Author's Notes

Hello everyone. I really don't know what to say at this point, other than I'm very ashamed and disappointed in myself. At the beginning of summer I told myself that I'd have so much time to write and that I would write so many chapters. Turns out I was only able to update twice this entire summer. I think the time when I was able to update twice a month is now behind me. Now a senior in college and someone who essentially runs a business with his sister, I must say that it doesn't seem like I can be the writer that I and you want me to be; a writer who can update often and not take such a long time to update. I won't bore you any more with the apologies and the details, but I want all of you, my loyal readers, to know that I will see this story through. I really will. It means so much to me, and although I do find my faith and motivation shaken from time to time when I notice that my readership is actually declining, I still find just enough strength to "keep moving forward." So for everyone who continues to read The White Rose of Vermilion, and for those who leave me kind, supportive, and constructive reviews, I want to thank you again from the bottom of my heart.

Now, about the actual chapter. As you may notice from first glance, this chapter is a bit long (a bit rough too). The reason being is that I wanted to follow a structure that I came up for Arc II. This chapter is essentially the game-changer, the chapter where the story that links all arcs together slowly starts to reveal itself. And so I had to do my best to catch you all up to speed with the world that isn't just Weischandel, but the Northern and Southern halves of The Kingdom of Vale, and the Faunus Confederation.

Anyways, please, please, please leave a review. Your feedback is both greatly appreciated and crucial; anything and everything can help!

Don't know what to say other than "Good chapter?" or "Update soon?" Pick a line that you liked and tell me why you liked it. Was it written well? Did it elicit a certain emotion? Did it make you laugh, smile, sigh, want to cry? Detailed and constructive reviews really make my day, so please help a writer out?

Now without further ado, please sit back, relax, and enjoy your reading of The White Rose of Vermilion; Arc II; Chapter Twenty; Winter Winds.

Arc II: Chapter Twenty

A little over a month had passed since the day of Ruby Rose's full recovery and subsequent ascension from commoner and criminal, to a Seeker of the Weischandelian Army. Seventeen years had passed since Weiss had been born to House Schnee, named Heiress of the Barony of Weischandel, and proclaimed by her family and her people as the one who would lead their province to victorious summers and bountiful autumns.

So why did she feel that a lowly conscript was doing more for the well-being of Weischandel?

Weiss let out a frustrated yawn, which she only half attempted to hide. Pulling the silk blanket that had fallen to her waist back up to her chin, she slowly rested her head against the back of her cushioned seat. Too tired to get up and to feed another log into the dying fire that rested in the fireplace several feet away, she lazily reveled in the warmth that caressed her cheeks. As she fought to keep her eyes open, she sleepily looked up at what she had channeled her energies into day in and day out ever since being sentenced to total confinement in her room.

On the western wall of her bedroom hung a massive canvas that looked more like a general's map for conquest than what she had intended it to be. Stretching in size from to where her knees were to a solid foot above her head, it was a treasure that she had spent an entire week begging her father to grant her, claiming it to be a single act of mercy to help her pass the time. When he relented and fulfilled her request, she had been overjoyed. However, rather than paint over it like she had done for countless other canvases, she converted it into a bulletin board: a visual manifestation of all pieces of news and information that she deemed important and relevant.

Split into five sections, the top left section was dedicated to listing all the most important news that traveled to Weischandel from the other eleven provinces. From new foresting laws passed in Ottograv, a peasant uprising in Lyzantium, a power shift in the aristocratic families of Charledon, she made it routine to familiarize herself with news that did not directly pertain to her province; an effective ruler was one who was familiar with the landscapes, even the ones far beyond their own borders.

In the top right corner was a collection of reports that she had received from the Northern Wall, the massive stone structure that had been built centuries earlier to keep out the annual Grimm incursions. From the bleak reports that were sent periodically that requested additional equipment, provisions, and reinforcements, she even made herself read through the list of names of the fallen; a capable leader was one who had the stomach to accept the harsh reality that battle and war was sometimes inevitable.

At the bottom left was the section dedicated to news of increasing tensions between the Southern provinces and the neighboring Faunus Confederation. As a race who were deemed as infidels for their beliefs in a different God than the one Valeans worshipped, and monsters for their physical animalistic features, the Faunus were believed to be freakish hybrids between man and Grimm, thus meaning an enemy to humankind; a wise ruler was one who knew their foes intimately, as to always stay one step ahead.

To the bottom right was a section dedicated to all news domestic such as trade relations with neighboring provinces, and her father's questionable decision to begin expanding the military again; an adept ruler was one who knew which persons were pulling which strings, and why.

And in the very center of it all was an assortment of pinned bulletins with the names of everyone that had been involved in the conviction of Ruby Rose and Yang Xiao Long for the murders of Amice Thrush and Jonathan Corbon—their names connected to affected persons with red pieces of string forming a discordant yet beautiful web of red.

The blacksmith claimed she was innocent of both murders – and was eventually convicted in the murder of Amice Thrush —yet found innocent of the brutal end that Jonathan Corbon met in the secluded alley where his gored body was found. However. In the time Weiss spent in solitary confinement, she too slowly came to the conclusion that Yang was innocent of murdering the miner, and even possibly the murder of her landlord.

Over and over in her dreams and nightmares, that fateful afternoon played out before her like a well-rehearsed play. With all the evidence stacked against her and the promise of a far less severe punishment if she confessed, the blacksmith still did not confess. Even in the presence of the hangman's noose and moments away from a broken neck, she did not falter. The fierce conviction in her voice and eyes, the lengths her younger sister Ruby went through to defend her only remaining family. Together, they gambled it all, and lost. And Weiss was the one who was responsible.

