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[February, year 79] (Present day)

"Our Atlas Academy contact accepted the transcript."

"Good, that'll be best for him. And the airship?"

"Schnee's right on schedule, boss."

"Excellent. Make sure no one interferes; I'll handle this personally. If all goes as expected, we'll be operating out of Vale before the week is out. You have command to oversee the rest of the move; I'm going dark now."

A long black coat flapped in the early Spring Atlas morning, white wings stenciled on the shoulders glinting in the light, as the lean figure in sunglasses strolled down an alleyway, head tilted back toward the sky. Sharp, ice-blue eyes behind mirrored sunglasses tracked an airship across the sky as it headed for the landing port on the far side of the city. Small, round bear's ears twitched amid salt-white hair. Perfect. He set down the small suitcase he was carrying.

The young man powered down his Scroll, which had a broken camera and a rather prominent attachment to the mouthpiece, and slipped it into an inside pocket. He glanced around to ensure no one was in sight, before also carefully detaching the animalian ears, which followed the Scroll. Then he shrugged the coat off, folding it expertly, and packed it away into the suitcase, where there had been just enough space for it. Rising, he tossed his hair, the short braid that had been hidden under the turned-up collar of his coat now swinging freely. He smoothed the front of his scarlet dress shirt, and tugged down the snowy vest that covered it. He wore no tie, the top button of the shirt opened casually to expose sharply-defined collarbones.

Picking up the suitcase once more, he strolled out of the alley and onto a much larger, but deserted street. It was technically a backroad, but only because no one was allowed to have their property face it, save for the mansion it led up to. The backs of all the houses and buildings had been graffitied and covered up almost weekly up until a year ago, when the alley he had just exited had been tagged with the sign of two white wings. Immediately, the vandalism had stopped, and while the rest of the street art had been whitewashed, the wings remained prominently unhidden.

Turning toward the enormous estate, the young man sighed and moved toward the closed guard gate. As he reached it, the man in the booth called out to him. He smiled, drew a second Scroll from the pocket of his white trousers, and swiped it across the identification terminal. The gate swung open at once, and the guard stood immediately to attention. He waved, still smiling, and passed through.

As the gate shut automatically behind him, he opened the new Scroll, scrolling to a contact he hadn't so much as looked at in several years.

He dialed.

After a moment's transfer, the image flickered to life, revealing a portly, balding man with brown hair and a large moustache. "Mmyessir?" he said, deferentially.

"Hello, Klein."

The man on the Scroll's eyes widened in shock, their plain brown changing suddenly to a bright yellow. "Why, Master Eisig, this is a pleasant surprise!"

"The pleasure is mine, Klein, I assure you," Eisig replied warmly. "I have come by for what I expect will end up being a very brief visit, but I wanted to see my sister when she arrived today. And I hope it is not too presumptive an imposition to ask for a bite to eat?"

Klein's eyes turned a bright blue, not unlike Eisig's own, and the manservant stifled a sneeze. "Not at all! Please, come to the kitchenside entrance; I shall have some hors d'oeuvres for you. Mistress Weiss is expected home within the hour, so perhaps we can await her together?"

"I would be delighted, Klein." Eisig smiled more genuinely, shutting the Scroll and stepping off the walk to the front door in favor of a garden path. He passed the entrance to the hedge maze, and followed the trail through the statue garden, paying no mind to the sculptures and topiaries in the shapes of Grimm and mythical creatures. Next was the rose garden, where Willow Schnee held court during cocktail parties on Summer evenings, and where she spent her time drinking more heavily when there were no appearances to maintain. Today, it was empty.

Continuing around the corner, Eisig came upon the kitchen garden, where the staff grew herbs and fresh produce. He inclined his head politely, offering another smile to the gardener who was kneeling between the sage and thyme. The smile widened when he looked up at the kitchen door to find Klein waiting and beaming at him, eyes yellow once more.

"Master Eisig, it is wonderful to have you home." Despite his warm words, Klein followed this with a formal bow, until Eisig caught his shoulder and lifted him again.

