Author's Notes

DESPITE CONTRARY BELIEF, THIS STORY AND ITS AUTHOR ARE NOT DEAD. #KURIBAYASHI LIVES 2K16

Sorry, I just really needed to get that out of my system. Anyways, I'm sure that by now both you and I are annoyed that of all my author's notes start with an apology, but it honestly would be rude not to do so. After I completed Chapter Twenty: Winter Winds last August (2015), I knew that I would not have time to write until winter break because of school, work, and life in general. But unfortunately, when winter break finally arrived, the time where I told myself I was going to sit down and write my heart out, I received word that I got accepted into an internship. A rare opportunity, I decided to choose the internship over time for writing, despite how much I hated that I had to. The internship essentially was a 9AM-5PM job, but in my case (a commuter), 6AM-7PM. It ate up all my time, keeping me away from writing for the entire break.

Fast forward to now. I am now a final semester senior and am busier than ever (yes, even busier) as I work on completing my two bachelor's degrees and directing/co-writing a short film for my senior thesis. I hope that you can understand what kind of situation I'm in, and that it's difficult to produce frequent content when I find myself with increasingly less time to write.

On a happier note, I'm excited to announce that TWRoV is finally beginning to pick up speed in the direction I've always wanted it to head; there was just a lot of set up and world-building I wanted to establish beforehand. I also wish to thank you all, my loyal readers, for staying with my story and I all this time, and for leaving me insightful and kind reviews when I needed them badly these past few months.

That being said, 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 scene or line that you liked, and tell me why you liked it. Was it written well? Did it elicit a certain emotion? Detailed and constructive reviews really make my day and motivate me to write, so please help a writer out. Also, please share this story with whoever might enjoy it. Thank you so much ;w;.

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

A Call to Arms

"Weiss?" Her vision coming back into focus much quicker than her mind, Weiss blinked. She looked across the table and saw a pair of worried eyes glancing in her direction. "Were you listening?"

"Yes, father. I…I was just thinking."

Furrowing his brow, the warden looked down at the map that the two of them had scrutinized in the last several hours—not a single key city, stronghold, trade route, outpost, and natural resource reserve in Weischandel went overlooked. "You must be exhausted."

"I am," she replied with a parched voice that lacked her previous bitterness.

Resting both of his hands on the table, Weiss watched out of the corner of her eye as her father leaned against the table, blue eyes scanning the map before him. "I know that what we have been discussing is a very difficult subject…and that it isn't easy to understand. Or at all." Stepping away to face the window, Weiss looked longingly at the setting sun. A beautiful mix of yellow and orange, its light reflected off the snow-covered cityscape to create a sort of ethereal glow. "But you have done well by staying strong through all of this. I promise you that it's almost over. There's just one last thing to do."

She saw him reach out to her and beckon for her to join him at the table. Letting her arms unfold and fall to her side, she slowly took in a deep breath before walking back to the table. "What is it?"

"Come join me over here," he said after motioning to his right side. Obeying, she made her way to the other side and stood in silence. Producing a key from his tunic and handing it to her, he then motioned to a small compartment underneath the right side of the table. "In there you will find a box and a scroll. Hand them to me, carefully."

Bending her knees slightly, she slid it into the keyhole and twisted, blinking surprise in the process when she saw that the compartment's door was at least three inches thick of solid wood and metal. Reaching inside, she retrieved a small box made out of white birch —the family insignia carved into the top— and a scroll that had been tied shut with a small white ribbon. Hesitating a bit after noticing what kind of paper it was, she handed both extremely carefully to her father. She quickly locked the cabinet shut and placed the key onto the table just in time to see him offer untie the ribbon and hand her the scroll. "A provincial decree!" Weiss exclaimed as she noticed the format and his handwriting.

"That's correct. A mandate written by my own hand, it carries the full weight of my power and authority. I want you to read it." She brought her hands briefly against her chest as if she misheard, but knew what he asked of her. Taking a moment before taking the document with both hands, she began to read silently. "Aloud, please." Clearing her voice and adjusting her posture, Weiss began again.

