Neither RWBY nor Bloodborne belongs to me
"Well, it had been a while."
Vilhelm tried to remember the last time he had actually socialized with people his age and came up lacking. In Yharnam, every hunter was much older than himself, with the one closest to his age being the moon-scented hunter—though even he was seven years older. Yet simply thinking about him made his stomach ache where the cannonball had impacted.
Still, he had little trouble fitting in with the other hunters who were not allied with the Church—unfortunately, that was before the incident. Afterward, everyone, save for Her Majesty, avoided him as if he had the plague.
"Well, as long as I am careful and my gloves stay on, there won't be a repeat of last time."
Vilhelm was suddenly ripped from his musings as a blond teenager walked straight into him. Before he could make a condescending remark about manners, he noticed the boy's face was completely green. Deciding to intervene before catastrophe struck, he grabbed the boy's shoulder and pressed a bag made of some new material—plastic—into his hands.
"If you really need to vomit, do so in the bag. It would not be favorable for you if the first impression your classmates have of you involves the contents of your stomach."
The boy gave him a grateful look before promptly emptying his stomach into the plastic bag.
Deciding to leave him to his woes, Vilhelm returned to his place, reflecting on his stay in the city of Vale. On the first day, he had gotten hopelessly lost and had only managed to find his hotel through sheer luck. Things began looking up when, on the second day, he located a library, where he swiftly spent the rest of his stay, including the third day—until a letter from the Headmaster informed him of the beginning of his semester.
As he observed the gathered students, he noticed that some possessed animal features.
"Then there is the matter of the Faunus, he thought to himself."
On his first day in Vale, he had encountered a Faunus for the first time. The only thing stopping him from immediately shooting the poor individual in the head was the complete lack of reaction from the surrounding passersby. Naturally, the first thing he researched upon finding the library was the nature of these mysterious people. He had spent nearly four hours studying this strange race of animal-human hybrids, and what he discovered left him feeling deep pity for the Faunus.
"To think that one would be cast out from society simply for having an extra set of ears… Even after proving their worth time and time again, the superstitions of fools living in the past have ruined their lives. In a way, they are not so different from us Vilebloods. How many times did we save these ungrateful mongrels from the beasts prowling outside their doors, only to be met with indifference at best and open hostility at worst?"
So deep was he in thought that Vilhelm almost didn't notice that the Bullhead had long since landed. As he moved to disembark, he heard a sound that, had he not known better, could have come from a Cleric Beast.
"What are you doing?! Do you have any idea of the damage you could've caused?!"
Searching for the source of the outburst, Vilhelm found himself looking at a peculiar scene.
In the middle of the plaza, a small girl—two or three years younger than himself—was being berated by another girl, not much taller than her. The first girl looked relatively normal, dressed mostly in black with red accents. The other, however, stood out more, clad mostly in white. What truly caught his attention, though, was her stark white hair. If not for the snowflake emblem on her back—and the fact that he was the youngest member of the Vilebloods—he would have assumed she was a distant relative.
"Do you have any idea what this is?! This is Dust—mined and purified in the Schnee Dust Quarry!"
Deciding that helping them might be worth the effort for a good first impression, Vilhelm began to approach. However, he noticed that some of the Dust, as the white-haired girl had called it, had made its way into the nose of the smaller girl. The white-haired girl had failed to notice this, but Vilhelm knew well enough that the Headmaster wouldn't appreciate an explosion right at his doorstep.
Quickly, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to press it against the younger girls face—only realizing too late that it was the one with expensive embroidery.
ACHOO!
"May I offer you a handkerchief in these trying times?" Vilhelm quipped, inwardly cursing his own stupidity for using his favorite handkerchief, which he had laced with costly perfumes to mask the stench of blood during the Hunt.
"Thank you," the girl in red and black said, holding the cloth out to him.
"You may keep it for now. There is no hurry," Vilhelm replied with a smile, already wondering how he would rid it of snot without losing the perfume's scent.
"Really? Thanks! It smells really nice! What kind of perfume is—"
"I believe we have not been introduced yet," the girl in white interrupted. "I am Weiss Schnee, heir to the Schnee Dust Company. And you are?"
"Judging by how she acts, she was most likely born into nobility. Perhaps I should treat her as such."
"Indeed, I am Vilhelm of the Cainhurst Nobles. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
For good measure, he performed the gesture for respect, which seemed to elicit a surprised reaction.
