The setting sun bathes the city of Vacuo in its all-encompassing orange glow for a moment more. With the evening fast approaching, the busy open-air markets start giving way to the upcoming cold desert night.

Most had closed their stalls hours ago, but now even the most persistent peddlers were closing shop.

The opposite was true in the inner city as the night’s venues were just opening and gathering their usual crowds.

But not even they could escape the cool night wind whistling in the city, playing with the dusty sand along wide open streets. Slowly but surely eroding the walls and roofs of clay or stone—the demanding tax of nature.

A citizen, enjoys the mellow weather on a balcony, sitting on a rickety wooden chair. In his large hands, a book.

The growing chilly wind tugs at the pages and flips over a few more. With a grunt, he closes the book and unhoods his head. Eyes closed, he bathes in the quiet of the city with a steady tranquil breath.

Had he opened his eyes, he might have spotted something to break this serene moment.

A warning and a premonition of what was to come in the near future. A figure so high up, it only appeared to be a black dot, as it fell against the dusky sky. But it was no comet, nor a shard of the moon.

Either of those would have been more usual—made more sense.

But tonight, it was a concept, an entity, a stranger to these parts of the world; an heiress.

That was the unexpected bounty of the unforgiving deserts, of the cruel sky.

The balcony that this man sat at, was part of a house, a two-storied mansion made of wood that stood at the edge of town. A relic built in the olden days, when rainforests still existed covering the entire region.

One could fairly say, it was an entirely different time and era, a far cry from the desert climate ruling over the land now.

The house had been renovated, and repaired to retain its faithful appearance many times over the years, but now age was catching up to it again.

The sandy grains of time had begun to forever embed themselves to its walls, sealed within the ancient wood.

It's the oldest house in Vacuo, a true blast from the past, much like the man who inhabited it was soon to be too.

Generously estimating the man’s age would land him somewhere along the early forties, but taking a closer look at his creased brow and timeworn face, it was clear he had cleared the fifties already.

Retreating from the way of the oncoming night, the man heads back inside, first through a spare bedroom, then to an unlit hallway.

He carries the book against his chest, and an empty beer pint in the other one, and walks through the darkness with familiarity, towards the light at the end of the upcoming stairs.

The steps down receive his wide feet with groaning and creaking, the stern complaining of the debilitated ones.

As a more direct protest, a tiny splinter tries to tear a hole in his black sock but is no match for the quality Vacuon fabric; the steps’ anguish would go unnoticed for yet another day.

The living room itself is homely, combined with the kitchen with no wall separating them. The man heads for the table at the right side of the room, a sofa before it, and an unlit fireplace embedded into the wall on the other side.

A chandelier burns above with barely noticeable flickering of the hot light bulbs.

With a contented sigh, he sits down and lays down the empty pint on the table before him. He stretches his legs and then leans back on his couch, opening the book again.

The room is serene and quiet, the low lighting, complimented by a small but bright reading lamp on the side table, that illuminates the wondrous pages.

Sitting in a surprisingly straight posture for sofa-lazing, his lips turned ever so slightly upwards, as he let out an increased amount of air from his nose. A somewhat amusing turn of events in the world of story unfolded before him.

He flipped to the next page with his hardened fingertips, awaiting in anticipation where this book with a purple creature on its cover, would take him next.

Lately, he had gone through a period of stress and hurried activity, but now, everything was ready, this was his chance to relax. Tomorrow, would be a big day, something he had been looking forward to for a long time.

The grandfather clock in the room ticked its silent symphony, the only thing that could have made this moment more perfect was if the beer pint was still filled with its delightful and faint bubbling.

Perhaps later, things were getting too interesting to stop reading now.

Crash!

A loud, ominous noise pulled him back from the world of fiction, something unsettling was happening. Barely enough time to register the previous noise, as yet another, even louder sound boomed.

Smash!

With only a split second to react, he saw the ceiling above him explode into a million splinters from his peripheral vision. He leaps forward, tumbling over the large table, taking it down with him.

Swish, Boom!

What was that?! Did I... dodge it?

He thinks and starts to pry himself off the ground, seeing the remnants of the beer splashed lightly onto the faded parquet floor, as were its shattered shards. More gravely, the vessel’s remaining golden nectar now flooded the spread of his book.

He could see the ink begin to drift and dissolve into goop, as the liquid permeated the pages more thoroughly. All of his notes, pens, everything spread around before the fireplace he almost ended up diving inside.

Standing up laboriously, he painfully extracts a shard of his favorite beer mug from his shoulder, it didn't hurt that much yet, but it would surely soon do once the adrenaline wore off.

He turns around to see what in damnation was going on.

Expecting to see a Grimm, perhaps a small Nevermore, or a Griffin, but finding neither.

Instead at the spot where he had lazed around just seconds ago, was a young woman hanging from a giant, glowing blue sword’s hilt.

Her hands firmly wrapped around it, eyes closed, and body unmoving. Akin to ice, swirling mist floats off the blade in ephemeral strands. It sliced the sofa clean in two, making it into a set of wide, tilted armchairs instead.

The fantastical sword starts to fade: dissipating into swirling snow-like crystals, which are spread around the room by the fierce winds now breaking through the newly formed oversized ventilation shaft.

The blade loses all structural integrity, and the girl is no longer hanging onto anything. She falls towards the ground, towards the ravine of smashed-up floor of her own making.

Without further thought or consideration, the man finds himself racing to catch her fall. His burly arms and trained knees easily break her fall.

