Pyrrha almost couldn't rein in her excitement. Ever since their battle against Vilhelm in the Emerald Forest, she had been anticipating a rematch with bated breath. It had taken multiple pleas to Goodwitch, along with Vilhelm agreeing to the rematch, for it to finally culminate in her waiting for her opponent in Beacon's arena.

Checking over Miló and Akoúo̱, Pyrrha focused her sights on her opponent, who was handling his scroll while holding his helmet under his arm.

Strangely enough, Vilhelm didn't seem to be wearing his full armor. Instead of his silvery breastplate and lamellar cape, he wore only his coat.

Pyrrha was about to ask what he was doing before the screen displaying her Aura flashed and adjusted to make room for a picture of Vilhelm with an Aura bar underneath.

With wide eyes, Pyrrha looked at Vilhelm, who wore a victorious smile, his expression clearly saying that he'd explain later.

Goodwitch cleared her throat, managing to silence the hushed whispers of the other students, who were surprised at Vilhelm's newly acquired Aura.

"Tournament rules are in place," Goodwitch proclaimed to Vilhelm and Pyrrha—the former putting his helmet on and the latter falling into a defensive stance. "While normally that would be enough, given that you two are fighting, I'd appreciate it if you toned it down when it comes to collateral damage."

Both Vilhelm and Pyrrha nodded, focusing on each other while waiting for Goodwitch's signal. Unconsciously, Pyrrha turned her body sideways, covering it with her shield while trying to come up with a strategy. Their quick battle in the Emerald Forest had left her wary of the young noble, but she couldn't help feeling excited for the upcoming match.

"Very well—" Goodwitch began, but she was interrupted as the doors to the classroom swung open.

With a disgruntled hmpf, Goodwitch turned to the newcomers, only to be met with two Atlesian soldiers.

As the soldiers made their way through the classroom, heading straight for Goodwitch, both Beacon's students and the visiting students from other schools whispered among themselves. Ever since the soldiers' arrival, everyone had been on edge and extremely nervous, as professional soldiers were a rare sight at Huntsman academies.

The soldiers reached Goodwitch, and for a while, they were locked in a heated conversation, though they kept their voices quiet enough that Pyrrha couldn't hear them clearly. Finally, Goodwitch turned around with a murderous expression—one that Pyrrha was infinitely grateful wasn't directed at her. Instead, Goodwitch fixed her gaze on Vilhelm.

"Mr. Vilhelm, I am afraid your bout with Miss Nikos must be postponed indefinitely, as General Ironwood wishes to speak with you."

Pyrrha slumped. She had spent a large portion of her free time coming up with different strategies, analyzing Vilhelm's hit-and-run tactics, and even going as far as to rewatch the video of their previous match.

"Truly? Can't it wait?"

Everyone in the room looked surprised at Vilhelm, almost unable to believe what they had just heard.

"I am afraid not," Goodwitch answered, sending an approving look in Vilhelm's direction. "Normally, Ironwood wouldn't request a meeting unless it were important."

Vilhelm nodded before turning to Pyrrha, giving her an apologetic look. "I hope we can hold our duel next time."

Forcing a smile, Pyrrha nodded. "Of course, just… whatever. Have a good day."

As Vilhelm made his way out of the arena to follow the soldiers, Goodwitch addressed the gathered students.

"Well, seeing as the first bout was interrupted, would anyone else like to spar with Miss Nikos?"

"I'll do it," an exchange student with gray hair, dressed mostly in gray, volunteered.

Ironwood was certainly in a mood. He was not necessarily angry or even annoyed but rather thoughtful—why exactly was there no information regarding this curious city… Yharnam? As the name yielded no results whatsoever, Ironwood decided to change tactics and search for other clues instead.

Next, he searched for the boy's familial name. Given that the nobles of Cainhurst were both wealthy and influential, it should have been easier—or so the general thought. Yet, like all clues regarding this blasted city, it led to nothing.

At this point, Ironwood began to consider the possibility that the boy might be lying to him. However, his general demeanor, clothing, equipment, and even manners suggested otherwise.