"No need for pretenses, Klein," Eisig requested. "No doubt I shall have my fill of that when I meet with your employer." He embraced the manservant, who was plainly shocked, but recovered quickly and returned the brief hug.

"Very well, Master Eisig; come in, do come in." Klein swept the door open and bustled in behind him. He paused, waiting to take the suitcase, but Eisig simply shook his head and gestured the manservant to lead on. Klein nodded, moving at once to a side table to pick up a tray of coffee and canapés, leading the way to a small sitting room. Eisig took a seat where he could see both doorways, but not easily be noticed by anyone passing by outside them, and Klein set the tray down smoothly.

"Your mother is away on a trip with Master Whitley, I'm afraid," he said, pouring coffee into an elegant mug. "Miss Weiss will be most disappointed, I'm afraid. Miss Winter is of course tied up in her duties. It is only your father at home."

"Cream, no sugar, please," Eisig put in as Klein paused over the coffee. "And that is about what I expected. How is my dear baby brother? Still enjoying the piano and being the prince of the house?"

Klein nodded slowly, though at the last his eyes flashed red for an instant. He set the coffee down, and promptly stifled a sneeze as they returned to blue once more. "Many things remain the same, and as many do not, sir," he said delicately. "Some things, you may find the same as you left them, while others, you may find you do not recognize."

"I see. Thank you, Klein," Eisig replied, meaning for both the coffee and the advice.

"Of course, sir. Now, no doubt your father will be informed of your arrival shortly, so…" He trailed off, as the intercom by the door that led to the main hallways jingled, the particular melody indicating that the call was for Klein.

"Speak of the Beowolf and it growls at the door," Eisig sighed. He swallowed one last canapé as Klein answered the intercom, and rose smoothly when the manservant turned. Eisig picked up his coffee and suitcase and, again, gestured Klein to lead, as though he could forget the way to Jacques Schnee's office.

"I am not actually asking, you understand." Eisig's coffee was finished, his portion of the canapés eaten, and his voice was as icy now as his name, the warmth he had shown the help nowhere in evidence. "This is a courtesy, because I wanted to see my twin sister for the first time in years. In exchange, I am making you aware of my intent. I will be attending Beacon Academy in Vale next month when term begins. You simply have the choice to acknowledge this or ignore it; you may flaunt that you are 'sending' your eldest son to the most prestigious Hunting School in the world 'out of the goodness of your heart, and your wish of the best for all Remnant's citizens', or you can formally disown me and I will go regardless."

"You expect me to bend before coercion?" Jacques Schnee asked, just as coldly. His own coffee and food were untouched.

"No, I expect you to make the intelligent decision," Eisig shot back, the conversation going precisely as expected. "You gain nothing by disowning me, where you stand to earn a great deal of public acclaim by one of your children attending a Hunting Academy. Huntsmen are considered guardians, one step shy of superheroes, by the general populace. The choice of an international school over the domestic one will indicate your own open mind, a willingness to look past the petty border disputes of the past in favor of a grander goal of international cooperation — just like the Vytal Tournament for which you willingly provide the Dust every time it is held, because the appearance of doing such a thing means something to the people that we both know you otherwise could not care less about."

Eisig paused, eyes on Jacques' own narrowed ones. Still all according to plan. "If you are somehow under the impression this is some gambit for the Company, you should understand by now that I do not want it. I have brought a signed statement to that effect." He produced an unsealed envelope from inside his vest, flicking it across the table. "I am quite sure you consider your legacy too great to throw away on 'ingrates'. The Company can go to Weiss; gods know why she still wants it."

Jacques studied the document carefully, but it was precisely what Eisig had claimed, and now that he was seventeen, his signature on it was binding. Short of Jacques himself declaring it, Eisig would never inherit the Company.

"For how little you seem to care for our legacy and the Company, you are certainly keen to spend its money," Jacques pointed out, setting the document aside. "Your trust account has remained funded during your…absence…and there have been multiple, regular withdrawals."