The heiress placed a hand over her chest, attempting to massage away the pains she felt. Fueled with her desire to bring the real killer to justice, thus somewhat alleviating the Xiao Long and Rose family name from further shame and ridicule, she spent weeks going over documented evidence, motives, testimony, and reexamining the list of possible suspects until she thought her mind would finally collapse from the frustration of not being able to find an answer.

As her eyes closed, a pair of silver eyes and a flowing red cape came to mind.

Three quiet consecutive knocks gently awakened Weiss from her deep slumber. As she blinked, her eyes adjusting to the morning light that leaked past the creaks in her curtains, she looked down and noticed that she had been tucked into bed. Sitting up, she next looked over to the fireplace and saw a small fire burning. In front of it, the blanket she had used to cover herself was neatly folded and laid down onto the seat. She immediately puffed her cheeks and cleared her throat.

"Come in."

The door then promptly opened and in came Leo, one of her two personal defensive-class sentinels. Clad in armor and with his helmet tucked underneath his left arm, he closed the door behind him and faced perpendicular from her to avoid staring.

"Good morning, my Lady," he greeted amicably.

"Was it you who moved me from my seat?" Weiss questioned, nearly cutting him off.

The sentinel immediately gave a dry cough and cleared his throat. "I, uh, er…"

"Was it you?"

"…Yes my Lady," he finally said after a sigh.

Weiss jumped out of her bed and buttoned the top of her nightgown as she strode over to the sentinel, the ends of her gown and her hair flying behind her from walking so fast. "How many times have I told you to leave me be where I sleep?" Weiss said sternly as she stopped right in front of Leo, putting her hands on her hips for emphasis. "I won't have you, Simon, Brutus, or Cassius treating me like a child anymore that needs to be carried and tucked into bed."

Leo, with eyes darting back and forth between the heiress and the wall in front of him replied quickly. "My Lady, when I found you last night your blanket had fallen off and your fire no more than just a pile of embers. I was afraid that you might catch a cold because of the snow-"

Weiss's eyes flew open and all remnants of sleepiness immediately left her. "Snow?" She rushed over to the window, pulled aside the curtains, and pushed it open. As far as the eye could see, the Vermilian landscape before her had been covered in a beautiful sheet of snow. Gently falling from the sky was the winter's first snowfall. "When?" she asked without taking her eyes off the sight before her.

"Late last night."

Reaching a hand out, the heiress inhaled deeply and let out a happy sigh as the cold wind filled her lungs and the snowflakes tickled her arm as they melted on her skin. Finally. Finally winter had come.

"Not only is your protection my utmost concern, your health is too," Leo continued as he made his way beside Weiss, gently taking her hand and bringing it back into the room, "Winter has come, and my Lady should be more careful." He then closed the window.

Opening her mouth but unable to find a proper counter, Weiss brought her arm up to her chest and touched at where the snowflakes had melted against her skin. "I understand. And I appreciate your concern, Leo. I just find it embarrassing that a woman of my age still needs to be carried into bed and tucked away."

"I wouldn't say you're a woman just yet," Leo said with a laugh.

"Excuse me!?" Weiss lectured as she shot Leo an angry look. "I'm seventeen years old! I'm not a little girl anymore."

Forcing the last few laughs out of his system, he turned to Weiss and smiled. "Oh, but you are" he said before his voice took a gentler tone. "You'll always be our little girl."

Weiss crossed her arms. "It's much too early for this." She then raised an eyebrow. "May I ask why it that you're here? Is it news for my bulletin that you bring?"

Leo's smile quickly faded and was replaced with a serious expression. "It is not. You've been summoned by your father, the Warden."

Weiss lowered her arms and blinked. "Pardon me?"

"He has requested an audience with you. He wishes for you to meet him in the war room at the Watchtower whenever you're readied yourself for the day."

Weiss brought her hair down over her right shoulder and ran her hands through it nervously. "The war room? Why has my father summoned me there? Do you know?"

The sentinel shook his head. "I do not, my Lady. All I know is that Simon and I are to escort you to him whenever you're ready."

Turning her back to him to hide her expressions, she looked down at her hands. "Well then I mustn't keep him waiting for long. Please tell the maids to prepare a bath for me."

"Understood. The two of us will be waiting for you at the end of the hall. Call for us when you are ready."

As he turned to leave, Weiss called out to him. "And Leo?"

The sentinel stopped in his tracks in order to look back at her. "Yes, my Lady?"

"T-Thank you."

"For what?"

"F-For tucking me in last night." With her back still turned towards Leo, she turned her head and met his gaze. "That…was very kind of you."

The man smiled. "Anything for my heiress. The pleasure is mine."

With a quick and curt bow, he turned on his heels and left just as swiftly as he entered. When his footsteps finally faded out of earshot, Weiss absentmindedly walked over to her seat and lowered herself down. Still running her hands through her hair, she looked up at the canvas before her.

What could he possibly want with her?

Weiss stood rigidly in front of the large tri-fold mirror that sat in the corner of her bath. Bathed and now dressed in attire fit for newly welcome snowfall, she anxiously stared as the last bits of steam from her bath leave the top of the mirror. When it finally left, leaving nothing between her and her reflection, she let out a sigh. She had stalled long enough.

It was time to tear away the many layers of the cocoon that she had allowed to grow around her since the day of her defiance. Glancing to the left and right mirrors, she noticed what one month of confinement had done to her refined and proud posture.

