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This would be the day.

Weiss had been chanting the refrain to herself in time with the rocking of the carriage since the early hours of the morning. It had begun as a way of assuring herself that after almost four weeks of hard travel, they really were at the end of their journey. At some point her mantra had transformed into a spell, and now Weiss was certain if she stopped – even for a moment - the magic would dissolve into the wet autumn air and she would find herself waking up back home in bed.

Unable to contain herself, Weiss drew back the curtains and poked her head out of the carriage window, eyes vainly straining for a glimpse of their destination over the horses and spear points of the knights and footman escorting them. She wasn't quite sure what she expect to see. Since that fateful evening, nearly half-a-year prior, when her parents had first told her she would be accompanying them to Vale to attend the Vytal festival, the spectre of the fabled city of merchants and magicians had haunted her sleep. Part of her was expecting the burning walls of gold and shining towers of silver she'd lost herself amongst in her dreams. The more sensible part of her knew from her studies that the walls and towers of Vale were built from stone and mortar, like any other city in Remnant.

Either way, she was to be disappointed. There was nothing ahead but grey clouds, muddy fields and a cold breeze against her face. A few farmhands taking in the harvest had stopped work to gawp at the passing procession. Weiss could hardly fault them; it was probably the most magnificent sight they had every witnessed. Fifty knights and over two hundred men-at-arms, in total, had accompanied Weiss and her family from Stauburg - the Schnee's ancestral fortress home. The company had been travelling for nearly a month, though rain, wind and mud, but to look at them, they seemed as fresh as the day they departed. In preparation for their imminent arrival in Vale boots had been shined, horses brushed and armour polished, until the entire company was gleaming in the pale sunlight. The company's banners had also been unfurled; azure cloth fluttered in the brisk wind, proudly displaying her family's sigil: A white, twelve-pointed snowflake.

"Weiss, stop craning your neck like that, its undignified," her mother chided from within the carriage. "I know this will be your first time seeing Vale, but do try to remember you're a Schnee, not a peasant on pilgrimage."

"But Mama, its so boring in here." Weiss huffed, but settled back into the soft cushions lining her seat. "I don't see why I couldn't ride in the van with Father. I'm more than old enough."

Her mother looked up briefly from the ledger she was pouring over. "You're eleven," she said flatly. "And as we're here to visit Vale, not lay siege to it, I'd hardly describe it as a vanguard."

"I've been riding since I was five," said Weiss.

"You've been riding poniessince you were five."

"And I've been riding horses since I was seven. Master Hufeisen says I'm a natural. Hetold me I was more than ready to ride in the van," Weiss said. Surely even her mother could accept the castle stable master knew a great deal more about such matters.

Her mother sighed. "Maybe I want to spend a little time with my daughter before we arrive. Goodness knows, I'm certainly not going to have the chance once the Vytal festival starts."

Weiss pouted, annoyed at the lie. Weiss knew the real reason her mother wanted her in the carriage was because she didn't trust Weiss not to fall off her horse and hurt herself. As if she would make such a clumsy mistake!

Then again, Weiss had lied too. Well, not completely. Weiss was bored and she did want to ride at the van next to Father, but more than that she was anxious to be free from the confines of the carriage and its closed curtains and small, narrow windows. She was scared if she didn't see Vale the moment it came into view, it would slip away from her. She couldn't tell her mother that, not unless she wanted to endure her teasing for the remainder of the journey. Mama could be difficult like that.

"We're almost there," her mother said, more gently. "Only a couple of hours and we'll be pulling through the gates."

"I know. We're almost there," Weiss repeated quietly to herself.

Weiss couldn't help her nerves. She still couldn't dare to believe it was all real. The entire trip had passed in a haze; excitement and impatience stretching and pressing her sense of time, leaving her memories of their journey as treacherous as a half-forgotten dream. She knew she had often been bored, time slowing to such a crawl it seemed to Weiss they'd been travelling for four years rather than four weeks. At some points the party had stopped at a woodland clearing or a riverbank to rest and eat. They had lingered at these places for so long, Weiss had been sure every leaf on the trees and patch of mould would be permanently imprinted in her mind, her eyes having traced over the scenery a thousand times as they waited.

