Act One: Chapter Two

"When their forebearers were forcibly ousted from the Vanir shores, they wandered about aimlessly for years, drifting like flotsam and jetsam in the vast oceans, tossed and turned by relentless tidal waves. Five ships set course from Remnant, and only one managed to brave the Pale Seas and found solace in the frozen northern roof of the world. This land, harsh yet beautiful land of ice and snow, was not drawn in any maps to date. The cardinal, Salem, declared the land as sacred, and baptised it with a name: Solitas, for it was a place of solace for those abandoned by their fellow Men for their unwavering faith.

Establishing their own kingdom was by no means an easy task. There were harsh blizzards, wildlife and its bounty were scarce, and fertile soil was almost impossible to find. It was a far-cry from their lives in Vale, where verdant fields of grass stretched beyond the horizon, wild game and fruits aplenty, and the days were long and warm. But the race of Man, if nothing else, are a stubborn bunch; even in the harshest of environment they adapted, perhaps protected by the icon of their faith. The first city of this new kingdom rose, carved from the pale mountains, a city of silver and ice, the white city, built upon the foundation of many sacrifices of blood, tears, and lives. But strong the city of Asgard stands even to this day, and time has only enhanced her majestic beauty."

-Excerpt from 'History: World of Remnant' by (author's name redacted by unknown hands)

Dawn rose over the city of Asgard, and its people with it, roused by the large silver bell atop the highest tower, its serene, clear chime echoing through the white city. Its peal was ever clearer for the citizens of ecclesiastical order, for the tower which housed the bell rested next to the basilica, a behemoth of a cathedral that easily bested the palace by sheer scope of size alone.

The bell tolled seven times – seven for the seventh and the last day of the week. A mass usually took place on this day of the week, early in the morning. From her room in the monastery, Weiss could see the citizens below up and about, slowly and gradually making their way uphill where the basilica sat.

Perhaps as a consequence of its close ties to the religion of Theia, the power structure of Atlas' government, while not completely theocratical, much of the kingdom's jurisdictional power laid in the grasp of the grand members of the Church. In reflection of this distribution of power, the borders of the Church's monastery and basilica spanned an impressive length, claiming much of the summit of the mountain the city was built around and upon. The basilica, a marvel of engineering never before seen in the history of architecture, claimed the central stage, surrounded by annexes that hosted the members of the clergy.

A level below the borders of the Church sat the palace, no lesser in its significance to the kingdom, yet paler in scale of grandeur. In the eyes of the Goddess, Her apostles, those who carried Her deeds and spoke Her words were closer to divinity than any mortal, above any chain of command devised by mortal ideals. At least, so it went according to the holy manuscript. It went so far as to require the ruling monarchs to be baptised before they could hope to wear the crown.

With a yawn Weiss padded across the room, swapping her undergarments with clean sets of robes. The garments of clerics emphasised modesty, plain white and devoid of frivolous decorations. The only accessory she wore on her person was a silver pendant in the shape of a teardrop, a gift from a person she held close to her heart. Gently clasping the keepsake, she prayed for the goddess to speed him home, back to her arms, for he has been gone for far too long, and she was missing him terribly.

Gently slapping herself, she shook herself free from such thoughts. It was unbecoming of a Schnee. What would her sister say if she saw her behaving like so?

Making herself presentable, she made her way down into the kitchen for a quick bite before the mass. What she found instead of a solitary breakfast was her sister, a cloth bundle in her bandaged hands.

"I brought some cake from home," said the older Schnee, setting it down on the table. "Klein wanted me to pass on his greetings."

"Very kind of him," Weiss said quietly as she reached for a plate and a fork. The cake tasted just like she remembered; soft and delectable. It has been quite some time since she's last tasted the Schnee family's loyal butler's home cooking. It was perhaps one of the only few things she missed of home.

"Did you see him? Father?"

Winter shook her head. "He was away at the time, business meetings with one of his merchant associates. I did, however, chanced upon our brother."

"Ah." Weiss made no further comment, and Winter made no further attempts to continue this particular line of conversation. "Shall we head out? The mass is due to start soon."

"Of course." Leaving the mess hall behind them, the two sisters made for the cathedral, entering through the colonnade that led to the door open only for the members of the clergy, to provide a means of ingress other than through the main gate.

"How are you faring?" Weiss asked in an attempt to break the silence. "I see you've gotten rid of the crutches."