Oh Weiss. How could this have happened to you?

In one swift movement, she lifted her arms above her head and sprung to her toes. Holding her pose until she felt her balance waver, she slowly lowered herself down to the ground, allowing her limbs to fall into the mold she mentally projected for herself. By the time her heels touched the ground, she saw that her posture had straightened, her shoulders evened, and her legs pressed neatly against each other. As she looked at herself in all three mirrors, she felt a sense of melancholy. Although she wore the dress of a Schnee and carried the posture of a noble, she felt that Leo's words, whatever message they were meant to convey, were true.

The ride to the Garrison Headquarters was a quiet one. Seated with Leo and Simon in a carriage that was escorted by small group of guardsmen on foot, she stared wistfully out the window as she pondered as to why the string attached to her had been pulled. Was her sentence of solitary confinement finally coming to an end? If so, why would she summoned to the war room of all places? Was it just a coincidence or was she about to be thrust into a new opportunity?

"My Lady?" Weiss jumped in her seat and turned to see Leo gesturing towards the now open door. "We've arrived."

Exiting the carriage first, the brother sentinels each reached out a hand to Weiss as they helped guide her down the carriage's steps and down onto the crisp freshly fallen snow. As the heiress looked around her, bittersweet memories of her past visit came back all at once, hitting her harder than she had anticipated. It wasn't too long ago that she had captured Ruby and Yang, threw them into prison, and made an unannounced visit to perhaps hundreds of her father's men. While she had grown to regret and despise the pride she felt with capturing the sisters, the pride and validation that surged through her heart when she met the soldiers that protected her province was unforgettable. Based solely on her name along with her relation to her father, the soldiers of Weischandel were more than willing to fight and die for her.

Weiss looked at the small group of men that had escorted her. Numbering eight in total, they held their heads up high and stood proudly at attention in two lines of four, disregarding the snow that slowly began to build on their helmets, shoulders, and faces. Weischandelian soldiers were known to be some of the finest in the North, and they had been so for years even before Pyrrha Nikos arrived.

"Welcome to Garrison Headquarters Heiress Schnee!" they called out at once.

With a nod of acknowledgement and with her sentinels at her side, she made her way past them and to the nearest sky-bridge station.

An elevated bridge that ran through key points of the encampment, the sky-bridge was built as a way to transport men quickly if traffic was too concentrated on the ground level, and to serve as a vantage point for officers to monitor and observe men while they trained.

As she made her way closer to the watchtower where her father awaited her in its war room, she passed by dozens of smaller camps where companies of soldiers performed their morning drills in the snow. Sentries practiced anti-cavalry formations, Guardsmen practiced blitz tactics, Sentinels practiced anti-phalanx maneuvers. Fascinated by the sights, she often stopped at each encampment to observe them from the sky-bridge. Remembering that she loved to fantasize about leading men into make-believe battles, seeing the real thing in front of her was more exciting than she ever imagined.

Unfortunately, Leo and Simon had to remind her that she still had someone to see.

Not wanting to keep her father waiting for too long and beginning to feel the cold seep through her clothing, she picked up the pace and had to pass by many encampments without much or any attention. Just as she reached the final stretch before the sky bridge funneled into the watchtower, a certain voice echoed through the air.

"Yes sir!" the voice in the distance shouted.

Stopping dead in her tracks, Weiss motioned behind her for her sentinels to do the same.

"My Lady?" asked Simon in a hushed tone as he reached for his sword, "Is there something wrong?"

After several seconds, she heard the voice repeat the same phrase again, only this time louder. Eyes widening as she recognized the voice, she turned on her heels and quickly dashed pass her sentinels.

"My Lady!" Leo called out after her. "Where are you going?"

Unsure of how to answer them, she instead desperately ran towards where she thought sound of the voice came from. From one training ground to the next, she scanned the crowds of soldiers below and sprinted away when in frustration when she couldn't find the one who had called out.

After losing count of how many corners she turned and how many camps she passed, she finally came to a halt and struggled to catch her breath. Regrettably weak after such a long period of inactivity, her stamina had certainly taken a beating as she put a hand over her pounding chest.

Where are you? Where are you? Where are you?

"What did I say, Rose? AGAIN!" a nearby voice boomed.

"Rose," Weiss repeated, out loud. "Rose!"

Holding her side where she felt cramps from running, Weiss made her way to a section of the sky-bridge that overlooked a large, open encampment. In a heartbeat, her eyes immediately drifted to a figure that stood in the center of the training ground. With short black hair reaching her right shoulder only and a flowing red hooded-cape, Weiss leaned against the railing before her and let out an exhausted and exasperated sigh.

It was Ruby Rose.

Dressed in a full set of light armor and armed with a bow and a full quiver of trainee arrows, the rookie seeker stood next to an older man with a captain's insignia on his right shoulder, and some distance away from them stood three heavily armored seekers. Wearing padded-leather armor and full-steel helmets, the three seekers were positioned in a zig-zag formation and had wooden practice swords drawn and at the ready. Judging by the rest of the company that watched from the sidelines, it seemed that Ruby and three of her fellow soldiers were in the middle of a demonstration.

"Ready?" the captain asked.

Ruby raised up her bow with her left arm and nocked an arrow with her right. As she pulled back the bowstring, her sleeve pulled backwards as well, revealing a strip of bloody bandages wrapped around her knuckles. Weiss's smile immediately faded. Ready!" Ruby shouted hoarsely.

Raising his hand into the air, the captain nodded to the three seekers and then threw his hand downwards. "Engage!"