Yet, when she looked back on their journey, she could barely recall any of it. They had seemed to cross the distance so quickly, when she stopped to think about it, she couldn't fully understand how they had already arrived at Vale. It was almost as if they had transformed into falcons or hawks, soaring so swiftly the shifting landscape of mountains, rivers and forests below had become little more than a blur.

Weiss' last clear memory was the day of their departure. She could picture it as clearly as if they'd left this morning. Weiss simply had to close her eyes and she could feel the soft touch of snow on her cheek as she stood in the fortress courtyard, watching horses and men stamping their feet to ward off the morning chill as their company gathered. Her younger sister, Winter, was also there, stood next to the steward, Lady Kalt. Winter had been bundled in so many furs that little more than a small nose and a scowl had been visible - a sullen little storm cloud watching with barely disguised resentment as Weiss boarded the carriage while she was left behind.

Winter had been completely insufferable in the weeks leading up to their departure. Weiss could sympathise... up to a point. Throughout their childhood, their father's knights had entertained her and her sister with marvellous tales of the Vytal Festival – the grand tournament held every two years in Vale, which gathered the bravest and noblest knights from across the lands to compete for the title of champion. Vale was a thrilling enough destination on its own merits, especially for Weiss' first ever trip beyond the cold mountains and dark forests of the Schnee holdings. However, it was the Vytal festival which had inspired the heart-pumping anticipation now beating in her chest. For as long as Weiss could remember, she and her sister had wanted to go more than anything in the world. Every two years they had begged their parents to let them attend, and every two years they had been left behind at Stauburg.

Not anymore though. This year her little sister had stood alone on their usual spot on the battlements, mournfully watching their departure. To begin with, Weiss couldn't help be a little unsettled herself that Winter wasn't accompanying them. It hadn't felt quite...correct, somehow. There had been an unspoken promise between the two sisters they would go together or not at all.

Weiss had lost count of the afternoons they'd fought in the Vytal tourney together; the disused hall on the east wing transforming into the Vale Colosseum, the dark silence becoming the roar of the crowd, and the dust in the air shifting and shimmering into their opponents. All of the Schnee sisters' heroes would compete in their tournament: Lord James Ironwood, who had led the Atlas navy to victory against the infamous pirate fleet of Roman Torchwick; Baron Peter von Port, the only man alive said to have single-handedly slain a Goliath, in a battle said to have lasted three days and four nights; and Sir Robin Winchester, the legendary Silver Knight, whose chivalry and valour was known from the great halls of the nobility to the village taverns of the common folk.

Naturally, she and Winter had trounced all of them, before facing each other in the final round. After all, there was only room for one champion - the singular man or women who would win not just renown, but immortality in the annals of Remnant's history. Or so Weiss had thought. One day, their mother walked in on them just as Weiss had executed a picture-perfect riposte, sending Winter's wooden practise sword spinning and leaving her sister howling and clutching her hand. After one of the longest lectures Weiss had ever endured, Mama had coolly informed them they were both joint-champions and now it was settled there were to be no more tournaments. Weiss had wisely decided not to tell her mother there was no such thing as a "joint champion". It was the same wisdom which also restrained her from protesting it was hardly her fault Winter couldn't perform a decent block.

Weiss had sulked, but she had obeyed her mother's proclamation. Winter, however, had had other plans. The swelling in her little sister's hand had barely gone down when Winter was wheedling at Weiss to play again. Weiss had tried to bring up the results of before, leading to angry protestations from Winter that she'd only screamed because Weiss had caught her off guard and she had absolutely not been crying. Winter's persistence had eventually worn Weiss down and while the duels between them stopped – Weiss had insisted on this point - they'd carried on playing tournament.

Weiss wouldn't need to play make-believe anymore though. In a few hours she would be attending the real thing, cheering her favourites on in the arena during the day, and after sunset joining them to feast and dance the nights away.

It was a shame Winter couldn't come with them, but Weiss's sympathy for her plight had ended almost as soon as it was born. After they'd heard the news, just as Weiss's face was splitting with an enormous, triumphant grin, Winter had fled the dining table and flung herself up the spiral stairs to her room, utterly distraught. Weiss hadn't followed her straight away, deciding her mother was better equipped at dealing with that sort of thing, and, frankly, she had been annoyed at Winter for spoiling what had otherwise been a flawless gem of a moment.