She’s surprisingly light, but still moderately painful to catch due to his injured shoulder.

The unconscious girl’s face is dainty and narrow, with a surprisingly sharp chin. Her long hair is tied into a ponytail, with a pointy accessory holding it, white like the mid-winter snow.

She wears a pale blue, almost gray mid-length skirt, the color gradient softening towards the edges, with a white ribbon around her waist.

As well as a short jacket-like accessory, a bolero of some sort matching it, that was mostly sleeve, and on it, a striking blue gemstone attachment just below her neck.

A skirt, long white hair, pale complexion... she's definitely not from around here.

“Nnhh...” bright, light blue eyes blink incredulously at him, another anomaly confirming his suspicions.

“What... where am I? I was falling and then...”

“In my house.” He says matter-of-factly but creases his brow instinctively.

“H-huh?”

The man carefully sets her down on her feet. She wobbles for a moment but manages to stay upright. Holding her head, she looks around the house, and her face twists in realization.

“Oh... I’m sorry about your ceiling...” Her pale face takes in a hint of color.

“Maybe I should cut back on nightly flights... thanks for catching me, Sir...?” She expects the man to fill her in with his name but receives none.

The desert brown man brings a thick hand to his face, and squeezes the temple of his rather large and cubical nose, shaking his head slightly.

The most relaxing of evenings, that he really needed, had turned into a disaster zone in seconds...

“I’m afraid ‘sorry’ won’t cut it.” His mouth contorts and he spits the words out with spite.

“Oh, uhm, really? Well, I’m terribly sorry, but... I’m in a real hurry, so just send the bill back to Atlas. Just address it to Weiss Schnee and I’ll make it up to you, once I'm-”

“I don’t particularly care of what business you have here, or of your ‘timetable’, but surely you are not blind. Tell me, do you see that?” The man points above them, at the gaping hole, at least three meters wide.

“Yes, I do see it." A loose splintered plank falls to the floor with a clatter causing Weiss to flinch slightly. "Erm... as you said, I am not blind.”

“Then, describe to me, what is it that you see? What do you feel?” The man holds out a hand in front of him, with a single finger raised.

Weiss looks at the ceiling, then at the ruined floor, she ponders on the question for a second and soon answers.

“I see a giant hole, a rift in the floor, the night sky and I feel... guilt?" Weiss says bracing herself with a teethed smile.

He shakes his head firmly.

"Umm..." Weiss holds out her hand too. "I feel... the breeze of the wind?”

“Exactly. Do you know how long it takes for the postal service to deliver your proposed ‘tab-letter’ of yours? A week, a month perhaps to Atlas? And what about the money’s journey back?

Last time I checked, we didn't have a unified banking system across continents. Do you realize how far apart Vacuo and Atlas are?”

The tough man’s short black hair is ruffled by the wind, his hands crossed and face most sour.

“How am I supposed to live here during that time?” The man puffs out with narrowed eyes, glancing back at his toppled table, the shattered pint, and the ruined book, he really should have tried to salvage first.

“I... I see your point...” Weiss goes through the small purse on her waist, on the opposite side of her holstered, rapier-like, weapon. She produces a medium-sized bag of lien, tied with a ribbon, the old-fashioned coins jingle in the bag.

“Will this suffice?”

The man holds out a burly hand, and Weiss drops the bag of coins onto his waiting palm, he weighs it in his hand, pockets it, and then continues:

“Maybe you didn’t see... but you also smashed through my attic, the second floor’s roof, and the first floor’s ceiling. Cut my sofa in half, excavated my floor, and destroyed all my personal on the coffee table.

Moreover, I haven’t even checked the damages to the second floor’s furniture and if that wasn’t bad enough-” The man looks back at the book and pint, but lets the sentence trail off.

“So, I’m sure you understand, this isn’t nearly enough to cover the damages. Or we could take this up to the authorities if you'd like?”

“N-no! I... I suppose you're right.” She digs out the last, big bag of her savings and is about to open it when it’s suddenly snatched from her hands.

“Hey!” Weiss shouts at the egregious man. “I- I need those for an inn! At least... some of it...” Her confidence dims, as the man appears to be unaffected by her retort.

Does he have no sympathy?

I can’t just sleep on the cold desert floor!

She breaths deep and calms her mind, fatigue heavily weighing on her, clouding her mind and muddling her reason.

“It’s still not enough, but it’ll do... Maybe next time think before demolishing somebody’s house, people usually live in those.”

Weiss has just about had enough of his attitude, she seethes under her breath, grinding her teeth. She's about to retort with something extremely particular and personal but manages to restrain herself.

She shouldn’t get mad at him, all of this was her fault. Maybe if she had actually slept in the last few days, she could have avoided this.

The man walks to the door and holds it open for her.

Weiss doesn’t look at the man as she stomps towards the door, who knows what she’d do if she saw him smiling smugly at her misfortune.

“F-fine... Have- have a good night... citizen.”

Because I sure won’t...

Her anger and embarrassment gather and coalesce on her face during her walk of shame, feeling never-ending.

As she passes the man, he still doesn't budge, with no verbal sign of mercy, or empathy to her predicament.

Sure, she did damage his house, but you don’t just send a person out into the cold desert night penniless!

Once Weiss has walked out the door, she gathers her courage to speak and turns around to look at the man.

Surprisingly, his demeanor is completely neutral and Weiss' words stop him from closing the door.

“Can I at least... ask you one thing?”