Asking Penny—whom the boy seemingly considered a good friend—revealed little as well. Only a few names that led to no results and a handful of hunting stories which, while entertaining, were not particularly informative.

As a last-ditch effort, Ironwood decided to research blood-based Semblances, as Ozpin had noted that Vilhelm's Semblance seemed to be hereditary. Unsurprisingly, the search turned up several individuals with similar abilities, but none came close to what Vilhelm was capable of. And that was worrisome, as the stories indicated that he was merely slightly above average in strength among the nobles.

Now, given that there was no discernible way to convince Vilhelm to join Atlas Academy by providing him with information on Yharnam, a more direct approach was required.

Standing by the window, Ironwood let his thoughts drift. Vilhelm had quickly made good friends with both Teams JNPR and RWBY, as well as Penny—surprisingly enough, given the latter's eccentricity. Then there was the Faunus girl he had helped in the cafeteria, further proving that he put great effort into being a compassionate person, unbothered by whether his friends were Human, Faunus, or, in Penny's case, something else entirely. Taking all of this into account, convincing him shouldn't be too difficult. And yet, Ironwood had a sneaking suspicion that this endeavor would be far more challenging than he anticipated.

A small sound indicated that the elevator had reached his office, and with it, hopefully, Ironwood's soon-to-be pawn, as Ozpin would like to say.

"General, you wished to speak with me?" the boy began immediately, thankfully skipping the infuriatingly pompous manner of speech that reminded Ironwood far too much of Atlesian high society. However, he did note a slight trace of annoyance in Vilhelm's voice, which made him question whether he should have waited until after combat class had concluded. But he quickly banished such thoughts to the back of his mind.

"Yes," Ironwood replied, "I saw it fit to inform you that I could not locate any information regarding Yharnam whatsoever." And though it pained him to no end to say this, it had to be addressed. "And, honestly, I doubt Ozpin will find anything either. However, you are still welcome to continue your Huntsman training at Atlas Academy."

Ironwood waited for a response. He expected anything from an angry outburst to hopeless resignation. What he got, however, was truly unexpected.

"I understand," Vilhelm said. "But… is that all you wished to tell me?"

Befuddled, Ironwood looked at Vilhelm, whose face remained unreadable.

"While I do not wish to sound rude," Vilhelm continued, "and I am grateful that you took the time to inform me of the lack of available information on Yharnam, I was under the assumption that you are a very busy individual. So, seeing you stand here, calling upon me simply to tell me this and to offer me a place at your academy… frankly, I do not understand it."

Truly, Ironwood thought. It seems as though the boy has yet to realize his significance. It was a good thing Ozpin had left him in the dark—at least, for now.

"Well," Ironwood continued, "you have already proven yourself to be quite a skilled fighter—apprehending an entire group of White Fang operatives and keeping pace with a full team of your classmates. I simply believe that your talents are wasted here. Attending Atlas Academy could help your career exponentially."

Once again, Ironwood turned toward the window, not expecting a response anytime soon. He will understand, Ironwood reassured himself. Those raised in noble households are unfortunately forced to mature much faster. His thoughts drifted to Vilhelm's overall demeanor—it reminded him of his second-in-command.

Overall, it is a shame that he cannot stay at Beacon with Ozpin. Yet his and Miss Rose's presence here is simply unacceptable.

"General, I understand your desire to do the right thing," Vilhelm said.

Ironwood stifled a curse at hearing such an undesirable response.

"Yet I have already decided that I will not join the Atlesian military," Vilhelm continued, "for that is what you truly desire of me. What is strangest, however, is that you yourself are attempting to conscript me."

Ironwood sighed internally. I admit, he thought, this is proving to be far more difficult than it should be.

Out loud, he replied, "I understand your hesitation regarding our institution, but I assure you that your enrollment will be in everyone's best interest." Thinking quickly, he added, "I could even arrange for you and Miss Polendina to be partnered up."

Seeing the conflicted expression on Vilhelm's face, Ironwood allowed himself a moment of satisfaction.

Perhaps promising him a partnership with Penny will sway him. Having a teammate who actually treats her like a human being could be advantageous.

Still, that left the matter of Miss Soleil. Her talents would be wasted… perhaps she could act as a team leader?