Instead, she'd finished her dinner and gone up to visit her later in the evening. After negotiating her way past the bolted door ("Go away, I hate you!" a ragged little voice had screamed at her), she'd sat down next to Winter on the bed. Her sister had been lying prone on top of the sheets, face buried in her pillow. Weiss had tried to explain to Winter, why it was only common sense she should go to the festival first - Weiss was the eldest after all by three years. In fact, Weiss had added, if Winter came to the next festival she would be a year younger than Weiss was now. At these words Winter had risen from her bed like a vengeful spirit. She tearfully called Weiss a traitor, kicked her hard in the shins, and then yelled at her to get out her room. It was around the point Weiss's sympathy for her sister had abruptly ended. She'd realised then, Winter was just being childish and she was just going to have to deal with being left behind.

When she saw her sister at breakfast the next morning, Winter had refused to speak to her. This had carried on the next day, and the day after that. As the injured party, Weiss had complained to her mother, naively expecting justice. Instead, her mother had promptly forced Weiss to apologise to Winter and made her promise her little sister she'd bring her back some jewellery or fabric from Vale's famous markets. Winter had finally relented when Weiss – after further prodding from her mother - had gone on further to say the gift would be owl-themed, her little sister taken by a strange fascination with the nocturnal birds. Vale's markets, fed by the city's rich maritime trade, were reputed to be the largest and busiest in all of Remnant. If the stories the knights had told her were anything to go by, they swelled even larger during the Vytal Festival, and Weiss was sure she could hunt down a brooch or scarf with an owl incorporated into the design. It wouldn't be anything too extravagant. Her mother had only given her a small purse and Weiss's own shopping would take priority. Besides, that kick had really hurt.

They still had not parted on good terms. Winter had hugged their mother and wrapped her small arms so tightly around their father, it was a good minute before they could pry her off, but Weiss had received little more than a half-hearted embrace and a muttered goodbye. Weiss had felt very lonely in that moment, but she'd let Grimm tear out her tongue before she'd ever let her sister know.

Now Winter had been gone. She'd quickly shrunk away like the great walls of Stauburg which had dominated Weiss' entire childhood. Stauburg had been an anchor of sorts, and after they'd left its comforting solidity behind, Weiss had quickly slipped into the fearful trance of their journey, uncertain if what she was experiencing was real or naught but a dream-spun illusion.

Today was especially insubstantial. Nothing around her appeared quite real - not the sombre, grey lattice of cloud and sky overhead, nor the drawn, expressionless faces of the soldiers marching alongside them, or even the carriage itself, which had cradled her throughout the long journey. All of it seemed as fleeting as the mists which swaddled them in the early hours of dawn for many of their mornings and then vanished while the rising sun was still red and bloody on the horizon.

"Oh, will you stop fidgeting," her mother said, reaching for another ledger. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to concentrate with you wriggling away like a rabbit with its tail caught in a trap."

"I thought you said you wanted to spend time with me. Why did you even bring so much work" Weiss shot back.

"Why, so I'd have something to do if somebody decided to be childish and spend the whole trip sulking because they couldn't ride next to Papa." Her mother spoke lightly, but Weiss's cheeks flushed red with shame at the rebuke. Her mother smiled crookedly. "I'm sorry, snowdrop, that wasn't a very funny joke was it? I brought work because it has to be done. Unfortunately some things cannot wait, not even for the Vytal festival. I'd really appreciate it if you helped me though."

Weiss considered the peace offering, then crossed her arms and turned her head away, cheeks puffed out in an angry pout. Unperturbed, her mother simply picked up her pen again and continued to work.

Like Father, Mama was always working. Winter and Weiss saw more of her than their father, but only by a slim margin. Most days she was either locked in her study or visiting one of the Schnee's seemingly endless collection of mines or trading houses. Even on their journey to Vale, she'd packed a library's worth of paperwork. For much of their trip, Weiss had watched her mother sitting bent over in the pale blue light of the Dust gems inset into the carriage ceiling, a ledger balanced on her knees, her pen flying across page after page, leaving an arcane cypher of facts, figures and formulae in her wake.