Another anticipated point. "That money went to charity and privately-funded public works," Eisig said dismissively. "Anything I wished for myself, I purchased with funds from a job, like everyone else in the world without the misfortune of being born rich. Nonetheless, that trust account is in my name and was exclusively under my control. You may cut it off at your leisure, but what I do with the funds you granted to it is my own concern. If you continue it, I will provide receipts for any school-related expenses. Alternatively, end the recurring funding and handle the school finances personally. Or, as I offered before, complete the disinheritance and we can part ways; you will owe me nothing."

Before Jacques could reply, there was a genteel knock at the office door, and Klein's voice called out, "Miss Weiss, to see you, sir."

"Send her in, Klein," Jacques replied. He returned his gaze to Eisig, but his son was watching the door himself, anticipation just visible in the slight rise of his brow. He had, after all, not seen his own twin in over three years.

The knob turned, and Weiss hesitantly entered, wearing what the press stories he'd seen indicated was her usual outfit — a white dress, and red-lined, white bolero. She also, he noted, wore a rapier at her hip. He wondered idly why she had it.

"Father," Weiss greeted Jacques respectfully, dipping her head and half-curtseying. "Brother." She smiled at him, and he returned it; the first smile to cross his face since he had entered the room.

"Weiss." Jacques almost sounded more like a general demanding a soldier's report than a father greeting his daughter, but then, Eisig had heard General Ironwood request debriefings with more warmth. He gestured her to the seat beside her brother, and Eisig let his fingers brush against hers for the briefest moment. "I trust you acquitted yourself admirably?"

"Finishing school was barely a challenge, Father," Weiss almost managed the detached confidence that their childhood tutors had always demanded. Almost.

"As it should be, for a Schnee," Jacques declared, without a word of praise or congratulations. "I have considered your next steps carefully, and-"

"Actually, Father…" Her calm barely survived interrupting him, but she straightened her back and soldiered on. "Over the final term, I came to the conclusion that, in order to best run the Company, I should see as much of the world as I can, in the capacity of a protector and a leader. I… I wish to travel to Vale, attend Beacon Academy, and make a career as an independent Huntress, to help show that a Schnee is a guardian of the planet. Then, when the time comes, I will lead the company with the confidence of not only our long-time investors, but the support of the people of the rest of the world."

It was a good speech, Eisig thought. Firm, determined, well-considered…and unwittingly delivered at exactly the wrong time. Damn. I had no plan for this.

Jacques' face darkened, and Weiss leaned back in her chair involuntarily. His visage was thunderous as he glared at Eisig, though his voice was, as ever, devoid of any emotion. "This was your plan? Some gambit to surrender your inheritance but then steal away the heiress?"

Eisig's eyes narrowed right back, hearing the blood pounding in his ears. He could sense Weiss staring at him too, but he'd have to explain to her later. "This is no conspiracy. I have not seen nor spoken to Weiss in more than three years, by your own design, as you well know. I can hardly be faulted for my sister being intelligent enough to see the same facts as I, and draw the same conclusions." Despite the sharpness of his words, his voice remained equally cold. "We are as clever as you raised us to be."

There was a long silence, as the two men continued to glare at each other, Weiss looking nervously between them both.

"Some days I think you really aren't my son at all," Jacques said at last.

Eisig clicked his tongue. "We should be so lucky," he shot back, now struggling to keep his tone icy. "But we both know the opposite is true. It was you, after all, who taught us to seize what we desire and never apologize for it."

Jacques stared impassively at him for another moment, showing about as much emotion as Eisig was himself. Then, still tonelessly, he said, "Go."

Thank the gods. Eisig rose, and swept a deep, ironic bow. "By your leave," he drawled, as Weiss, too, scrambled to her feet.

He caught Weiss' hand and pulled her after him out of the room, picking up his suitcase as he left and heading back out of the East wing at a quick pace. Years may have passed, but he remembered well how to navigate the house, and they soon reached the foyer. As they entered, Eisig pressed the intercom to summon Klein. "Pack your weapon away," he said shortly. "We are gone in five minutes."

"W-what do you mean?" She stammered, even as she moved to the cart of her own luggage to pull out a weapon case labeled Myrtenaster.