Yet, Ironwood's musings were interrupted by Vilhelm:

"General, in all honesty, you remind me of a man known as Martyr Logarius."

Huh… so he already compares me to a martyr of his home city? Though unexpected, it was not entirely unwelcome.

"He always desired to do the right thing," Vilhelm continued, unaware of Ironwood's inner musings. "He led an order of the Church that protected the poor citizens of Yharnam with great zeal from the encroaching Beasts, all while remaining relatively humble by the standards of the Healing Church."

Yeah, Ironwood thought. I should probably make it clear to him that I am simply a military leader and headmaster—not some legendary hero. Though, if Vilhelm did see him in such a light, it would make bringing him into the fold much easier.

"He even made his intentions clear with his words: 'Acts of goodness are not always wise, and acts of evil are not always foolish. But regardless, we shall always strive to be good.'"

What a wonderful individual, Ironwood thought. No wonder he is so revered within the confines of Yharnam…

"He had the audacity to proclaim such words before slaughtering the vast majority of the nobles within Cainhurst."

Ironwood's thoughts came to a screeching halt.

"What?" was all he could stammer, stunned by such a revelation.

Vilhelm continued, his calm expression barely concealing the anger simmering beneath. "He and his Executioners waited until the Night of the Hunt had progressed to a point where most of the knights in service to Cainhurst had left to hunt down the Beasts prowling the city. Then, they stormed the castle while only a handful of nobles and servants—who were barely prepared for such a siege—remained. Of course, Her Majesty called upon all knights to return and defend their home. Yet we were spread out. Yharnam was a massive city—not as large as Vale, I must admit, yet far more intertwined. The first knights arrived immediately after the Executioners broke down the main gate, leading to a bloody melee in the courtyard, which slowed them down significantly… or so I was told. As for me… I was still hunting in the depths of Old Yharnam, following rumors of an undead Darkbeast, when the lost child of antiquity arrived with a message ordering me back to the castle. By the time I returned, the battle was already lost. The wretched parasites had entered the castle proper, and it fell to the stragglers to hunt them down in the sacred halls of our home. I—"

Vilhelm's fist clenched, the sharp sound of something brittle breaking making Ironwood wonder what he carried with him.

"I barely survived the siege myself," Vilhelm finished, his voice quieter now. "Only a handful of fellow knights and servants could say the same. Yet the intruders suffered even greater losses—Logarius died on the steps before the throne room, and only a dozen Executioners managed to escape. They were hunted down by the remaining knights, ensuring their complete annihilation."

Vilhelm paused, exhaling a long, tired sigh before continuing.

"Yet the tragedy of that night was not confined to our castle. Their foolishness forced the knights stationed within Old Yharnam to return to Cainhurst, which gave the Beasts there the opportunity to overwhelm the Powderkegs. In a desperate last stand, they burned down the entirety of Old Yharnam to halt the advance."

Vilhelm halted, perhaps realizing he had said too much. Then, regaining his composure, he added, "Forgive me, General. It seems that old wounds and buried hatred are slow to fade."

Seeing an opportunity, Ironwood applied pressure. "Now, if you were to join my Academy, you could ensure that something like this never happens again."

Yet Vilhelm did not seem convinced. "That is what I do not understand," he said, his voice laced with curiosity. "Yes, I am stronger than the average Beacon student, but only because of my experience and my place of birth. Yharnam had a… unique way of training fledgling Hunters. In time, I am certain the others will be able to match me—or even surpass me." He paused, his gaze sharpening. "Except, of course…"

Vilhelm leveled an accusing glare at the general. "There is something else about me that has caught your interest."

Ironwood shifted under the weight of the young noble's intense scrutiny. "That information is classified," he responded carefully.

"Of course," Vilhelm muttered, turning toward the elevator. "Yet you should be aware… only a miracle could convince me to join your academy."

"I understand," Ironwood replied. Then, with a calculated pause, he added, "However, I did hear that you will be attending the dance. Perhaps we can discuss this further then?"

The only indication that Vilhelm had heard him was a curt nod before he stepped into the elevator.