With a battle-cry the three seekers rushed forward only to be quickly knocked off balance and into the snowy ground one by one with well-placed shots to the legs. Just as she had incapacitated so many of her father's guards that fateful day, the seekers who opposed her didn't stand a chance against her marksmanship.

Expected the captain to react with praise, Weiss flinched when he instead struck Ruby across the face, knocking her onto the ground. Barely restraining herself in time from speaking out, Weiss grabbed at the railing before her as she watched Ruby slowly pull herself back up and begin to gather the arrows that had fallen out of her quiver. While she did so, the captain turned to face the rest of the company and placed his hands behind his back.

"Can anybody tell me how many good men I've seen killed on the battlefield because of a seeker's piss-poor job?" When no one answered him, he spat onto the ground. "Too fucking many! You put an arrow in your target's torso or in their damned head! Anywhere else and you give them a much higher chance of surviving and killing one of our own." He grabbed Ruby by the collar to her blouse and lifted her up from the ground. "You! You will do this until you get it right. Shoot them where it would kill them." He then gave her a hard shove.

As he continued to berate her, Weiss could see Ruby's body shake with fear and flinch whenever he came close to her or raised a hand in his livid speech. The heiress felt her stomach churn when she noticed the bruises on her face. Watching them, murmuring and whispering, stood the rest of the company as they watched their fellow comrade be made an example of.

Weiss held her breath as she watched Ruby and the three seekers return to their original positions. "Ready," Ruby muttered after nocking a fresh arrow.

"Louder!" the captain shouted.

"Ready!" Ruby shouted hoarsely.

Taking a step back, the captain raised his arm, gave Ruby and the three seekers a look, and then threw his arm downwards. "Engage!"

The three seekers let out another angry yell and rushed Ruby with their weapons drawn. Within the first seeker's step, Ruby raised up the bow and stopped it in place as if her bow was as light as a feather. By her target's second step, she released her arrow and sent it spiraling dead center in the first seeker's chest. With a loud thump, he dropped to his knees and then flat onto his face. Hopping over his body came the second seeker who had built up a great bit of speed. With lightning quick reflexes despite her injuries, Ruby nocked the second arrow and let the arrow fly straight into the exact same part of the seeker's chest. With only one target left, ruby nocked her third arrow, lifted up her bow slightly and released. Now within several feet of her, the third and final seeker was thrown off of his feet and onto his back by the arrow that struck him directly in his forehead.

For a few painful moments, the only sounds audible were the moans of the downed men and a lonely wisp of wind that passed through the encampment. Then finally a grunt of approval from the captain. "And that is what a seeker must be able to do! As archers, distance and fortifications are our allies and protectors. However, we must never lose our lethalness, even if those are taken away. Well done, Rose. Collect your arrows and return to formation."

"Yes sir," Ruby said quietly after avoiding his gaze.

As she retrieved her arrows, another group of men detached from the formation to help carry the incapacitated men into a nearby building. All while the captain began to order the company to a new set of drills to perform.

"My Lady!" a voice from behind her called out.

Weiss turned around to see Leo and Simon running down the hallway and stopping just a few feet shy from her. Backing away from the railing, she began to frantically think of a way to explain her actions. With a stern expression on his face, Leo crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. "Why on earth did you run off like that? You should have at least told us where you were going." As she continued to search for a believable response, she saw out of the corner of her eye Simon do a double-take towards the encampment below them.

"It's her," he said somewhat incredulously as he walked to the railing.

Leo looked to his brother. "What?"

"There," said Simon as he pointed to Ruby among the formation, "In the red cloak."

Walking to the railing and looking towards the formation, Leo let out a scowl. "That's her alright." The two sentinels then turned around to face Weiss. "Is she who you came to see?"

Fidgeting with her hands, she nodded. "Yes. But-"

"Why?" Leo demanded within a heartbeat. "Must I remind you that she tried to claim both you and your father's lives? Wounded Simon and I and nearly killed those poor guardsmen?" As he continued, Leo's voice grew more agitated. "And after all this you come running to see her. Why?"

"Leo," Simon said as he grabbed Leo's arm. "Whatever her reason is, this is no way to speak to the Heiress. You and I must know that."

Taking a step back, Leo pinched the bridge between his eyes with his free hand and let out a sigh. "You're right." He looked up at Weiss and lowered his head in apology. "I just remember the things she's done—how dangerous she is. How much I don't understand your father's reasoning for integrating her into the garrison. How much you mean to us, your sentinels. I am sorry."

Weiss shook her head and placed a hand over her chest. "You were putting my safety and protection above anything else and I am grateful for that. However, I am the one who should be sorry. I suddenly heard her voice and something inside of me urged me to follow it." This was as far as she was willing to confess. She fully knew why she came and telling this portion of the truth to her sentinels would only warrant more constraints around her. "Why I did what I did…I am not entirely sure," she lied.

Simon motioned Weiss to stand beside him. Obeying him, the three of them looked on as Ruby and another seeker practiced dexterity by tossing each other arrows and firing it immediately into a nearby straw target. "When one goes through such a traumatic experience such as you did, all parties involved are sure to be in mind for the rest of your life, albeit some more than others. Just how you are sure to never forget that face, the same goes for Leo and I". Weiss averted her glance as soon as she saw Simon ball his dominant hand into a tight fist. "Now come," he said firmly, "we mustn't keep your father waiting any longer."

Reluctantly allowing herself to be escorted away, Weiss looked one last time at Ruby, and felt her heart drop when the latter looked up at the very last moment.

