As soon as the first bomb exploded in the center of Vale and the buildings began to crumble, almost every country promptly lost their collective shit. The media went into a frenzy; 'Vale and Atlas at War Once Again' was suddenly in every newspaper everywhere. Both governments began delegating. The public went into overload, preparing for the worse. Fat cat executives with private islands outside of Vale and Atlas laughed and began placing first few months were the definition of madness. No one knew who was going to win.

And then, in the blink of an eye, two years had past. In those two years, nothing of particular importance happened. The war ended in a stalemate. The world moved on, as it tended to do.

And in the hills of Vale, where snow met untouched stone atop the windswept peaks of the highest mountains, an idea was hatched. That idea?

To tell a story.

The story of a hotel, one that stood the test of the war, but fell to the cold and unforgiving grip of time.

It was a shining Beacon of hope.

It had excellent room service.

And that story began on a rainy day during the first Winter of the war.

Chapter 1: The Shining Beacon and the Weary Traveler

The Beacon Hotel sat upon the side of a mountain, far above the city of Vale. It was a large, square building with four floors (not including the ground floor) and two elevators, as well as three flights of stairs and one emergency ladder that was located behind the building. It was old and looked faded from afar, but up close it was clear to see it was in fantastic shape for its age. A fresh coat of paint was applied every two years, that year being the year they skipped out, and all of the windows were regularly cleaned.

The staff consisted of one bellhop, one janitor, one desk assistant, two greeters, two alternating bartenders, two elevator operators, three on-site maids, four bathroom assistants, four entertainers, four general helpers, five waiters, six cooks, six chefs, seven cleaners and one Concierge.

The previous owner of the hotel was something of a mystery, and only went by the name Ozpin. He sold the hotel to the Schnee corporation six years prior and in that time, under the management of a random Schnee underling, the hotel had gone essentially bankrupt and was left empty. And then, in a forced move, Jacques Schnee handed the hotel over to his youngest daughter, who had made an agreement to leave home in return for taking over the hotel. She saw it as a small price to pay for leaving home behind.

While Jacques was at first happy with the move - his daughter was well known for being organised and studious -, he soon came to regret it. She disassociated the hotel from the Schnee brand and renamed it 'The Shining Beacon' or 'The Beacon' because that was what Weiss believed the hotel represented. A Beacon of class and respect in a kingdom at war.

It had been one full year since Weiss had taken over, and in that time the hotel had flourished magnificently. They had more guests than ever and the staff were well trained for a change. While most hotels were placed within the city limits, the Beacon had the advantage of being far away from potential bombing runs from Atlesian planes and most guests were prepared to pay out as much cash as possible for this type of security. And the Beacon Hotel was happy to oblige.

Weiss stood in the hall, listening to the afternoon rain batter against the windows. She was gazing up a painting, which hung between two pillars on the second floor of the hotel.

The painting was of a lighthouse, sat in the middle of a raging sea. It's light shot off into the distance, a golden beam, and partly illuminated a boat, battered and broken by the heavy winds and the screaming rain. Stood upon the boat was a hooded figure, grasping the wheel and attempting to turn towards the lighthouse.

Weiss had acquired the painting a few years ago at an auction, a purchase she now heavily regretted. The paintwork was awful, the waves were a particularly ugly shade of blue and the lighthouse was off center. It tilted ever so slightly to the left, and it bugged her. The boat was the best part of it, which was even more annoying seeing as half of it was covered by darkness. Sadly, she had missed these particular details when initially bidding on the painting, possibly due having been seated at the back of the hall.

"I will take you down." she threatened with a pointed finger as her lips tugged downwards into an irritated frown.

"But not today…" the painting taunted back, and Weiss could've swore the hooded figure flashed a smirk at her.

The slam of a door shook her from her thoughts and she took a breathe, her hands subconsciously moving to her pristine white suit, brushing imaginary dust from the lapel and straightening the matching white velvet tie. The suit was tailor made by an old man who lived outside of the city, a dusty old crow whose fingers could do no wrong. Weiss would've given him a job at the hotel if he hadn't had such infamously rotten luck. The suit clung lovingly to her slender form, showing off her curves and eliminating anything she didn't want someone to notice. Her hair, immaculately done each morning, was tied into a bun which sat on her head just slightly to the left, held in place by a snowflake shaped metal holder. Some may say this was a fashion statement, but in actual fact it was how Weiss had tried to show her rebellious side at home. Her Father had hated it, and so every day when she did up her hair, she did it just slightly askew. It had become one of Weiss' many daily rituals that had followed her since moving away from home. Upon her chest, just above her bust, sat the gleaming badge that signified to guests that she was the Concierge and current senior employee, a position she held in very high esteem.