Ironwood waited until the elevator had begun its descent before slamming his left hand against his desk, a sharp curse escaping under his breath. Then, just as quickly, he composed himself.

The situation is still salvageable, he reassured himself. I can only hope that Penny can change his mind.

"Goddammit!"

Vilhelm's fist slammed into the side of the elevator, denting the metal and cracking his porcelain fist so severely that, if not for the glove, it might have simply fallen apart.

Not only had he revealed far too much to the General, but Ironwood had also made it clear that he was willing to use Penny to force him into compliance.

All in all, the situation could be summed up in one sentence:

"Goddamn it all."

Ruby Rose always tried to be a helpful person—everyone agreed on that. And when it came to helping her friends, she put in even more effort, especially for those who had given her magical powder that turned Crescent Rose into a siege weapon.

Well, Vilhelm was the only one who fit that description, but it was the thought that counted. Or at least, that was what most people thought.

"And I'm telling you," Weiss said for the umpteenth time, "we should just wait until we see him during class or a break and then hand him the thermos."

"Ah, get your shits together, Ice Queen," Yang chimed in. "We're just gonna knock on his door, give him the thermos, maybe chat a little, and then head back to our dorm."

Ruby sighed. Ever since Vilhelm's meeting with the General, he had been in a particularly bad mood, keeping to himself as if he were trying to emulate Blake. Alright, she admitted to herself, maybe it's not that bad—Blake does that kind of thing all the time—but still, Vilhelm was in a funk, and it's my duty as his friend (and fellow Bone Marrow Ash enjoyer) to cheer him up!

So, they had decided to get him a little gift. After all, he had just awakened his Aura, so congratulations were definitely in order—even if Weiss didn't quite see it that way.

"Listen, Weiss," Ruby tried to placate her as they approached Vilhelm's solo dorm. "It won't be a big deal. I'm sure he'll be really happy to get his own thermos—he loves tea!"

"That's not what I meant!" Weiss began to argue, but before she could continue, Yang knocked on Vilhelm's door.

"Well, even if you're right—which you aren't—it's already too late," Yang said smugly.

Weiss huffed and turned to Blake, hoping to get her support. But one look at the dark rings under Blake's eyes told her that the Faunus girl could barely keep herself awake.

"Hmm… doesn't seem like he's here," Yang remarked, prodding the door. "Maybe—ah, there we go." She pushed it open.

"Yang Xiao Long! What are you doing?!" Weiss whisper-yelled, not wanting to attract attention.

"Oh, relax, Ice Queen—"

"Stop calling me that!"

"The door was unlocked," Yang continued, ignoring Weiss's interruption. "And besides, wouldn't you wanna see what's inside his room?"

"Yang, I don't think this is a good idea," Ruby hesitantly spoke up, but curiosity gnawed at her.

"It'll be fine," Yang reassured her, already stepping inside and dragging a half-asleep Blake behind her.

"Yang Xiao Long, get back here!" Weiss tried to shout as quietly as possible, but it still came out at normal volume.

"Huh. It's much plainer than I thought," Yang commented from inside. Then, she gasped. "Guys, you have to see this."

Intrigued, Ruby followed her sister. Weiss glanced nervously up and down the corridor before sighing and stepping inside with an annoyed expression.

It's really kinda plain, Ruby thought as she looked around. The room was almost spartan—just a bed, a bedside table, two chairs, a small kitchen, a massive painting, and a table.

Wait…

"Now that's a painting," Ruby muttered, staring in awe at the massive artwork. It depicted a candlelit room where two figures in Vilhelm's armor and another wearing a crow-feathered cape stood before a helmeted woman seated on an ornate throne, a beautiful window behind them.

"I wonder how he got that painting here," Weiss mused. "I don't remember him ever bringing it with him."

A sudden thump drew their attention. Blake had collapsed onto Vilhelm's bed, sound asleep.

"Huh. Good to see she finally listened to my advice," Yang muttered. Then, louder, she added, "Though I hoped she'd wait until we got back to our dorm."

"Well, at least she's actually sleeping," Ruby said before turning back to scrutinize the painting. "I think the one on the far left is Vilhelm, but I don't recognize the others."

"I wonder who they are," Weiss said, joining her in studying the painting.