"To the good and proud people of Weischandel, in the interests of provincial security and the safety of our people, I, Lutolf Schnee, write this provincial decree. In the aftermath of the War of Alliance and the Weischandel-Renoir War, our province and her people saw relations with the neighboring provinces of Renoir, Bruyenne, Duodon, and Avarus sink to unimaginable lows—this is known. But through the patience and desire for peace, we saw to it that the cold animosity between us begin to thaw. With new trade and diplomatic agreements, it seemed that lasting peace would once again preside over the North. However. After the uncanny return of souring diplomatic relations in recent months, it has been brought to my attention by our most trustworthy and experienced advisors and officers that a plot may have been put into action—one that aims to seriously destabilize or destroy everything we have fought so hard to repair. While no solid proof has been found of late to support these suspicions, I have been convinced that appropriate actions must be taken. As a result, Weischandel must be prepared for anything. This-" she managed to say before her eyes caught sight of the remainder of the sentence, rendering both her voice and momentum to a halt. Feeling the weight of her father's eyes on hers, she felt her left eye twitch as she read the sentence aloud. "This includes the possibility of war."

Weiss took as long as she dared to allow her father's words to sink in, wetting her lips as she turned her attention to the next paragraph. While Weischandel had not participated in the War of Alliance, the war with Renoir had almost bled her dry. Chills tingling in her spine and the twitch in her eye growing stronger, she quickly continued where she left off. As she read, she lifted her eyes up every few phrases to observe her father's unchanging solemn expression.

"Thus through the power vested in me, I authorize an official call to arms. The standing army will be put on high alert and our reserves tasked with preparing to mobilize no later than fourteen days if called upon. As Warden, I take it upon myself to seek an audience with who were once our closest allies, the Barony of Duodon and the March of Bruyenne, and to pursue conversations in the hope of shining a brighter light on this dire situation. While this is to happen, a delegate of my choosing will lead a simultaneous inspection of our borders and to see that they are properly reinforced and protected."

Reaching a large paragraph break that separated the second article from the first, Weiss edged the document upwards through her fingers to get a better look. As she continued, she tried to ignore the vivid memories that came to mind.

"Furthermore, the effects that a possible war may have on Weischandel, and her line of succession, must be anticipated. As is my responsibility to exercise wisdom and foresight, especially in dire times such as this, it must be taken into consideration as to who is next in the line of succession in a scenario where I-" Her voice suddenly trailed off, eyes wide as they trained on the last word of the sentence.

"-expire," Lutolf added shortly after as he turned away from the map to look her straight in the eye. Then in perfect clarity and memory, he began to recite where Weiss had left off, not breaking their gaze even for a moment. "Whatever my fate, be it natural causes, foul play, or death on the battlefield, I choose today and now to formally and officially name my successor."

"Successor." The single word that managed to formulate from thought to spoken word, Weiss stood frozen in place. Hands now trembling and the sound of her pounding heart overpowering the sound of the parchment creasing beneath her tightening grasp, she watched Lutolf retrieve from the wooden box a stick of white wax, a small metal cup, a quill, a glass ink container, and an even smaller wooden box she had only seen once before in her life: the day Winter was declared to be Heiress.

"I, Lutolf Schnee, name my only daughter and next of kin, Weiss Schnee, to be Weischandel's rightful heiress and the next in line to lead as rule as warden. On the day that I breathe my last breath or I am unable to govern with a clear and collected mind, all of my power, prestige, and authority will be passed down to her, and she alone will assume supreme control of this province. Her authority is to be undisputed and unchallenged, and the title of 'Heiress' will no longer be one attained out of inheritance, but one that is justly deserved. Signed and approved by my hand on the 11thth day of December in the year 598, this provincial decree is now put into effect and all of its components to be observed and abided to immediately."

Still struggling to find the right words to say, Weiss allowed the document to be taken from her hands and watched her father begin to flatten it out on the table. Was this really happening? How could it be happening? She had spent her entire childhood living in the shadow of Winter. So when that shadow finally lifted, the desire to prove herself was to follow. Not just to her father but to Weischandel that she was more than just a surname—a proud and devoted individual who would lead their province to fabled victorious summers and bountiful autumns.

Now, now when the genuine opportunity presented itself before her, all resolution seemed to grind to a halt. Halted by sheer disbelief.

"I thought you'd be happier," Lutolf said as he retrieved a lit candle from the corner of the table with his left hand and the stick of wax with his right.

"I-I…," she exclaimed as she grabbed at the ends of her skirt, "I thought this day would never come."

