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A Fairly Reasonable Crashout (RWBY Adam SI) ch 19 (NEW)
🕑 Added 2026-02-09 04:42:05 +0000 UTC+++
She yawned.
Medea Argonid sat up with a grunt, scratching the back of her neck with blunt, callused fingertips. Her nails rasped over the sleep-slick stubble along her nape, and the cot beneath her gave a creak like it resented being disturbed. Wood groaned, canvas shifted, and her body—built like the statues in the old temples, hips wide, thighs thick and strong as tree roots, arms corded with muscle beneath sun-burnt skin stretched out of sleep like a beast rousing from winter.
The mirror above the washbasin caught her in the slant of first light, the kind that slipped in slow crooked shutters. It laid stripes across her bare shoulders, the long, muscled curve of her back, and slightly paunchy stomach. Not round, no. But not as flat as it used to be.
She frowned.
The lines were deepening when they were still youthful. Gods damn it. She still had one thing to hold on to however. Her hair was still red, gloriously defiant red. She grunted and began combing through it with her fingers, tugging out the knots until she hissed. She twisted it tight into a long braid, binding it with the same rawhide she'd used for the last ten years.
She reached for the jug beside the door and drank deep. Rainwater, still cool from the barrel, sharp with the taste of tin and damp leaves. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, pulled on her shirt. Worn cotton, loose, half-buttoned, clinging where it stuck to her chest, nipples stiff in the morning chill.
No bra, not yet anyway.
She glanced at herself back in the mirror. "You still got it, girl," she told herself. "You're still you. You're still hot." She grinned, throwing finger guns at her reflection, before turning out of her room.
Barefoot, she padded down the stairs. Argos stirred on the rug by the hearth, lifting his massive head just long enough to acknowledge her existence.
"Morning, you lazy bastard," she muttered, ruffling one of his ears as she passed.
He huffed and slumped back into his dream.
The house smelled like oil and woodsmoke, like her late husband's boots and her own sweat pressed into the floorboards. The farmhouse had stood for three generations, grey as bone, patched with iron and stubbornness. It didn't love her but it hadn't thrown her out either. It had belonged to him but it was hers now, an inheritance from a man who had everything he could ask for but nothing that satisfied him. And it would stay hers unless she gave it to someone or died.
Outside, the air was still cool, the kind of cool that wouldn't last past breakfast. She stepped onto the porch, the boards shifting under her weight. The early morning air was thick with the scent of earth, hay, and the faint tang of the sea carried inland by the wind. Her laborers were already gathered in the field, their shapes moving like shadows against the rising sun. A few of them straightened up as she approached, offering nods or murmured greetings.
"Morning, boss," one of them called out, a young man with a face browned by seasons of sun and wind. He tipped his hat, a wide-brimmed thing patched with more stitches than fabric. "We finished hanging the cloths last night before heading home, just like you asked."
Medea stopped before him, hands on her hips. She gave him a sharp look that softened into a brief, approving smile. "Good work, Lee" she said, her voice rough but warm. "That'll save us some time today."
The man nodded, looking a little too proud of himself, and shuffled back to his task. Medea lingered for a moment, her gaze sweeping over the rows of clothes strung up on long taut lines. She nodded, and turned back inside, for her study. It was an expansive thing, with cabinets and book-cases filled with books, some her husband had told her had been in the family for generations. She paused, eyeing a stack of papers on her table. Her lips curled as she approached and glanced down the stack of letters that sat there, each one like a stab to her heart. The farm was holding steady, but steady wasn't enough when the world around her was intent on squeezing every drop of blood from a stone.
She shuffled through the papers reluctantly, her other hand braced on the edge of the desk. Most of the letters were stamped with familiar seals: local suppliers, merchants. But one envelope stood out, its parchment finer and its seal pressed in deep burgundy wax.
Medea's stomach twisted as she opened the letter, the edges of the paper crinkling beneath her rough fingers.
"We regret to inform you that, effective immediately, we will no longer be purchasing goods from your establishment. While we deeply respect the quality of your work and have appreciated your partnership over the years, we have found a new supplier closer to the city who can fulfill our needs with greater efficiency.