The man’s nod is so small, that she isn’t sure if it is just her imagination, his pressuring black irises look directly into her eyes.

Determined she meets his challenge and looks back.

“Have you heard anything about a fifth primary dust type? It’s pearlescent white, and in crystal form shines in the light in many different colors.

Despite that, it’s not made of any of the other main dust types, Fire, Water, Lightning, or Wind.”

“Fifth primary dust?” The man asks in a peculiar tone, is he still angry?

“Yes, I don’t know what it’s called, or what it does, I’m just interested in finding it. It could be a revolutionary find for... the development of dust technologies.

Do you happen to know where it is found, or perhaps, mined?”

The man’s lip twitches and the lush black mustache almost conceals it, along with the chin-wide short beard.

Weiss continues: “Please, if you know anything, I’d be immensely grateful. I’ve asked everyone I’ve met and looked all around, but I’ve found nothing. No trace, no directions of where I should be searching.”

His hairy, half-exposed, arms cross, and his hands curl into fists. He breaks eye contact.

Weiss notices a shade of deep red trailing along the man’s arm.

On his left shoulder, above a bloody hole, a small shard of glass stuck out, piercing the rather tattered-looking dark gray robe’s sleeve, tied together at the waist with a red cloth.

It’s rather loose, revealing some of the wild jungle on his muscular chest.

“Oh... your shoulder... Are you okay?”

She carefully points at the man’s bleeding arm, a surprise, to see such a serious injury, from something so little.

Did the man have no Aura?

The man mutters and scoffs underneath his breath, noticing another glass shard, and ripping it out. He throws it haphazardly somewhere to the left of them out into the street.

However, he immediately grimaces and winces in pain, regret flashing on his face, as the second wound starts to properly bleed. The man hurriedly retreats inside, leaving the door open after him.

“Umm...” Weiss looks at the open door and inches a bit closer, peeking back inside the house.

He seemed nervous when I mentioned it... does he know something?

“I’m coming back in...”

She re-enters warily and closes the door behind her.

The man has thrown open his robe’s top, exposing his damn-near rippling muscles.

He rifles through cupboards that look tiny in comparison and finds bandages and other medical supplies, clattering them onto the kitchen table before sitting next to them on the very same table.

“D-do you need help?”

She regrets asking immediately, as he just glances at her dismissively.

Weiss proceeds to just stand around and wait for him to finish treating himself. Too alert to sit down to relax, especially on the furniture she destroyed or damaged.

Moreover, she still wasn’t exactly sure if she was welcome back inside or not.

As the man begins to roll the bandage around the cleaned wound, she decides to finally ask him again.

“So... do you know something of this fifth primary dust? It’s... really important.”

"Do I... know of it...?" He trails off and fastens his bandage. “I have a hunch.”

“A hunch?” Weiss’ eyes widen. "You know of it?!”

“I’m sure you’re tired... we both are. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“Oh... umm... the morning? Really?” Weiss finds a clock on the wall, which shows it to be nearly one in the night.

“Pick any room on the second floor, I recommend one with a roof.”

Weiss laughs nervously, “Ahah... R-right... so you suggest I... stay the night here?”

“I did say as much.” The man lifts the upper part of his black robe outfit, with a red inner side (not from blood), back onto his shoulders properly.

“Right... you did...” Weiss fidgets in place and looks at the exit, then back at the man, who ties his robe’s cloth belt back on properly.

“Uhh... can I at least ask your name first?”

The man is silent for a moment that feels awkwardly long.

“You can call me... Schwartz.”

Schwartz... really now?

“Just ‘Schwartz’... or?”

He sighs loudly, Schwartz’ reaction to such a simple question was enough to make Weiss antsy.

“Hill. Schwartz Hill.”

Schwartz Hill...

Hill... why does that sound familiar?

Weiss thinks of asking him about his name, and many other things, but instead, she just shakes her head.

Falling asleep from fatigue and dispelling her Queen Lancer was why she had fallen from the sky in the first place, no sleep combined with her taxing and admittedly rough summoning wasn’t a good combo.

He was right, they both needed rest.

Weiss leaves Schwartz in the kitchen and approaches the stairs, looking back once more to confirm if it really is okay for her to go up the stairs. He doesn’t seem to pay her any mind and continues to pack up the medical supplies.

Right... I’m really doing this, huh?

But where else could I stay the night...?

Penniless in the gutter that doesn’t even exist in these dusty streets?

She begins to creak up the stairs, there aren’t any light switches, just unlit lanterns.

What a rustic house.

Lighting up the way with her scroll, she checks out a few rooms.

It feels like a proper mansion, every room the same as the previous one. Guest rooms after guest rooms. She feels increasingly guilty for cleaving through such a fine building.

She opens a door on the right side, the gaping hole greets her on the floor of the room. It is not a pretty sight: the edges of the hole nor the room’s insides.

Oops...

Getting her bearings from the position of the hole, she sets her sights on the opposite side, the furthest room from the damaged area. Among the last things she needed right now was the house crumbling on top of her when she slept.

The room of her choice has an old door than most, with a keyhole big enough to see through. It opens with a creak after a bit of persuasion.

The inner floor was different from the corridor’s modest wood strip floor. This lacquered dark wood looked homely, if not a little spooky. However, the endless corridors and many rooms reminded her of home. The white and blues of her ‘castle’ changed into darker shades. It wasn’t a bad change, the organic wood felt much more warm and welcoming, something she hadn’t felt back there in a long time.

Apart from a bed, the room has a table with a large mirror attached above it, with a drawer below the tabletop, and an ordinary chair in front of it.