"But you are the last of my blood, is that not true?" asked Lutolf as he cut off a portion of the wax with a small blade concealed in his ring finger's ring. Dropping it into the small metal tray, he then placed the latter on top of the candle for it to melt.

Weiss felt her fists clench and a small weight begin to press against her chest. "That's true, but when Winter passed and I thought I was to be Heiress, you named a foreign mercenary on pilgrimage the commander of your capitol city's garrison!" she said with incredible enunciation.

Lutolf stopped to turn and give a pointed look. "Why would my decision of naming a capable Mistralan warrior Commander have any association with my decision of naming you Heiress?"

"Don't say that!" she snapped as she slammed her right hand against the table, almost causing the lone candle to topple over. "When you locked me away, making me a prisoner within my own home, deceived me with promises you had no intention of fulfilling, lied to my face, and mocked me for not being your firstborn? Yes! I actually did begin to believe you'd never name me Heiress." Letting her fists relax to help dispel anger, she soon felt what shielded her soon dissipate, leaving her exposed. "It seemed to me that you'd rather Pyrrha be your daughter," she said before covering her face in shame.

"You're right." Lowering her hands just in time to see him with a pained look on his face, Weiss saw him motion towards her. "You do our house and our name great honor by standing by the truth, no matter how difficult it is. As for me, I must atone for what I've done. This I confess." He then turned to Weiss and began to slowly step towards her. "But what I am doing today, this very moment, is not for redemption. No. This is for my province, and more importantly, my daughter." A long sigh. "Weiss?"

"Yes?" Her eyes narrowed and her throat tightened as she anticipated the words to come.

"Will you be the one to inspect our borders?"

The honest chuckle that escaped Weiss' lips was short lived as her father's stern expression remained unchanged. "I beg your pardon?"

"A company of sixty soldiers, handpicked by you," Lutolf said as he motioned towards her for emphasis, "will be yours to command in your endeavor to inspect and reinforce every key city, stronghold, trade route, and outpost along our borders. While I implore you to start with the bare minimum of twelve dragoons and your four guards, how you choose to compose your escort is entirely up to you: lancers, dragoons, rangers, sentinels, guardsmen, sentries. Seekers."

Weiss raised an eyebrow at the careful enunciation of 'seeker' before shaking her head in confusion. "But I don't have any field experience," she protested.

"I understand. Under ordinary circumstances, I would only consider seasoned leaders with extensive knowledge of our borders and experience with commanding troops. Commander Pyrrha would have been my first choice. Not only is her loyalty unquestionable, but her military experience in her native Mistral makes her an unparalleled choice for this task."

Weiss' scarred eye twitched. "Then why choose me?"

"Because I cannot continue to deceive myself any longer," the warden answered back swiftly as his brow furrowed with sorrow. "With the ridiculous belief that if I keep my daughter, my Heiress, hidden away to the day where she is to assume responsibility over the well-being and safety of thousands, that chaos and upheaval will not follow. Weiss, my child, you are of my name and blood. You are a Schnee. When you rise to power, Pyrrha will most likely be your second-in-command just as she is to me now. But when that happens, I fear that there will be those who believe you to be merely a puppet. A weak figure of authority under the influence of a foreigner because of your inexperience." His eyes gave the fainted sign of a twitch as he lowered his voice. "If that were to happen, there may be things worse than invasion in your future."

Weiss stepped closer to Lutolf and answered with a whisper. "What are you implying?"

"I've proved my mettle time and time again to the people of Weischandel," he replied, his voice on the verge of becoming a mutter. "I've passed legislation that saved our province in times of famine and economic decline. I've led the very armies that saved us from the Mad Tinker's wrath. I was in firm control of the very walls that protect our realm from the Grimm long before our would-be Commander wandered to our gates as a weathered Mistrali mercenary. But despite all of this, everything I have done, there are still those who choose to look past this and plot against me."

"There have been plots against you? When? Why?" Weiss questioned. "Why?" she repeated when Lutolf looked away.

"The very same reason why you thought you'd never become Heiress."

"Commander Pyrrha?"