We will, however, honor our agreement for the final order currently in progress. Please deliver it by the agreed date, and we will ensure payment is made promptly.
We wish you the best in your future endeavors."
Medea's grip on the letter tightened, crumpling the edges. Her jaw clenched as she stared down at the words, the smooth politeness of them grating against her nerves. She read the letter again, slower this time, her eyes narrowing at the part that mentioned the "new supplier." She didn't need a name to know exactly who it was. The SDC was not satisfied with dust, it would seem. They had begun purchasing industries at a rapid pace, 'diversification', the newspapers called it. Outright robbery, Medea felt.
She tossed the paper aside, and fighting the unkind thoughts in her head, turned to right. There, her staff stood where it always did, resting against the wall like a sentinel waiting for orders. It was a monstrous thing, tall as a man, its shaft twisted and gnarled like the spine of a dead tree. Vines coiled around it, their green leaves trembling with life that seemed too vibrant for something so old. Near the crooked head, a metal orb sat caged in black iron, its surface etched with markings too ancient to decipher. She wrapped her fingers around the staff, the wood warm and alive under her touch. As she lifted it, a wave of memories surged through her. Flashes of fire and smoke, of sweat dripping down her spine as she fought through impossible odds.
But those days were gone, and the staff's purpose had shifted alongside her own. She shook herself free of the memories and stepped back outside, the orb's light dimming as if it, too, had been drawn into the past for a moment.
The field of shirts and clothes stretched out before her again, the morning sun making their colors brighter now. Lee was there, standing by one of the lines with a wooden box in his hands, the box filled with crystals, their surfaces glittering like shards of ice catching the light. At his side, another worker, Ian. He had a notebook with him, and a pen. They nodded as she approached.
Medea stopped in front of him, setting the staff lightly against the ground. She observed the first pieces of cloth. "Mister Markus Garden, Fire Dust," Ian supplied, reading from the notebook.
Lee obeyed, carefully picking out a handful of crystals and placing them in her outstretched palm. They were warm to the touch, humming faintly with dormant energy. Medea studied them for a moment before slotting one into the caged orb at the head of the staff. The crystal clicked into place, and the red glow flared briefly before settling into a steady, rhythmic pulse. With a practiced motion, she raised the staff, letting its crooked head hover over the fabric. The orb's light began to throb in time with her words, and a faint shimmer spread across the shirt's surface as though it had been dipped in starlight. Medea lowered the staff and stepped back, eyeing the shirt critically. She ran her fingers over the fabric.
"You could survive the winter with this," she mused before turning to the others. The process, they repeated over and over again until all the articles of clothing were enchanted. Medea wiped away at her forehead, a sense of fatigue creeping up her spine.
"Take these, and send in the next batch," she breathed.
"Are you sure, ma'am?" Lee asked.
"Just get them," Medea insisted.
Lee and Ian turned to each other, and nodded. "We'll be back with the lads," Ian said.
And with that, they walked away. Medea sighed, finding a box to sit on. She relaxed, feeling the fatigue deep inside her soul. If the current pace of things kept up, she might have to fire some of her workers or dock their pay. The idea repulsed Medea. For as long as she lived, she swore not to treat her people the same way she had been treated. She knew the struggle of working on dirt shit wages. While she was the Lady of the Argonid Manor, she was not going to let her boys and girls down.
Then, she heard it. A low, droning sound. In the field ahead, her sheep protested mightily at the foreign noise. She stood up from her box, and glanced up the sky where the noise came. And there, she saw it. It was a bull-head, circling around as if they owned the damned place. On closer inspection, she quickly figured out who the bullhead belonged to, the damned SDC with their snowflake painted on its side. Putting her hand up to her hat, she watched the silver demon circle around some more, as if it was surveying something, then flying off towards Cius.
What the hell were they doing here, in bumfuck nowhere Mistral?