It looks different from the other rooms, perhaps somebody lived here a long time ago, as all the tabletops are empty, as is the drawer. Weiss simply couldn't help herself from checking through it.

The state of the house reminded her of some of the abandoned buildings she had been in. Sure, this was in a better condition, and intact, but the feel and the atmosphere were somehow similar.

Even if Weiss knows that to not be the case, as Schwartz lived here after all and seemed very attached to the building to boot, the strange feeling of emptiness remained in the room regardless.

Weiss swipes the bed with a hand, checking it for dust—the more mundane kind. It was nearly spotless, did Schwartz really take this good care of the house alone?

Or... was he even alone here?

Probably, right?

She sits on the bed and parts the thick curtains covering the window right above it. As soon as she disturbs them, a thick black thundercloud is unleashed, shedding enough dust to make her cough.

So much gray fluff descends that some get in her eyes, making them sting and water, in the process nearly ruining the spotlessness of the rest of the room.

It must have been years, if not decades building up in the creases of the curtains.

I see how it is...

She gives up on her attempt to see the sights from the window and closes the curtains with minimal disturbance to them before another gray avalanche rolls down.

Swiping the dust carefully to the floor from on top of the bed sheets, she further kicks it towards the back corner.

After setting down her things, she takes out Myrtenaster and waves the rapier towards the closed door. A black and faintly white glyph spreads across the door, and beyond its seams.

That should hold, and if anything, or anyone, tries to come inside, they won’t make it through quietly at least.

She sets down her weapon, and swiftly cracks the bed sheets, swooping inside in full clothing. She didn’t feel safe enough to change into her pajamas, what if she needed to fight at night?

And besides, she couldn't even if she wanted to, she was traveling very light, lighter than she probably should have.

Only the clothes on her back and the now nearly empty tiny satchel on her waist, which houses a few extra dust cartridges and previously, the lien pouches too.

And of course, the most trustworthy traveling companion, Myrtenaster is with her at least.

Total silence falls in the room, the only sound was her breathing, the beating of her heart, and the ruffling of the sheets if she moved even an inch. Had she ever heard such quiet before?

It was windy outside, but none of that could be heard here. Even in her room back home, the fierce frigid winds always howled in through the corners and whistled against the windows.

...

Am I really going to sleep here, of all places, in this... stranger’s house?

I’m not opposed to sleeping, now that I’m finally one step closer to finding the dust, but...

This is mad, I should just run, and return in the morning with the first light...

A night out there is better than in here under the same roof as this creepy and frankly offensive man...

How’s just a flimsy door going to hold someone of his stature, even if it's reinforced with a glyph? What if he breaks through the walls?

Surely some nice family would let me stay the night...

...

I need his information as soon as possible though...

I’ll just... rest my eyes... but no sleeping...

Even if these sheets are awfully warm and cozy...

***

Weiss shoots up from the bed.

“Ah!”

I... I’m still here... right...

I fell asleep...

Weird...

I’ve barely been able to sleep since...

The room is slightly lit through the sun bleeding through the white curtain tainted gray, she sees the glyph still in place and intact on the door.

Seems like nothing happened during the night...

The first thing she notices as she gets up is how much clearer her head feels. The pressuring fatigue was gone, it was miraculous, just how much a bit of sleep solved.

Weiss picks up Myrtenaster, dispels the glyph, and heads downstairs.

Halfway down the stairs, a gust of wind surprises her, a reminder of her impromptu renovations.

Schwartz is already by the kitchen table, wearing the same outfit as yesterday, blood dried around the small holes in the fabric. However, instead of food on the table, some strange device covers most of it.

Resembling the shape and size of a typewriter, but without any of the letter keys. Instead, at the end, various sharp-looking metal rods, bent and pointing downwards to a large rolled-up sheet of thin paper.

Without taking his eyes off the book he’s reading, Schwartz asks: “Breakfast?”

“Yes, please.” Weiss sits at the table without hesitation.

“Help yourself.”

“R-right, of course...” She hastily gets up and opens the fridge, scanning it for something edible, she picks her chosen food items for a basic sandwich and asks.

“By the way... what’s that machine...?”

“It’s a polygraph.” Schwartz flips to the next page.

“A poly-what?”

“Eat, we’ll talk after.”

Complete silence falls between them, as Weiss prepares some bread. Her munching, and the crisp ruffle of turned pages, are the only sounds for a while.

At the exact moment she finishes eating, Schwartz bookmarks the page he is on and puts down the book.

“About the hunch... This device here is of utmost importance to it. The key to locating the new type of dust.”

“The key? So, what is it exactly?”

“It’s a lie detector.”

“W-what? You’re kidding, lie detectors don’t exist.”

“Want to hook up to the machine and say that again?”

Weiss grows a little more pale from his comment.

“N-no! But how is this relevant!?”

“Let me spell it out for you, my ‘hunch’, I mentioned yesterday, is that you are lying.”

His abyssal eyes bore accusation into Weiss’ soul.

“So, if you want answers, I’ll strap this onto you and then we can talk.”

“W-what? No way!” Weiss slams her hands onto the table and stands up from her chair.

“Alright, I suggest you get out of my house then.”

“Rrgh!” Weiss bites her teeth together.

But... what if he knows about time dust, I... I can’t refuse!

”F-fine! Strap me in!” She sits back down on the chair.

Schwartz stands up and fiddles with the machine and its peculiar accessories.