"We are both going to Vale," Eisig explained in a clipped voice as Klein appeared, and Weiss smoothly broke Myrtenaster down and packed the Dust away. "Jacques is displeased. I have a friend who will put us up until term starts." Seeing she had finished, he snapped the weapon's carrying case shut and picked up her largest suitcase. "We are unlikely to see much in the way of opportunity to return, so I hope you have packed for all Valic seasons."

"Anything that Miss Schnee is missing, I will send along," Klein put in, his eyes now brown and his voice businesslike. "In the meantime, I shall fetch a driver."

"We're not coming back?" Weiss asked in a small voice as Klein left.

Eisig heaved a sigh and looked over at her. She had picked up two more suitcases, but looked utterly lost. "Wei," he said softly, the childhood nickname that he only used when they were alone. She looked up, and he could see her eyes swimming with tears. "I expect you were never told, but I ran away from home three years ago. I would never have come back here, even this once, if not for you."

She seemed to shrink in on herself, so he pressed on. "I mean that you are the only thing I value enough to come back here for." He gestured around. "All this silk and gilt doesn't mean happiness. Just before you arrived, I had announced my plans to leave Atlas and train to become a Huntsman at Beacon. I am delighted to have the chance to do it with you around. If you want to come back here, you can arrange to visit. If you wish, I will even come with you. If you still intend to take over the Company, I will do everything I can to smooth your way. But you need to understand that apart from you, I hate this place."

She let out a shuddering breath and moved closer to him. "I know you do, Sig." Her own private name for him. "I just…I want to go back…I want Father to smile again sometimes, and recognize when you've done well, and…"

Eisig, for his part, set down the suitcases in his hands and moved over to her, holding out his arms for a hug for the first time in years. There were two loud thuds as she dropped her own suitcases and flung her arms around him. She sniffed loudly, but didn't cry, and he didn't say anything. They remained like that until Klein returned and quietly announced that the car was ready. Between the three of them, they managed to pack Weiss' five bags into the back of the car with Eisig's own case, and then it was time to go.

"Good luck to you both, Miss Schnee, Master Schnee. It was lovely to see you both," Klein sniffed, his eyes now a deep azure. "I don't know where you're off to presently, but I know you'll both do yourselves proud as Hunters."

Eisig smiled, more at ease outside the mansion than he had ever been within it. "We will be staying with a friend of mine in the city, Huginn, until we can catch a transport to Vale. You remain a good man, Klein. And alas, a loyal one, or I would do my best to hire you away. But I suppose this is best for the sake of the rest of the family. Take care of yourself, old man."

Weiss was much more stiff and awkward, but no less heartfelt. "I, too, wish you nothing but the best, Klein. You've…always been kind to me."

Klein waved away their praise, smiling slightly, before chivvying them into the car. Eisig gave the driver an address on the far side of Atlas, and they were off.

Huginn wasn't home.

That wasn't unusual, and it wasn't a problem, since Eisig's Scroll was keyed in to be able to open the door to the small house. He strolled in confidently, flicking the lights on one by one, revealing a plainly-furnished but cozy home. He had stayed here on occasion during the past several, whenever Huginn happened to be in town, and he made a point of making sure the place was kept clean, even though it had been over a year since he had last seen his friend.

"Whose house is this?" Weiss wondered, examining the cheaply-made but sturdy furniture.

"Huginn. He's a Huntsman from Vale. I met him a few years ago. You meet a lot of interesting people around town, actually. That is how I met people like the Coals, who gave me a job and found me a place to stay; and Nanook Eisbar, who ate dinner with me and told me about his group."

"You met Eisbar?" Weiss asked, shocked. Eisig raised a questioning eyebrow at her reaction. "Even up at boarding school we've heard of the White Wing. There are lots of their armbands, being worn by students and even faculty. I thought they were a subdivision of the White Fang, but there are humans wearing those bands too!"

Eisig grinned at her. He flipped his suitcase over and opened the second compartment, pulling out a black armband with a pair of white wings stenciled on it. Weiss gasped.

"The White Wing is a very different organization," he said, twirling the armband on his finger. "I hear they have even taken in those who wished to escape what the White Fang is becoming. I met Eisbar right before that big 'press conference' where he announced that the White Wing was not a gang, but a movement. And I have spoken with a lot of other people around the city who know him, or at least, have met him. No matter how suspicious they started out, everybody I speak to says that the White Wing really is what they claim to be — a movement for real equality. Hence why there are humans joining too."

