It had only been a few days since Asher had visited the police station in Mantle, but a lot had unfolded in that short time.
For one, there had been significant progress on the warehouse project, which Asher was steadily transforming into an automated manufacturing facility. Having personally taken care of the key aspects—renovations, construction plans, and layout design—he'd managed to streamline the process and shave months off the timeline for the team.
The retrofitting was nearly complete. Once the infrastructure was fully in place, which would take no more than two more weeks, the next phase could begin: equipment delivery and installation. That step would take just a couple of weeks on its own.
Asher estimated the facility would be fully operational by late October. By then, the focus would shift to setting up the equipment and integrating the software and networking that would bring his vision of a truly remote and automated facility to life.
Something like that might have stretched into over a month if left to others, but Asher intended to handle that part himself. With his abilities, he was confident it would take no longer than a week. As long as everything progressed as planned, Asher marked November as the month when the facility would finally be ready.
Beyond that, there was another development—Ironwood had finally gotten back to him regarding his earlier request.
As the general of the Atlas Military, Ironwood had little trouble authorizing the creation of a new division, even one that bypassed the traditional chain of command to report directly to him. However, appointing Asher as the Director of Operations for that division proved to be a trickier matter.
Asher's age, lack of official military affiliation, and a host of other bureaucratic hurdles made the position challenging to justify. But Ironwood was nothing if not resourceful, and he found a workaround. Rather than making Asher a full military officer, he planned to appoint him as a Special Operations Consultant, aligned with the division's research and operational units.
In a lot of ways, this role was actually better suited for Asher than being a Director.
A director's position would have come with numerous administrative responsibilities—overseeing personnel, managing reports, and attending meetings—that would have consumed Asher's time.
As a consultant, however, his schedule would be far more flexible. The Director of Operations would function as a figurehead, primarily managing routine matters and acting as a liaison between Asher and Ironwood. While higher-level decisions requiring formal authorization would still go through official channels, the real control would rest with Asher.
According to Liv, who had remained deeply involved in this process to ensure Asher's safety, the division's formal setup would take about a week on paper.
The speed was thanks to Ironwood's influence.
After that, Asher would only need to sign a few documents alongside Liv, officially assigning him to the division. Once that was done, he could begin his work as a consultant, "recommending" changes to the division's structure. Some of which may include establishing a private laboratory facility and recruiting a few carefully selected volunteers.
But in any case, with the larger-scale projects running smoothly in the background, Asher turned his attention to more personal matters.
"How about Ⱡ32,000 for A-Tier, fifteen to twenty centimeters, and Ⱡ125,000 for S-Tier with the same size metrics?" Asher proposed casually. He was in his workshop, leaning against the computer drawer beneath the mounted monitor of his computer, which was powered off at the moment.
Across the room, near the Optical Interface Terminal, stood Whitley. At Asher's offer, Whitley let out a short laugh, clearly amused.
"I didn't know you were such a comedian, Asher," Whitley said, his tone laced with sarcasm.
"But unfortunately, after all the effort I spent convincing my father to grant me access to these Dust crystals, I doubt selling them at thirty percent below market price would go over well. Even when we sell in bulk to industrial clients, A-Tier Dust crystals don't see discounts beyond ten to twenty percent."
"Perhaps," Asher replied, waving a hand nonchalantly, "but I doubt many A-Tier Dust crystals are even being purchased for industrial purposes. If they were, your father wouldn't have authorized you to sign off on any contracts involving them."
Whitley's brow arched at that.
"You've been looking into our sales data?"
"Of course," Asher answered, glancing upward briefly as if mentally sifting through information before continuing.
"Right now, the most commonly used Dust crystals are A-Tier, purity Grade 2, with moderate density. But what I'm after are A-Tier, Grade 1 crystals with high density. Crystals I suspect only the Atlas Military has any real interest in. And I imagine the Schnee Dust Company offers them far more significant discounts—likely well beyond thirty percent—when they buy in bulk. After all, they are the ones 'protecting' the kingdom, right?" Whitley's smirk faded as Asher's words hit their mark.
His expression grew sharper, and his hands clasped together in a thoughtful gesture. For a moment, he remained silent, weighing his options. When Whitley finally spoke, his tone had shifted.
It was smoother, carrying a subtle gravity.
"Five percent." Asher tilted his head slightly, waiting for clarification.