“Let me just place these three sensors, and we can begin.” He takes a bunch of wires and strange instruments.

“This is to measure your blood pressure.” He puts a cloth strap with a small plastic pipe attached to it, wraps it around her arm, and fills it with air, it squeezes her quite tightly.

Schwartz's hands that hold the second instruments wired up to the machine, some weird long tubes, approach Weiss’ chest.

Reactively, she protects herself with her uplifted hands.

“Hey!”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“If you would part your hands, I’ll place these pneumographs on your chest, and over your abdomen.”

Worry shines on her face, as she slowly parts her hands, and gives this old man access, but Schwartz doesn’t touch anything inappropriate as he puts on the two long rubber tubes horizontally.

“They’ll measure your respiration rate.”

He turns away once again, procuring even more instruments.

“Then electrodes onto a few of your fingers to measure your skin’s electrical conductivity. Or in layman's terms, sweating.”

He puts on clamps that softly hold onto the tips of her two fingers.

“I-is that all?”

This... this isn’t too bad... it’s a really strange feeling though...

The polygraph’s needle-like pens draw some graphs already, the paper moving along with them.

“Please answer each question truthfully.”

Schwartz says and sits down on the chair across her, the backrest facing Weiss, like an interrogator.

“Let’s begin. First question, are you sorry you wrecked my house?”

“Yes.”

The polygraph is silent.

“Very good. Do you carry any more lien in your possession?”

“N-no.”

O- oh no. I really don’t but... he caught me off guard, he already robbed me clean!

Three of the six graph needles move wildly.

“I see,” he looks at the result inquisitively, glancing between the paper and Weiss.

Weiss thought she saw the worst of Schwartz manners yesterday, but even thinking about it in the night, hadn’t prepared her for the tense atmosphere of today.

He accused me of lying! Calmly and with a straight face, right in front of me!

Has he been doubting me all this time?

What kind of a person even owns a polygraph in the first place, let alone allows a person who they think is lying to stay in their house!?

The idea of even being here grows more and more ludicrous, but there was as much time left, as there were choices.

She needs to hurry and get to the point, the -

“Do you know the purpose of this pearlescent dust?”

Unnervingly, he broaches the subject, just as Weiss was thinking of it too. Calming herself, she debates what to answer.

“No.”

Three of the polygraph’s needles move wildly for a moment.

“I see,” Schwartz says with a dry tone.

“Do you currently possess this dust?”

“No, I do not, why would I? I’m looking for it remember.”

Two of the needles draw a series of mountains, then dive deep, like monitoring an earthquake.

Schwartz looks deep into her eyes with unnerving intensity. “Both of those were lies.”

He crosses his arms over the chair's backrest and looks at her like he is a judge of a murder trial, about to convict the guilty.

“I- the second one wasn’t! I don’t have it... currently, but I did find a sample of it in my father’s office.”

“What!?” He shouts and stands up from the chair, the chair falling to the floor. His dark eyes, almost look pitch black now as he gets closer.

Weiss jerks away, very close to just booking it from the path of this outraged man, but manages to stay seated.

“If you had it, why are you here? What did you do with it?”

He demands with his hands in firm fists, squatting in front of her, his hostile gaze at the level of Weiss.

All of the polygraph’s measure sticks are frenzied as they scrape their waves on the paper.

Weiss averts his eyes, stiffly looking away.

“I... I don’t have it anymore. Because...”

“Did you use it?” His voice grows more demanding with each question, his face even closer.

“Y-yes.”

“Then let me ask you again. Why are you here?”

Schwartz raises his voice, and Weiss can almost feel the searing accusatory breath.

“Why do you seek more of it?”

Mechanical whirring and drawing on paper fill the room, as the polygraph goes crazy. The paper scroll is starting to pile up on the floor.

“Look at me when I talk to you!”

Weiss swallows, afraid to speak, frightened of what he’ll say. Of what he might do if she tells him the truth.

Slowly and in stiff increments, she turns her neck. She might as well have had rusty gears and clockwork for muscles, the rhythmic rattling of the Polygraph didn’t help her case.

From her peripheral vision, she sees the man’s eyes... glow?

They... radiate... darkness...

The midnight pours out from his eyes like mist from a waterfall.

As soon as she realizes something is wrong, her head snaps forward forcefully, without her consent, without Schwartz touching her.

Weiss cannot close her eyes, nor look away, no matter how much she tries to. Completely helpless, she sinks into the man’s deep black eyes. The room stretches and tears itself apart, then there is nothing but white.

As sudden as the disappearance of color, its opposite takes its place, tenebrous nothingness, infinite blackness like the starry night sky settles in.

She tries to make sense of what happened, but instead, she starts losing herself, doubting her existence, she couldn’t... sense anything.

She’s here, but not here, existing in a paradoxical moment that stretches out endlessly, as if all time had disappeared, all laws of physics and the world itself had ended.

In the black, there was no echo of the polygraph, not a whisper of anything. No trace of the world, of Remnant, no indication of the existence of light.

She couldn't talk, not feel anything, thinking felt like, it was somebody else’s thoughts. She has no body, but it still feels like she was in the third person observing... nothing.

Finally, something changes in this darkness, two black orbs appear, somehow, even darker than the deepest black she could imagine.

These pulsing spheres are large like the horizon’s rising suns, but three times as close. Their mere sight threatens to suck her mind in and devour her remaining shreds of reason.

“What do you know of this fifth primary dust?” Schwartz’s voice suddenly thunders from everywhere around her, echoing like she was in a tiny room. But the sound originated from nowhere, it just appeared in existence.