Then, her mind poked at her, and she remembered. Some of their teams had been surveying the outskirts for some weeks, looking for Dust. Their Mayor had invited them, claiming that there was good veins there. The chances they would actually find dust there was zero and nil. And even if they did, Medea didn't particularly care. What sort of problems would a mine have with folk like them? Hell, it would probably be good for Cius to get some economic activity.
She sighed, her attention turning northwards, to where Atlas would be. Far away, her nephew and his wife would be joining her soon. If Adam would come, they wouldn't just mean extra hands, no, she could teach him how to do things as she did. If he proved something, then she could go and pass the farm to one of her blood. Gods know he deserved it, growing up in a mine of all places.
She hoped they were okay. She hoped they would be with her soon.
Before she could dwell on it further, the sound of hooves pounding against the dirt road broke her focus. She turned sharply, her gaze snapping toward the gate. A man on horseback was galloping up the path, his face flushed and sweat dripping down his temple. "Hear ye! Hear ye! All landowners are requested to attend the town hall! Hear ye! Hear ye! All landowners are requested at the town hall!"
A meeting at the town hall? Ahead, other farmers were already walking out of their houses, their faces as perplexed as hers was. Behind her, Lee and Ian were walking up, confusion apparent. ""What's going on, boss?"
"I don't know," Medea admitted, but she had an inkling on what it was. "Lee, you're in charge until I return. Make sure that the next batch is arranged, alright?"
Lee nodded, his expression serious. "Got it."
Medea disappeared inside for a moment, grabbing her boots from where they sat by the door. She tugged them on quickly, the worn leather creaking as she laced them up. She glanced at her staff, considered bringing it, then thought not to. This was just a town hall meeting, not a call for militia. With her boots on, she made her way outside. The morning air grew warmer with every passing minute, and Medea could feel the sweat beginning to stick to her back beneath her shirt. Despite the calmness of today, her mind kept drifting back to the letter from her supplier, to the sight of that bullhead circling her land, to the countless pressures that seemed to be closing in on her from all sides. It wasn't like her to feel overwhelmed, but today…today felt different.
Cius was beautiful. Stone-paved streets rang with the clatter of hooves and wheels, carts stacked high with crates of lemons, olives, and clay jugs clinking like chimes. Linen awnings rippled overhead, strung between archways and columned verandas where flower pots hung in lazy defiance of gravity. The buildings werepale limestone and sun-dulled marble. At its rear, the shining shimmering sea. Ships and boats were docked or going to and fro the town. Considering its location, right at the very tip of the Mistrali Peninsula, it was an important trading town. The loss of central authority from Mistral had diminished its economy, somewhat, but it remained an important sea-lane.
Medea was not here for that however.
Arriving before the town-hall, Medea felt the eyes of many on her. Medea stared back, raising an eyebrow. Those eyes quickly went away. She rolled her eyes, and continued on. Inside, the hall was already filling with landowners from the surrounding areas. Some she recognized: old faces she'd seen at market or during harvest festivals. Others were strangers, likely newer settlers or those who rarely left their own properties. But her attention was not at them, no, it was at the podium set up. There, the Mayor stood. Albert Bell was a good man, at least in how he treated her and the others. She trusted him to make decisions for their little slice of Mistral.
And now, he was nervous and visibly sweating, his eyes darting to and fro. And behind him, two men stood, both in suits.
Medea's stomach twisted at the sight of them. The SDC representatives stood with the kind of practiced arrogance that only men with too much power could muster. One was older, with silver hair slicked back and a face that looked like it had been carved from stone. The other was younger, his boyish features marred only by the coldness in his eyes. Both wore smiles that didn't reach those eyes.
The Mayor cleared his throat, his voice booming as he tried to quiet the room. "Thank you all for coming on such short notice," he began. "I know many of you have busy schedules, but this matter is of utmost importance to our community."
Medea crossed her arms.
"As many of you know," the Mayor continued, "the Schnee Dust Company has been conducting surveys in the region over the past few weeks. And I'm pleased to announce that they've discovered a significant vein of Dust just outside our town."
A murmur rippled through the crowd, a mix of surprise, excitement, and apprehension.