The slamming door was most likely a guest, perhaps Miss Goodwitch, who'd arrived yesterday morning and who had been rather forthcoming with her judgements of the hotel and its employees. She had requested a different room only a few hours after having been given one, but only after all of her luggage had been unpacked. As much as Weiss despised a judgy customer, it was within her job description to treat them with indifference. A guest was a guest, no matter the personality. And making them as comfortable as possible was what she was paid to do.

Not to say she didn't enjoy her job. In fact, her job was her life. She'd been at it for a year and could no longer picture life without it. Everything she did was in the interest of the hotel. And the hotel was better because of it.

Her job included, but was not limited to, caring for guests, arranging rooms and bookings, greeting guests once they had arrived, overseeing the employees, hiring the employees, making choices for events held in the hotel, organising fundraisers, organising dinners for high paying customers, gaining the respect of said high paying customers, changing and authorising changes to the menu, waiting, ordering, pouring wine and, of course, overseeing decor.

That last one had always caused a bit of bother with Weiss because she had, at one point, had someone to do this for her, but when cutbacks had to be made she opted to fire him, not only because she had to, but also because he was bad at his job. That was the last time she'd hire an Arc to do an architect's job.

"Ruby!" she shouted, and Ruby appeared behind her, hands at her sides. Ruby was, first and foremost, a bellhop. She was also Weiss' protégé, who was destined to take Weiss' position once she had given it up. But for now, Ruby remained a bellhop, dressed in the usual white bellhop uniform and her small white bellhop hat that covered her unusually short red hair.

"Ma'am." Ruby replied with the utmost respect. Despite her training to be as respectable and pleasant as possible, she couldn't help but crack a small smile at the painting. She let out an involuntary chortle as she did.

Ruby's childlike behaviour had at first annoyed Weiss, her constant laughing and sniggering putting her on edge and had thrown her back to when she'd lived at home. But as time had passed, Weiss had accepted the occasional laugh, if only to separate her current lifestyle from her previous one under the hateful will of her Father. But she also let Ruby away with it because she feared becoming that which she had so hated, something akin to the monster her Father had become as he grew older.

And for the most part, Weiss liked Ruby. Even better, the guests did too. She was friendly and caring, if a bit energetic. She was energy in need of a purpose and direction, Weiss had reckoned when first meeting the girl.

"Concierge?" Ruby's voice piped up and Weiss shook herself from her thoughts once again. She had been losing herself to her daydreams far too often as of late, and it was time she regained a little control.

"This painting is horrific. I regret buying it, wholeheartedly. Take note, Ruby. Never bid on a painting from the back row of the auction hall." Weiss said, turning her head slightly in Ruby's direction though not enough to show her face. Ruby tilted her head at the strangely specific advice, but took note regardless.

"I'll have Yang take it down." Ruby nodded, and made a mental note to wake her sister, who was most likely snoozing in the furnace room again.

"Good. Put it in the basement. Let the darkness judge it's beauty." Weiss said, taking one final look at the painting as Ruby scurried off to find her sister, leaving Weiss to bring up the next thing on her priority list.

Before she could, she heard the lift door open up. The low shrieking of metal that accompanied the opening of the steel grated door was a sound that out Weiss' thoughts at ease. From the elevator, Yatsuhashi's head popped out. The mountain of a man barely fit in the elevator, but he was silent and good at listening, so the elevator was the perfect fit. His massive head looked up and down the hall, before spotting Weiss. With a sigh of relief, he called out.

"Concierge, your brother has asked for you."

Weiss sighed at the mention of her brother. Whitley was a cold-hearted, manipulative boy who'd grown up without as much as a drop of free will. He'd idolised their father for his fierce will and lack of both empathy or mercy, which meant that Whitley was a replica of his father, however easier to control. As much as he prided himself on his own quick thinking and sharp wit, he was deviously easy to manipulate.

Weiss took the elevator down to the bottom floor and made her way quickly to the dining hall, a massive, spacious room that had been outfitted with tables of various sizes and designs. Weiss thanked the power that be that Whitley preferred an early dinner, and that there were no other guests in the hall to witness her brother acting the proverbial goat. At the far end, placed specifically next to the kitchen, was Whitley. She could hear him from the other side of the hall. His ranting was echoing off the walls. Snaking her way through the tables, she reached her destination in under a minute, where she observed the scene. Whitely was dressed in his usual suit with the same crisp whiteness that Weiss' suit had. Thankfully, that was where the similarities between the siblings ended.

