Juniper Tower - (A quick Rwby TF story sequel) (Patreon)

"This is the place." Jaune swallowed, looking up at the Tower as the rest of team JNPR gathered behind him. It cast a dark shadow against the starry night sky, blotting out a few fragments of the shattered moon. "This was where team RWBY was headed. Where they... disappeared."

He jumped slightly as Pyrrha put a comforting hand on her leader and partner's shoulder, though her eyes never strayed from the dangerous ground up ahead. "We should be cautious." Her voice was firm. "Team RWBY was- is a powerful group of Hunters. Anything that could cause them enough trouble to make them late to call in should be taken seriously." She refused to believe the worst-case scenario - not without proof. 

"Yeah..." Not for the first time, Jaune wondered if maybe he shouldn't be here. If this enemy was dangerous enough to take down their sister team, he'd probably only end up holding his team back. But... No. Ruby, Weiss, Blake, Yang... They were their friends. They had to know what had happened. The instant they'd heard RWBY was missing - well, he hadn't even had to give the order. They'd been out the door together in a heartbeat.

"Well what are we standing around for?" Nora strode past, hammer already in her hands. "Let's get in there, smash stuff up until we find what's up, and then smash some more until we find our friends!" She was eager. The air already crackled around her. She'd lost friends before - She didn't want to lose more.

"Nora." It was only Ren's voice that held her back. She stopped to look back at him - but he was looking to Jaune, waiting for orders.

Right. Time he justified his being here. The blonde coughed and straightened his back. "Alright. Nora, you're on point. If anything so much as moves, crush them."

"Can do!"

"Ren, stealth up and stay with her. Normal formation."

Ren nodded.

"I'll follow up. Pyrrha, you take the rear, watch our backs - if you see something, act - I trust your instincts."

"Of course." Despite the seriousness of the situation, she smiled at the compliment - or possibly just at seeing her partner doing a good job as leader. It could even be both.

"Alright. Team Juniper - go find RWBY!"

---

The Maid whistled a jaunty little tune quietly - She didn't want to wake the mistress - as she began her morning sweep. The floor was filthy today - mud tracked in from the door, burn marks all over the carpet, bits of smashed furniture here and there. The Tower must have had guests last night. A rowdy bunch if she was any judge. But no matter, the mistress would have dealt with them by now. All she needed to concern herself with was cleaning.

Fortunately, her Mistress had seen fit to gift her with magical assistance when it came to cleaning. A swish of her broom and the rubble vanished like suds under a sponge. A scrub of her cloth and the stains in the carpet just wiped away. A lick of polish and the furniture practically repaired itself, the cracks and cuts vanishing before her eyes. In no time, the kitchen was looking good as new.

The Maid paused there for a moment and took the opportunity to check herself in the mirror. Not bad, but she could be better, and nothing less than perfection would do while she was serving the Mistress. She swept her long blonde hair back over her shoulders and straightened her white lace cap, while feeling soft, frosty fingers fiddle with the ties to her black bodice, straightening the knots while leaving her deep cleavage canyon masterfully in place. She waited patiently as those same ghostly fingers fixed her white apron, dusted down her short skirt, and smoothed out her stockings, before blowing the mirror a grateful kiss - and giggling as she felt a light smack on the ass in return.

Appearance taken care of, she turned her attention to straightening out the rest of the room. Everything was neat and repaired, but it was all out of place now, and that needed dealing with. Quickly and efficiently she began sorting the various shelves, cupboards, drawers, table tops, and surfaces, organizing things just so. And then she was- oh no, wait, not done yet! There was a new addition to the kitchen counter. A waffle iron? Interesting, she hadn't known that the mistress was fond of waffles. What a delightful find! She'd put this to use right away.

Smiling happily, the blonde put the new appliance in place on the kitchen counter, making sure to find it a spot where it's color scheme - green, with pink patterns painted on its surface in wavy lines - blended in nicely. Then she gracefully retrieved some waffle mix from the fridge and set it to cook.

For a moment she was worried. It didn't make a sound! But soon the scent of sizzling batter began to waft through the kitchen, and the Maid relaxed. Clearly it was just some kind of stealth cooker. How convenient.

And how tasty! She couldn't help but let out a blissful little moan as she gave the first batch an experimental bite. So fluffy, so crisp! A mouth full of cloud, wrapped up in the perfect sugary glaze. Delicious! Oh yes, this iron knew how to make a waffle, it filled its purpose nicely~ Mm, oh, she was so tempted to keep eating, but a Maid's work was never done! Maybe she'd sneak another bite later, if she was feeling naughty, but for now she had the rest of the tower to clean! So, waffles in the fridge, iron cooling on the side, and back to work for her!

And it was certainly work that awaited her. She barely refrained from gasping as she climbed the stairs to the lounge, the next room up, and found that it was in almost as bad a state as the kitchen had been. Stains, burns, cuts, rubble - heavens above, had last night's guests gotten this far? That was rather rare, the Maid was certain - indeed, she couldn't remember it having ever happened while she was employed here. Was the mistress okay? ... Of course, she was, there was no reason to doubt. The blonde smiled and shook her head. How could she doubt such a thing?

And so she calmly resumed her duties, cleaning the carpets and walls, restoring the furniture, rehousing the items strewn around the floor. The centre table had been knocked over at some point, and broken into multiple pieces, which fortunately melded back together once she got to work. And she made doubly sure to place the ruby rose vase back in the centre of it from where it had been knocked to the ground, taking a deep breath of its bouquet and filling her lungs with its heady perfume as she did so. Ahh, rose petals. The scent was captivating - quite literally, unless you had the mistress' permission to be in her home. The Maid wondered for a moment if any of last night's guests had drawn a whiff - it certainly would have calmed them down.