"Of course, this is a tremendous opportunity for Cius," Bell went on. "The SDC has offered to establish a mining operation here, which will bring jobs, infrastructure, and economic growth to our community. However-"
He paused, the words choking on his throat. The older SDC representative interjected smoothly, stepping forward. "However, such an endeavor will require the cooperation of local landowners. Specifically, we will need to purchase or lease certain parcels of land to facilitate the mining process."
Medea's eyes narrowed.
"We understand that this is a sensitive matter," he continued, his hands clasped behind his back. "But rest assured, we are prepared to offer fair compensation for any properties affected by this project. Relocation packages, buyouts, and transitional assistance are all available to help ensure that this process is as seamless as possible for those involved."
The younger representative stepped forward then nodded and clerks walked around, documents in their hands.
"These documents outline the terms of our offers," he said. "They include compensation amounts, relocation options, and a detailed timeline for the project. Of course, you're not expected to make a decision today. We encourage you to take these home, review them thoroughly, and consult with your families."
A few of the landowners began murmuring to each other, their voices low and uncertain. Medea remained silent, her arms still crossed as she watched the clerks
approach her and held out a contract. Medea took it without a word, her calloused fingers brushing against the fine parchment as she unfolded it. The document was expansive, its pages filled with dense blocks of text written in the kind of legal jargon that made her eyes blur after the first paragraph. Words like "easement," "eminent domain," and "perpetuity" jumped out at her, but the sentences they were tangled in might as well have been written in a foreign language. She flipped through the pages slowly, her brow furrowing deeper with each one.
The rep continued, still smiling. "Take as long as you need, within reason, of course. When you're ready to move forward, you can find me. My team and I will be available to answer any questions or concerns you might have."
One of the farmers near her raised his hand hesitantly. "What happens if we don't agree to sell?" he asked, his voice shaky but determined.
The older SDC representative's smile didn't falter. "We're confident that most of you will see the benefits of this project and choose to partner with us," he said smoothly. "The SDC is a friend to Mistral, and to Cius. It would be good for friends to work together, after all."
The room was quiet now, the weight of the SDC's words settling heavily over the crowd. Medea looked around, seeing the unease etched into the faces of her neighbors. Some were already flipping through the contracts, their expressions ranging from confusion to resignation. Others stood stiffly, their hands clenched at their sides as though trying to hold onto what little control they had left.
"Thank you all for your time and attention," The representative ended. "We look forward to working with you to bring prosperity to Cius and its surrounding communities. Please don't hesitate to reach out if you have any questions."
Much later, Medea sat on a bench, her eyes at the stack of documents in her hand. She had been in this business for awhile now, and while she was confident in herself, the level of detail that the SDC had put to paper was beyond her. She clicked her tongue, annoyed. She was going to have to call some of her friends in Mistral for this to examine the documents. The others had all agreed to collectively view the contract but Medea felt that a lawyer's keen eye could give them an edge.
Another damned expense, Medea frowned.
Her stomach growled, and there Medea remembered she hadn't even eaten breakfast yet. Sighing, she took the documents and glanced around for a shop to eat breakfast at. She settled on one with patrons already filling it. She sat on a table, and ordered her fare. Three pieces of flat bread, with white cheese, and olives, and ham. There, she ate, her documents resting on her table. She thought to finish her meal quickly, when the creaking of wheels entered her ears.
Right by her table, and on the street, a wolf faunus was pulling a cart. He was sweating all over, and tired. In front of him, a tiger faunus, her hands holding a map. Curiosity filled Medea, and she glanced towards the wagon. There was someone sleeping on it, a young man it seemed, with bull horns. His hair was red, like hers, and he was handsome too, in a boyish sort of way.
"Face it, Sienna," the wolf panted. "We are lost."
"I'm trying my best, Ashina, be patient," the tiger hissed.
"You two lost?" Medea commented, biting on her food.
The two turned, the tiger's eyes narrowed, but softened when she saw Medea's horns. "In a way," the tigress admitted. "We haven't been here before."