Lutolf nodded ominously. "My decision to appoint a Mistrali mercenary, a woman, as Commander has made many wary of my judgement. My motives." Weiss then watched him as he struggled to find the right words to say, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, Weiss quickly wrapped her hands around his, trying her best to calm him. "In the last ten years, I've put down more fledgling uprisings and traitorous cells than I had the stomach for. And this was all under my reign." Softly squeezing Weiss' hands, he then looked her in the eye. "Which begs the question. What in God's name could happen to you when it is your turn to lead?"

"You…you've never told me that there have been uprisings against you," Weiss said quietly as she felt her father's hand flinch beneath hers. The thought of people rising against an individual who sacrificed much for the greater good of the province left her confused and pained.

"There are many things I have not told you for just as many reasons, Weiss. But this truth, I must tell you. That darkness exists in many shapes and forms—not just what lurks beyond the Northern Wall." With a sigh, he relinquished his hold of her hands and took a step backwards. "I cannot and will not force you to do this. If you do not consent, then I will have the commander lead the inspection and I will assign you to something else for your first official task. I only wish to give you the opportunity to establish yourself as your own person, and lead you on your path to becoming warden."

Like the snow that drifted peacefully upon Vermilion, a blanket of silence slowly descended upon the room. So much had been said and for so long that Weiss knew both of their throats to be parched, their muscles tired, and their stomachs empty. And while she wanted nothing more than to end their strenuous conversation and to retire to her room, she could not leave until she gave her answer.

The dice had been cast and the number in her favor—Lutolf Schnee made sure of that—all that was left was how she would respond.

Feeling the last few moments of acceptable silence begin to escape her grasp, Weiss straightened her posture, took in a deep breath, and turned towards the table. As she looked once more at the map and the contents of the wooden box spread out before her, a vivid memory came to mind. Placing her left hand over Vermilion, she recited what had come to her.

"Such is the burden we of noble blood must endure. A position of prodigious responsibility that was once held by the very champion who started our name and house, it has since been passed down generation after generation to find its way into our hands. Whether it be fate, or destiny, it is something we cannot refuse nor abdicate. We stand as a beacon of light in an unending sea of black and red, providing sanctuary to those who come to us in search of order—purpose. But before we can achieve that, it is up to us to take the first step."

"Those words," he said quietly, his voice treading the thin line between composed whisper and knotted words, "they're-"

"They're what you said to Winter," Weiss said quietly as she turned to face him, swiftly finishing his sentence for him. Leaning against the table for support, she looked downwards at the map behind her while she traced her fingers along a dense line of forests. From her peripheral vision, she could see Lutolf gazing wistfully towards her, unmistakably knowing which memory she was recalling. "On the night before she was to be publically named Heiress of Weischandel, you came to our room to speak to her in one last attempt to console her. Weeks earlier when you named her your successor, she had been crippled with unbearable anxiety. If the thought of your mortality didn't already terrify her enough, it was the idea of ruling Weischandel in your place that strengthened those fears tenfold. She rarely ate; hardly slept at night; stopped singing." Weiss looked up from the map and drew her hands slowly to her sides where they remained tense. "It wasn't long before she stopped talking to me altogether."

"Those words were not meant for you-"

"I know they weren't" Weiss said firmly as she took a step forward, raising her voice as she spoke each time Lutolf opened his mouth in an attempt to steer the conversation back. "But I missed hearing my sister's voice—so much. I knew she would only speak to you so I pretended to be asleep when you came to check if I were awake. Your words…they may not have been for me, but they stayed with me all these years, growing with me and shaping me into who I am today, and who I want to be tomorrow. You ask if I am willing to accept this mission? This is my answer." Feeling exposed once more after she finished, she was quick to move her trembling hands behind her back, but was startled to see her father move quickly towards her and pull her into a tight embrace.

"Weiss, my child, you didn't let me finish." His voice was soft, tender, like the tone he had used to read stories to her and Winter when they were younger. "We are both right to acknowledge that my words were not meant for you. However. To say that you haven't taken its message to heart and matured tremendously as a result—it couldn't possibly be farther from the truth."

"Do you mean that?"

"Every word," he said before pulling himself back and looking her in the eye. "You've given me your answer. And I proudly accept."

No longer feeling as much tension in her joints or the weight on her chest, she allowed herself to be guided to the table where Lutolf promptly began to organize what was needed to sign.

First came the removal of the cap to the glass ink container—Weiss watched intently as the warden grabbed hold of the quill with his left hand and steadied the decree with his right. Then without taking his eyes off the line where he was to sign, he dabbed the quill into the container, brought it to the line, and proceeded to sign his name.