The only time her mother stopped working in their travels had been when the company had been caught in the open by heavy rain a week into their journey. The night had begun with one of the footman nearby loudly declaring it was 'pissing it down', a phrase Weiss had diligently memorised for posterity.

She'd asked her mother what it meant, who, after a brief interrogation regarding which soldier exactly had uttered the phrase (Weiss honestly didn't know), had answered her question. According to her mother, 'pissing it down' was the difference between watching the rain within the safety of Stauburg's stone walls and towers, which Weiss enjoyed, and being caught in the middle of a storm with only a flimsy, wooden carriage for shelter. However, it was a very – common -way of phrasing things, so Weiss should avoid using the words in polite company (Which meant all the company Weiss kept), or she'd be dismissed as an uncouth country, bumpkin. Weiss was fairly sure, like a lot of things her mother said, the explanation she'd received was both completely honest and a barefaced lie.

Soon, the rain had fallen so heavily she feared it would punch through the carrirage roof. Her mother had been more panicked than Weiss had ever seen her, furiously bundling books and papers into waxcloth wrapping as a puddle slowly formed at their feet. Once her mother had finished Weiss had sat down next to her and tightly held her hand for the duration of the storm. She'd been quite sure they would be picked up and carried away by the force of the howling winds which set the carriage rocking.

Her mother had, of course, not recognised Weiss had only held onto her hand so she'd be ready at any moment to pull her out of the carriage if they had been in danger, but deliberately misinterpreted Weiss's reasonable caution for fear. Her teasing afterwards had nearly been unbearable.

She hadn't mocked Weiss that evening though. Instead, she'd kept a tight grip on Weiss's hand for nearly half the night and sung songs to her. Not the polished, elegant songs Weiss had been instructed to recite by her tutors, but the old, peasants ballads Weiss had loved as a little girl – like Brave Ser Hazel, the tale of the youngest of three sisters who rescued a kidnapped prince, or The Ghosts of Mountain Glenn, about two phantom lovers, murdered by the Faunus, who haunted the streets of the dead city of Mountain Glenn, each on a doomed search for the other. Her mother's voice was reedy, and she missed a lot of the notes, so Weiss had joining in to help. She hadn't exactly been able to forget the storm outside, but when their voices joined, it had become a lot further away.

Weiss looked at her mother out of the corner of her eye, still working even though they were nearly at Vale. Maybe she had a lot left she needed to catch up on because the storm had put her behind schedule. Weiss bit her lip in irritation. She wanted her memories of the Vytal festival to be perfect, and that meant her mother had to be able to enjoy the festival too.

"I'll help," Weiss mumbled.

"Sorry, what was that?" her mother said absently, her eyes still on her work.

"I said I'll help!" Weiss said loudly.

Her mother raised an eyebrow. "You know, darling, there's a happy medium between a mumble and a yell. You may wish to try visiting it some time." Her mother was smiling slightly when she spoke though and patted the cushions next to her. Weiss left her own seat and snuggled down next to her.

Her mother deposited a thick tome into her lap, "This is the ledger for our Dust mine on Widow's Peak." She followed up with a sheaf of slightly crumpled papers and an ink pen. "And this is the record of all the costs the mine incurred this year. Could you write them in the ledger like I taught you?"

"Yes, Mama."

Her mother had arranged for tutors to handle Weiss's lessons in manners, dance and other courtly etiquette, but had taken on Weiss's financial education herself. Dust had been the bedrock of the House Schnee for over five hundred years, the precious mineral ensuring their place as one of wealthiest and most powerful families in Remnant. Dust was the only material known to Remnant which could absorb Aura, enhancing the power of any Knight who possessed it, as well as being used for minor, stand-alone Semblances, such as lighting their carriage. If Weiss wanted to continue building their future when her time came to lead the family, her mother had told her, she first needed to understand that foundation

Putting the papers to one side for the moment Weiss opened up the ledger, revealing rows upon rows of entries jotted down in her mother's thin, spidery writing. She dipped her pen in the ink well tucked away in a compartment carved into the carriage door - her mother had insisted on the design - and began to work.