Weiss watched in awe as the two great wooden doors that led into the final hallway before the war room opened before her, the sounds of aged hinges and lumber creaking and grinding in the process. A structure attached to Garrison Headquarters that overlooked all of Vermilion, the Garrison Watchtower was also the epicenter of all military matters pertaining to the entire province of Weischandel, whereas the former's area of attention was limited to the capital itself.

Earlier allowing her light winter coat to be taken, Weiss tugged at her collar as she approached the last and final door. In recent weeks, she had not seen her father at all, which was something not uncommon, but she always saw him at least once a week. Since she had successfully lobbied for a canvas, she had not seen him in over three weeks.

There were whispers, that after Yang's botched execution, the Warden immersed himself into his work. Some said it was damage control and the repairing of his public image. Others felt different but could not guess as to what was on the Warden's agenda. Weiss now braced herself as Leo and Simon reached the door and began to pull on the handles.

The moment of truth.

As the doors opened, a warm light came pouring out from within. With a white and cool light coming from the large window on the western side of the room, and a warm and orange candlelight emitting from the chandelier that hung in the center of the room, the two came together to form a soothing sensation both on the eyes and on the skin. Averting her eyes to the large table that lay directly beneath the chandelier, Weiss spotted her father standing in the middle of a group of high-ranking officers. Groomed and with the look in his eyes as sharp as a knife, he appeared to be in the middle of a rather serious discussion with a grey-haired colonel. Just as Leo and Simon closed the doors behind them, the colonel pointed at the map that sat atop of the table and finished his statement with a lowered voice.

"In all my years of patrolling our border with them, every drop of blood in my being tells me that they cannot be trusted!"

"And I trust your judgement, Colonel Hanz, but the last thing Weischandel, the North, needs is another conflict." He then put his hands behind his back and looked Hanz straight in the eyes. "I will investigate this matter immediately, and only when I have enough reason to believe what you and Major Heinrich believe to be true, I will authorize immediate action."

"I understand," Hanz said with a nod. "Just know that my troops and I are ready at a moment's notice."

"As are the rest of us," added the man next to him, who Weiss guessed to be Major Heinrich. "At your call, we ride in the name of Weischandel and Vermilion."

"This is all very good news to hear amidst all of what is happening," the Warden said as he gave one last look towards the map before turning around and facing his officers and mustering a small smile, "Your loyalty and dedication to our province is inspiring. Thank you." With a nod, he then turned to face Weiss, prompting her heart to beat even faster. "I apologize, but this meeting is now adjourned. I must have a word with my daughter."

"Of course," said Heinrich as he and the other officers gathered their belongings from the table. "My Lord."

"My Lord," said the others at once, signaling the end of their conversation.

Then as a group, they made their way for the exit and briefly paused to address Weiss by her title. As the last officer left, Simon and Leo too turned on their heels to give her and her father some privacy. Not ready nor wanting to be left alone with her father just yet, Weiss accidentally let out a small gasp as she cried for help with her eyes. Flashing her reassuring smiles as they passed by, they left her silent messages of encouragement.

Deep breath, mouthed Leo.

You'll be okay, mouthed Simon.

Then the door closed behind them and she was now finally alone with the Warden of Weischandel. Wolf of the North. Slayer of the Mad Tinker. Not knowing what to say, Weiss felt her posture shrink as she looked back and forth from her father's eyes and to the ground. Finally the silence was broken when he let out a sigh.

"Weiss?"

"Yes!?" Weiss blurted loudly and unclearly, she immediately looked down in embarrassment. Nervously clearing her throat, she tried again. "Yes?"

Her eyes still glued on the floor, she then heard footsteps approach her. As they grew closer, she began to think of the violent verbal arguments, the alienation, the insults, the lack of faith… and the day he comforted her when Ruby had bested her in combat. As her mind and heart faced faster and faster, she shut her eyes instinctively.

"Weiss," her father said again, this time his voice soft and right above her. Slowly opening her eyes, she looked up to see a worried look in her father's eyes. "It's good to see you." Lifting his arms up slowly, he then wrapped them around Weiss and pulled her into an embrace.

Desperately trying to keep her emotions in check, she cleared her throat again, but to no avail. "It's good to see you too," she murmured. Not knowing when the last time they had shared an embrace, it soon became too much for her. Grasping the back of his tunic tightly, she began to cry. A soft hiccupping cry at first, it soon transitioned into loud and unattractive wailing.

"Father!" she cried.

"I'm here, Weiss. I'm right here," he repeated—each iteration softer and more sincere.

Pressing her face into his chest, she sniffed and let out a sigh as she struggled to compose herself. "For what I've done, I am so, so sorry. I've learned my lesson, I swear. Please don't make me stay in my room any longer."

"No." To Weiss' surprise, her father's voice become more strained, as if it were struggling to keep itself clear and focused. "I am the one who should be sorry. I've…I've always lacked the touch that your mother had with you and Winter. That I openly confess. Marina, your mother, she was the one who kept me in check. The one who reminded me of who I was here in Vermilion—not a killer, but a father. Only she was able to convince me of that." There was a pause as he took a moment to take in a deep breath, but being in his arms, Weiss could feel the uneven release as he let it all out. "After the incident, I had lost what little she had taught me in our years together." Pulling back, Weiss looked on in awe as her father now had tears welling up in the corners of his eye. "And I know fully well that her and Winter's passing cannot possibly excuse the way I've treated you. By keeping you hidden, locked away, and punishing you for expressing any interest in what you were born to do, I hoped to keep you safe from harm." He lifted up a hand and with his thumb, wiped away a single tear from Weiss' scarred eye. "But in my pursuit of protecting you, I ended up being the monster you hurt you."