"Increase both of your offer prices by five percent," Whitley explained, "and we'll have a deal."
Asher held Whitley's gaze for a moment, then pushed off the drawer with a faint smile.
"Deal." With the agreement settled verbally and soon to be formalized in a contract, Whitley let out a soft sigh, shaking his head in mild disbelief.
"You know, for someone who's the heir to a logistics company, I'm starting to think you're better suited to being a Schnee. Certainly more than my dear sisters..." Asher raised a curious brow at that, the faint amusement in his expression mirrored in his tone as he replied.
"Oh? And here I thought you and your sisters were getting along—well, at least you and Weiss," Asher remarked, tilting his head slightly.
Whitley paused at that, a flicker of conflict flashing in his eyes before it quickly faded.
"Things are... better than they've been, I suppose. Mostly thanks to you, if I'm being honest. But in our family, sibling relationships don't hold much weight. Ever since Weiss declared she wanted to become a Huntress and help people directly as a Schnee, Father has doubled down on her studies."
Asher frowned at that, muttering under his breath, "Trying to shove her back into the mold by burying her. He won't be able to cram her desires back into the bottle that easily."
Whitley gave a small nod of agreement.
"Exactly. She used to excel at nearly everything—her artistic pursuits, her corporate training—but once she set her sights on becoming a Huntress and started idolizing Winter, her performance in the latter has dropped significantly." As Whitley explained, Asher listened quietly, though his mind churned with thoughts, peeling back the layers of the situation.
Weiss isn't someone who slacks off, no matter the task. She doesn't just forget what she's learned either. But I can imagine her refusing to waste effort on things she doesn't care about anymore.
To Asher, the truth was simple: the more committed Weiss became to her goal of becoming a Huntress, the less she invested in her role as a heiress. At least the type of heiress needed by the company. Whether it was intentional or not, her disinterest had triggered Jacques to push her even harder, trying to force her back into the mold he had designed for her.
But Jacques didn't seem to understand that his heavy-handedness only fueled her resolve. The more he tried to shape her into his vision of an heiress, the more determined she became to break free of her gilded cage.
In fact, Asher was certain the same was true for Winter. Every action, no matter how noble it seemed, was rooted in some degree of selfishness—even if that selfishness was forgotten over time. Winter's unwavering sense of duty to Atlas and the military wasn't just patriotism; it stemmed from her need to carve out an identity separate from her father's influence.
Likewise, Weiss, while outwardly pursuing her dream of becoming a Huntress to help others and redeem the Schnee name, had the same underlying motivation: a desire for freedom.
Even if their reasons had grown beyond Jacques or the brokenness of their family, Asher was convinced that the roots of their ambitions all led back to the same source.
But if I want Weiss to take over the Schnee Dust Company, it won't be enough for her to carry the family name. She needs to rediscover her interest in the business itself. To do that, I would need to show her that she could be just as much of a "hero" running the company as she could be fighting Grimm.
He needed to get her to see that leading the SDC wasn't about escaping or resigning herself to her father's vision, but about reshaping it into a force for genuine change—a way to inspire through action rather than valor alone.
He had an idea of how to go about it already forming in his mind, but it wasn't something he planned to act on just yet. For now, his focus shifted back to Whitley, who stood nearby with a curious expression.
"So," Asher began, his tone casual, "have you thought about what you're going to do?"
The question seemed to catch Whitley off guard. He frowned slightly, uncertain.
"What do you mean?" Asher leaned against his workstation, his gaze relaxed.
"I'm sure it's crossed your mind at some point. If Weiss really does leave Atlas to go to Beacon and become a Huntress, your father is likely going to cut her off or remove her status as heir. That would make you next in line, which I doubt you'd have a problem with. But what if she doesn't?" Asher began to idly pace the room, his words deliberate.
"Say she stays in Atlas and eventually takes over as CEO of the Schnee Dust Company. What do you plan to do with your life? Will you become an executive in the company, working to support her? Maybe manage a branch in one of the other kingdoms? Surely, you've thought about this before." By now, Asher had circled his workshop, coming to stand behind Whitley.
The younger Schnee turned slightly, his gaze skeptical.
"I'm not sure yet. Father hasn't discussed it with me. Honestly, it'll probably be a decade before succession is even considered, and maybe another decade before anything is finalized. With so much time ahead, why bother thinking about a future that's constantly shifting?" Whitley's words gave Asher pause.