Weiss quickly slipped into a rhythm. She'd always enjoyed her mother's lessons, not as much as her combat training to be sure, but she'd taken pleasure in the sensible logic which underpinned finance and the extra hour she got to spend in her mother's company.

She also found it oddly cathartic, the repetitive action of transcribing the records into the ledger calming her down and freeing up her mind. As she entered in a purchase of foodstuffs for the miners (Twelfth day of the second month, one hundred and eighty Lien), she went over her preparations for the festival again.

Weiss had no doubts she would make a good first impression. After all, she was a Schnee and, as her mother was fond of saying, when a Schnee spoke, others listened. Admittedly, Mama more often used this phrase to scold Weiss when she forgot her manners (The latest incident had been an acidic comment aimed at her current sparring partner, Jaune - the frustratingly inept little brother of Ser Audrey, the castle master-of-arms - whose talents she had unfavourably compared to a blind goat), but she understood the deeper meaning behind those words. The Schnee were important. As well as her family's control of the Dust mines, they maintained the second strongest military force after Atlas, and were the first and last line of defence against the Faunus menace to the west. Being a Schnee meant Weiss's every action had a weighty impact on the world, a concept which both thrilled and terrified her.

Still, Weiss had no intention of being so inelegant as to use her family's clout to force herself on others. That was also not the Schnee way. No, she would be a picture of elegance, good manners, sophistication, and precise and proper swordplay. Those famous lords and ladies would be so charmed they'd be falling over themselves to regale her with stories of their adventures and beg for her favour in the tournament. Weiss even harboured a little fantasy that one of the knights – Ser Robin Winchester she hoped - would be so enamoured by her skill and good character, they would insist Weiss be retained as their squire.

Weiss felt a cool hand brush against her ears as her mother gently ran a hand through her hair.

"Mama! Your fingers are all inky." Weiss protested, squirming in her seat.

Like her sister and both her parents, her hair was as pure white as the snow on the Ruckenvelt mountains – the mark of a true Schnee. Black ink and white hair did not tend to mix.

Weiss didn't try too hard to get away though. She loved her mother best when she had inky fingers. On those days she was softer. She would wear an old dress and a woollen shawl, her hair would be tied in a loose bun, wayward locks falling across her forehead as she worked, which she would brush away irritably, and her fingertips were dyed the deep, vicious black of treacle.

On those rare days her mother was truly home. From dawn to dusk she would occupy the castle solar in the West Tower, turning away all visitors. Mama would still have work to do, but once it was finished, Weiss and Winter would tumble into her study and for a few, glorious hours their mother would belong exclusively to them. She would listen attentively as they told their stories, watch as they demonstrated their latest lesson, and have them alternating between dumbstruck awe and furious giggles as she spun her own tales of her encounters with the other Lords and Ladies of Remnant.

Weiss was still slightly worried how she was going to keep a straight face when she was introduced to Baron von Port, after her mother had relayed how after a particularly long banquet and at least a gallon of wine, he'd accidentally stolen Lady Bronzewing's carriage. As he stumbled back to the stables, the good baron had apparently mistaken one of the horses reigned to the carriage as his own. He'd mounted the horse, spurred the surprised animal into a gallop, and dragged the rest of the carriage along with him, including Lady Bronzewing, who'd been sat inside.

There was nothing soft about her mother today. In preparation for their arrival her mother had sharpened herself like a blacksmith putting an edge to a sword. Her hair was in a tight bun with not a strand out of place. She was garbed in a severe, azure dress, which swept from her ankles up to a ruffled cream collar which brushed the bottom of her chin. A dark, velvet over-skirt added a further layer of armour. There was still little kindness around her smile and her eyes, reserved exclusively for Weiss, but she knew it would be gone when the ink was washed from her hands. When her mother arrived in Vale she would be quicker, cleverer, and even more beautiful, but there would be no more dry, careless remarks, good-natured mockery, or even a cool, gentle hand running through her hair.

The carriage slowed to a stop. For an insane moment Weiss was struck with an irrational fear they were about to turn around and head home. Instead, Ser Audrey respectfully tapped the side of the door. Her mother pulled back the curtain and leant her head across. The two adults shared a short, whispered, exchange. Her mother nodded and the golden-haired knight stepped back and opened the carriage door.