... Until she found something new lying under the table. Hm, a pink cylinder bag of some sort. Curious, she bent down at the waist and lifted it, its contents rolling and jostling with a metallic clinking sound. It wasn't until she straightened up that she saw what it was. A golf bag, complete with a full set of clubs! Carefully she pulled one out, admiring its craftsmanship. It was well weighted and cut through the air easily when she gave it a small test swing. It's handle was decorated with little pink lightning bolts, with the tip taking the shape of a full round heart. A fine piece, the Maid decided, returning it to its place in the bag. She'd had no idea the mistress was interested in taking up golf. She'd have to start learning how to caddy...

The Maid hoisted the bag over her shoulder, slipping one arm under the strap, and smiled as it adjusted itself to her size. It almost felt like the bag was hugging her! She did like an affectionate appliance...

There. The lounge was done. She continued her climb, traversing up along the circular stone steps that ran through the middle of the tower. Up next was the servant’s quarters and general storage...

And to her wide-eyed shock, there were even signs of battle here! Good gracious, what kind of guests had visited here last night? Mm... No, perhaps it was okay. There was much less destruction up here. Clearly whatever party had arrived had been much reduced by the time it got this high. In fact, judging by the trails and marks, the Maid thought that maybe only two visitors had gotten this far. She eyed the stairs up suspiciously. Above were the mistress's rooms. Could they have reached up that high?

Uncomfortable, she hugged the pink strap around her chest, and breathed a sigh of relief as the bag squeezed back. Everything would be okay. She just had to complete her duties and continue to clean. That was all she ever had to do.

A hasty sweeping, a serious scrubbing, and things were looking back to normal. The blonde soon found space in the games cupboard for the golf bag, which she hung on a hook with a fond smile. The mistress often brought little games and trinkets home to play with and then forgot about them. She hoped this wasn't one of those times - they seemed like very good clubs. They should be used for their purpose.

Then, closing the cupboard, she paid a visit to her own room, a meagre little box with a bed and room for her spare uniforms. The Maid was pleased to see it was undisturbed - in fact, it looked so neat she could swear it had never been used at all! But that was silly, this was her room, and she had always been here, serving the mistress. Even if she had no memory of doing so, or indeed of anything at all before she woke up this morning, she knew that to be true in her heart and soul. That was simply how it was. That was her purpose.

So she closed the simple door to her simple room, and with a deep breath began to ascend the stairs. The mistress would be up here, she could set her fears at ease. It was only a question of if any of last night's guests had reached this far - and if so, how much of a mess there was to clean up.

"Mistress?" She called, her soft voice carrying through the room as she series through the door. "Am I disturbing you?"

"No," came the casual answer. "Come on in."

The Maid entered, looking around. Yes, there were signs of a fight in here as well - but there was her Mistress, resting on the bed, reading a book. Despite her complete confidence, the blonde felt herself relax at the sight, glad to know that all was indeed well.

And speaking of, the mistress was looking at her now, a questioning expression on her face, as though she was trying to place something. "Which one we're you again?" She asked, much to the Maid's confusion, before she snapped her fingers. "Oh right, yes, the helpless blonde. I remember now. Done with your tidying?"

"I've cleaned the lower floors, yes," the Maid answered with a curtsy, letting any confusion fall away. Mistress would say strange things from time to time, that was what being mistress was all about. "And tested your new appliances. The waffle iron is perfect, and I'd be happy to use it to prepare breakfast for you, and your new golf clubs have been stored in the games cupboard, for when you next wish to play."

"Mm..." Mistress smiled, her attention turning back to her book. "Didn't you turn out well? Breakfast sounds delightful once you're done cleaning up, and perhaps we'll go out golfing this afternoon. I need a bit of practice, after all, if I'm going to be winning any tournaments."

"Tournaments, Mistress?" The Maid tilted her head. She hadn't known that Mistress was the competitive type!

"Oh yes." The Witch turned a page, and as she did she glanced up at something across the room from her. "I've found myself developing something of a taste for... trophies."

The blonde followed her gaze, and her jaw dropped. There, in a glass cabinet against the wall, was a truly awe-inspiring award. It was tall, perhaps two thirds her own height, and glittered with precious metals and colourful jewels. It took the form of a rising pyramid of columns, rising steadily in layers decorated lavishly with sculptures of a female figure wielding a sword, a shield, a lance, or a gun in various action poses - and then at the top, on the highest pedestal, was that figure again, her naked curves expertly detailed in solid gold. She was saluting, a blank smile on her face, acknowledging her owner's superiority.

A plaque at her feet simply read: Champion Trophy.

"Do you like it?" The mistress inquired, putting a bookmark between her pages and sliding her latest read back onto the shelf, striking her lamp to turn it off. "It was quite hard to get."

"It's beautiful, Mistress," the Maid had no reason to deny it. "In fact, I dare say it's unlikely that any golf championships will have awards anywhere close to its equal..."

"Hmm. They might when I'm done with them." The Witch smiled as she got to her feet and headed for the door. "I'm getting downstairs. Why don't you give my new trophy a good clean, and then get started on breakfast? And do make it a big one - I had quite the workout last night~"

"Of course, Mistress." Another curtsy as the mistress left, and then the Maid set about her task, pulling out a dusting cloth and a can of polish. She would, of course, be thorough. She was going to dust, clean, and polish every crack, gap, nook, and cranny. This wonderful trophy stood in testament to how powerful her Mistress was, after all - all who saw it would respect its owner, the champion. That was its purpose, and she would make sure it did it well.

And as she worked, the blonde found herself thinking that, just possibly, the trophy's smile was telling her it was enjoying her treatment - or perhaps that she was doing a good job as a maid! Not that it could think of course - it was only a trophy, solid metal through and through. But on some level, just maybe...

It could even be both.