Ren, her head waiter, was taking Whitley's huff head on, and responding with the occasional 'Yes sir' and 'We're very sorry sir.'. As Weiss approached, Whitley's turned his attention from Ren, who stepped back in anticipation of Weiss' arrival at the table.

"Weiss! Do you run a zoo? Have your waiters had any training whatsoever? Look at what your inept serving girl did." he bawled, and Weiss couldn't help but compare him to a screaming child. Witley had turned twenty two last December, but acted like a twelve year old whose father had too much money. Which was annoyingly true.

The mess he was referring too was nothing more than a tiny drop of red wine that had slipped out of the cup, presumably while whoever was serving him was pouring it. Weiss ignored her younger brothers temper tantrum and instead turned to Ren, who was stood with his head lowered and his hands grasping a silver plate behind his back. She knew Witley would try to listen in on the conversation, and pulled Ren away a little, and began talking in a hushed tone as Whitley glared at them in the same way a prince looks at a leper. Unwarranted contempt.

"What happened?" she asked quickly and Ren informer her of the incident.

"Sun spilt wine on the table. He's awfully cut up about it." he said calmly. In reality, Sun was sitting out back with a cigarette to calm him down. He had almost shoved the wine bottle somewhere that the sun refused to shine.

"Was it Whitley's fault?" she inquired, knowing all too well how unruly her sibling could act.

"He slammed the table as Sun was pouring it." Ren nodded.

Weiss sighed again, and rubbed her temples slowly. She had to deal with this matter quickly and without fuss, lest the other patrons of the hotel complain about the noise.

"Give Sun the rest of the day off, and tell Pyrrha to make him a booking for a free dinner tomorrow. Unlimited wine." she fired off quickly, before turning back to her putrid, child-like brother.

If there was something Weiss hated more than an unruly customer, it was a customer that belittled her staff. It was unacceptable. Horrible. An assault on all that the hotel stood for. And Weiss wasn't going to take it sitting down.

"Whitley, I assume that Father sent you here to check up on me." Weiss began, and immediately Whitley looked taken aback.

"What the hell are you talking about? Have you dealt with the waiter yet? Have you fired him? Damned Animal." Witley cursed.

A distinct slapping was heard throughout the hall, and it echoed off of the lilac painted walls. Weiss had hit her brother, fully across the face, with the back of her hand. There was a flicker of annoyance on her face, not because of her brothers wrongdoings, but because she'd let her anger show and thusly let her mask fall, if only for a brief, gratifying moment.

Witley stood in shock for a few seconds as the welt on his face began to turn a soft red. Ren looked down again, fearful that if he looked on any longer his lips may tug into a rare smile.

"You… You slapped me." Witley managed to stutter, his boyish face still in a state of shocked disgust.

"Yes. I did. You should be used to it by now, seeing as you still live with Father." she said quickly, savouring the embarrassment on Whitley's now glowing red face. You could barely tell the welt from the rest of his face now.

"He'll punish you for this." he spat, throwing his napkin that had been tucked in his shirt collar down onto his half eaten meal. Whitley loved this song and dance. An ambiguous threat that was never followed up. Weiss brushed it off without a second thought.

"I'm sure he will. Next time you see him, tell him that I say hello." she said, once again straightening her suit, before calling out.

"Ruby!"

Ruby's small head poked through the door at the far end of the hall.

"Ma'am?" she called, the words ringing out as Whitley looked on, still furious about how his dinner had taken a turn.

"Call Mr Schnee here a car, and bring his belongings down. He has had a change of heart and wishes to return home." she called back, glaring at Whitley in the meantime. This was the perfect way to simultaneously humiliate her awful younger brother and raise morale in her staff. And she would be lying if she said it didn't feel damned good to do it too. But if she smiled now the illusion would be broken, so her face stayed narrow and serious.

"Yes Concierge. Will he be stopping anywhere?" Ruby asked, and Weiss shook her head no. Even from across the room Ruby saw this and nodded, the door swinging shut as she ran off.

"Ren, would you show this snivelling fiend to the lobby please." Weiss said, putting particular emphasis on the 'snivelling fiend'. Whitley sneered at her, but knew he was beaten, perhaps his only redeeming feature.