"Come along, Weiss," her mother said. "Your father wishes to speak to us before we enter the city."

"Yes, Mama," Weiss said eagerly, doing her best to descend from the carriage in a dignified fashion befitting of a noble, rather than throwing the ledger to the floor and scrambling outside.

She was less successful in hiding her broad smirk. Vale was there. Right in front of her. In the distance she could see the grey, stone walls extending so far either side they were almost part of the horizon. Above the line, various towers and steeples broke the monotony of the skyline. They were still an hour away at least and at this distance the buildings barely poked above the wall, but Weiss could sense the structures' enormity even from where she was standing.

She was distracted somewhat by the arrival of mother's attendants, who had been riding in the carriage behind. They arrived like a swarm, collecting books and scrolls, bringing bowls of water and towels for her mother and Weiss to wash their hands, and primping and fussing over Weiss's clothes and hair. At the centre of it all was her mother, somehow managing to direct the chaos. Weiss's shoulder-length hair was pulled back so tightly she nearly cried out and twisted into a braid, a hint of dust was brushed off the shoulder of her own white dress, a belt and sword were strapped around her waist, and her worn, grey cloak was replaced with a delicate, powder-blue cape, woven with Dust, which glittered and sparkled with Dustlight every time she moved. The final touch was contained within a hardwood box, which a servant brought over and presented to her mother. Inside was a silver circlet lying in a bed of crimson velvet. Her mother had just finished washing her hands and she pulled on a pair of white, silk gloves. Gloved hands took the circlet from the box and placed it reverentially on Weiss' head.

"There." Her mother regarded her proudly. "You look perfect."

Weiss' preparations were completed just in time. Weiss had barely started smiling at her mother's comment, when she heard the sound of hooves. She turned and saw her father approaching.

The Aura her father generated was so strong, she'd known it was him even before she turned around. It felt like stepping outside a warm room into a blizzard. He was flanked by a half-dozen knights, clad in steel and cloaks of white, shining like silver. Their armour was inset with dozens of azure Dust gems, bathing them a cold, unworldly incandescence. As they approached, they seem more like guardian spirits than human men or women.

If the knights were as stars, then her father was the moon. He was mounted on a magnificent grey charger, which had a good half-a-foot of height on any of the other knight's horses. Her father wore no armour, but was clad all in white – White breeches, white shirt and a white doublet with silver buttons. The only exception were the black, leather boots and gloves he wore, polished with such intensity, they shone as brightly as the rest of his wardrobe. A half cape, powder-blue the same as Weiss', billowed behind him. Sunlight glinted off the silver clasp fastening his cape and the silver weave set into his sword-belt. The clasp was shaped into a twelve-pointed snowflake and inset with a single, enormous Dust gem.

He pulled his gargantuan horse to a stop with a touch of the reigns a short distance from them both, then dismounted and strode towards them. Weiss wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him, like her sister Winter was still want to do. The feeling was frozen by the chill of his Aura, which blew straight through her. No. That would not be a proper way to act. She would only disappoint Father. Instead, Weiss bowed low, as she'd been taught. Her father paused, an emotion she couldn't quite place flashing across his face.

"My Lord," her mother said, inclining her head.

"Father," Weiss intoned in turn.

"My Lady. Weiss." Her father acknowledged them both.

Weiss raised her head and saw her father staring solemnly down at her. As always she was struck by how much he towered her, his face distant and unreadable. Like her mother, his appearance was impeccable. His white hair was oiled back and there wasn't a hint of stubble on his cheeks. While it wasn't in fashion with the nobility, her father had always preferred to be clean-shaven. Unlike mother, his appearance seemed to take no effort on his behalf, it was just how he seemed to roll out of bed in the mornings.

"How do our travels fair, my lord?" Her mother asked. "I understand from Ser Audrey, we shall soon be at the gates."

"An hour-and-a-half. No more."

Excellent. It has been a long, tiresome journey. I have oft found myself missing the warmth of our bed," her mother said, smiling.

Her father blinked. "Yes. As have I," he said stiffly. He paused, then said, "Weiss will be accompanying me into the city."

