Save the world? Fuck that, I want to make money! (RWBY SI) ch 76

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The morning began, with uncertainty.

"...The remains of the fallen bullheads are still being towed out of the docks. Valean Police Chief Obadiah He-"

Peter clicked his tongue and lifted the remote, changing the channel. A fiery voice quickly filled the room, shouting and raving.

"This is what happens when you l-"

"A curfew is to be announc-"

He clicked again, switching to the next channel. It was just more news. Gods, can't they find something new to talk about? He groaned, his head pounding from all the noise and slogans being tossed around. Life was hard enough already—did they really need to remind everyone how difficult it was? And the Fleur, by the Warrior King, they just couldn't stop talking about how the doom of Vale would come with every bad event. No one had pointed out that it was they who controlled the Council, not anyone else. If anything, all the bad things that had happened in Vale only escalated once they took charge.

Peter exhaled, turning off the television and lying back on his bed. Outside, the sounds of the city poured into his apartment. He lived in a fairly decent neighborhood. The rent was a little higher than he could comfortably afford, but with some sacrifices—like cutting back on going out—he managed to cover it and still keep groceries stocked. His landlord was a decent enough guy, if a little strange. Compared to his past landlords, the man was fine.

He turned onto his side and reached for his scroll. The constant reminders of the world's chaos had become unbearable. He needed a distraction and so, he went to surf. Scroll-net had gotten better since Royal and Imperial launched their satellites. His parents, living out in the boonies, certainly enjoyed a better connection to the world. It had even allowed them to start a small online business, selling their naturally grown produce directly to interested customers—whatever that term meant.

Peter was worried, though, that Royal and Imperial would price their satellite service outrageously. He'd understand—it was new technology, after all, and there'd be maintenance and operational costs. But to everyone's surprise, they priced it affordably, at just a hundred lien. His parents had to pay a little extra for the equipment to connect, but it was worth it.

Peter ran a hand through his hair, the weight of loneliness pressing down on him again. The silence of the apartment felt suffocating. He missed his family, yes, but it wasn't just them. It was the warmth of people. Of a life that wasn't so cold. 

As he scrolled through ScrollTube, his eye caught a new release. He checked the publisher—Royal and Imperial Entertainment. Whenever they released something, it was always good. He still remembered their Frontier series rifles. Gods, that was something. His brother wouldn't stop humming the damn theme. Curious, he clicked on the video and settled back on his bed as it loaded.

Then, the world seemed to shake as drums pounded, heavy and powerful. His heart beat in time as an elderly voice spoke, warningly.

"You should have acted."

Peter sat up as the drumbeats intertwined with flapping wings, evoking a sense of dread. Then came the sound of someone running, followed by the clinking of metal over stone. The screen flashed briefly with a familiar eagle, its wings outstretched and a stylized E emblazoned on its chest, before shifting to a view of something flying over a snow-covered forest.

"They're already here. The Elder Scrolls told of their return."

They? Who were they? Peter wondered, as the video showed a man in ancient armor running from something chasing him. It was interspersed with ancient stone mosaics depicting long-forgotten times. People like the man on screen, running.

"Their defeat was merely a delay. A delay until the time after Oblivion opened,"

The mosaics shifted to show three heroes under one sky, then to a stylized gate that, to Peter, just seemed...evil. Every instinct screamed at him to look away. The drums, the relentless flapping of wings—he felt an urge to run.

"When the sons of Skyrim would spill their own blood."

A scene of battle played out—men in blue and red locked in combat, even as the wings reached their crescendo. Peter thought they were fools. Speaking of fools, the camera shot overhead to reveal more of the fleeing man, now standing on a cliff.

"But no one wanted to believe. Believe they even existed."

A shadow loomed. Long, dark, draconic.

The man turned. The stone mosaics seemed to come to life—and to Peter's growing horror, they opened their eyes.

"And when the truth finally dawned…"

The screen returned to the trapped man, now facing a massive looming shadow. He drew his sword against it. Its steps were heavy, its breath deep. A growl rumbled from its lips, terrifying.

"It dawns in fire!"

The camera swung wide, revealing the beast in full—its massive wings unfurled, casting a dark shadow over the land. The dragon let out a roar that shook the screen, its jaws opening wide as it spewed fire, engulfing the man in flames. Peter's breath caught in his throat. A primal fear licked at his spine, as if the fire might leap out of the screen and burn him too. Surely, he was dead. Peter shook his head, ready to switch to another video—but the narrator's voice stopped him.

"But…"

The dragon roared in victory, but then froze. The man had lifted his shield, staring defiantly up at the dragon, fury in his eyes.

"There is one they fear."

Was that even possible? Peter thought. What could a dragon possibly fear? His question was answered when the man drew back, taking a deep breath. The dragon flapped its wings, recognition—and fear—in its eyes.