He put the armband away, and stretched. "So, you will be joining me at Beacon, sister? I assume you will not mind a little spar?" He reached into the suitcase again and brought out his own weapon, Salzgletscher, in its sword form.

"Hmph, you'd better take me seriously," Weiss warned, though her own lips were twitching as she unpacked Myrtenaster once more.

He grinned. "Come, Huginn has a training room in the basement."

"Underground?" Weiss asked worriedly.

"Avoid your Quake Dust and it will be fine," he assured her. "This room is tough. We shall spar for a bit and then eat and you can ask me whatever questions are no doubt burning inside you."

Two hours later, Eisig was breathing heavily and leaning on Salzgletscher's expanded form, a naginata. He had pushed hard, putting both Weiss and himself through their paces and getting to know his sister's fighting style. He knew she was a fencer, but three years changed the way a person fought, and he himself had changed weapons since they last sparred.

Weiss was a very intelligent, technical fighter; she relied on speed and precise footwork, as well as the flexibility of the Schnee family Semblance to give her an advantage. If their battle had included Dust, no doubt her performance would have been even more impressive.

Unfortunately, Eisig had the same advantages with his Semblance, and the naginata's longer reach — as well as the fact that both ends of it could be used in a fight — made up for its somewhat slower speed. More than that, though, Eisig could simply outlast her — Weiss' technical training had been excellent, what needed work was her endurance. As it was, she had begun tiring only halfway through the session, and over the following hour, Eisig had pressed his advantage further and further.

Finally, he had called a halt, propping himself up with his weapon, and Weiss had all but collapsed to her knees on the thankfully soft floor. She was red in the face, panting, and drenched in sweat. Pushing himself up, Eisig grabbed two water bottles and came to sit beside her. He offered her one, and she raised her hand for it.

"Sig…I can't stop shaking."

It was true. By the end of the spar, Weiss' hands were trembling so badly that Myrtenaster's tip was wavering by several inches, and even now she could barely hold the bottle. He opened it for her, and helped her to take a drink. "Take a drink to rinse out your mouth, then take small sips, and work on getting your breathing under control."

He dragged over a bucket for her to rinse out her mouth and spit into.

"This is normal when you push yourself, Wei," he assured her, making his voice as soft and soothing as possible. "After a serious battle, all the adrenaline is still pumping around your system and it takes time to wear off."

"How…are you…making this look so easy?" she panted, following his instructions and talking between small mouthfuls. "I…had Combat training and fencing classes too!"

"I started practicing much harder than this, a few years ago," he said, shrugging. It wasn't that he was more skilled than her by any significant margin, just able to keep going longer. "Huginn taught me a Huntsman's conditioning program."

"So then… You've been preparing for this from the moment Father separated us, haven't you?" Weiss asked shrewdly.

Eisig hummed, not answering directly. "Wei, I am not surprised it was kept from you — I am quite certain he kept it from everyone — but shortly after Jacques shipped you off to finishing school… I ran away from home."

Weiss gasped. "You said that before," she breathed. "But how? He would never allow that to happen!"

Eisig shook his head. "If not for you, I might well have done it sooner. I took off on our fifteenth birthday; it was barely a month after you were away at boarding school. Once I left, Father had too much pride to report it to the police. By the time his men tracked me down, I had already found a job and a place to stay. They tried to force me to come back, and I fought them off. I told him to stay out of my business, and I would be glad to stay out of his. He wanted to avoid the scandal of disowning a fifteen-year-old, so he let it lie.

"Now, to get back to your question: while I was out wandering the streets just after you went away, I met a Valic Huntsman called Huginn." He gestured at the room, indicating the man's house. "He asked me what I intended to do with my life, and suggested I become a Huntsman. We discussed the different ways Huntsmen are viewed in the Four Kingdoms, and compared that to how Atlas is run. He is not a fan of our Hunter Corps being under the military's aegis, and insisted Beacon was the best of the Academies. I am quite certain he is biased, but… Hunting sounded like a way to make something of myself. I commissioned a weapon, and hired a tutor to help me learn to use it. Huginn helped when he was around — he wields a polearm also — and soon I had enough confidence to start taking combat tests to make up for the fact that I had not attended Combat School.