"You're not wrong," she said without hesitation, one half of her remorseless for having added such venom to her words, the other half regretful that she ever had to say such a thing.

Pulling back his hand from her face, he nodded. "And I am so sorry for the abhorrent way I've treated my beloved and remaining daughter. I know that it will be a very long time until you forgive me, or maybe that forgiveness will never come. But I have to try. And that's why I summoned you here today."

Letting go of Weiss's shoulders and taking a step back, the two of them let out sighs at the same time. And in that moment, the most scuttle of a smile came to their faces, a faint glimpse of simpler and happier times for the Schnee family. But in the midst of pressing matters, their smiles faded and the Warden motioned for Weiss to follow him to the table.

As she walked up to the table, the map came into better view and she noticed that it was a map of the northern half of Vale. Beautifully illustrated, it spanned from the northern tips of the Grand Duchy of Finestra, the central province where Her Majesty Queen Constantina Dragas ruled from, to the Northern Wall and what lands were explored just north of it. Scattered around the map in certain areas were small tin soldiers and horses that resembled chess pieces.

"Tell me Weiss," the Warden said as walked to a nearby cabinet and started to unlock it with a key from his tunic's inner pocket, "what do you see?"

"I see Northern Vale," Weiss started out slowly, but built up more momentum as she grew more confident in her answer, "and what seems to be the displacement of our troops."

"That's correct. Now do you spot anything out of the ordinary?"

The Heiress put a hand on her chin as she inspected the map closer. As well as the pieces that represented troop locations, the map also had other small pieces, one in the provinces of Duodon, Renoir, Bruyenne, and Avarus. The first resembled a fire, the second a ten-pointed snowflake, the third a ship, and the fourth a crown.

"Does it have to do with why ever province other than Weischandel has a piece on it?"

"That's one of them, yes." Walking back to the table, the Warden set a wooden box he retrieved from the cabinet onto the table. As Weiss looked at it, he directed his attention to him. "Fifteen years ago, the Kingdom of Vale was in the midst of a bloody civil war. What was the name of the conflict, and its result?"

"The War of Alliance," answered Weiss rather quickly. History was a subject that she took pride in and enjoyed dearly. Now in front of her father, she was sure to impress him with her knowledge of all things Valean. "It was a civil war between the monarch-backed northern provinces against the southern provinces. Lasting only a year, the conflict ended when the Royalists were decisively beaten by the Separatists in the Siege of Finestra, and the capital city of the kingdom, Chrysallia, was sacked."

"And what caused the war to begin?" asked the Warden with a raised eyebrow.

"Two years before the War of Alliance, hostilities between the southernmost province, the March of Iradantia, and its western neighbor, the Faunus Confederation, escalated from border skirmishes to full-scale war when a band of Iradantian farmers lynched and killed a young Faunus girl. Rallying with Iradantia, the other Southern provinces soon declared war on the Faunus Confederation. In order to fund the united war effort against the Faunus invaders, the South gradually lessened its financial and military aid to the Northern Wall until none came at all. When then King Justinian Dragas demanded that they cease hostilities with the Faunus so that they may continue their support to the Northern Wall, they refused, forcing the king to rely on force. With the Royal Army unable to take on the South all by itself, the Northern provinces were ordered to commit troops and supplies, which they did. All came to the call except Weischandel. Our province alone remained neutral in the conflict."

"That we did," he said softly while averting his gaze quickly from Weiss to the map and then back, "Now as you stated, the southern provinces, or the Separatists as they later came to be known as for their diminished ties of commitment to the monarchy, were the victors of the war. They as a whole suffered great losses, but so did the Royalists. Which of the Northern provinces suffered the most?"

Taking a moment to think her answer through, she then answered "The Viscounty of Renoir."

"Good. You wanted to say the Barony of Duodon, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Well it is true that Duodon suffered the most causalities out of all the Royalist forces. But given their population, they suffered less than five percent of their total population. Renoir on the other hand, lost closer to fifteen percent."

Weiss narrowed her eyes as she looked at the map, and then to the Warden. "Pardon me father, but I'm not quite sure I follow where this is heading. What does any of the War of Alliance have to do with why I'm here today?"

"Everything. It has to do with everything. Just bear me with a little bit longer. Can you do that for me…Weiss?"

There surely had to be a legitimate and serious reason that her father would summon her after all this time. After all, to dismiss what seemed to be a full cabinet of high-ranking officers just to speak to her must have meant something. "Of course," she conceded.

"Thank you," the Warden said as he mustered a small smile, "Now tell me, were there any notable figures among the Renoiran dead?"

"Anton Landony, one of Renoir's most renowned inventers."

"Yes, he was among the dead by the war's end. Now I want you to think of someone even more influential."

"General Cyrano Hitheria, the highest-ranking commander in the Renoiran Army."

"Closer. He was the second most notable among the dead. Now who was the first?"

Weiss swallowed. "Lady Evelyn Polendina. The wife of Viscount Nicolas Polendina."

"That's right. It is common knowledge that Lady Polendina's death in the War of Alliance was the primary reason why Renoir waged war with us five years afterwards in the Weischandel-Renoir War—or The Mad Tinker's War. The Viscount and his people blamed us for the death of Lady Polendina as they believed that if we had been committed troops in the War of Alliance, their numbers would never have been spread as thin as they were in the final days of the war. To make matters worse, the army that broke through their lines and massacred the thousands of routed soldiers belonged to none other than the County of Jeneval—the kingdom's most atheist province was soundly defeated by the most zealous. The irony born as a result of that battle continues to haunt the people of Renoir to this day, and perhaps the rest of time, was another leading factor that fueled Renoir in their bid to annihilate us."