The sound warps and twists her mind, manipulating and torturing her consciousness.

He had said that question already, just once, but it still played on repeat. Forever looping, until... until she’d answer it.

Her ears that didn’t exist rung, and her body that wasn’t present was overtaken with terror.

“It’s called time dust, and I used it to travel back in time!”

Weiss screams in a panic, fearing for her life that for all intents and purposes seemed to be over already.

Then, a momentary reprieve, as the echoing ends, allowing her soul some much-needed rest.

“What will you use the time dust for? Why do you need more of it?”

The all-consuming purgatory restarted, even louder and angrier. There was nothing but the voice and this agonizing darkness.

The unending terror impaled her heart with despair.

“I- I want to change the future! I can’t let it happen, I- I just can’t! Blake can’t die! It’s not right!” She howls with a shaky voice as tears start streaming down her face.

Tears? Her sense of touch returned? And upon that realization, the darkness starts fading, finally releasing her senses, one by one.

Lastly, sight returns, she is finally free from the blackest abyss.

Trails of darkness and shadow pool back into Schwartz’s eyes, which looked like empty sockets, before the normal white scleras and black irises returned.

Schwartz turns away from Weiss and slumps, his hands against his rough face.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...”

“W-what?” Weiss says, despite hearing him full well.

“First you do, that... torture! And now you’re sorry?”

Tears stream from her eyes, from relief, and fright, but she continues her diatribe with clear words:

“I thought I was going to die! I- I doubted if I had even existed in the first place! You don’t just do that to other people!”

Weiss rubs the moisture off her face with her arm, darkening her outfit. “Not to me, not to anyone! You hear me? Say something!”

Schwartz says nothing, just turns around, and looks vaguely in Weiss' direction, focusing somewhere else in the room, his face in deep repentant creases.

“W-was that your Semblance...?”

“Yes. I’m truly sorry for... using it. My... emotions got the better of me.”

Schwartz hands her a napkin from the kitchen table, which Weiss takes, cleans the edges of her eyes, and loudly blows her nose on.

“What does it do?” She says with a nasal voice, a little afraid of his response.

“That’s complicated...” Schwartz sighs. “Okay... let’s put it this way... do you know of Robyn Hill?”

“Robyn... Robyn Hill? The politician campaigning for Mantle’s rights?”

Hold on-!

“That’s her, she’s my sister.”

“N-now way!”

“Do you know of her Semblance?”

“No, actually, I’ve barely even met her.”

“Well, she’s got the Touch of Truth. Hold her hand, and with her cabbage-green glow she can verify the veracity in your words.”

Schwartz’s energy didn’t match the tone of his explanation, but there was a nostalgic glint in his eyes.

“And? What about your frightening darkness then? Can it detect lies, too?”

“Yes.”

“Really? T-then why do you even have the Polygraph and-”

Weiss tosses the pipes off her chest and stomach, throws the finger clippers on the table, and struggles to take the blood pressure measurer off her arm.

Schwartz presses a button, and it starts deflating allowing Weiss to throw it onto the table too, crossing her arms.

“-why’d you make me go through all this!?”

“It’s just a toy we siblings used to play with. As for why... no real reason... I suppose.”

“Huh?!” Weiss is back to shouting and stands up. “For no reason?!”

“Well, which was more pleasant, this pseudoscience nonsense-detector or my Semblance? Either way, I needed to know... needed to be sure...”

She sits back down reluctantly, yielding to his argument.

“I didn’t see any other way of getting the truth out of you, the extent of what you knew... Putting you on the spot, into a new situation with the polygraph was my best bet.

You’d be surprised how many people can be tricked into telling the truth under such pressure. But... that was supposed to be it. I wasn’t planning on using my Tenebrous Gaze on you...”

“What a dramatic name.”

“Better than what Robyn called it; ‘Space Glowers’. Schwartz pauses for a moment, appearing lost and melancholic.

“Anyway, I digress. Tenebrous, if I look into someone’s eyes and activate it... you know what happens.

In that state, I can tell if the person is speaking the truth, and it also makes people cooperative in revealing the answers to anything I ask.

Or anyway, I can tell if the person thinks it’s true, truth is subjective after all.”

Schwartz's look is apologetic as he continues.

“Not only is it near traumatizing to the ‘victim’, but there’s also no visible outside confirmation for others in the same room. Nor can anybody else hear what is said in the ‘void’.”

“So... what you’re saying is, while Robyn’s erm, ‘cabbage hands’ show everyone the truth undoubtedly, yours doesn’t? Only you know it... a lie detector... who can lie?”

“Exactly, and who would ever need, or trust someone like that? A faulty, subjective lie detector. As one of our family’s many naysayers put it: ‘Truth is my plaything, to twist and corrupt, to do with whatever I wish’.”

“H-hold on then, you said the Polygraph is really just nonsense, and that you haven’t even used your Semblance before that point? How’d you know I was lying and hiding-”

“You’re so easy to read, I didn’t need to.”

“Huh? But you still did, so doesn’t that make me a good liar then, huh?” Weiss crosses her arms defiantly.

“I... just wanted to be sure. And I needed to know your motives and situation.”

Weiss’ triumphant one-upping stops and she slumps on the chair, quietly gazing past Schwartz and through the window behind him. Remembering that she confessed why she is here.

Schwartz beats her to the punch, however.

“You’re from the future.”

“Yeah... I did let that slip, didn’t I?”