"I passed the entry exams for Beacon last week, and then I heard that you were coming back home today. And so when I arrived at the manor, I informed Father of my intent to become a Huntsman, and to do so at Beacon. He was… not well-pleased, but seemed to accept it."

"So…" Weiss whispered, putting the pieces together. "That's why he reacted so strongly when I said that I wanted to train as a Huntress…"

"No doubt he assumed it was some plan of mine to drive a wedge between us and the family," Eisig sighed. "He never could grasp that the schism between us is of his own making. I doubt he ever will."

"You've always been at odds with Father," Weiss said, looking over at him, her voice cracking in a way that he knew she would never allow to happen in public. "How do you do it, Sig? How do you keep going with all that pressure, and Father cracking down?"

Eisig smiled. He reached out and gently traced the scar over her eye. Ever since she'd gotten it, she'd turned — understandably — very sensory-defensive and touch-shy. Ever since, only he, Winter, and Klein could comfortably touch her.

"How do I keep going?" he mused. "I do it for you."

Weiss just stared, mouth a little open.

"I do it for Winter, for the moments that she lets herself be Winter instead of Atlesian Specialist Schnee. I even do it for Whitley, smug little prince that he can be, because he's still our baby brother and I do not fault him that he has always been the favorite.

"I do it for the people I met on the streets of Atlas — for the disenfranchised that the Company exploits, and the laymen that they put out of business. I do it because it is the right thing to do and I am in a unique position to do something about it. I do it because no matter who or what I am facing, I will not break."

He heaved another sigh, letting his momentary anger fade.

"I do it because Jacques Schnee was not the start of this family name, and I refuse to let him be the end of it. But at the end of the day?" Eisig tilted her chin up to meet his gaze directly. "I am aware enough to admit that I am selfish. I do it for you, sister. Because the world is a scary place, and the disgusting things that we do to our fellow mortals would be beyond our hollow rationalizations even if there were not a literally infinite number of very real monsters lurking just outside the walls. There may be no victory to be found in strength, but the only thing necessary for the evil that waits out there to triumph…is for good people to do nothing."

He stood and offered Weiss a hand. "Unlike Jacques, I am delighted you wish to be a Huntress, and even more so to hear you will be doing it with me at Beacon, far away from him. And from the crowd I hear you have been running with," he added in a derisive undertone.

Weiss simply stared at him for several more long moments. Then, her jaw tightened, and Eisig saw in her eyes the defiant spark he'd been hoping for. She reached up, her slim fingers wrapped around his wrist, and he pulled her back to her feet. He led her back upstairs, collapsing Salzgletscher and slipped it back into the scabbard on his hip as she sheathed Myrtenaster.

The next several weeks passed in much the same fashion, with the twins practicing or studying nonstop, and generally catching up on the years they had spent apart.

Weiss told Eisig about the finishing school she had attended, and the combat tutors she had secretly trained with; how she excelled in her classes but struggled to make friends because it seemed everybody wanted to either suck up to the Schnee heiress herself, or use her to get to know her brother. It was clear that there was just as much she wasn't saying, but Eisig didn't push. They needed to get reacquainted, even though she plainly still trusted him.

And in return, Eisig told Weiss about living independently in Atlas. He glossed over the reason for his departure from the mansion, but spoke at length about how he had wandered the city for several days before stopping into a small Dust shop.

[6 December, year 76]

"You seem to be quite undervaluing your stock, for the quality of product you have here," he said conversationally to the elderly, dark-skinned man behind the register. The shop was small enough that this was almost certainly the owner of Coal Dust.

"That's the nature of doing business where I do," the man replied after a moment. His tone was just a little condescending, but in a manner that suggested Eisig was missing something, rather than simply being dismissed for being young.

"Oh?"