"I never wanted to come to this shoddy hotel anyway. I'm happy to leave." he said, attempting to pull together whatever dignity he had, but it was hard to pull together what he never had. And doing so made him look like even more of a villain.

Whitley shoved past Weiss, closely followed by Ren. Weiss smirked at the raven haired waiter as he passed, but Ren kept a professionally straight face. Weiss contemplated taking a few moments to pat herself on the back, but decided instead to collect her thoughts.

Despite her decidedly rocky relationship with her younger brother, that wasn't the case with her other sibling. Winter was, in Weiss' opinion anyway (which was almost never wrong), of a higher breed than Whitley. She was smart, powerful and beautiful. It wasn't a coincidence that Weiss had tried to be like her growing up, and still kept some of her principles at heart. Their relationship was of stoic respect, both aware of each other's intelligence and strength. And they both despised that which they called Father. Weiss preferred to refer to her Father as 'it', rather than 'he'. It was childish, but it was a small victory that Weiss felt was at least owed to her for all the years she had to spend with it.

Weiss tutted as she looked down onto the table and the half eaten meal. It was a waste of perfectly good food. Fat, juicy sausages with mashed potato, expertly made with butter and milk, along with a deliciously thick gravy and steamed vegetables. It was the standard that the guests had come to expect, and for that they could thank Nora, who oversaw the kitchen when Weiss wasn't there. As Weiss was about to clear the table herself, Nora pushed her way out of the kitchen, which was surprisingly noisy for the time of day. Most likely gossiping about Sun, Weiss reckoned. She wasn't condemning them, the kitchen was a hot-spot for rumors about what was what in the hotel. Weiss had actually used this to her advantage once or twice in the past. The clicking of cups brought Weiss back to the present.

"I'll clear that away Boss." Nora told her, picking the various cutlery and plates up.

"We'll share the load." Weiss said with a no-nonsense shake of her head, taking the main plate and the cutlery, while Nora pressed the few cups Whitley had used together with her fingers. Nora was the head chef in the hotel, and a damn fine one at that. Everyone loved her, almost unconditionally at times, and she returned that love. Weiss and Nora had know each other since before the war.

Unlike most hotels, The Beacon employed Faunus full time and at the same rate as other workers. This had become yet another way that Weiss had found to irritate her Father. His - no, it's views had been universally criticised for using unfair, unpaid Faunus labour forces in his factories, and had been cited calling them as 'lower than human'. It was a fair enough judgement to say that Weiss' family didn't have the greatest relationship with the public. And much to Weiss' dismay, that had affected the popularity of the hotel. When the hotel had originally opened it had been under the Schnee name. Weiss had ordered the name be stricken from anything as soon as she was given control.

"Good evening, Concierge."

The cooks and waiters nodded in greeting as Weiss and Nora passed. On a glance it would seem that the employees were addressing her in the same way a worker usually greets a senior member of staff, but a closer look showed something deeper, yet simpler. They respected Weiss, not only as a boss, but as a person. Her level of professionalism made them weary at first, but her expert handle on, well, everything, had earned her their trust over time. She cared for her employees because in the end, they were her most loyal customers, who arrived every single day without fault.

Nora placed the dishes in a tub of soapy water and Weiss followed suit, drying her hands on a new hand towel. She decided to indulge herself a little while she had the chance and chat with Nora. The kitchen resumed with it's daily rituals as she leant against the work surface. Nora began to wash the dishes, pulling a cloth from the shelf above her head.

"How are you and Ren?" she asked casually and Nora almost dropped the glass tumbler in her hand.

"W-what? We're not together. I mean, not together-together. We're-"

"You're together." Weiss interjected, feeling as if she was putting a wounded animal out of its misery. "I've known for a while."

Nora felt a bit put out and, in an effort to hide her ever reddening cheeks, began thoroughly scrubbing the dishes once more.

"Who told you?" Nora asked quietly, already picking out several ways to make whoever broke the news pay.

"Ren did. He seemed rather pleased with himself actually." Weiss replied, folding her arms across her chest. The details of Nora and Ren's relationship had been secretly conveyed to her since the moment she arrived in the hotel. It had taken them a year to act on their very obvious feelings for each other, and it had actually become something of a game for everyone else. In the end, however, Weiss was secretly happy they'd finally gotten together. And even more secretly, she wished she had someone to feel that way about. But that had become increasingly irrelevant ever since she'd started her new job.

Nora had a troubled look on her face which lingered for a few moments, but it slowly melted into a warm smile.