A male voice answered from behind them.

"This painting depicts the only survivors of the Siege of Cainhurst, including Her Majesty Annalise of Cainhurst, my teacher—the Bloody Crow of Cainhurst—and Beatrice, a knightess and… unfortunately, a colleague of mine."

"Oh, thanks for the clarifica—" Ruby started, then froze.

Weiss elbowed her hard.

Wait.

"Vilhelm?!" Ruby stammered.

"The one and only," he replied coolly. Then, he asked with a curious tone.

"Now… could you perhaps explain what you're doing in my room?"

Vilhelm looked at the gathered team RWBY, all of whom were staring down at the floor—well, with one exception.

Vilhelm glanced at Blake, still sleeping soundly on his bed.

"I'm honestly impressed that you guys managed to talk her into resting a little. I was already afraid I'd have to calm her down myself," Vilhelm mused.

"Yeah, a wonder," Yang remarked, still looking at the floor.

Vilhelm sighed. "You're aware that I'm not angry, right?"

"Wait, you aren't?" RWY asked in unison, while the B in RWBY continued sleeping soundly, unaware of the conversation happening just feet away.

"Not at all," Vilhelm said. "Though I am curious—why exactly are you all in my room?"

"Well," Ruby began, "we noticed that you weren't in a good mood, so we decided to get you a thermos."

"Thermos?" Vilhelm repeated, confused as he turned the strange metal cylinder in his hands.

"Uhm, what?" Ruby blinked, taken aback.

"This thermos... what exactly is it?" Vilhelm asked, elaborating.

"Well, you see..." Ruby started again. "It's like a bottle that keeps your drink warm or cool for longer than usual. And because you like tea so much, we thought you'd appreciate it."

"Oh, I see. How thoughtful of you four. Thank you so much. I'll make good use of your gift. " A pause and then Vilhelm continued: "However, I doubt that this is the only reason you came here. If it were, you probably would've just handed it to me during a break or while we crossed paths elsewhere."

Weiss shot a deadpan glare at Yang, who at least had the decency to turn away.

"Uhm, no, actually it is the only reason," Ruby said.

Vilhelm blinked once. Twice. Then a third time. Finally, he managed to press out, "...I see."

An awkward silence settled over the room, with Weiss continuing to glare incredulously at Yang, who was doing a remarkably good job of ignoring it.

"So," Yang suddenly said, "you said this painting depicts the only survivors of the siege on your castle..."

"Yang!" Weiss screamed, immediately looking at Vilhelm.

But he simply raised a hand. "It's fine. It happened a while ago, and Ironwood already knows the full story."

"You don't have to tell us," Weiss began, but Vilhelm cut her off.

"I don't mind. Latent curiosity can be more dangerous than any amount of knowledge."

"But—"

"I don't mind," he repeated. "Now, first, you must understand: the hunters of Yharnam were far from unified. At the height of the hunt, there were dozens of hunter workshops, each with their own strategies and practices. Naturally, where many pursue the same goal through different methods, enmity grows—especially between the Healing Church and the nobles of Cainhurst, who were labeled as vile-blooded creatures."

"But that's horrible!" Weiss cut in. "You were all working toward the same goal! Why were they so hostile?"

Vilhelm looked at her, searching her face for something only he could see, before shifting his gaze to the still-sleeping Blake.

"For the same reason Faunus are treated the way they are now—or at least something similar. We didn't commit any acts of terrorism... at least not before the siege. But the root of the problem is the same: we were different. Our semblance was unsettling to those outside the family. Distrust turned to hatred."

"What do you mean you didn't commit any terrorist attacks before the siege?" Yang asked, eyes wide.

"I'm getting to it," Vilhelm said calmly. "Anyway, at the head of the movement against us was the Healing Church. While they'd denounced us as vile-blooded creatures long before the siege, we never thought they'd actually take matters into their own hands."

"What happened?" Ruby asked, transfixed by his story.

"The attack dogs of the Healing Church—the Executioners—laid siege to our castle and killed everyone, excluding the few individuals in the painting."

"B-but you were all hunters! Why did they do that?!" Ruby almost screamed. Vilhelm saw the same question written across Yang's and Weiss's shocked faces.

