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Winter’s Knight is a contemporary bisexual/gay story by Kelly Wyre, Book 2 of the New Amsterdam series. Preorder your copy by May 1, 2018 to save 15% off the cover price and earn reward points toward your next order!
As the son of the infamous New Amsterdam city mayor, Lucian learned at an early age that power is king, love is for the weak, and a real man has no use for tears or mercy. The only light in Lucian's formative years was Shea who gave Lucian the impetus to break free of his father and leave the city. Shea is never far from Lucian's side, a friend and companion.
But after a lover dies despite Lucian's best efforts, Lucian returns home with new purpose: build an empire to destroy the darkness that steal lives and souls. Shea's back in the city, too, and when three long years pass without contact, Lucian realizes he can't live without confessing that Shea is his only solace and reason for living.
When reuniting with Shea leads to a horrifying discovery at the hands of the very evil Lucian wishes to eradicate, Lucian vows a path of bloody vengeance to save Shea from certain destruction.
All preorders are available for purchasers to download the night before the release date (at app. 7:00 p.m. the night before) and LT3 sends an email notification when you can download your copy. Reserve your copy today!
Ren: I'm just saying, Jaune, that the conversation got very... unusual.
Nora: You seriously didn't pick up all the hints she was dropping?
Jaune: Guys, I'm not an idiot. (Scroll buzzes) Besides, Weiss' sister is a professional, just like us! (Answers) Don't be weird, you guys.
Winter: (Via scroll) It's been some time... White Knight~.
Jaune: Just Jaune is fine, Specialist Schnee.
Winter: You're a man of many names, Mr. Arc, but perhaps some things are best said behind closed doors~.
Jaune: Okay...?
Ren/Nora: ...
Jaune: ...What?!
Winter: And what is the business of this call?
Jaune: I was wondering if my team and I could get permission to land our bullhead at the Schnee Manor tonight.
Winter: Such a gentleman. Is there a reason for me to receive the Jaune Arc to come into my fold for an evening~?
Jaune: Team RWBY is requesting me to come and inspect for any material of dubious intent. Possibly with some armed support from Atlas Academy.
Winter: I'm uncertain what this inspection is for. Dubious material is one thing, but my privates are not exactly ready for such deep probing. Though they are young, well-groomed, and always ready for play~.
Jaune: I... was talking about one or two of your instructors.
Nora/Ren: ...
Winter: Then perhaps I should accompany you as well? I am an instructor myself...
Jaune: Really? What classes do you teach?
Winter: I'm more of a private tutor in... close-quarters engagement~.
Jaune: ...You mean like the one Professor Goodwitch taught?
Winter: What?!
Nora: Oh my fucking god, Ren...
Winter: Khm! Regardless, I will message you with the permissions. See you soon, Jaune~. (Click!)
Jaune: Okay, so what should we get for lunch?
Nora: Are we not going to address the sexy elephant in the room?!
Jaune: Nora, I have no idea what you're talking about. Weiss' sister is our boss. There's nothing personal going on between us, and if there was, we're just friends!
Motivated not just by the deal both families have made but also wanting to prove himself to Winter. Jaune tackles both Beacon and training with the mindset of working on the farm. Put enough hard work and effort into something; eventually, it'll pay off. Something that shocks Weiss in person and Winter when reading her letters.
Previously
My dearest Winter,
It has been a few months since my previous letter, and much longer since we spoke. My studies have been going well, and my grades are within the top 2 of the class. I am only outdone by Pyrrha Nikos of my sister team, JNPR, led by your betrothed, Jaune Arc.
His grades are... on the board.
On the subject of your fiancé, I fear that father has once again made an action with no consideration for the consequences. Of all the students I have met at Beacon Academy, Jaune Arc is possibly one of the most ill-equipped students I have ever encountered. His posture is slouched, his grades are remedial at best, and he relies entirely too much on his team for combat support.
However, if I were to offer one compliment to him, then it would be this. He has a kind heart. He-
Winter folded the letter and slid it across her desk, her military bearing and pursuit of complete and total professionalism in all things in her life won the internal war of impulse vs control. Failure to do so would have seen the paper her sister so diligently wrote and delivered reduced to crumbled shreds used as fuel for whatever flame she could conjure as quickly as possible. She took a deep breath and stood from her desk.