"Then I guess I can't hurt him for telling people. As long as he's happy that is. He's happy, isn't he? Because I am, and sometimes it's just so hard to tell with him and-" Nora began, but Weiss cut her off with a single shake of her head.

"He's happy. I can tell." she said, trying to comfort her old friend. Before Nora could respond, Weiss pushed away from the counter and began towards the double doors back through to the dining hall. Just before she pushed through she heard Nora call out to her.

"How could you tell?" she asked. A simple enough question, with a simple enough answer, which Weiss called over her shoulder.

"Because he smiled."

Nora grinned as the double doors swung shut once again.

"Sir, Master Whitley has returned earlier than expected. He wishes to meet with you."

The white haired man in the brown leather chair looked up from his paper. The office he was sat in was as cold as ice, and the man was even colder. His eyebrows raised slightly.

"Oh? Send him in." he voice had an uneasy echo to it, as if the walls themselves didn't want to hear the words he spoke. The butler nodded and backed out with a bow, closing the doors as he left.

The old man stood from his chair slowly, pulling himself to his fullest height. In his prime he had been almost 6'3, but the years had dragged him down since then. His upright posture remained however, a trait of his rigorous upbringing, and he leveled his head, looking towards the dead fireplace at the far end of the room. Unlike most people, he preferred to sit away from the fire at a respectable distance and leave it to warm the room gradually instead of being confronted by the harsh temperatures. It was a strange habit that visitors often found unnerving, and that was the other reason he preferred it that way. His years as a ruthless business tycoon had taught him a fair few tricks, one being to keep whoever you're dealing with on the defense, and keep them rattled. It made it so much easier to negotiate terms when the other person is focused on any perceived danger they may be in.

There was a sharp knock on the door and the brass handle turned downwards as it slid open on greased hinges. Whitley entered quickly, slyly as if he didn't want to be noticed. It was at that point, as Whitley crossed the boundary of the office door, that Whitley became prey.

And Jacques stayed exactly who he was.

"Concierge, a guest has arrived."

Ruby called out as she stood in the doorway to the bathroom on the second floor. Weiss would normally use her private toilet on the fourth floor, but when she wanted to go somewhere that no one would find her, she came here. And now she was trying to figure out how Ruby had found her secret hide out spot. Weiss' almost but not quite irritated voice came from the last stall.

"Who is it?" The noise of the toilet flushing flushed out the sentence and Ruby frowned slightly.

"Ma'am?" she began to say, but Weiss quickly left the stall and repeated her query. "Who is it?"

"A woman. I've never seen her before, but she's quite pretty." Ruby commented as Weiss washed her hands and dried them on the white hand towel beside the sink.

"Now now Red. A bellhop must not make comments about a guests appearance. They are for moving luggage. Nothing more." Weiss said strictly, moving past Ruby and out into the hall.

"Of course. Sorry Ma'am. But the woman is waiting in the lobby. Pyrrha is assigning her a room." Ruby informed her as they walked. Weiss took long, deliberate strides while Ruby took small, flitting steps and struggled to keep up.

"She hasn't made a reservation?" Weiss frowned as they reached the elevator, and Yatsuhashi opened the gate for them both. They stepped in, Weiss nodding to operator. "Lobby please."

"If she'd made a reservation you would've known she was arriving and would've greeted her at the door instead of hiding - er, using the toilet, Ma'am." Ruby reminded her as the gate slammed shut and the lift moved down slowly. There was an awkward silence as Weiss sorted through her mind for guests that may have stayed, but hadn't made a reservation. None of them lined up with how Ruby was describing this new guest. Weiss didn't like it when things didn't go as she expected. If it wasn't planned out meticulously, too many things could go wrong. One could argue this was paranoia, but Weiss preferred to call it preparedness.

The lobby ran down the centre of the main building and consisted of a large central section which included a rounded oak desk placed right in the middle, and two side sections separated by fake marble pillars, which lead to the staircase that in turn lead to the different floors. The elevator was placed at the far end of the hall, at the top of the grand staircase that lead to the first floor. Describing buildings is much easier in your head, as it turns out.

As the elevator door opened, Weiss gave a sweeping gaze over the lobby and spotted a woman dressed in black, stood in front of the sign in desk. She also spied Pyrrha, who was writing in the logbook and swapping keys around. The woman was facing away from them, with her back leaning against the wooden curvature of the desk. Weiss took a moment to focus. She straightened her posture and opened her gait slightly, walking in half strides towards the desk. As she neared the woman, rather ominously dressed in all black, a cold chill ran up her neck, as if someone had run a cold finger up her back. There was the telltale scent of rain in the lobby, and several damp footprints on the red carpet lead from the doors to the front desk. Weiss suddenly felt an overwhelming sensation of apprehension. She took a deep, calming breath.