He stopped mid-step, his expression dimming slightly. For a moment, he stood still, staring into space, as if lost in thought—or perhaps seeing something that wasn't there.
"The future is always closer than you think, Whitley," Asher said quietly, his voice calm but with an edge of something deeper. Then, as quickly as the moment had come, his usual smile returned, lighting up his face. He walked back toward Whitley with a relaxed confidence.
"But, if you really don't want to think about it, that's fine. Still, I've been considering something, and I wanted to see if it might interest you."
Whitley's eyes narrowed slightly, his instincts picking up on the subtle shift in the air despite Asher's outward cheer.
"What is it?" He asked, his tone laced with caution.
"I've been thinking about starting my own company," Asher said, his tone measured.
"Not something tied to Frostvale Enterprises—something entirely my own. A way to spread this," he gestured broadly to his workshop and the array of machines filling it, "beyond just the Atlas Military, or even Atlas as a whole."
He shrugged slightly as if acknowledging the weight of his idea.
"Of course, that's easier said than done. But still, I was wondering if you'd be interested in helping me." For a moment, Whitley simply stared at him, caught completely off guard.
"Yo- You want me? To join… no, to help you start a company?" He clarified, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Asher nodded.
"That's right. There's only so much you can achieve in this world relying on borrowed hands—whether it's the Atlas Military and General Ironwood, Frostvale Enterprises and my parents, or even you and your sister. Any real, lasting change has to be built on your own foundation, with your own two hands. Otherwise, it just gets diluted."
Whitley was at a loss for words, his mind racing to process what Asher had just said.
He wants to start his own company? And he wants me to help him?
The notion felt almost surreal.
But why?
Whitley wondered.
Why go through the trouble of creating his own company when he's practically guaranteed to inherit one? Is he trying to separate himself from his parents?
The thought lingered for a moment. After all, there was no greater act of rebellion than achieving your parents' goals independently—beating them at their own game. Yet, the more Whitley considered it, the more the idea faded.
No, Asher wasn't the type to act out of rebellion. It seemed far too… petty for him. Unlike Weiss or even himself, Asher's family was everything a child in high society could dream of. He didn't have to fight against it. If anything, Asher's drive seemed to stem from something much larger than family dynamics.
But that only deepened the question: What's driving him?
"You know, you could just ask," Asher's voice suddenly cut through Whitley's thoughts, pulling him back to reality. He blinked, realizing he'd been staring, lost in his own mind.
"You're wondering why, aren't you?" Asher pressed, his tone calm yet pointed.
Whitley hesitated, but when he finally responded, his words were far more candid than Asher had expected.
"Yeah. Why are you trying so hard to change the world? Everything you've done—meeting me and my sister, working with Ironwood, and now this whole idea of starting a company—it's like you're building toward something big. It's obvious you're trying to push all of this to a breaking point like you're waiting to set off some massive chain reaction that changes everything. But why? Why go to all this trouble?"
Asher's expression didn't shift immediately, though his gaze grew a fraction more focused.
"Because I've realized that people need a guiding hand to stay the course," he began his voice steady but with an undercurrent of weight.
"There's so much potential in this world, Whitley—more than you can imagine. I've seen it, and you've seen the fruits of it in the technology I've been creating and sharing." He paused, glancing off to the side, his voice lowering slightly.
"But the way things are going now… that potential is going to die off before it ever fully blooms. It'll be wasted—lost to indecision, short-sightedness, or fear. That's why I've decided not to leave it to chance or to the masses. I'll do it myself. I'll harness that potential, refine it, and make sure it's not squandered. When the time comes, I'll ensure nothing is left behind."
There was something in Asher's words—something Whitley hadn't expected. It took him a moment to pinpoint it, but as he replayed Asher's tone and phrasing in his mind, the realization struck him.
It wasn't just confidence or pride. It was a certainty. Absolute, unwavering certainty, as if Asher truly believed his words were the undeniable truth.
That certainty compelled Whitley to ask one last question.
"And how do you know you're right? That you're the one who should guide the world's potential? Why are you so sure this is what you're meant to do?" The silence that followed was heavy, dragging on for what felt like an eternity.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost detached.
"I don't need anyone to tell me if this is right. I've seen it. And I am."