Winter was a specialist in the Atlas military. Her performance was currently under review to place her as General Ironwood's right hand as Leading Specialist. Such a title was highly sought by her peers, though their evaluations were little more than recommendations from financial backers for the armed forces. Winter may have been a daughter of the Schnee Dust Company, but she was a soldier first, foremost, and above all else.
Or, at least, that's what she tried to present herself as. However, the recent news of her arranged marriage took little time to travel to the ranks of her subordinates. Some had jested when they thought she wasn't listening, making comments that she herself bought her betrothed from an auction, like one would purchase slaves in the ages before the Faunus revolution.
A stain on Atlesian history her family was also heavily involved in. When she first heard such rumors, she immediately called for the Specialists to spar with her. It took General Ironwood himself ordering her to stand down to end the beatings. Shortly after, there was training on the subject of skylarking and scuttlebutting amidst the ranks that would not be tolerated. Winter's punishment went little further than counseling, but it was still a smear on her otherwise perfect record. And there was only one man she could blame for all of this.
"Uh..." Jaune bit his lip. "Wait, I know this one..."
"If you know it, then say it." Weiss said with a sneer. She was oddly meaner than usual today. Apparently, there was a falling out with her team recently and she chose to vent that frustration into Jaune's studies, which she took the liberty of overseeing. He was falling behind in class, and that simply wouldn't do for her future brother-in-law. "Well?"
"The... Dust... Attribution Act...?"
"100 squats. Now."
"Aw, man..." Jaune stood up and began crouching down and standing, softly counting up from one.
"Weiss, not that we don't enjoy your company..." Pyrrha began.
"Because we don't." Nora clarified.
"Nora." Ren softly chided.
"...but don't you think you should reconcile with your team?"
"Why should I?" Weiss huffed. "If Blake wants to associate herself with murderers and thieves, then she should be free to do so at her own consequence."
"Yeah, but isn't she also your friend?"
"Friends don't hide secrets from their teammates." Weiss countered. "Especially secrets involving killers who've ensured my inheritance of the Schnee Dust Company will have to be earned through blood, sweat, and tears."
"Oh, the Dust Attrition Act!" Jaune shouted.
"Quiet, you!" Weiss snapped. "Keep squatting!"
"But that's what started the Faunus Revolution!" Jaune said between breaths as he squatted. "Aloysius Schnee placed an embargo on dust deliveries to Faunus sympathizing kingdoms after the Shadow Band attacks!"
"Hmph! Don't you tell me about my family history!" Weiss wagged her finger. "You think I don't know the kind of man my great-great-grandfather was?"
"Not saying that," Jaune defended, on about his 70th squat, "but don't you remember what he said when he heard about the Shadow Band?"
"...Go on."
"He said, uh..." Part of Jaune was really hoping she would finish for him. Unfortunately for the burning parts of his legs, his future sister-in-law held no such kindness. "To hell with their plight; if those Faunus took their beatings with pride, I wouldn't be losing business." He stopped after the 100th squat. "Right?"
"...100 more squats."
"Aw, man..." Jaune got back to his exercises.
"Wasn't he right, though?" Ren asked.
"I won't abide by a brother-in-law who takes the easy way out." Weiss exited the dorm room. "Just like I shouldn't ignore a friend who needs my help."
The door shut and Team JNPR, with the exception of their leader, looked to each other. Nora then opened her textbook and flipped to the chapter Jaune was squatting for. Pointing at the direct quote, she exclaimed.
"Hey, she's right! Jaune did take the easy way out!" She beamed. "He didn't say Faunus, he said-"
"And that concludes this week's training." General Ironwood looked around the room. The junior ranks were a mix of both eager and lax initiates who knew little more than the difference between a target and a tinderbox while the senior ranks were about the same, albeit with near decades of experience under their helmets and far more of the former than the latter. In fact, the only exception to the seniors' air of entitled boredom was Specialist Schnee.
Or so he would say if not for her gaze noticeably fixed on the notepad in front of her. This never happened before, though he could hazard a guess as to what was occupying her mind like this. Still, he wasn't one to call out one of his own for being distracted with personal problems; not unless lives were on the line.