"I am recovering, thank you," came the reply. "The physician has yet to declare me fit for duty, however. Even lord Ironwood forbade me from returning to my post until I was fully healed." The last part came with a hint of exasperation. "If you'll permit me to speak openly, it's rather frustrating, being unable to carry out my duties. I swore an oath, and I cannot be a knight if I'm lounging about like an invalid."

Weiss shook her head, a little hurt. "They mean well, sister. Besides, it won't do anyone good if you looked as though you had one foot in the grave." And weeks ago she looked the part too – quelling the sudden rebellion, incited by the traitorous nobles like Albany came with a heavy price, much of it paid in blood and lives, and Winter lost much of the former. Any other day, under normal circumstances, her sister could have – would have – easily crushed any one or few of the rebel knights with ease, being the gallant knight that she was, but even the skilled warriors were not immune to cowardly tactics.

Weiss couldn't help but wince. Even now, she could remember, with such clarity, her sister laid on the cold ground, drenched from head to toe in blood, mostly hers, with vicious cuts and lacerations dotted across her body. A trio of assassins, she was later told, mercilessly hacking away at any parts of her they could with their sharp, curved daggers. Winter repaid them in kind by separating their heads from their necks, but the damage was done, and by the time Weiss reached her sister, Winter was barely clinging to her life.

It was truly fortunate that a senior cleric happened to be nearby, for wounds of such magnitude could not be hoped to be treated by anyone of lesser skill. Nonetheless, potent were the healing powers of water magic, and as the last of the wounds sealed themselves, Weiss allowed herself to cry in relief.

"And if I'm being honest, sister – I'm quite thankful."

"Is that so? For what, pray tell?"

Weiss looked her sister dead in the eyes. "For granting me an opportunity to spend time with my sister who, because of her duties, would have been too busy otherwise."

Years ago, back when she was still a child, Weiss would never have dared to address her older sister like so. Now, her tone was firm, her eyes unwavering as she regarded her sister. No longer was she a girl who loved but was intimidated by her older sister. She was a woman now, one who was increasingly becoming self-assured.

At once, Winter's stern expression fell, her eyes downcast. "I-I'm sorry. I did not mean to imply… I'm sorry."

And, just like that, Weiss found herself softening at the sight. "That's okay, I'm sorry too. I just… I'm just glad to see you're doing okay. And what with you being busy with your duties as a knight, it's been a while since we've really sat down and spent some family time together, so I just wanted to…"

Silence fell between the sisters again. As much as Weiss loved her sister, Winter could be… distant, at times, difficult, even. She didn't blame her – the eldest child was always saddled with expectation, sometimes to insurmountable levels. The honour of their House was previously hers to bear, and as long as Weiss could remember, much of Winter's time was spent with studies, training, lessons of the court, on and on went the list, so much so that she has had little time to be normal, to sit down and bask in the company of family.

It wasn't that Winter didn't want to connect with her, Weiss knew it was simply because her sister didn't know how. Truth be told, she didn't think she knew how to either. But she was going to try, anyway.

"Sister?" Weiss asked. "I was thinking, maybe, after the mass, if you'd like to join me for some tea in the gardens? That is, well, if you want to?"

Looking relieved, Winter nodded. "Oh… of course. That sounds… relaxing."

Weiss beamed. "Great! I've saved some tea leaves for just this kind of occasion, and the chef bakes wonderful treats. Not as good as Klein, mind you, but let's keep that just between the two of us, shall we?"

Winter laughed. "Sounds wonderful. But let's talk more after the mass. I'd rather not explain to your grand cleric why one of her disciples were late."

Weiss let out a rather un-ladylike snort. "That old bat? Crawled straight out from the underworld, I swear. How she was even allowed entry into the Church grounds is beyond me. For goddess' sake, there was one time-"

The two sisters continued their banter – or rather, Weiss provided much of the vocal complaints while her sister listened in amusement, and eventually they reached the cathedral. Normality, for the most part, seem to have been restored, but they could also see many more templars on guard duty than usual. Many among the crowd looked ill at ease, for when the insurgency struck without warning, many innocents were caught in the crossfire. And seeing how it happened in the middle of mass, in a place where many believed to be sacred and secure, its symbol as a shelter, a safe haven, was shaken to its foundation. That tragic day left a mark on Atlas' history, claiming many lives, and scarring many more.

Suddenly the thought of her close friend crossed her mind, and her heart grew heavy with worry. Though things were slowly returning to normal, he was still out there, hunting down the traitors in the middle of nowhere. She cared little of the rebels' fates, it was Jaune's that she was concerned about. Was he safe? Where was he now? Was he on his way back?

"Weiss, come on."