"I was only seven years old during the Mad Tinker's War," Weiss said quietly before looking back at Renoir's space on the map. "It didn't end until you slayed the Mad Tinker himself on the steps of his own manor."

The Warden closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge between his eyes. After a small sigh, he opened them and nodded solemnly. "It was the most regrettable and unfortunate war I've ever had to be a part in. Because of our self-declared neutrality, Weischandel's relationship with its neighbors dropped drastically in the aftermath of the War of Alliance; our absence was heavily influential and largely responsible heavy losses they suffered. But when we defeated Renoir in their understandable war against us, our reputation only continued to plummet." His voice then took a quieter turn, almost enough to be a whisper. "After peace had been made in the ashes of war, Renoir swore that relations between our provinces were severed forever. Avarus, who backed Renoir with financial resources and military advisors, also became more distant with us. Bruyenne and Duodon, who had remained neutral during the conflict, now had an even more negative image of us."

Producing a different key from the same inner pocket, the Warden opened the box and withdrew three unsheathed daggers. As he laid them down one by one by each other's side on the table, Weiss instantly recognized the intricate designs. Ceremonial Blades, they were gifts that provinces dedicated to their allies in rare occurrences of extraordinary camaraderie. Picking up the left-most blade, the Warden held it up for Weiss to get a closer look. The Renoiran insignia was carved into a piece of onyx that was fitted into the handle while the Polendina family motto 'We Write Our Own Fate," inscribed into the blade.

"And so is that what Renoir's piece is supposed to symbolize?" Weiss asked as she looked from the blade to the metal piece that was made to resemble Weischandel's insignia, "Lady Polendina?"

"The death of Lady Polendina. Her passing is what points this blade at Weischandel." Slowly setting the blade next to the ten-pointed snowflake piece, he then positioned it so its blade faced Weischandel on the map. Our province is what's to blame for the destruction of Renoir's greatest achievement."

"But what about the other provinces? Do they hate us as much as well?"

The Warden looked up at Weiss and sniffed. "Initially—they did. But ever since the War of Alliance, I have done everything in my power to repair our image and to reconcile with our neighbors. Even though Renoir and Avarus outright rejected any aid I asked to send them, Duodon and Bruyenne on the other hand were open to repairing the damage that was done between our provinces. After five years of promising diplomatic improvements and recovering commercial ties, old wounds seemed to have begun to heal over. That is until I believe to be a series of calculated and coordinated events sabotaged everything I have spent the last ten years of my life working on. A plot to throw the North into chaos and to destroy Weischandel as we know it is in our midst."

Weiss took a step closer to the table and instinctively lowered her voice. "What do you mean? There is a plot against us!?"

The Warden simply pointed to March of Bruyenne, his face devoid of any kindness. "Five years ago, Marquis Alejandro Costa and his eldest son Ramon Costa traveled to the Northern Wall in a surprise trip to boost the morale after the Bruyennese Garrison was credited with saving hundreds of Northern lives after their ships took down three adult Nevermores singlehandedly. Halfway through their visit, the dam that fed into the Guerra and Paz Rivers suddenly opened up, and the flagship that the Marquis and his son were staying on capsized in the resulting tidal wave." Weiss watched anxiously as her father clenched his fists until his knuckles were white. "Troops from varying provinces all rushed to save the Marquis and his Heir, but they were too late. Understandably devastated beyond belief, the Bruyennese immediately launched an investigation and discovered that it was two Weischandelian engineers that were responsible. It was further learned that they were drunk, and in their stupor, accidentally opened up the dam from their control center."

"I can only imagine the pain and trauma the Bruyennese people went through after such a tragedy," Weiss said before pointing to herself, "But we were transparent and honest with them! We accepted full responsibility by paying compensation and by handing the two men responsible over to them to be executed—to be boiled alive in oil!" Weiss said in disgust as she vividly remembered the brutal executional method that Bruyenne preferred to administer to the worst of the worst.

"It doesn't matter," the Warden said firmly—just enough to overpower the volume of her voice, "Just how Lady Polendina meant everything to Renoir, so did Marquis Costa and his son. And just how a proud province that placed its faith in science was defeated by a province that took pleasure in massacring 'non-believers,' history will never forget the day where two Bruyennese drowned in their sleep." Grabbing and holding up the second blade for Weiss to see, she saw that it had the Bruyennese insignia carved into a sapphire that was fitted into the handle and the blade's inscription read 'Masters of the River.' Placing it down onto Bruyenne's spot on the map and turning the tip of the blade so that it faced Weischandel on the map, he then pointed to the ship piece. "And this piece represents the ship desecrated Bruyenne's greatest treasures. Five years' worth of attempted reconciliation and a previous lifetime of healthy relations sank to the bottom of the Paz River that day with them."

Weiss felt sick to her stomach. She knew that relations were their neighbors weren't as picturesque as she had hoped or how they were in reality, but her father's brutally honest and relentless retelling of the atrocities committed by Weischandel, she felt helpless, hopeless. Putting a hand over her forehead, she shook her head. "I don't think I can take any more of this."

Facing towards her, the Warden looked her straight in the eye. "But you must. And you will."