"Look, little Schnee, it's no secret this is not a wealthy neighborhood. But everybody needs Dust, and it's not always within folks' means to buy at SDC prices. Sure, I'm not 'maximizing profits', but I'm making enough to propagate my business and take care of my family, while the people down here get what they need." He sighed. "I suppose this is the end of that."

"I do not see why." Eisig smiled, only a little nervously. "I am…taking a sabbatical from my sheltered family life, you could say."

"A 'sabbatical'?" the man repeated. "And what does your father call it?"

Eisig scowled at the word 'father'. "I am quite sure I could not care less. Are you hiring?"

The owner's eyebrows rose. "You're serious."

"Entirely. You obviously know who I am, so you understand I know Dust and business better than most, but I have no intention of trying to take over here or carry back any stories. I am sure you are correct that if he ever noticed your shop, he would do his utmost to push you out of business, but if you ask me, I think you are doing good work here. I want to know about the personal side of business — the side that I have never been shown. What you just described is why, my history tutors tell me, my ancestors went into the Dust-mining business to begin with. If I cannot be the one to bring the Company back to that, then at least I can learn the lesson my grandfather would have wanted."

"Chert Coal," the shopkeeper introduced himself after a long pause. "And the first and only lesson is: Treat your customers like people."

The bell over the door jingled at that moment, and a short, elderly Faunus man stepped inside. He spotted Eisig, and his eyes went very round. He looked ready to bolt before Chert called out to him.

"Grane! I was expecting you yesterday; your family doing okay?"

"Y-yes," Grane answered nervously, still darting glances at Eisig every few seconds, the fox whiskers on his cheeks twitching madly. "Yes, everyone's fine, I just needed another day to come up with enough for the order."

"Bah, you should have come on time; I know you're good for it. You could have just brought me the rest today."

"I couldn't do that to you, Chert," Grane argued, finally seeming to forget about Eisig as he shook his head. "You're the reason this neighborhood is still afloat, and I know you've gotta pay up protection too." And then he froze, seeming to remember the Schnee in the room. "Is this… Are you getting shut down, Chert?" He still looked nervous, but ready to argue.

"Nope," Chert laughed — actually laughed, like he hadn't just been outed as having to pay protection money to some street gang out of his already meager profits. "Believe it or not, the young man just asked me for a job! Could hardly believe it; he almost looks like a Schnee, doesn't he?"

"He's not!?" Grane blurted, now staring avidly at Eisig.

Realizing the cover story he was being offered, Eisig scratched his head. "I get that a lot. But I am just… well, hopefully a Dust shop worker."

"Darn straight you are," Chert said firmly. He handed Grane a case of Dust, accepted his payment, and waved cheerily as the man left. As soon as the door swung closed, he turned back to Eisig. "Do you understand what I mean about how to treat customers?"

Eisig nodded.

"Good, then get to work, there's an hour left before I close and you can at least do some dusting," Chert laughed. "It's normally my son's job, he'll be delighted not to have to do it today."

Eisig just nodded again, taking the proffered duster, but his mind was whirring very fast about what he had learned — not just about how to treat customers, but about how businesses were treated in this part of town.

If a man like Chert had to pay protection money, how many other businesses were the same? How many people were unable to pay? How could he stop it? Eisig could offer to pay, of course, but he had a feeling Chert would decline, and anyway that wouldn't solve the problem. No, someone needed to bust the gang. But simply getting them arrested would just see them replaced and the problem transferred.

He continued to ponder it over the following hour, when Chert closed up the shop, pressed a one-hundred lien card on him, and told him to come back tomorrow morning.

The weeks passed, and Eisig and Weiss caught a very long transoceanic flight to Vale, where they debarked only to immediately board a much smaller transport bound for the Academy on the hill overlooking the city. The assembled prospective students looked like a motley bunch, all milling around nervously until they were distracted by the news broadcast that was suddenly turned on.

"…robbery was led by nefarious criminal Roman Torchwick, who continues to evade authorities. If you have any information on his whereabouts, please contact the Vale Police Department. Back to you, Lisa."