"In their tongue, he is Dovahkiin."

The air thickened. Peter felt the pulse of energy through the screen, a crackling force that sent a chill down his spine. The man stood tall, sword raised, shield firm. And then, with a breath that seemed to tear the air itself. The choir roared, belting out their lines to the cry of:

"DRAGONBORN!"

Peter watched as the video showed a mystical land—a land of adventure, snow-capped peaks, and rich life. A city overlooking a bay, ancient fortifications standing tall. Magic, far-reaching and powerful. Giants, wolves, and so much more. All set to triumphant music, celebrating the one, the so-called Dragonborn—the one who stood up to a dragon. And as the video ended, it showed him atop the dragon he had slain, light flashing as he absorbed its power. The music slowed, the last drumbeats like echoes in his chest. Peter couldn't look away as the man absorbed the dragon's power, his silhouette glowing with the energy of something far beyond human. For a moment, Peter felt...envious. Here was someone with a purpose, a clear path, even if it was just in a game. And Peter? He was just... floating, trying to make sense of a world that was slipping further into chaos as the Fleur were so passionate in proclaiming.

The video paused itself and Peter saw that it was a video game to be released. He had never played video games before. It was a distraction after all and back then, he had lived in the boonies where idle entertainment was not something most could turn to. But here in the city, where he had no one to talk to and a brief curfew to endure after work, well...why not indulge. It was not as if he'd make video games his whole lifestyle.

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Royal and Imperial Entertainment—my beloved propaganda arm. It had grown from a small studio with a central staff of film school graduates willing to put up with my ideas, to a full-fledged industry in its own right. From movies to music to video games, RIE had expanded into almost every corner of entertainment. Hearts of Iron was the first game we released, followed by Crusader Kings. We mostly focused on grand strategy games, carving out a niche market. It felt fitting for Royal and Imperial, considering our history in arms manufacturing. But as the years went by, I felt confident enough to branch out and capture a wider audience.

And what better time to do so?

The uncertainty in Mistral, the chaos in Vale's streets, the anger in Vacuo over its stolen resources—there was no better time to drop a fantasy role-playing game. I remembered from my past life that one of the reasons fantasy as a genre had grown so popular was because of the chaos that followed the fall of the Twin Towers. People needed an escape, something to pull them away from the mess surrounding them. What better time than now to release an immersive, open-world RPG in a fantasy setting, where everyone could be the Dragonborn saving the world?

I had considered releasing Oblivion or even Morrowind in chronological order, but between the two, Morrowind was too esoteric and alien. Oblivion, on the other hand, succeeded largely because it was released in tandem with Lord of the Rings. Speaking of which...

I had wanted RIE to produce Jackson's Lord of the Rings. I hadn't pursued it due to other business demands needing my attention. Cosmos, the renovations at Steyr—it seemed I only had so much time to devote to RIE, whose team was fairly content producing the scripts I sent their way. Call me a hack, and I'll admit it—I am a shameless one. But the media we create at Earth is vastly superior to anything Remnant has produced.

With the arms industry firmly under our control and Cosmos having had a successful run in recent years, I could afford to step back from RIE for a while. Arcenciel wanted me to take on the Fleur , and I was more than happy to oblige—while indulging in my own interests at the same time. The Fleur wants to highlight despair for their patron? I was going to answer that challenge with hope, while making a shit ton of money as well. 

​As much as I regret having to take an active role in trying to preserve the planet, it was just sensible. Salem's business model was to destroy the kingdoms. Gathering all the relics, summoning the Gods who'd fuck everything up. That, I cannot allow. 

This, all part of a widening plan, beyond the scope that Arcenciel wanted. I had already marshalled Solitas with my ideals. Now, I was going to go and pull the rug both from him and the Fleur. When the time comes that the enemy masks off, they will face a people hardened by propaganda and equipped with my arms. 

War is the best way an arms company shoots up in value after all. I suppose I should thank Cinder's idiocy. Her and Salem's other floozies are pushing the world to conflict. My presence here is just shifting things along. 

Steyr had been fully brought to speed. 

When Vale itself will be ready, they will demand war. Attack on Titan was doing its magic. Lord of the Rings will give them hope. Skyrim will make them Dragonborn. 

But first, to answer the actual anxieties with a little Wayland magic.

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A/N: Cinder's face when the Valean populace rallies against the Grimm instead of running away. 

From this point on, we will be doing more Alex centric things. Invasion of Mount Glenn coming up soon. Until then, we will be focusing on winning the hearts and minds from the Valeans while making a shit ton of money of course. Entertainment is one of them. Afterwards, even more entertainment.

Thank you all for your patience. This took a bit of some thinking.