"Father please-" Stopping mid-sentence when he put a hand on her shoulder, she looked up at him and lowered her hand to her side.

"Weiss," he started quietly, "If you ever wish to become Warden of Weischandel, you will not only have to be a child born of my blood. But you must be willing to endure and stomach the things that make this world a dark and impure enough place that the Grimm exist in. Do you understand?"

Swallowing hard to push down the sickness she felt coming from her gut, she pursed her lips before nodding. "Yes, father."

"Stay strong, Weiss. We're almost to the end." Motioning for her to face back to the map, he pointed to Duodon. "The Barony of Duodon has been historically Weischandel's closest ally. Spanning back to our ancestors who founded our provinces, we have always enjoyed close and sincere relations. That is until we committed an unforgiveable crime that destroyed everything our fathers have worked towards."

"The Great Duodonian Fire," Weiss said weakly as she grabbed at the edges of the table to balance herself. "It was the most catastrophic forest fire ever recorded in Duodonian history."

"And who had caused it?"

"A Weischandelian migrant family who had leased a small patch of land in Duodon during one of the hottest and driest summers ever recorded. An unattended fire soon spread from their hut to the rest of the nearby farms, resulting in a devastating fire that destroyed dozens of miles of forests and farmland alongside the border. Hundreds of Duodonian farmers and soldiers died while trying to contain and fight it."

"And many more perished due to malnutrition and starvation in the aftermath. As the province with the highest population in the entire kingdom, Duodon requires an enormous amount of food to feed their people. But with such a large stretch of farmland scorched, the people suffered immensely. As you know, we paid as much compensation as we could without jeopardizing our own treasury, as well as relinquishing the head of the family responsible to the Duodonians to be hanged, drawn, and quartered."

Taking out a third blade, the Warden placed it over Duodon and pointed its blade toward Weischandel. With the Duodonian insignia carved into an emerald fitted into the handle, and with the Kiefer family motto, 'One With The Land,' inscribed onto the blade, Weiss felt her knees on the verge of buckling beneath her. "But none of it mattered," the Warden muttered, "for Baron Dhago Forstner's one and only son, Landulf Forstner, was among those who perished in the fight to extinguish the fire. His remains were never found and to be given a proper Duodonian burial. This piece represents the fire that extinguished Duodon's greatest gift."

Sensing her own mortality in a way she never felt before, Weiss felt her composure begin to crack. "Father, do you mean to say that these occurrences were not natural, but orchestrated? Who would do such a thing to plot against us?"

"I alone take full responsibility of what happened to Renoir in the War of Alliance. Had I sent our armies, I would have never allowed Renoir to spread their numbers out so thin without being bolstered by our troops. Declaring for the King might not have turned the tide of the war," said the Warden as he gestured to himself, "but I swear on my name and my ancestors that it would have saved Lady Polendina in that heinous massacre that Jeneval called a 'cleansing.'" Weiss felt herself pushed even closer to tears when she saw the guilt in her father's eyes. Like hers, his blue eyes burned with regret. "What happened in the War of Alliance and the Mad Tinker's War are the only incidents that I believe to be organic. Natural." Putting his hands behind his back, he began to pace around Weiss. "But tell me this. Who suffered alongside Renoir the most in the War of Alliance? Who sent them financial aid and military advisors to be used against us in the Mad Tinker's War? Who continues to double whatever aid we attempt to send them in the years after our last conflict?"

Weiss' eyes widened as it began to dawn upon her. "No," she whispered.

The Warden quickened his pace as his voice dropped from a mutter to a snarl. "Who cried out the most for justice other than Bruyenne when then Viscount Costa and his eldest drowned? Who tripled the amount of compensation we gave them? Who sent military, commercial, and political advisors to aid to the young and inexperienced Marquis Alejandro Costa, the only remaining member of House Costa?"

Shivers shooting down her spine, Weiss shook her head in confusion. "It can't be! But why!?"

"Who sent their entire paramilitary and hundreds of laborers in the effort to heal the scorched Duodonian landscape?" he demanded as the circles he paced around Weiss began to grow smaller and smaller, "Who raised taxes in their entire province to dangerous percentages just so that they could quadruple the amount of aid that we sent them?"

Unable to take any more, Weiss burst into tears and fell to her knees first before collapsing onto the wooden floor. Impossible. This was beyond betrayal, treason, any word that meant the highest levels of treachery! What on earth could have driven them to resort to such cruel and hellish ways to turn Weischandel's most trusted allies into bitter enemies? There was only one thing she could think of that was worth the descent into hell itself. "The crown piece," said Weiss as she struggled for breath, "It represents the Valean Throne."

Still looking at the floor in defeat, the Warden slowed down his pace and halted right before her before so that all she saw her his shoes. Slowly looking up, she saw that his eyes were hidden by the deep shadows casted by chandelier above him. "Yes," he replied darkly. "Now do you see, Weiss? After everything I've told you just now, do you now know who our true enemy is?

"Yes," Weiss whimpered as she wiped away at her tears with her sleeves, her body and soul not sure whether to break down into further grief or animosity.

Then without warning, the Warden then lowered himself to his knees—putting himself to eye level with Weiss as she watched in complete and utter awe. When he spoke, all anger and impatience simply seemed to vanish. Instead, his words breathed with a renewed sense of conviction, yet simultaneously kind and gentle. "Who is our enemy whose secrets we must uncover, lies we must bring to light, and perpetrators we must bring to face justice?" After reaching his left hand out to her, Weiss sniffed once more, wiped away the last of her tears, and grasped her father's hand tightly.

"The County of Avarus."