"Does anyone have anything for me?" A hand shot up. "Yes, Specialist Tortuga?"
"Any word on the next dust shipment?"
The general furrowed his brow. "My apologies. I should have an answer later today, but as of right now, I've been distracted with evaluations to make time to contact the Schnee Dust Company."
"Eh, it's all cool, sir. After all," he turned his head towards Specialist Schnee, causing a pit to explode in Ironwood's already ulcer-laden gut, "I'm sure Specialist Schnee can ask daddy to loan us some, since she already asked for a husband~."
Her pen snapped. "EX-CUSE YOU-?"
"ENOUGH! DISMISSED!" The general roared, snuffing embers before they could spark into flames. "Specialist Tortuga, report to my office and standby. Specialist Schnee, a word. Everyone else, fall out!"
The ranks filed out, some with murmurs while others either hushed or remain hushed. Specialist Schnee stood from her seat, standing at attention and awaiting whatever punishment she thought she would be receiving. It was a trait that made her the envy of her superiors, peers, and subordinates; even in the face of danger, she showed little, if any fear.
"At ease." Ironwood ordered, awaiting her immediate response. "You're a specialist, Schnee. You're held to a higher standard than others, even without evaluations coming up."
"Yes, sir."
"But you are also a human being. It's not good to keep these emotions bottled up."
"My emotions are not in question, General, sir."
"Your broken pen says otherwise, Specialist." A tinge of pink flared across her cheeks. "As do the doodles in your pocket brain." Glancing at the page, he noted numbers and dates scrawled along the header. "Planning a vacation?"
"Hardly, sir." She scowled. "I was counting back days before..."
"Before your wedding, I assume?" She gave a sigh and nodded.
"Yes, sir."
"Specialist, most soldiers think of jeopardizing their careers after the wedding, but you are the first to risk doing it before."
"I can assure you, sir, that I intend to serve Atlas long after my arranged marriage."
"And how are you feeling about your wedding?"
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"There's no need to be so old-fashioned, Specialist. I expect you to speak your mind the same as I'd expect you to speak yours." He gave a smile. "Now, pardon my Valean, but what the fuck are you so pissy about?"
It wasn't often that General Ironwood spoke so casually to... well, anyone. Even when speaking to his friends, like the other headmasters, or Glynda, he tried to retain a professional standard at all times. However, there were times, he learned that you caught more flies with honey than with vinegar and sometimes it was better to throw out the ingredients and just pour out a bottle of whiskey... or rum... or whatever Qrow kept in that flask of his.
"I..." She blinked. "I'm not sure I understand the question, sir."
"Before I dismissed everyone, you were about 2.5 seconds away from taking that broken pen and, I hope, do little more than stain his uniform. If that happened, I'd foot you for the new uniform bill."
"New uniform, sir?"
"Have you ever tried to clean a pen stain from this uniform, Schnee?" He tugged at his lapel. "It fucking sucks floppy Grimm dick."
"PFFT!"
"There we go." He smiled. "Now, do you feel more relaxed, Specialist?"
"Khm!" She regained her composure. "Yes, sir."
"Now, I'll ask you again; how do you feel?"
She took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and exhaled. "I'm fucking pissed... sir."
"About Specialist Tortuga's comment?"
"Among other things."
"Such as...?" She pursed her lips. "Schnee, I can't help my soldiers if I don't understand the problem."
"I'm pissed about what Tortuga said... What he was implying... And how right he was."
"How right he was? About the dust shipment?"
"No, sir." She swallowed a lump. "About asking my father for a husband."
"Just Winter is fine, Klein." She said with smile to match his. Of all the faces at 'home' she would be happy to see, Klein was at the top of the list. "I wish I didn't have to see you under these circumstances."
"You and me both." The older gentleman growled, his eyes shifting to red in a blink. "Your old man has me running dogged on top of my normal duties what with these wedding orders."
"Wedding orders?"
"Yeah, that's right. The 'master' is looking to sell Whitley off like he's some kind of prized pig. Rotten to the core, that's what he is."
Winter's heart nearly stopped. Whitley being sold? "Where? To who?!" She dropped all professionalism and grabbed her old friend, mentor, and surrogate father by the shoulders, panic in her voice.