"Simple," Vilhelm explained. "We were organized. Our knights were strong. And most importantly, our loyalty lay with the Queen, not the Church. So we had to be destroyed."

Silence followed, broken by Weiss. "It must've been difficult... losing your entire family."

"Eh, I got over it," Vilhelm replied casually.

As he turned around, he was greeted by the humorous sight of a very confused Weiss and a stunned Ruby and Yang.

Deciding that letting his friends think he was a cold-blooded monster wasn't ideal, Vilhelm thought about how to clarify things.

I've already told them too much. Better to simplify it, he decided.

"Except for a few individuals, family relations were tense at best—or completely unmendable at worst," he said simply.

"I see," Weiss said flatly. "We should probably get back to our dorm. It's getting late."

"Of course," Yang said with a mischievous grin. "After all, we're still too young for such a saucy night."

"Yang!" Weiss shouted indignantly.

Vilhelm blinked, then grinned from ear to ear. "Oh my, does the fair lady seek to court me already? I hope it's not just because of my noble status." He blinked repeatedly, attempting—and failing—to appear innocent.

Yang stood frozen, mouth agape, while a blushing Weiss shoved her and Blake out of Vilhelm's dorm.

Chuckling to himself, Vilhelm picked up the thermos, already planning to use it—until he noticed someone still hadn't left.

"How can I help you, Miss Rose?"

Still sitting on his bed with a forlorn look, Ruby looked up. "Honestly, I don't get it."

"Beg your pardon?" It was Vilhelm's turn to look confused.

"When we lost Mom," Ruby said, "Dad wasn't the same for a long time. None of us were. Uncle Qrow and Yang took turns looking after me and Dad until we started to heal. It took years, and even now, it still hurts."

"I see," Vilhelm began, already dreading where this was going. "And now, here I am, casually explaining that nearly my entire extended family was slaughtered—as if it's something you'd talk about over dinner—while showing little to no signs of mourning. It must seem... alien."

"No no no," Ruby stammered. "That's not what I meant! Yang and Qrow were hurting too, but they hid it for my sake. And I think... I think you're doing the same."

She stood up. "Anyway, I should go. We'll see you tomorrow."

"Y-yes... tomorrow," Vilhelm managed to say.

Once he was sure no one could hear him, Vilhelm smashed his fist against the far wall of his dorm—again and again—until the porcelain cracked and shattered.

He hated it. He hated how easily he'd spilled his life story. He hated that he was too afraid to tell Team RWBY the truth—that, aside from a few exceptions, he hated his family. He hated being stuck, waiting for the headmaster's sluggish process to finally point him in the right direction. He hated the general's arrogance. He hated how he'd revealed so much to him. But most of all, he hated that his drive to return to Castle Cainhurst was starting to fade.

Castle Cainhurst? he thought. I've already stopped thinking of it as home. I can't wait any longer. At some point, I will go—direction be damned.

But the question remained—when?

"After the dance? Too soon... And if I wait until the end of the semester, I may lose the will to go at all..."

That left only one option.

"I'll leave before the Vytal Festival."

As he prepared for another sleepless night of reading through Atlesian and Valean laws, Vilhelm sighed.

Did I really have to convince myself just to leave this place?

A single Messenger caught his eye.

"So?" Vilhelm asked sarcastically. "Finally decided to show up?"

The Messenger stared at him blankly before vanishing—only to reappear with a dozen others, holding up a message.

Nothing but grief here.

"Pft. You lot know very well we can't stay here."

Another message: Reeks of sobbing.

"If you like it here so much, you can stay," Vilhelm said with finality.

No mercy for joy.

"...We'll go after the Festival," Vilhelm relented. He knew that if Messengers could show emotion, they'd be looking at him with pity.

Author's Note:
Phew, I finally managed to get this chapter out! Honestly, writer's block suuucks, but I'd rather take my time than push out another half-baked chapter. So no worries—I'm not abandoning this story halfway through. I've already mapped out the entire plot; now it's just a matter of writing the individual scenes. I'll definitely see it through. As always, any criticism or advice you have is very welcome!