RWBY: The Honored One - CH8 (Patreon)

[Alabaster Schnee. POV.]

As I disembarked from the airship in Mistral, I couldn't help but bask in the somewhat familiar yet intriguing sights that greeted me. The bustling streets, the vibrant colors, and the intriguing blend of old-fashioned Japan and modern city life made me feel as if I'd stepped into a part of Tokyo I had never been before.

I wonder how culture travels so… accurately through different worlds. Perhaps each world was just an echo of one another? That was an interesting thought.

On the note of interesting thoughts, for a moment there, I almost forgot that I had a certain someone following me. What can I say? It’s hard keeping track of every weakling around me.

That being said, weak or not, the feeling of being tailed lingered like a tickle at the back of my mind. It was more than a hunch though. Having been born with both Limitless and the Six Eyes, meant that since the moment of my birth, multiple assassins had been after little old me, to the point it had honed my instincts to the limit in the matter. 

So, I was pretty sure I had an unwanted shadow.

What did my pursuer want? Were they a fan in search of an autograph, or a daring criminal with eyes on my Schnee fortune?

“Meh,” I shrugged. Sooner or later, I would have my answer. For now, though, it was time to explore!

—------------------------------------------

After a few hours of walking around, exploring the area. The nearest inn beckoned to me, its eccentric exterior giving off an inviting vibe. I strolled in, and the innkeeper's eyes widened at the sight of me. I was used to it by now, having come to accept that people were often overwhelmed by my awesomeness.

Be it as Gojo Satoru, or Alasbarter Schnee, I was the best.

"Good day, sir," the innkeeper greeted, his tone laden with awe. "Are you here for a room?"

I leaned casually against the counter. "Yep, just passing through Mistral, and thought this place looked like a great pitstop."

As the innkeeper processed my request, I hummed a light, cheerful tune. The feeling of being followed hadn't subsided at all, and by now I had decided to turn it into a game.

The game was simple: How long until my dear stalker would dare to step into the light? Or, perhaps, should I coax them out myself? I had to admit, there was a certain thrill to it, a game of cat and mouse where as usual, I was the cat playing with a rather dull mouse.

A room key slid across the counter towards me, snapping me back to the present. "You're in the room at the end of the hall, Mr...?"

"Schnee," I finished for him, flashing a grin. "Alabaster Schnee."

His eyes widened further, if that was possible. Ah, the Schnee name. It did come with its perks. Sure, almost everybody hated us, but other than that, it was fine.

"Of course, Mr. Schnee. If you need anything—"

"I'll let you know," I interjected before he could finish. Formalities were always so tiresome.

I headed towards my room, not bothering to check if my stalker was moving any closer. Instead, I occupied my thoughts with what I considered a more pressing matter: fun. I hadn’t come across any Grimm yet that were worth my time.

Based on everything I had read, I had kind of expected Grimm attacks to be something more common. Hmm, perhaps the Grimm were avoiding me?

If so, that was rather disappointing. 

But then, disappointment had always been a constant in my life, especially considering I was practically untouchable, making most fights, if not all, boring. Still, it was too early for any kind of conclusion. 

Perhaps my shadow might prove to be the entertainment I was looking for.

Grinning at the thought, I entered the room and tossed my only luggage, aka my credit card into the bed. It was a decent room, but nothing to write home about, not that I did such mundane things.

I peered out the window, a smirk dancing on my lips. Mistral had yet to show me its true colors. I wondered, with a fleeting sense of anticipation, just how long it would take before the city revealed something, or someone, capable of catching my genuine interest.

As I turned away from the window, my senses prickled. The little rodent was on the move. Good. Let the mouse think they're sneaking; the cat was just waiting for the right moment.

After all, what's a game without a little suspense?

—--------------------

[Lil' Miss Malachite's POV]

Lil' Miss Malachite sat in the dimly lit back room of The Spider's Web, the underground establishment that served as her lair. The walls were lined with various trinkets and tools of her trade—a web of information as diverse and complex as the city of Mistral itself. A holographic screen blinked to life, and one of her informants appeared, casting a wary look over his shoulder before speaking.

"Ma'am, the Schnee boy's been sighted," he reported hurriedly, a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. "Roaming around Mistral, checked into an inn, and not a single bodyguard in tow, as our informant had said. Not only that, but he acts like he owns the place."