Lutolf Schnee

Like the handling of his rapier, his writing was precise as it was regal. With dynamic strokes to accentuate the look of the first letters in his first and last name, and the clear legibility of his signature as a whole, it commanded authority and demanded respect. Satisfied with his signature, he scraped the remaining ink from the quill back into the container and stepped aside to allow her to take his place.

Centering herself with the line below her father's signature where she was to sign, she took in a deep breath and wiped her dominant hand against her dress right before she took the quill from him. Although she had prepared for this day by signing her name thousands upon thousands of times on countless pieces of paper in previous years, the mere sight of the line where she was to sign her name seemed to shake her drive to its very core. No time to hesitate, Weiss thought to herself, half mouthing it to herself. Letting out a quick but controlled exhale, she dipped the quill into the ink and pulled upwards, slightly against the top in order to thin out the excess. Following a quick pivot, her first initial stroke landed nicely against the parchment, forming a neat 'W' instead of a blotched letter. Alternating between a tight and loose grip depending on where she was in her signature, she felt herself initially guided by muscle memory but ultimately focused by her overt awareness.

Weiss Schnee

Cleaning off the quill before setting it down beside the container, she instinctively held a finger against her pulse, stunned at just how fast her heart was racing. There it was. Her signature alongside her father's on an official provincial decree. Her first signed piece of legislature as soon-to-be Heiress.

Moving aside the ink and quill, Lutolf motioned for Weiss to pick up the smaller box that sat next to the melted wax container. Taking her hand off her neck to receive it, she then held on to it nervously as Lutolf inspected her signature. Turning back to her a moment later, he nodded and motioned towards the box in her hands.

A small shimmer of light reflected up towards her eyes as she carefully pushed open the top. Kept neatly in place inside was none other than the official seal of House Schnee. Forged by the founder of their line himself, it was incredibly well maintained as it was archaic. With the seal itself made from the finest steel in Weischandel and finely cut diamonds embedded into the top to outline the direction of the impression at the bottom, it was their province's greatest treasure.

Quickly setting the box down onto the table so that she could use both hands for the seal, Weiss stared wide-eyed at the seal that their family had used for centuries. Lying it horizontally across her palm, she moved her hand up and down, gauging its weight. The last time she had held it, it was just as large as her palm and was heavy as a large stone. Now, it only covered half of her palm and weighed slightly heavier than an ivory glass chess piece. How times have changed.

Grabbing hold of the small handle, the warden lifted the wax container up and looked to her, their gazes locking in place. With a nod, he proceeded to carefully pour the tray's contents to the right of their signatures. As the wax spread outwards and began to cool, she aligned the seal with the paper and pressed downwards, leaving no time to hesitate. One, two, three. As she felt the wax that imprint and harden beneath the weight of her hand, the remainder of the crushing weight she had endured for so long seemed to dissipate. A sensation of comfort soon followed, surprising her. Oh, how she longed to feel this way again.

With a gentle lift of her hand, the seal separated cleanly from the wax, leaving behind only a beautiful imprint of their house symbol. As she stood there, transfixed on what she had just done, she felt the seal gently taken out of her grasp, then a warm hand close down around hers. Looking to his hand first before looking up into his eyes, Weiss gasped at the sight of Lutolf smiling at her in a way she had long forgotten. Speaking softly yet firmly, he squeezed her hand.

"Let history remember this day as the day Weiss Schnee remembered all that came before her, and started her path to redemption. The North remembers."

"The North remembers."

Weiss walked briskly alongside her sentinels, a small smile on her face as she listened in on the banter between the two brothers. After six arduous hours, her and her father's meeting finally came to an end. Knowing that she was exhausted and that he had more business to attend to, Lutolf was quick to bring Leo and Simon up to speed about her situation. Like her, they were overjoyed to hear the good news, but were quickly reminded that her elevation in status would come at a cost.

Now officially in line to become the next warden, her life required more protection than ever before. The occasionally followed rule that required four sentinels to be in her immediate vicinity at all times was henceforward reinforced—no exception. But with the news not made public until tomorrow, Leo and Simon were to escort her back to the manor while a messenger delivered the news to Cassius and Brutus, her other two bodyguards who had business elsewhere that day. Weiss could tell that it was a hard decision for her father, and although even tighter security was highly reminiscent of years of control overprotectiveness for her, she accepted that she would have done the same if in his position.