“Can you... tell me more about why you’re here, how did you get here?”

Weiss swallows and braces herself. With a heavy sigh, she starts: “Have you heard of the fall of Beacon Academy?”

“Yeah, just recently from Robyn, actually. News doesn’t travel that good all the way here, but she’s told me the overview of the situation at least.”

“Right... it happened a while ago. A friend... Blake, she... died because of it.”

Schwartz stares at Weiss, waiting for her to continue. “And?”

“Huh? That’s it. That’s why I’m here.”

“That’s it?” Schwartz scoffs. “You traveled in time, to save one person?”

“W-what? Many died in the fall of Beacon!”

“But it’s not like you’re planning on saving all of them, are you?”

Weiss’ shock takes hold of her for a moment, but she concedes the point. “N-no... I’m not...”

Her thoughts wander to Penny, to Pyrrha.

The first seemed difficult to save without lots of intervention, and the latter, impossible. It had been her choice and call, to do... whatever it was, Weiss still didn’t understand nor know all of it.

“I... I just can’t... I know it’s selfish of me, to only save one person, but I can't let Blake go. It doesn’t feel right, it’s wrong on so, so many levels.

Everything was looking up, we all became close, and then... it all just ended? Will I ever even see the rest of my teammates again?”

“So you really are doing this just for one person?” Schwartz sighs.

“Well, Yang also lost both of her arms... And I’m doing it for my team!”

“What I mean by this is... I’ve lost people, my parents, my sisters... My friends have lost and my neighbor probably has too.

Everyone has loss in their past, or waiting in the future. Be it death, breaking up, losing touch... it’s a part of life.”

“That’s an admirable lecture... But don’t you think it’s rude to question my conviction after I’ve already traveled in time to get here?”

Weiss pouts, before taking on a more determined look.

“Blake and I got off into a real rough start, I... worked hard. Improved and bettered myself. We became good friends. I would do anything for her, anything for them. And then all of a sudden... she just dies...”

Weiss' eyes seem empty for a moment, but she continues explaining.

“I didn’t even see it happen, she was just killed by Adam. They couldn’t beat him together, even Yang barely survived.

I almost hated her for it, she should have been stronger... I felt so robbed. But I know it must have—must be—even worse for her still.

So... there’s only one way.

One choice.

I will save Blake’s life, save Yang from the guilt and the shame, and make sure Ruby has an intact sister by the end of it.

The story of team RWBY is just starting, it’s not possible for it to end like this!”

Schwartz looks at Weiss, his hairy arms crossed. “So, you want more dust, to get further into the past?”

“Yes, I only had a small speck of the time stuff, apparently not enough to send me far enough back to save her, so I ended up here, in between.”

“But enough to come here to gather more, before it- why did you come here?

“The time dust mine is destroyed in... uh my time? But I should be just in time before that happens, I think. At least it’s still here, right?”

“Oh, yeah. You’re in time.”

Schwartz sighs, taps his foot on the floor, and appears lost in thought for a moment.

“In fact, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I think it’s going to be a very important day at the mine today.

“Huh? Why? How do you know that?”

“Let’s just call it Hunch #2” Schwartz looks smug and brushes his bearded chin. “Well, you’re in luck. I’m heading to the mine myself today.”

“W-wait, you know where it is? And you’re actually going to help me?”

“Didn’t I say as much?”

“Why?”

“Well... if you’re saying the mine is going to be destroyed, shouldn’t I go take a look, maybe I can prevent it? Especially with the help from a future traveler.”

“R-right, I suppose so. Do you work there or...?”

“Mmm... yes, you could say that.”

“Shouldn’t you hurry to work then, it’s like Tuesday, or something... right?”

“Wednesday... Our work hours are... flexible.” Schwartz says rather convincingly despite his pausing and stands up, “Shall we get going? You are ready, yes?”

“Umm, yes...” Weiss is a bit taken aback, it was all happening so fast.

“Are you just going to leave that there? You know, with the state of the roof and everything...”

“The Polygraph? It’ll be fine.” Schwartz walks past Weiss, who quickly follows after him.

“How are we supposed to get there? Is it far away? I couldn’t see it anywhere nearby...”

“Just come with me, you’ll see.”

Schwartz takes a red and black greatsword from behind the coat rack and wraps a gray scarf around his hand before leading Weiss outside.

The sun has dawned beyond the horizon, but it's still surprisingly chilly, with the desert right on their doorstep, though that wouldn't last for long.

The morning glow paints the surrounding town’s dusty buildings in bright light and casts long shadows from the surrounding hoodoos in the distance, the tall and eroded spires of rock.

“Is that your weapon?” Weiss asks.

Schwartz [https://i.imgur.com/7fjKaUb.png]

“I suppose it is, though it has seen real combat only once or twice when I’ve had it.”

They circle around the house to the backyard, to a separate building. Its lift-up door reveals it to be a garage. Schwartz presses a button to the side of it, and a strained mechanical whirring sound plays, but nothing happens.

“Every single time...”

He keeps on holding the button with his left hand, as he swings the great sword around with his right, slipping it in between the door and the stone floor. He presses it down, and cranks the stuck door upwards, getting it loose.

The door rises swiftly and morning light floods inside, revealing their transportation.

“Oh, wow!” Weiss gasps, an old motorcycle with a sidecar stands proud in the middle of the pristine garage.

It wasn’t as new or gaudy as Yang’s, but she rather preferred this. A vintage ride carried a certain air of refinement and sophistication that new ones just couldn’t match.

