend?" The man asked, enthusiastically.
She couldn't really make out what was happening, the man had yet to turn on the scroll, and as such there was no light for her to see. But, she could hear everything very well, the night's silence was perturbed only by the waves and for now the man.
"You okay there?" The man asked once more.
This woman swore that the silhouette did not talk since no sound came from him, instead, she heard a sound coming from within her head.
Our bodies have died many times.
"Wha... Woah, look at that!" The man said, laughing a bit, unperturbed by the strangeness the woman felt. Perhaps, since he was closer to the silhouette, he didn't notice the source of the sound.
These aren't the cells you were born with.
Approaching the silhouette, the man couldn't help but whistle at the sight he saw with his limited night vision. "I haven't seen a diving suit like that since I was twelve!"
Not the teeth. Nor the brain.
This silhouette kept speaking. The woman grew restless.
We in the pilot's chairs are already ghosts.
"Ho now, don't get too close now partner. You stink of fish!" The man gagged but kept his casual stance.
Here and not here.
"Honey, I don't like this... Let's go back to the hotel." The woman tried to plead, already blindly gathering their stuff.
Built of memories the way a beach is built of sand.
"..." The man grew silent. Not a breath escaped his mouth, despite it being agape.
Shifting.
Then, a soft thud was heard, created by the scroll on the man's hands falling on the sand, prompting the screen to light up in protest. What the woman saw was... Haunting.
Ships anchored to fog.
A deafening scream of a woman in distress echoed through the empty beaches of the small coastal city of Rubica.
The sands are stained red.