"I knew this day would come," Leo said with restrained excitement as they passed by two sentries who opened a pair of doors for them, "It was only a matter of time before the warden came to his senses."

"Of course it would come," replied Simon, who was also wary of their surroundings. "Weiss is his only remaining kin. Today is just the day he finally came to accept that."

"Sooner would have been better, but I don't blame him." Keeping her eyes forward but mindful of their expressions, Weiss saw him sneak a quick glance at her before averting his eyes. "After everything that's happened in the last ten years, the safety of his heiress was understandably his top priority."

"But no matter how far the fall, it is important that we mustn't allow our grief to control us—stop us. We must always keep moving forward."

"Please don't tell me that's a quote from father."

A grin. "It is."

"Gah!"

Weiss smiled. In terms of personality, Leo and Simon were the polar opposites of Cassius and Brutus. While she always knew the latter to be the more serious of her guards, it wasn't until they arrested Ruby and Yang that they revealed a side of themselves that she had never seen before. Despite knowing that they were battle-hardened veterans of House Maximilian, a vassal family that had fought for the Schnees since the very beginning, she couldn't help but feel deeply troubled by the way they treated the sisters, especially because she saw herself primarily responsible. Granted, she would forever acknowledge and respect them as her loyal protectors, but she now greatly preferred the company of the men who were now under orders to escort her home.

Born and raised as poor but humble huntsmen before they joined the military, their service to her was an absolute blessing in many ways. Realizing that they came from drastically different roots than hers, they happily fashioned themselves as storytellers, messengers, and smugglers, acting as a gateway to a fascinating world just barely out of reach. And although she didn't dare admit it to anyone else, their calm and down-to-earth temperament offered her more moments of solace from the rigidity of a confined life than she could count.

Her mind quickly wandered to their history of being more lenient towards granting her requests as they approached the last set of doors that led back to the sky-bridge they used earlier. For weeks, she yearned to pay a certain destination a visit. Under normal circumstances, it would have been totally out of the question. Now with it being between her and her home and the exact location fresh in her mind, she had to try. She just had to.

Waiting until they pushed open the doors and looked back at her when she didn't immediately follow, she then cleared her throat before cautiously looking up at them. Leo opened his mouth to speak, narrowing his eyes slightly before turning to Simon, who was equally perplexed. Not knowing how to say it, she simply looked at them, hoping that they would come to understand where she wanted to go without saying it aloud. It wasn't long until they realized.

"Absolutely not," said Leo, "Even If I thought that what you're suggesting was a safe option, I cannot disobey your father. He ordered us to take you straight-"

"Please!" Weiss begged, blinking surprise at how much louder she intended herself to be.

Placing a hand on Leo's shoulder before he could reply, Simon ushered her forward so that he could close the door behind them. "Weiss," he said quietly, "Why do you want to see her? What's done is done. You two now walk different paths."

"Because while you two may not see it, I've done something horrible." She lifted up a hand when Simon opened his mouth to speak. "I can't just cause a rift like the one I did and simply walk away. I have to accept responsibility." Biting down hard on her teeth as guilt flared within her, she then let out a tired exhale. "Redemption awaits. And I do not wish for me to pass it by."

Increasing her pace once more, Weiss' brisk walk quickly transitioned into a jog. With the snow coming down heavier and the temperature getting colder by the minute, it appeared that drills for the most part had concluded for the day. Beneath the rhythmic beat of Leo and Simon's armor as they ran alongside her, she could make out the faint sound of muffled conversations pulsating from within the rows of barracks she passed. Tired, cold, and hungry, the feel of icy air filling her lungs, the smell of freshly baked bread, and the sight of small trails of smoke drifting upwards from rows of chimneys only added to her profound desire to return home. But she couldn't. Not when she was so close.

Finally reaching the intersection she used right before she found her, Weiss came to a stop. There was no doubt about it. The familiar buildings in her immediate surroundings were the ones she saw earlier. But with three directions and nearly not enough light to see through the darkness of night, she had trouble remembering which encampment was her destination. Momentarily closing her eyes, she visualized how she arrived, desperately turning in all directions trying to decide where to go next. Then, as if it were providence, one voice rose above all else. North.