"Oh, really? I have never heard of—"
Before she could finish, the younger girl, seemingly not wanting to be left out, chimed in, "And I'm Ruby Rose!" Without missing a beat, she continued, "Are you really a noble? Whoa, that's so cool! Did you ever—"
"Anyways," Weiss interjected, clearly trying to regain control of the conversation, "I have never h—"
"You know what else is cool? Me! Jaune Arc!"
To Weiss's obvious annoyance, the boy from earlier interrupted once again.
Thinking about repaying him for making his plastic bag unusable, Vilhelm remarked, "Ah, Mister Arc. It is a pleasure to talk with you now that the risk of your stomach emptying itself is no longer a concern."
Hearing this, Jaune's eyes widened in embarrassment before he stammered, "Oh, I am terribly sorry! I didn't even get to thank you for saving my reputation—"
"Wait," Ruby interjected. "You're the guy Yang called Vomit Boy, right?"
Before Jaune could respond, Weiss let out an exasperated groan and stormed off.
"I hope she isn't angry because of me," Jaune mumbled.
"While you are not the sole reason, you are most certainly a major one," Vilhelm said with a smirk. "However, if we don't want to miss the Headmaster's speech, we should follow her example."
"Oh, shoot! Let's go!"
The short-lived silence was immediately broken by Ruby again. "So, what kind of weapons do you two use?"
Thinking it wouldn't hurt to go first, Vilhelm began, "Well, I have two. In my offhand, I use an Evelyn."
The sight of the old gun elicited a noise from Ruby that was somewhere between a squeak and a squeal of joy.
Seeing such a reaction, Vilhelm continued with a sly smile, "And in my main hand, I wield my—hm? Where is it?"
Noticing that his Flamberge was missing from its rightful place on his back, Vilhelm looked around—only to find Ruby holding his sword, which was taller than her, eyes gleaming with excitement.
Thinking little of it, Vilhelm decided to continue. "Well, as you can see, it is a modified Flamberge. I lengthened the blade and added a knuckle bow to help balance its weight and simply because it looks nice. Now, Miss Rose, may I have my sword back?"
"Sorry." With a red face, Ruby quickly handed his sword back. Yet, she soon composed herself and pulled a strange contraption from her back.
"And this is my baby, Crescent Rose!" With a quick motion, the entire contraption unraveled, revealing the largest scythe Vilhelm had ever seen.
"It is also a customizable, high-impact velocity sniper rifle," Ruby continued.
"What?" Jaune and Vilhelm both said in unison.
"It is also a gun," Ruby explained, beaming. "And how about you, Jaune?"
"Oh, uh… so this is Crocea Mors," Jaune said, pulling a sword from its scabbard. "The shield can turn into the scabbard to make it easier to carry."
"But doesn't it stay the same weight?" Ruby asked.
"It does," Jaune admitted, lowering his head slightly.
"Ah, I see. He feels bad about his weapon. If only he knew how many tears and curses I poured into my sword to forge a coherent form. And Miss Rose does not seem all too different. I should probably say something."
Before Vilhelm could offer words of encouragement, Ruby beat him to it.
"There's nothing wrong with the classic sword and board. The classics are classics for a reason."
"Indeed," Vilhelm added. "While I am unsure of the efficiency of the shield, you can't go too wrong with a good blade. But it seems we are here."
The auditorium was packed to the brim with students, making traversing the room a significant challenge. Before Vilhelm could locate a suitable spot—one that would offer ample space for the three of them while allowing young Ruby a clear view of the stage—a voice called out.
"Hey, Ruby! Over here! I saved you a spot!"
Vilhelm turned toward the voice and blinked. "Formless Oedon… is that hair?"
"Coming!" Ruby called back. Turning to Vilhelm, she explained, "That's Yang, my half-sister."
"I see," Vilhelm replied.
The girl in question wore an outfit that would be scandalous by Yharnamite standards—far too short shorts and a tan jacket, which appeared to be assisting a yellow crop top (as the strange garment was apparently called)* in its fruitless endeavor to contain her rather sizeable bust.
"Ah, I see you've already made some new friends, Rubes," the blonde said. "You brought Vomit Boy and—huh, haven't seen you before. Name's Yang. I'm this cutie's big sister. And you are…?"
As if to emphasize her question, she pulled a squirming Ruby into a tight hug.