"Thank you, Cyril. In other news, this Saturday's Faunus Civil Rights protest very nearly turned dark when members of the White Fang disrupted the ceremony. The once-peaceful organization has now turned to inciting violence and riots, but fortunately, this Saturday's protesters were saved from harm by the intervention of members of the White Wing. Some of the White Wing members, identifiable by their armbands, locked arms to protect both the protesters and watching Humans and Faunus alike, while other members engaged the White Fang until police arrived. Several members of the White Fang were captured, and though several White Wing members were also arrested, the latter were released after questioning.

"It is unknown at this time whether the White Wing had any foreknowledge of the attack, or were simply already in the crowd. Police have released no official statement, but the Vale News Network received a video recorded by the alleged founder and leader of the White Wing, Nanook Eisbar."

The footage of the reporter was replaced by a recording of a thin, seated man visible only as a silhouette. No features were discernible except the small, round ears on top of his head. When he spoke, his voice was artificially distorted.

"Citizens of Atlas and of Remnant, I have addressed you before, when you first learned of the White Wing and wondered who we were. My answer has not changed: We are those who would make a difference. We are those who wish to rise above the hatred and violence that has plagued our history. I conceal my own identity because I do not wish to become a figurehead. Therefore, I urge all of my friends and supporters — both Human and Faunus — to show their devotion to this ideal openly. Many, even most, have done so."

The camera changed to footage of the White Wing members protecting the protesters, both Faunus and Humans with arms linked to hold back the crowd and offer them cover from the White Fang.

"We are not a gang or an organization; we are a movement. The oppression of Faunus is a blight on Humanity's history, but the retaliatory efforts of the White Fang are equally despicable, and it is the duty of Faunus everywhere to oppose them just as Humans everywhere must stand up for their Faunus brethren when oppression looms.

"The White Wing stands for change, for betterment, for ascension. And we do not stand alone, so say our members in Atlas, in Mistral, in Vacuo, and in Vale. If you would stand with us, find a member today. Spread the word. Only together can we make a difference, my friends. I hope to see you there, in the better world I know we can build."

As the recording ended and the news broadcast restarted, the people who had fallen silent to listen began to babble even louder than before, all talking over each other about the latest gossip and rumors.

"The Ice Bear, huh? And Roman Torchwick in the city?"

"My buddy's got a pet theory that those two? Are actually the same person."

"No way, man! Torchwick's no Faunus; he hates the Faunus."

"What better cover could there be? Nobody would suspect him!"

"I don't buy it. The only one less likely to be the Ice Bear would be a Schnee."

"Ha! What if it's what's-his-name? The heiress' twin brother? Nobody's seen him in years, and everybody says the Ice Bear has white hair!"

Eisig rolled his eyes at Weiss, who was glaring at the last speaker. "Well, people here are certainly outspoken; Huginn had a point about that."

"Hmph. This is ridiculous," Weiss scoffed. "I can't believe some people's imaginations."

Eisig just laughed. "You would think they might notice you standing right here, even if they somehow failed to recognize me. Not that I understand that either — our sibling relationship is patently obvious. But then, one would also think they might remember that I am not a Faunus."

"How can you be so blasé?" she demanded, and he shrugged.

"I cannot say I particularly care what the gossipmongers think. No doubt they will come up with something even more outrageous once our names are announced at the Academy and the public realizes where we are. And being Faunus is not inherently a bad thing."

"I suppose not…" Weiss murmured.

Eisig frowned slightly at that, but they were distracted by the appearance of a recording of a blonde woman with ringlets, and by the sound of someone on the Bullhead being violently airsick.

Eisig snorted. "Welcome to Vale."

Edited 5/17/19, mostly to Eisig's dialogue to make it more consistent across the entire story.

A/N: Hi all! This is a story I've been teasing for a while (and pondering for even longer—seriously, if you happen to have access to my Scraps pages, you'll notice my snippets and notes for this story are around fifty pages long; dating back to 12/07/2015). We started very much in medias res here, so there are definitely things that won't make sense right away. Hopefully there's enough to keep you all interested.

Admittedly, Volume 4 caused me to have to mix some things up at the last second, but I'm rolling with the punches and I think things are turning out okay.

Special thanks to Gade Ricard and Ran!