Just another customer, she thought to herself.

Before Weiss could open her mouth to greet the woman, she turned to face them and Weiss' calming breath caught in her throat. Golden eyes peered at her from beneath a dark hood, with long black hair falling from inside the hood to down past her shoulders. As their eyes met, a curious smirk adorned her pale, lovely features.

"Good evening." the woman said with a smile, pulling her hood down to further reveal her breathtaking features. The only thought running through Weiss' head at that moment was how Ruby was able to see how beautiful she was beneath the hood.

Ruby glanced up at Weiss' face and, in seeing her struggle to comprehend, decided to take the initiative. She motioned to the single black bag at the woman's feet.

"Can I take this for you Ma'am?" she asked politely and the woman took her eyes away from Weiss for a moment. At first she seemed unsure about the idea, but then nodded and handed the bag over.

Ruby quickly turned to Pyrrha.

"Room please."

Pyrrha was quick to respond. Efficient and reliable as always.

"Two-zero-five. Let me just find the key… "

Ruby shook her head no.

"I'll take the master key. Weiss won't need it." she grinned, yanking the ring of keys that hung on the inside of Weiss' suit jacket and running off with the bag. The master key unlocked every room in the hotel, including the safe in Weiss' room. On any other occasion she would've scolded Ruby right there and then but this time she didn't even flinch. Those golden eyes turned back to her.

"I… Good evening. Are you staying the night?" Weiss snapped back to her usual self, containing her reaction for a later point.

"Yes." the woman nodded and her eyes focused on the badge on her chest. "You're the Concierge here? Aren't you a bit young?"

"Maybe. But I can run a hotel better than people twice my age, and I have done so for the past year. Some critics have gone so far as to call me a legend." Weiss responded with confidence, but not even a sliver of surprise came over the woman's face. Weiss hadn't meant to boast, but it had somehow tumbled out.

"I may be wrong, but don't you need to be dead to be a legend?"

Pyrrha placed a key on the counter and slid it across.

"Your room key Miss Belladonna."

The woman took the key, never breaking eye contact with Weiss until she turned to Pyrrha and nodded her thanks.

"Call me Blake."

The woman - Blake- brushed past Weiss, who watched her pass with a steely gaze. For the first time in a while, Weiss had been beaten in a game of verbal wits. And for the first time ever, she was completely okay with it.

As soon as she was gone, Weiss turned to Pyrrha.

"Who is she?" she said quietly, and Pyrrha pulled the logbook up for Weiss to see.

"No one, apparently. I don't recognise the name, and she isn't representing a business. She paid in cash up front too. For two weeks." she explained, pointing to the name written in trailing, complex lettering.

Weiss' eyes widened slightly. Her scar was beginning to sting. The humidity did that sometimes. She placed a finger against the tender pink skin, feeling strangely vulnerable. The scar was a relic of the past, back when Vale and Atlas first went to war. She'd been caught in a bombing while out with her mother, a particularly frightening experience that still sometimes graced her dreams, and more often her nightmares. The scar was a reminder that the world was harsh and unforgiving. The shrapnel that had left a mark on her body had also left a mark on her mind. And she could feel it, right at that moment.

"Blake Belladonna." Weiss said quietly, as Pyrrha took the book away again. The name rolled off her tongue like the sweetest of honey.

But this left Weiss in a bad situation, caught between her duties as a hostess and the coiling sensation in her stomach. She was completely unknown person, a missing piece, a golden gem. She could be anyone. Her instinct told her to deal with the problem head on and have the woman leave the hotel. But in the same vein, she wanted her to stay as long as possible. It was difficult to decide when she was arguing against herself.

"Have her money checked for counterfeits, and then have it double checked. I want to know who we're dealing with." Weiss said quickly, pushing away from the desk.

"Right away Concierge."

She had an idea of who might know the identity of the woman. She would need to leave the hotel to see them, however, and she wanted to get a better idea of who she was leaving the hotel to. She had the greatest faith in her employees. It was the guests she didn't quite trust yet.

Weiss was now at war with herself, and she had no idea who was going to win.

Thusly, the first chapter of The Beacon Hotel is finished. I hope you enjoyed it. I'll be posting regular updates (And by regular I mean probably not regular because what even are schedules) and they'll hopefully be about as long as this is.

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