"Right." Clearing her mind, she followed her sister inside. Though the outward appearance of the basilica was already impressive to behold, the interior of the church was perhaps the pinnacle of artistic brilliance. Ornate statues lined the stone walls, overlooking the countless rows of marble pews that claimed vast portion of the space. Lush line of carpet divided the pews into sections, all flowing like river and culminating at the base of the altar of glistening silver set upon concentric circular platforms of ice. A grand silver cross rested against the wall, and laid at its foot sat the Hallowed Sedes, the throne of the Church.

Removing her gaze from the throne, Weiss turned her gaze to the heavens, towards the Dome of Light, a massive dome that depicted on its surface the mosaics and murals of various events in history, in the backdrop of star-filled night sky. Historical accounts regarding the construction of the basilica stated many talented painters and artists were commissioned, the project personally overseen by the then grand cardinal.

"Weiss," Winter quietly said as she nudged her. "This way."

"Oh, my apologies." The younger Schnee followed her to their seats. The first few front rows were designated for the apostles and other clergymen. The nobles of the Aesir court had their own gallery overlooking the altar on the left side of the church, while the king and the royal family claimed the one on the right, except…

"Of course," Weiss muttered under her breath. The gallery of the royals was barren, with not a single soul claiming one of its seats. The king, as she heard it, was suffering from ill health, and no doubt bedridden. The same could not be said for the crown prince, however, though in retrospect, his absence was hardly surprising. It was more of a question of where the prince was now, and what manner of debauchery he was indulging himself at this time of the day.

"I doubt you'd find his royal highness here," a voice spoke, and Weiss looked up to see a familiar face.

"Miss Soleil," Winter answered with a curt bow. "Here in lord Ironwood's place?"

"Indeed, I am, though in his case, he has a good reason as to why he could not attend in person. The same, I'm afraid, could not be said for his royal highness." Ciel glanced over to the gallery on the left where the nobles sat. "The royal advisor, it seems, has taken over the duty of standing in his place today."

Indeed, Weiss could see the tall, wiry frame of Arthur Watts in the front row, arms crossed with a bored expression. To his left sat Merlot Redgrave, the Minister of Domestic Affairs, mirroring his posture. Both men were quietly whispering to one another, before they were joined by a third, a man of much younger constitution and bright hair. A black bowler hat sat on his head, a rather odd choice of headgear, especially in a church.

"The man with the hat, who is he?" Weiss whispered to Winter.

"I don't know, never seen him before."

"That's the new prime minister," Ciel quipped in, earning incredulous looks from the Schnee sisters. "It's true – the previous prime minister has officially renounced his seat on the council only a few days ago, and they're just going over the paperwork now. It won't be long before the formal announcement is made, though."

"I thought lord Vinewood was the next in line for the office?" Winter asked. "The council viewed him in a rather favourable light, last I heard. What's changed?"

Ciel glanced sideways, before leaning forward and whispered, "Lord Vinewood, according to the rumours, has left the capital, and no word has been sent from him since. It could be that he chose a quieter life in seclusion, but there are some who believe a foul play was involved."

"What makes you say that?" Weiss asked, curious.

"Well-"

A small bell chimed, prompting all to stand. The morning mass has begun and, with it, the end of their conversation.

A little over an hour later, the crowd of faithful dispersed with the goddess' blessing, to continue with their daily lives, while the apostles went to see to their duties for the day, some with their chores, others with their studies or training. Ciel slipped off soon after the mass concluded, murmuring about tending to general Ironwood. There was more Weiss wanted to ask, but Winter shook her head.

"Let her be. I can always ask her later, once I return to my duties." Weiss sighed, but nodded in acquiescence. "Good. Besides, you mentioned tea earlier, correct? The weather is quite nice, and it has been a long time since I have last frequented the gardens."

Weiss beamed. "Will you be able to find your way there?"

"Most certainly."

"Excellent. I'll need to bring my tea set, and grab some treats from the kitchen on the way. I'll meet you in the gardens."

In terms of both size and opulence, the monastery gardens paled compared to that of the royal garth. Still, whereas the latter was open to public and thus crowded for many hours during the day, the former allowed entry only to the clergymen, and that exclusivity came with it the calm peace of solitary, a luxury that was hard to come by these days, especially given her position and work ethics. A knight's duty was one that demanded constant vigilance and servitude, something she has exemplified during the night when the insurgents raised their arms against the Church.