"I am Vilhelm of Cainhurst. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Yang," Vilhelm said, silently rehearsing a prayer to Formless Oedon in hopes of sparing poor Ruby from further humiliation.
"Not bad," Yang mused, a playful gleam in her eyes. "A little too formal, though, so I think I'll just call you Pretty Boy instead."
"Excuse me?" Vilhelm said, caught off guard by her shamelessness. "Vilhelm is a perfectly normal name. You don't need some ridiculous pseudonym to address me."
"I wouldn't mind being called Pretty Boy," Jaune chimed in. "It's way better than Vomit Boy, anyway."
Vilhelm leveled a deadpan glare at him. But before he could say anything, Yang snorted.
"Nah."
Jaune was spared further humiliation by the Headmaster's voice cutting through the murmuring crowd.
"I'll keep this brief," Ozpin began. "You have traveled here today in search of knowledge—to hone your craft and acquire new skills. And when you are finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people.
"But I look among you, and all I see is wasted energy in need of purpose—direction. You assume knowledge will free you from this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge alone can only carry you so far. It is up to you to take the first step."
"Not bad. With this speech, the Headmaster not only used the students' egos against them but also subtly established exactly who they would answer to. Of course, none of them grew up in Yharnam, so I may be a special case."
"Charming," Yang remarked.
"Indeed," Vilhelm said. "The Headmaster has quite a way with words. To insult without using obscene language is an art form cultivated over generations."
Before Vilhelm could hear Yang's response, Professor Goodwitch took over.
"You will gather in the ballroom tonight. Tomorrow, your initiation begins. Be ready. You are dismissed."
"The ballroom? What exactly are we supposed to do there?"
"Oh, of course."
As it turned out, the ballroom would serve as the sleeping quarters for the first-year students.
"Well, that is absolutely great. Now I will have to pretend to be asleep… in a room full of complete strangers, no less."
Vilhelm noted that Jaune had exchanged his previous clothes for a one-piece pajama adorned with a bunny print, making him simultaneously the laughingstock of most of the gathered students. Yet, as he adjusted his gloves, he heard a familiar voice:
"Apologies, but we never got to finish our conversation."
Vilhelm turned to his right and saw the white-haired girl from before.
"Indeed. Weiss Schnee, I presume?"
"Yes," she answered. "I just wanted to ask—where exactly is Cainhurst?"
Considering how best to explain his conundrum, Vilhelm settled for a half-truth.
"Ah, yes, well… it is located deep in the Grimmlands. The nobility there evolved from an order of knights tasked with protecting the people in those lands."
"If you were tasked with protecting the people there, then what are you doing here?" Weiss prodded.
"During one of my patrols, I encountered one of the Headmaster's men. After explaining the situation to my family, they agreed to send me here." He offered her a polite smile. "Is there anything else you'd like to know, Miss Schnee?"
"No, that would be all," she replied swiftly. "I hope I wasn't too much of a bother, and I look forward to working with you in the future."
"The pleasure was mine as well, Miss Schnee. I wish you a good night's rest."
"Hm. So she can be polite when she chooses to be. The people here are undoubtedly interesting. But that begs the question… what exactly am I meant to do for the rest of the night—Formless Oedon!"
Before Vilhelm could even finish his train of thought, his gaze was drawn skyward, where he beheld the most beautiful sight he had seen in a long time: a shattered moon.
*During his stay in Vale, Vilhelm was initially surprised to find that much of the female populace seemed to have lost all sense of shame. Concerned, he took it upon himself to research the topic in the library. To his relief, he discovered that the women of Vale had not fallen victim to some kind of enchantment—fashion had simply changed that much.
Author's Note:
This chapter serves primarily as a clean-up and introduction, giving Vilhelm the chance to meet some of the main cast. The only slight divergence from canon is that Blake did not call out the Schnee Dust Company. From her perspective, with two Schnees present and Vilhelm already having mostly defused the situation, she decided it wasn't worth the trouble.
And then there's the napkin—something I added simply because I can totally imagine the Cainhurst nobles fending off droves of beasts with one hand while holding a perfume-laced napkin to their faces with the other.
In the next chapter, I plan to cover the entirety of the Initiation, and depending on the word count, a few extra scenes as well.
That's all for now! I hope you're having an amazing day, and I'll see you in the next chapter!