"I..." He yawned, his eyes shifting to lavender. Something Winter picked up while he raised her was that when got too angry, the excess adrenaline would make him crash, or 'shift' into his 'Sleepy' persona. Her father always said it was always convenient for him to slip into this. "Zzz..."
Winter was about to throw him to the wall when she regained her nerve and thought better. She set him against the wall, where he curled into a ball and suckled on his thumb. It would be adorable if she weren't more focused on the threat at hand. Or, in this case, at boot.
"FATHER!"
"W-Winter!" He looked to the screen. on his desk. "I'll call you bac-"
"What's this I hear about selling your own son like some lowly barn animal?!"
"I- I don't recall what you mean." He looked between his eldest daughter and whoever was on the other end of the call.
"Who the hell do you think you are, selling Whitley off to Dust only knows where?!"
"I don't know what you're talking about." He wrinkled his nose, glancing to the computer again, trying to end the call. "Perhaps we can speak another time."
"No, we will speak NOW, Father, and you will answer me when I ask you a question!"
"Damn you, Winter! Will you just wait outside while I finish this call?!"
"NO! I refuse to let you sell my baby brother so you can make a profit!" She rounded the desk grabbed him by his tacky, high-priced suit. "So help me, if I have to cut you down with all the fury of Atlas, I will not hesitate to do so!"
There was a long, drawn-out whistle coming from the computer. She turned to see another well-dressed gentleman, this one in a more rustic sense. Through his thicky, scratchy beard, he rubbed his chin with a smile and gave a chuckle. Behind him were all sorts of other rustic-themed photos, including portrait of himself with his wife and seven- no, EIGHT children. In the bottom right-hand corner was the tell-tale insignia of the Valian Farming Circuit.
"Quite the firebrand you've got there, Mr. Schnee." He said with a drawl before tipping his hat. "Nicholas Arc, and you must be Winter Schnee, if I'm not mistaken."
"Specialist Schnee." She hissed with disgust. "And you are if you're making deals with my father."
He gave a chuckle. "You ain't the first to tell me, Specialist. And thank you for your service."
She released her father. "I... Thank you." She wasn't expecting someone so... earnest to be in meeting with her father. She'd remembered Klein warning of the worst of the worst entering her father's den and leaving with a new business partner and possibly another few poor soul either heavier or lighter.
"How about I cut you two a deal?" At this, they both shared a glance as well as a look of concern. "I'll sign your little agreement, Mr. Schnee, on a few extra conditions."
"I'm already losing so much, Mr. Arc."
"Well, this was before I heard about you sellin' your own family to make a few extra lien. Family's important to me, and I can't trust a man with so little standards to keep his word if his own family can't trust him." Winter caught how red her father's face was growing. "Now, our deal will remain about the same, dust, food, and whatnot wise, but I wanna tack on two extra conditions."
Jacques flared his nostrils before composing himself and speaking through gritted teeth. "Go on."
"First, I want you to cancel whatever arrangement you got goin' on for your boy." He wagged his finger in a circle, and Winter noted the deep callouses of his hand. "Young buck like him should be working in the field at his age, not worryin' about what kinda flowers his future wifey is gonna pick for 'em both."
Winter gave a smile at her victory. As her father's scowl deepened still, it seemed her brother was finally safe from whatever awful monster would have gotten their claws into him. However, the next words that came forth killed her smile and dragged it until it was a look of abject horror.
"And I'd like to replace this arrangement with my own. Your youngest goes free," his finger shifted from pointing at her father to her, "while your oldest marries my only son, Jaune."
"WHAT?!" She looked to her father, who looked to her, and gave a grin. "No..."
"Oh, but Winter... Think of the family~." He said with a smile. If Winter could vomit, she would. If she could muster the strength to punch his smiling face, had it not been drained with the rollercoaster of emotions, she would. Instead, she could only slightly shake her head and think...
Winter returned to her office, passing by the still waiting Tortuga. Apparently, the word hadn't been passed to him by General Ironwood yet, who was about to leave for Beacon after learning that one of the soldiers he'd assigned to protect a vital Atlesian asset had failed in his duties. Winter assumed it must have been especially important if the general was leaving to reprimand the soldier himself.