The wound on her side began to ache again, and Winter gingerly ambled along the row of hedges and sank into one of the chairs. Though the clerics were thorough in their works, even their potent water magics could not indefinitely dull the pain. Sighing, she made a mental note to remind herself to pay the family physician a visit. She also needed to pester her for more details as well, for while she oversaw her liege lord's martial duties and protection details, Ciel Soleil managed not just the general's health, but also his domestic affairs, both in and out of the political arena. No doubt that was how she came to learn of the various happenings that took place in the court.

So lost in thought, she was rudely roused when the door to the gate slammed open, and in staggered a man with two lasses, one held in each arm. Their garments, much too flamboyant and garish in such a modest ecclesiastical setting, was tousled in places that hinted at inappropriate trysts. The two ladies, young enough to be around her own sister's age, wore dresses that exposed far too much skin to be socially acceptable, the hems hiking far too up to even be considered a dress.

The man slurred something incoherently, sending the two ladies in fits of laughter, and that was when Winter noticed the raucous trio was drunk, and heavily so, to the point when the man suddenly fell, dragging with him his barely-dressed entourage into a heap of tangled flesh and flirty giggles.

Winter crinkled her nose in disgust. These nobles' – the man, at least – engaging in such debauched, promiscuous manner, in the sacred grounds, no less! Not only were they blatantly disrespecting the Church, they were practically spitting on the social grace and conducts expected of nobles.

Before she could speak her mind, the man raised his head, and Winter found herself on one knee, biting back a hiss of pain from the sudden gesture.

"Your royal highness!" Winter exclaimed, praying that he did not see the venomous glare she wore before recognition set in.

Said prince, Henry of Marigold bloodline, only wore a blank stare of confusion, and something told her he was far too intoxicated to even notice. It wasn't until one of his 'escorts' whispered into his ear that his face twisted into a drunken leer.

"You there, wench!"

Winter visibly bristled, but kept her expression neutral. "Your royal highness-"

"Yeah yeah, I'm not *hic* inter-sted in your- in your *hic* pious spiel," the prince said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "By-by the order of the-the king, *hic*, you are hereby dis-*hic*-missed. Leave-leave us."

"Your royal highness-" Winter tried again, only to be cut off again.

"-Is busssyyyy and all blocked up. Ya think runnin' a kingdom is easy? Do ya? So what if I just wanna have some fuuuun with these fine ladies?" His two consorts bashfully giggled and yelped excitedly as he slipped his hands under their dress, much to Winter's disgust. "Unless you wanna join in, then leave us in p-peace!"

With a stiff nod Winter rose to her feet and strode to the door. Just as the gate creaked close behind her, she heard a distinct sound of ripping fabric, punctuated by unrestrained peals of laughter. Sickened, Winter hastily retreated back to the residential annex, towards Weiss' room.

"Oh, sister!" Weiss said, surprised. "I was just about to head down to the kitchen. I've got the tea set ready – my apologies, I misplaced the tea bags and had to spend some time looking for it. Shall we be off, then?"

"For the sweets, yes. As for the tea, however, I think it would be best if we had it here, instead."

"Really? Why is that?"

"Well…" Winter bit her lips, thinking. Part of her wanted to be forthcoming with the true reason, though another part advised against the idea, for what purpose will the truth serve? It would do nothing more than to sour the mood even further. "I just… it was getting rather chilly, and your room is rather warm and cosy, so I thought it only natural to move our little chat here."

Weiss nodded happily enough, and Winter let out a small sigh. However quaint the atmosphere would've been had the garden was left… undefiled by royal seed, the small, modestly decorated room her sister inhabited had its own personal charm. A large bed was tucked to one side of the room, a long desk and a bookshelf on the other. An elegant, silver tea set sat atop a small round wooden table, and already Winter could smell the crisp, decadent scent of the Pale Moon tea, the brand that garnered many favourable attentions from patrons of aristocratic lineage.

Filling two of the cups, Winter took the only chair in the room, while Weiss sat on her bed. Her sister, Winter noticed, still took her tea with a cube of sugar and a spot of milk, as she has done since they were children.

"What's so funny?"

Winter smiled into her cup. "Nothing, dear sister. Nothing at all. How are you doing with your studies?"

"Rather well. For the most part, at least," Weiss answered with a sigh. "Truth be told, I'm still having trouble with the rune inscription. For reasons beyond my understanding, every time I cast the Laguz sign the water just freezes mid-way. And don't even get me started on my issue with Eihwaz rune-"

Winter listened patiently, offering advice and correction when needed. It reminded her of many tutoring sessions in the past, where she taught her sister in many fields, from swordsmanship and magic, to writing and elocution lessons. Of course, she was still learning, herself, and it wasn't long before they both chose to walk different paths, Weiss as a cleric and she as a knight. Still, moments like these, it reminded her of times when things were innocent and simple. Simpler and more innocent, that is, for children born into nobility bore on their shoulders responsibilities from an early age.