Lil' Miss tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Does he carry himself like the heir to a corporate throne, or is it just youthful arrogance?"

The informant snorted. "Hard to say, ma'am. Maybe both?"

A slow, sly smile spread across Lil' Miss Malachite's face. "Interesting," she mused. She loved puzzles, and the little Schnee was shaping up to be a particularly intriguing one.

Taking a brief moment, she considered her options carefully. If the boy was as overconfident as they assumed with the information they had so far, it might be amusing to watch him flounder a bit more. On the other hand, a Schnee in Mistral, alone and unguarded, was too tempting a prize to leave to chance. 

He could be a pawn, a bargaining chip, or even a source of information on the inner workings of the SDC, a company that had always managed to elude her grasp.

"Bring him in," Lil' Miss decided with a wave of her hand, as if she were swatting a fly rather than orchestrating a kidnapping. "But do it quietly. No scenes. And above all, don’t hurt him too much," her gaze sharpened like the edge of a knife, "The better the state of the merchandise, the bigger the profit."

“Understood!” The informant replied.

"But keep this in mind," she added, her voice a low purr, "He's still a Schnee. There's more to those silver-haired devils than meets the eye. Approach with caution, use the shadows. Keep him unaware. The illusion of safety is a more effective trap than any cage."

The informant nodded. "Understood, ma'am. We'll be subtle as a shadow and gentle as the night."

"That's my boy," she said with a sense of pride that felt almost maternal. Almost. For Miss Malachite, only profits mattered.

After the informant's image flickered away, she leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers as she contemplated her next moves. 

—--------------------------------------------

[Alabaster Schnee. POV]

A knock at the door pulled me out of my musings. "Room service," a voice called from the other side. Right, the food. I had ordered a local specialty on a whim, curious about Mistralian cuisine, wondering if it would be anything like the food I knew.

Happily, I skipped to the door, humming a tuneless melody, anticipating the arrival of what I hoped would be a culinary deja vu. Swinging the door open with a flourish, I greeted the "room service" with a wide, expectant smile. "You've brought my—"

The greeting died on my lips, not out of shock, but because I was suddenly faced with a weapon barreling down towards me, wielded by someone who was definitely not from the culinary department.

"Oh, what's this? A side of danger with my dinner?" I quipped, unable to contain the chuckle bubbling within me.

The would-be assailant's weapon, a rather brutish-looking sword that was somehow also a gun, like everything in this world, halted mid-air, mere inches from my face, as my Infinity, created an unbreachable gap between my shit-eating-grin, and the increasingly frustrated attacker who was unable to move any further.

"Is this a new form of Mistral hospitality? Because I've got to say, it's pretty cutting-edge," I teased, tilting my head to examine the sword/gun and its wielder with a benign curiosity that belied my amusement.

The attacker, whose face had turned a fascinating shade of red, strained against my Infinity. "What the— Move, damn it!" he grunted, forehead veins bulging in a manner that would have concerned a medical professional.

"I don't mean to be a critic," I continued cheerfully, "But your delivery method is a bit aggressive for my tastes."

Realizing that the blade wasn't going to make any progress, the assailant tried to pull back, his efforts as futile as his attack, seeing I had decided to trap him in place for the time being, why? No reason in particular, I was just being a little rascal.

"Look, I appreciate the interactive dining experience," I said, adopting a tone of mock-seriousness, "but if this is about a tip, I usually wait until after I've eaten."

The poor fellow’s eyes darted around the hallway, perhaps hoping for backup or an escape. Neither seemed forthcoming. It was just him, his sword/gun, and an infinity of embarrassment between us.

With a sigh that carried the weight of my boredom, I flicked my wrist, and the sword was sent clattering to the ground, the assailant stumbling forward from the sudden release.

"I'm still waiting on that room service, by the way," I reminded him, stepping aside to let the emasculated attacker regain his balance, seeing he had already lost his dignity in our exchange. "And maybe send up a dessert too? This little performance has left me craving something sweet."

As he scurried away, likely to report his failure to whoever sent him, I closed the door with a soft click, wondering in deep, deep worry… would someone actually bring me my dinner?