Waiting a brief moment for her guards to catch their breaths, she then proceeded forward, stopping at the handrail to look downwards. Across her on the opposite sky-bridge, she spotted two seekers huddled around a fire for warmth. Presumably on watch, neither of them donned a red cape. Undeterred, she breathed into her hands before descending down the nearby staircase.

Hurriedly making her way to the center of the courtyard, Weiss turned to look in all directions. But like the many she had passed on her way, it was empty.

"My Lady?" Leo asked, "Is she not here?"

Weiss turned to face her sentinels. Despite their best to resist, she could see the cold working their way through their armor. The sincerity of their voices only added to the fact that they were here not begrudgingly, but readily. And for what? A foolish attempt at salvaging a bridge that was never there?

"She was here," she replied with a sigh. Consciously drifting to where she stood, the heiress reimagined the humiliation and the pain she endured at the hands of the military. What a glorious reward, Weiss thought to herself bitterly. Ten years of conscription for the attempted rescue of her sister. The last of her family.

Simon gave her a concerned look. "Should we search for her?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "You've done more than enough. Let's go home."

Nodding, Leo and Simon guided her towards the staircase and fell in line after her. Just as she reached her hand out to the railing, the sound of a door opening rang through the air. Turning around, she spotted the silhouette of a seeker back out of the door of a warehouse, struggling to carry what seemed to be far too many bundles of firewood.

Backing away from the staircase, Weiss slowly walked towards them, trying to make out who it was from the small lantern that hung to the side of the door. Upon closer inspection, see saw that what they were carrying was not firewood, but in fact dozens of quivers full of arrows. As the individual made sure they were clearly out of the door, they then turned around, eyes gazing directly into her own. It was not until that moment that a strong gust blew through the camp, blowing the individual's cape away from their body and into the air for her to see.

Vermilion.

Now standing beneath the light in a way where her face was illuminated, Weiss looked on with wide eyes at the seeker before her. The bloodied bandages wrapped around her knuckles, the black bruise on her right cheek, the cuirass she wore, her glistening silver eyes. All of it.

"Ruby," Weiss breathed, her voice coming out more relieved than cautious. While she waited for a response, her gaze momentarily went to her sentinels, who now stood at her sides. Like hawks, they eyed the seeker meticulously, as if on the verge of a duel. Not wanting to give off the wrong impression, she reached a hand out to Leo, and in the process of doing so, spotted his hand on the hilt of his sword. Realizing it only a moment after, Weiss quickly turned her attention back to the sentry, who had dropped the quivers and was reaching for her bow.

Pushing her behind them, Leo and Simon drew their swords, matching Ruby's speed, and held their free hands outwards horizontally, covering as much uncovered space as they could. Looking through a small space in between their armor, she saw that an arrow was already nocked and that it was trained on her.

"What do you want with me?" the seeker demanded, her initial words spoken with a burst of anger, but followed by grief and fear.

"Lower your bow, Rose," Leo said as he motioned with his sword. "We're not here to hurt you. My lady only wishes to speak with you."

"I don't believe that. Not after what she's done to me." Her knees began to tremble.

From behind the cover of her guards, Weiss spoke as sincerely as she could. "Ruby, I only came to talk. Your status within the garrison is cemented; my father, the warden, saw to that. So even if I wanted to, I couldn't do anything to threaten that."

A pause. "Where are the other two?" Ruby asked nervously as she slowly took a step behind.

Weiss narrowed her eyes. "Cassius and Brutus you mean?"

"They're not here," Simon said without hesitation. "It's just the three of us."

With her back now against the wall, Ruby scanned her surroundings one more time before slowly easing her draw on the bowstring and lowering her bow. Holding her bow and arrow in place with one hand, she then rubbed her brow other. Weiss clenched her jaw.

Simon adjusted his stance and cleared his throat. "Now put them away."

Once she put the arrow back into her own quiver and returned the bow to its position over her back, Leo and Simon did the same with their swords. Eyes still tracking her every moment, they parted for Weiss to come through. Hoping she could get a better look at Ruby's face, the heiress took careful steps forward, feeling her conscience grow heavy as the seeker continued to press herself against the wall like a cornered animal. Deciding that about a meter between them was enough, she stopped to look at who Ruby Rose had become in the last two months.