The rims are shiny, the black and gray paint slightly glossy showing the care given to it. Meticulousness carries for the rest of the garage too, all tools, parts, and tables are in order.

Everything shone and almost sparkled, no mean feat in these sandy lands.

“Well, here’s your royal ride...”

Schwartz sets the sword to lean against the wall and picks up two helmets from near it, plain black ones with thick eye-protecting glasses, setting them in the sidecar and beginning some checks on the bike.

“It’s not much but it’ll get us there.”

Weiss saunters to the bike rhythmically and runs a hand across its front fender.

“What do you mean? It’s a real beautiful piece. Don’t sell yourself short.”

He looks strangely at Weiss, but his look softens soon and he taps the bike on the gas tank, “My parents used to ride this very same bike through the desert together.

And all of us Hills have been passengers of it many times, always competing who got to ride it the most. Some, like me, actually driving it.”

“So it’s basically a family heirloom passed down generations? Were your parents the adventuring type?”

“Definitely. They talked of those days in hushed voices, but it was obvious. They laughed and colluded like in a secret scheme, enjoying their little inside jokes of days gone.”

“Were they huntsmen then?”

“Nah, just adventurous, as you have to be, in order to end up in Vacuo.” Schwartz laughs two short verses.

“My mother left Vacuo for a long time only to eventually return, while I think my father was from Solitas. You might recognize some old Atlas designs on the bike.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Weiss observes the bike closer but doesn’t see anything that she recognizes. It was much too ancient for her knowledge.

“I don’t know for sure, he never much talked of his past. Only about the now and their Vacuan adventures. Though Robyn might know the details of his past by now, I think it's because of him, that she ended up in Atlas.”

Schwartz continues in a half-frustrated, half-amused tone: “In a family with all of the kids having truth-divining abilities, he really managed to hide a lot of things from us...”

“You have more siblings, right? You only mentioned Robyn by name, what about the rest? What are their names?”

Schwartz looks away and performs some more checks on the bike, Weiss couldn’t tell their purpose, or if they were necessary. Or if he just it as an excuse to distance himself from the conversation, to buy time.

“Nerol and Tarrot.”

“Where are they? Don’t tell me they are...?”

“I don’t think they’re dead, but I don’t know for sure. It’s been a long time since I was in touch with either of them. They are... hard to get a hold of.”

“Well, now you have my interest, out with it then, tell me more of them!”

Schwartz sighs loudly but starts to explain regardless.

“Last I heard, Nerol was in Mistral working as a bounty hunter, a ‘free hand’ as she liked to call it. So obviously, she wouldn’t keep much contact.”

“Wait... a bounty hunter, not a huntress?” Is she a criminal?

“That’s what I said, Mistral has plenty of use for people like her. When your Semblance hurts everyone around you—everyone who lies anyway—one might as well use it.”

“Oh... that sounds rough.” Does she have it even worse than Ruby’s lousy Uncle?

“What about Tarrot?”

“She left for the Kingdom of Vale after a fight with Nerol. The one who hurts others for lying, versus the one who gets stronger from her own falsehoods...

However, because of it, she can never fool anyone. Unlike Robyn’s lettuce hands, her beetroot glow can not be turned off.”

“That’s horrible... She can never even tell the whitest of lies without everyone knowing?”

“Indeed. Only the absolute truth will prevent her semblance from activating. A public lie detector, but only for your own words. I’m sure you can imagine, she changed entirely as a person after her semblance activated.”

“And you have your madness truth eyes... It couldn’t have been easy to live together. Four kids with crazy lie detection abilities under the same roof.”

Schwartz doesn’t answer anymore, just puts on his helmet and sits on the bike’s saddle.

“Not only that, but you all ended up separated and spread out in four different kingdoms? That’s... sad.”

Weiss thinks back home, to her own dysfunctional family. What would she feel, if they suddenly spread to different parts of the world...?

Well, she would hardly miss Jacques, but the thought of never seeing Mother or Winter did sting.

And even if she hadn’t been particularly close with Whitley in recent years, it hadn’t always been like that. She hoped they could one day still mend their bonds.

And Klein, while not technically part of her family, to Weiss, he was.

She realized this separation had already happened to her team.

“Do you think... you’ll ever see them again?”

Schwartz picks up the other helmet from the passenger’s car and passes it hard and fast like a basketball to Weiss. She catches it but staggers backward.

“You coming or not?” He starts the motorcycle.

“Y-yeah!” Weiss shouts over the engine's roar, quickly vaulting and flopping into the sidecar, fastening the helmet, and lifting the goggles onto her face.

Weiss looks up at Schwartz, meeting his gaze, he then accelerates out of the garage. Like he had waited for her to be good and ready, despite his previous unkind words and actions.

The wooden mansion is at the edge of town and they immediately set off into the sun-drenched wasteland.

Weiss’ long hair billows and flows behind her like a long pennant in the wind. The small windshield on the passenger car was too small even for her, if she didn’t hold her locks firmly in her lap, they took flight on their own.

Weiss looks up at the dark and mysterious man transporting her.

Can I really trust him?

What if he’s taking me somewhere completely different?

Like... a bandit camp of his tribe?

Weiss shudders at the thought.

That black and red, harpy of a lady, even thinking of her still gives me the creeps...

Or maybe she was actually a witch with that field of hair... I only barely managed to escape her lunatic camp the last time, I really am not looking forward to another experience like that...

Oh well, come what may, I’ll be ready this time.