Weiss' heart leapt with joy at her father's words.

Her mother was less impressed. "My lord?" she said flatly, her smile disappearing and a cold bite entering her voice.

"She is the heiress to our house," her father said. "She must enter the city proudly, not cowering away in a carriage like a frightened child. She will ride with me through the gates." He gestured where one of the knights was leading a riderless grey horse. It was the biggest animal Weiss had ever seen.

Her mother paled. "She'll look less proud if she falls from that monster," she snapped.

Weiss turned to her mother. "I won't fall," she pleaded. "Please let me go."

"Which is precisely what you said when you begged me to let you try jumping that fence, and what happened?"

"My arm only took a few weeks to heal," Weiss said defiantly.

"You still broke it, and now you're trying to break your neck!"

Weiss suddenly felt a weight on her shoulder. It was her father's gloved hand.

"She will not fall," he said simply. "She is a Schnee."

"Very well, my lord," her mother said through gritted teeth. "If that is what you command."

"Mama?" Weiss said nervously. She wanted to ride with her father, but she didn't want Mama to be mad at her.

Her mother's face softened. "Go on snowdrop, go with your father." She gently wrapped her arms around Weiss, who returned the hug with a tight squeeze. "When you pass through those gates," her mother said to her quietly, "Keep your eyes forward, don't let them see you smile or frown, and never let them forget who you are."

Weiss nodded and hugged her a little harder. "Can't you ride with us?"

Her mother shook her head. "If I know your father, I believe he wants to speak to you alone. I'll remain in the carriage." Her mother shot Lord Schnee a look. "Cowering."

Her mother released her and Ser Audrey stepped forward to help Weiss mount the horse her father had brought her. Normally, Weiss would have refused such assistance, but the horse was very big, so she'd quietly accepted a leg-up from the knight onto the saddle. Her parents were still talking, but their their expression's neutral and their words were too quiet for Weiss to hear. However, before returning to the carriage, she saw her mother lean down slightly and kiss her father on the cheek. Her father went to mount his own horse and Weiss let out a breath of relief she hadn't realised she even holding.

Despite the animal's size, her horse was one of the most docile Weiss had ever ridden. The mare waited with remarkable patience during Weiss' rather awkward climb up its flank, and it responded to Weiss' direction with little resistance. Soon Weiss had the horse in a steady trot along the road, her father's knights in a loose circle around her, and her father riding by her side.

They rode in silence. Weiss would occasionally steal a glance at her father, but despite her mother's words, he seemed in no hurry to speak to her.

Almost an hour passed before her father broke the silence. In that time the walls of Vale had grown significantly from a thin line to what Weiss could now see was a good thirty foot of stone. As they approached Weiss could see a number of parked wagons either side on the grass, where they'd been cleared off the road to make way for their company's arrival. Walking amongst them were guards wearing tabards bearing the green livery of Vale.

"Do you know the purpose behind the Vytal festival?" her father asked.

"Father?" Weiss said nervously.

"You must know," her father said bluntly. "Your tutors are quick to praise your diligence in your studies, and frankly, you and your sister have interrogated my knights enough times about the damn thing, you're likely better schooled on the subject than any man or woman in Stauburg."

Weiss couldn't tell if she was being told off or not. Her father's face had not changed. She decided to go for the safest option. "I'm sorry, Father. I didn't mean to be a bother."

Her father raised an eyebrow. "You're sorry? Why? Is curiosity now a sin?" Weiss remained quiet. "No matter. I notice you still haven't answered my question."

Weiss swallowed. Every memory of every lesson she'd had and book she'd read had all suddenly locked themselves away out of reach. "The Vytal festival was...umm...it was begun by King Montgomery, the last King of Vale, five – no - four hundred years ago, to...to celebrate his final victory at the Ash Fields, where he defeated the Grimm and drove them into the sea." She stammered out.

"That is the Vytal Festival's history," her father said. "But I asked you the purpose."

Weiss' mouth had gone very dry, but she pressed on. "Its a symbol of...of unity. Just as King Montgomery rallied the three great families of Schnee, Vasilis, and Ironwood behind his banner under a common cause, the Lords of Remnant gather every two years to honour the peace he brought to the land."