"Welcome to Cius," Medea laughed. "Believe me, I had the same reaction when I came here too."
"You a local?" the tigress asked.
"Yup, for a long while now," Medea answered. "Why?"
The Tigress gestured to the sleeping bull faunus. "We're trying to get him to his relative. But-"
Her stomach groaned.
She flushed, but refused to dignify the noise. "-we've been on the road for days and haven't had a proper meal," the tigress admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. "And on top of that, we can't figure out where to go."
Medea chuckled, leaning back in her chair as she took another bite of her flatbread. "Ah, I see how it is. Hungry, lost, and dragging around a sleeping beauty. Rough day, huh?"
The wolf, Ashina, gave a tired laugh. "You could say that. He's heavier than he looks, too. I think my arms are going to fall off."
The tigress, Sienna, shot him a glare. "You're the one who insisted on carrying the cart this time."
Medea raised a brow, amused. "Well, lucky for you, you're talking to someone who knows this place like the back of her hand. Why don't you sit down, catch your breath, and grab a bite to eat? I'll take a look at that map of yours and see if I can help."
Ashina's ears perked up immediately. "Food sounds amazing right now."
Sienna, however, narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Why would you help us? What's in it for you?"
"Why not?" Medea shrugged. "I just know what it's like to be down on your luck. Besides," she added, nodding toward the bull Faunus on the cart, "it looks like you could use a break before you collapse."
The faunus glanced at each other, then Sienna sighed. "Very well."
And thus, they sat, and Medea ordered for the two. Ashina ate with gusto, while Sienna ate hers tentatively, her eyes fixed on the sleeping bull faunus.
"What happened to him?" Medea asked, curiosity overwhelming her.
"Long story," the Tigress said, her head snapping back to Medea. "He...he overworked himself."
Ashina snorted. "You can say that again," he said, downing a glass of orange juice. "Damn near killed himself."
Medea offered them a look of sympathy. She could relate. "So you're getting him to his relative to rest?"
"Yes," Sienna said simply, her answers one-sided. "I never got your name, Madam."
Medea scoffed. "Please, do not call me Madam, that makes me feel old. As for my name, you may call me Medea."
The two faunus stopped eating, their expressions going still.
"Medea Argonid?" Sienna asked again, her voice seeking clarification.
"Uh...yeah?" Medea blinked.
A look of sympathy came to their faces. Comprehension dawned inside Medea. Her head snapped to the faunus on the cart, still asleep.
"...Adam?"
Sienna nodded slowly.
A pit in her stomach formed. "What happened?"
Ashina's joviality vanished. Sienna hardened.
"What happened to my nephew?" Medea demanded, rising. Patrons sent curious glances her way, but she ignored them. What happened to her baby nephew? Where was his wife?
"...It would be best to explain somewhere private," Sienna sighed.
"Finish your food, then we are going to my place," Medea said sharply, sitting back down. The two nodded quickly, and began to eat faster. Medea ignored them however, staring at hew nephew. She should have realized it sooner, but the damn frustrations in her mind had clouded her.
What had happened to him?
What happened, Adam?
[SPOILER="Suthern Gothic"][URL unfurl="true" media="youtube:hYOAlloDxwA, list: RDhYOAlloDxwA"]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hYOAlloDxwA&list=RDhYOAlloDxwA&start_radio=1[/URL][/SPOILER]
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A/N: And thus, the planned Crashout Rewrite has arrived. I am redoing the whole part 2 of it as I have found it has gotten contrived and not to my taste. Part 1 of it, it was a tribute for mining workers. Part 2, it was a tribute for farmers/small business owners against corpos. I am here to redo that again.
I intend to rewrite the events posted, and put in much better ones. A revamped investigation arc by Geyer, more grounded scenarios for Adam, Medea, and Sienna. The previous chapters grated on me and I felt it was because I kinda lost the juice. But with the new one, it will have the same echoes of Vol 1.
The defunct chapters will have DEFUNCT in them, and will remain as they are. I am considering on starting a new thread on QQ however. Or would it be better to just title them as defunct as well and continue in the same thread?