A bit longer than what she remembered, the rookie seeker's black hair covered a good portion of her bruised cheek where her captain had struck her. Beneath the bruise, Weiss noticed an angled scar that her rapier left in their fight—something that would stay with her always, much like her own scarred eye. But besides the wounds she had accumulated from their fight and the strict training she underwent, she appeared to be in good health. Clearer skin, rounder cheeks, and toned arms were just a few differences she noticed. It made sense that a month of eating nutritious meals and undergoing rigorous training regiments would do wonders for a young girl who probably only ate once a day—twice if she was lucky. She lowered her eyes, closing them for a brief moment as she questioned why she let her mind wander the way it did.

Opening them again, she cleared her throat. "The reason I came in search of you tonight," Weiss began, resisting the urge to look away from her pained stare, "was so that I could apologize to you. For the last month I've spent a great deal of time on thinking on my actions. I reflected on who I am, where I've come from, and what came into play to motivate me to take such decisive and merciless action against you and your sister. I am now beginning to see that I was in the wrong. For that, I am truly sorry for what I've done and I beg for your forgiveness."

"I don't want your apologies," Ruby replied after a moment, crossing her arms, "I want my sister back." Her gaze slowly fell to the ground.

"I know you do. But if you serve my father faithfully" Weiss reassured, "he will reveal to you where she is."

"Or where she's buried."

"I-"

"Don't!" pleaded Ruby as she looked up, eyes riddled with sorrow. When she spoke, her voice eased in and out of anger and sadness, fluctuating so often to the point where Weiss could only imagine the scale of her inner turmoil. "When I look at you, I see the daughter of the man who broke my body and tried to hang my sister. When I look at your guards, I think of when they bloodied me and dragged me from my own home." She then held out her arms, palms facing upward and she looked at herself with intense disdain. "When I look at myself, I see nothing but someone who has to submit to your will. And beneath this armor," she said as she lowered her left arm and placed her right over her chest, "lay the many scars that you left on me. Some I can see. Others I can't. But they're there."

Clenching her fists, she then slammed them against the door behind her. "You're not the one who goes to bed every night wondering if it's even worth waking up in the morning. You're not the one who doesn't even know the one you love the most, the one you're fighting to set free, is even alive!"

"Ruby-" Weiss tried to reason.

"You've torn my body, mind, and soul apart, Weiss Schnee. You ask for forgiveness, but I can't give that to you. Until I see Yang by my side again, alive and well, I just don't see it happening." Another gust of wind passed through, causing shadows to dance across her face as the torch by her side fought to stay aflame. When the wind finally lifted, the seeker shook her head, purposefully avoiding Weiss' gaze. "Now please leave. I have work to do."

Realizing that this was as far as she could get within a few minutes on the first day of seeing each other again for so long, Weiss decided to yield. But if she ever wished to attain Ruby's forgiveness eventually, she needed a strategy. But how? Even she didn't know if Yang was alive or not. She then racked her mind, thinking back on her conversations, searching for something, anything she could use. Then the brief discussion of the composition of her escort came to mind.

…how you choose to compose your escort is entirely up to you: lancers, dragoons, rangers, sentinels, guardsmen, sentries. Seekers.

Desperately fighting her desire to smile, she instead kept her composure and gave a respectful nod. "I understand. But before I go, I must ask you one last thing."

"What is it?" Ruby asked. Her patience was on its last legs.

"May I ask the name of your captain, and the name of your unit?"

"Captain Cornelius Arturas. We are of the 9th Seeker Company."

A sigh of relief escaped Weiss' lips that she failed to contain, but didn't care. "Thank you, Ruby. I…I know you deeply distrust and resent me for what I've done. But I swear that I will do all in my power to make things right. I hope that the day when that happens comes sooner rather than later. I now bid you goodnight."

Curtseying as long as she dared, the heiress then turned on her heels and motioned for Leo and Simon to follow. Quickly making her way up the stairs back onto the sky-bridge, she retreated into the shadows and lingered for a moment just in time to see Ruby wipe her eyes against her sleeve and bend down to pick up the fallen quivers.

…

Dear Captain Cornelius Arturas of the 9th Seeker Company,

I am writing this letter to you in the hopes that I may request a favor. More specifically, I wish to speak to you about one of your trainees, Ruby Rose…