Inside, recounting her memory of her "arrangement" that General Ironwood was unable to fully hear due to the sudden emergency, she sat at her desk and noted the letter still set to the far end. In less than a year, her sister, who had written to her and explained that herself and Winter's own loathsome betrothed were now attending Beacon together, would bear witness to her marriage to the soft-spoken oaf she'd been attending classes with.
"Think of the family~."
Winter scrunched her face and furrowed her brow. 'Family'. How such a word could both relieve and exacerbate one's fears, Winter could not fathom. 'Family', like the same one that would readily sell herself and her siblings to gain favors. 'Family', like the one that bought her in exchange for her brother and now would shackle her to the dreaded contract of monogamy with a bumbling, fumbling, spineless whelp of a man who somehow had less weight than all his sisters combined! She huffed and nearly spat the word 'family' from her tongue when she looked to the letter once more.
'Family', as much as she hated her father, was not limited to only him. Her family included her mother, whom she had not spoken to since the arrangement, her brother, whom she was suffering this humiliation for, and her sister, whose letter sat folded at the end of her desk. It would be rude not to finish reading it, wouldn't it? At the very least, finish and respond with a letter in kind.
Starting from the beginning, she read once more...
My dearest Winter,
It has been a few months since my previous letter, and much longer since we spoke. My studies have been going well, and my grades are within the top 2 of the class. I am only outdone by Pyrrha Nikos of my sister team, JNPR, led by your betrothed, Jaune Arc.
His grades are... on the board.
On the subject of your fiancé, I fear that father has once again made an action with no consideration for the consequences. Of all the students I have met at Beacon Academy, Jaune Arc is possibly one of the most ill-equipped students I have ever encountered. His posture is slouched, his grades are remedial at best, and he relies entirely too much on his team for combat support.
However, if I were to offer one compliment to him, then it would be this. He has a kind heart. He, of all the students in attendance at this school, will not hesitate to rush in and right an injustice he sees. I, myself, am ashamed to admit that I was not so quick to defend a fellow classmate from bullying because I thought such behavior was not dissimilar from that at Bulwark. Regardless, he immediately stood up and challenged the bully twice his size.
I asked him why he would risk his life for an upperclassman who could likely fend for themself, and his response was as simplistic as I'd expect from someone like him. He said,
"It doesn't matter how big or how old you are; bullying is wrong, and I won't let a bully near me, my friends, or my family."
It's strangely sweet, isn't it? He seems to consider everyone his friends and family, including the same bully he'd challenged only days ago! Perhaps there is more to Jaune Arc than I'd initially thought? Or perhaps I'm right and this is his only redeeming quality? Regardless, I eagerly await your response.
With love, respect, and warmest regards,
Your sister,
Weiss Schnee
Winter set down the letter, properly it, and set it into her desk, where all of her other letters from Weiss were stored. She turned and looked out to the evening, Atlesian sky. Perhaps there was more to this Jaune Arc than she'd suspected. The thought made her smile. Perhaps his regard for family would see to the safety of hers.
That was a thought that made her more comfortable than any other in the past few weeks. That she could put her trust in him. It was a foolish notion, to be sure, but what choice did she have but to trust a fool? And, perhaps once more, Jaune Arc was no fool at all?
"I'm sorry for running out earlier. There was a team emergency and- What are you doing?"
"Studying!" Jaune said, lifting himself from the edge of his bed to a seated position, textbook firmly in his lap. "And if I can't get my brain bigger, then I should get my muscles bigger, right?"
Weiss looked to the rest of the team, who answered her silent question with a shrug. "Jaune Arc, I regret every nice thing I have ever said about you."
There’s a Simpsons clip where Kumiko is so fascinated by Maggie so when it cuts their apartment, she knocked the door down asking her husband Comic Book Guy to impregnate her at once. Now I imagine Winter holding Adrian for the first time and cuts to her knocking the door down and said it to Jaune.
Winter: (Slowly turns, Sings softly) Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf. Der Vater hüt die Schaaf. Die Mutter schüttelts Bäumelein. Da fällt herab ein Träumelein. Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf~.
Adrian: (Cuddles up to Winter)
Saphron: Oh... He really likes you! You're a natural~! (Takes Adrian)
Winter: ...I just remembered something I need to tell your brother.