"How are things going with Arc, by the by?" Winter asked some time later.

A moment of silent contemplation passed by before Weiss managed a response. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Sister, my dear, dear sister, let's not beat around the bush. You know what I speak of."

Weiss sighed. "It isn't like how you think. Jaune's a great friend to me, and he thinks the same of me. I hope."

"Funny, I was under the impression there was more to it," said Winter. "I've seen the way you look at him, don't try to hide it."

"You would too, if he was your only friend here," Weiss huffed. "And besides, why wouldn't I be happy being around him? He's kind and considerate, honourable, responsible, and just all around a good, earnest man."

Winter nodded. "I'm aware. I suppose it shouldn't surprise you, then, that he was recipient to no less than a dozen marriage proposals mere weeks ago?"

"What?" Weiss' complexion paled, before visibly straining to keep her expression neutral. "I-I see. That's… that's good."

"Is it really, though?" Winter let the question hang, as she took quiet sips of her tea.

"Of course," Weiss muttered darkly. "What person wouldn't want their friend to be happy?"

"What of your happiness, then?" Winter countered.

"You know as well as I that father promised not to force me into an arranged marriage," Weiss pointed out. "Who I choose or when I choose to settle down is my own decision."

There was more Winter wanted to say, but the look on her sister's face made her reconsider. No good would come of forcing the issue, even if she meant well. No, she'll just have to revisit the matter at hand at a later time, and perhaps from a different perspective.

For now, she was content with just her sister's company. "By the way, the Holy Unification Day takes place only a little over a week from now. How goes the preparations?"

"We're mostly finished. There are just a few things we need to take care of. For instance, the accommodation for the nobles and the representatives of the royal family from both kingdoms…"

That night, sleep came uneasily for Weiss. After tossing and turning about beneath her blankets in fruitless efforts to lull herself back to sleep, she conceded defeat, staring blankly at the ceiling above.

With a frustrated grunt she slipped into her footwear, and quietly swung open the wooden panels, allowing the glow of the full moon to shine its light through. Though the goddess Theia's light and importance were likened to that of the sun, there was something subtly beautiful about the moon, a pale, shining beacon of light that carried with it a hint of something melancholy.

Or perhaps that was just her, for the prior conversation she had with Winter still haunted her memories, plaguing her with images and silhouettes of her future selves in worlds, dim and gray, indifferent and repressed regrets and sorrow.

A wistful sigh escaped her lips. She wasn't a daft – she very well knew what her sister was alluding to, she was just too much of a coward to admit it, even to herself, it seemed. But was that so surprising? The matters of the heart were by no means trivial, for the heart was a fragile thing, so easily broken, yet slow to heal, if they ever did at all.

Somewhere in the recess of her mind, she knew she was being rather melodramatic, as she was wont to do in times like this when she was feeling most self-conscious, most vulnerable.

Sensing the tendrils of chill creeping up on her, she donned on a robe, though instead of heading back to her bed, she pulled the chair from her desk and parked it next to the window, granting her the night view of the slumbering Asgard. Whether day or night, whether sunlight or moonlight, the city of silver and ice still shone bright and beautiful.

Softly sighing, she rested her chin on her hands, slightly jolting when something cold gently touched her brow. Raising her head, her eyes landed on a lone snowflake that drifted down into her palm, fading just as quickly as it came. Then another came, then another. It began to snow, and it was likely to grow heavier, for the first snowfall after a brief respite during warm months heralded the beginning of long winter.

Rising to her feet, her hands made for the shutters, to close them and ward off the chilly drafts, when her hands were stayed by the beating of hooves against rock from some distance below.

Heart beginning to beat wildly, she poked her head out the window, just in time to see a company of riders clad in white and silver atop their white steeds, the banner of the resplendent sun over pale mountains fluttering gently in the wind, ascending upwards towards the church.

Her face lit up in joy, and without pausing for a breath Weiss all but threw open her door, running as fast as she could towards the courtyard. Cold wind and snow nipped at her exposed face and neck, but did little to slow her pace, and stopped only to seek cover behind a fence, peering through its gaps the Mark of templars that returned home. Her eyes sought for only one, and suddenly all her worries, all her concerns vanished for the moment, leaving behind only a welling sensation of joy.

Jaune Arc, her most precious and perhaps the only friend, has returned.