"Anything else?" her father asked.

Weiss drew from her other lessons. "Well, over the last century it has also become very important to trade as merchants from all over-"

Her father cut across her. "That is a symptom of the same underlying purpose: promoting peace and unity across Remnant. Do you believe that is the central goal of the event?"

Weiss' hands tightened on the reigns, then she nodded firmly.

Her father snorted, humourlessly. "And, I suppose, you think the other lords and I spend the Vytal festival gathered in a big circle, holding hands and singing about how much we all get along."

Weiss' brow creased in confusion. "R-really?"

Her father gave her a flat look. "No."

Weiss' face fell. Her father had set her a test and though she didn't quite comprehend what is was, she understand enough to know she had failed. Weiss hated that. She was a Schnee and a Schnee wasn't supposed to fail.

"I-I don't understand," she admitted quietly. "What is the purpose of the Vytal festival then, father?"

Her father shrugged. "I thought you just told me."

Weiss barely restrained the pout puffing her cheeks. "But I got it wrong."

"No. What you said was correct, but it is not the only answer. Think on my question. You cannot blindly rely on what you have been told or what you have read. Such wisdom comes from mortal men and women, who can as easily speak falsehoods as truth. You must couple the knowledge you have earnt with your own judgement to truly understand a thing. When we arrive, keep your eyes and ears open. Compare what you have learnt with what you see and hear. Then, when the time comes to leave Vale, I shall ask you the question again and I will expect a new answer."

"Yes, father." Weiss said obediently.

What is any of that supposed to mean? Weiss thought to herself frantically. If everything she had been taught might be wrong, why even bother learning it? Still, her father had given her a second chance, and she didn't intend to waste it. She had already planned on observing every facet and detail of the festival she could, so she wouldn't need to change her plans. Weiss would prove to him she could meet his challenge and make him proud.

Regardless, that seemed to be the end of their conversation and they returned to their previous silence. Before she knew it they were in the shadow of Vale's walls. Ser Audrey had ridden ahead to present their party to the guards and have them clear the gate, which was cluttered with a stream of traffic. What had started as the odd wagon on the side of the road had transformed into a teeming throng of people, barely held back by the Vale guards who flanked the roads. Some of the crowd began to cheer as the Schnee company passed them by.

Weiss responded by keeping her eyes ahead and her face blank, neither smiling or frowning.

As they passed under the gateway, moving from sunlight to jade-green Dustlight, her father frowned. "Actually, you did get one thing wrong," he said.

Weiss' heart, which had started to rise at the prospect of their entrance into Vale, immediately plummeted. "I did?"

"Yes. King Montgomery didn't unite three great families, he united four. You forgot the Belladonna of Forever Fall."

"But Father," Weiss protested. "A pack of those Faunus savages can hardly be called a great family. They're nothing like us!"

"Be that as it may, King Montgomery still insisted they be extended an invitation."

"But they always say no. At least those beasts had the sense to know they won't be welcome here."

"Not this year," her father said.

Weiss took a few moments to process that information. "WHAT!?" she shrieked pulling at the reigns of her horse.

Her horse stopped in the middle of the gateway. Her father also brought his horse to a stop and the rest of the knight's followed. Weiss was too angry to feel much mortification though. This festival was supposed to be hers, it was meant to be perfect, and now it was going to be spoilt because those animals decided this year they just had to attend. She took a deep breath and got herself under control.

"I'm sorry, Father," she said stiffly. "I didn't know the Faunus would be here."

"I gathered," her father said drily.

Weiss twitched the reins and her horse resumed its trot.

"The Faunus are our enemy," she muttered, scowling. "Everybody knows that. Why did we let them come?"

Her father responded with the first clear emotion Weiss had seen him display all morning, his lips twisting into a sardonic smile. "Well, its as you said, Weiss – the purpose of the Vytal festival is to celebrate unity after all."

Then, accompanied by the clarion call of trumpet and her father's words ringing in her ears, Weiss exited the gateway and entered the city of Vale.

Hope you enjoy the first chapter of White Knight, based off the amazing Dashingicecream's Tiny Knight AU. Now I've introduced Weiss, Blake will be making her entrance next chapter :)