Whitley Schnee sat in a decently nice chair, in VIP private meeting room number 1, on the second floor of the Skyfather Hotel & Resort, stuck in contemplation at 4:10 PM in the afternoon. Namely about the faunus with the odd name that he'd had to practice so as not to mess it up on meeting him, in case he really was a Gamemaster. A Gamemaster that his sister had convinced into tutoring him in everything for free. He had already tried and failed to sort through the heap of emotions that had brought up in him when he first heard of it, that Weiss had done this for him, a long while before this- so now he was simply wondering how someone not out of school yet himself could teach him, or even how he could be a Gamemaster in the first place.

Whitley certainly had some doubts relieved though, after hearing that around a fourth of the checks the tutor was going through were suggested by the man himself, and that if they went through all of them that they'd be just over half and a few hours longer.

Whitley, one of the odder ones that was rejected flickering through his mind, thought, "What in the world has he lived through that he considers the possibility of an assassin 'Hiding a container of poison in one of their bronchial tubes or lungs, retrievable through a practiced sharp exhalation or thin, near-invisible string tied to the molar teeth' to be a possibility at all, let alone one worth checking for? Did that actually happen to him at some point?"

Memnol would remember the look on Weiss's face when he first relayed that one, particularly the instant she considered he might be speaking from personal tactics. In that particular case he wasn't, although he had genuinely considered it a time or two before. After all, what kind of guards think to check the lungs, know how to check the lungs, and are willing to check the lungs? An unsurprisingly low number, to answer.

A few minutes later, Klein Sieben would let Memnol Elodyr into the room, nodding to Whitley that Memnol was cleared by the security team, though with his semblance he flashed his eyes from their normal Brown to Yellow and back once, and to green 3 times, signaling that they had found one piece of unexpected contraband they weren't sure of and 3 expected or unalarming pieces of contraband. Whitley made a slight adjustment to his left foot to point it away from the door, and Klein said, "Contact me when you're done, and try to make the most of this first session, Whitley."

Whitley kept on his usual friendly, partially child-like smile and said, "Thank you Klein, I'll do so."

Once Klein had left, Memnol was the first to speak as he said, "Pardon me, young Mr. Schnee, but I hope you don't mind if I simply take a few moments to secure the room, yes?"

Without waiting for Whitley's answer, Memnol got up and, facing away from Whitley, took three of his Greater Glyph Seals from an inner pocket of his Belt of Many Pockets, one of the seven inner pockets the previous security wasn't even aware of since they had simply asked him to empty his pockets without removing the belt, and keyed the glyphs in a particular way. The first Greater Glyph Seal, set on the door's left side, would go off if someone grabbed the doorknob without knocking at least twice, which would cast a Greater Bestow Curse on them, giving them a curse of poor luck such that it was much easier to land a particularly critical blow on them. The second glyph, set on the door's right side, was triggered to go off if they opened the door without anyone nearby saying the phrase "Come in" within the last two minutes, and hit them with a Demand spell, with the Suggestion in the spell being "Step out of the room, do not attempt to re-enter, send away anything or anyone else you brought, and always knock and wait before entering.". The third glyph, set on the bottom of Memnol's chair that he had walked back to, would trigger if someone directly or indirectly broke the chair and would trigger a Black Blade of Disaster spell on them. For those wondering what a Black Blade of Disaster is, imagine a Disintegrate in the form of a flying, sword-shaped, perfectly black planar rift that just kept attacking you over and over again. In Memnol's case, it would keep going for just over 3 solid minutes. Memnol quite liked the versatility of Glyph Seals, nearly impossible to spot, even with training, and just as difficult to disable if you could find them.

Then Memnol sat down after applying the last seal and said, "Pardon me, but as a Practitioner, I am simply most confident in my own defenses. As for what a Practitioner is, that will come just slightly later in the lesson, after introductions. For which, I have an exercise for us to do already. Rather than introduce ourselves to each other, we will introduce each other to any imagined third party, in the format of addressing the third party clearly to begin, then going on to the introduction. We will start each day with this, both for practice,"

At this Memnol paused and displayed the silver pendant with a small blue apple he otherwise had tucked under his Robes, one that Weiss normally wore but had lent him-

"And to confirm our identities, to a degree. It is only after we have introduced each other to a third party which is not present, will we get to any pleasantries both after this day, and indeed after the third sentence beyond this one. We will both give each other some moments of silence, at least eighteen seconds, so that the other may have the opportunity to start, but I will begin the introductions today and all odd-numbered days of the months, and you will begin the introductions tomorrow and all even-numbered days of the months. I will not negotiate this exercise to anything less, so by way of nodding or head shaking, am I understood and entirely clear on this?"

Whitley nodded, still managing to keep up his friendly appearance without overly much effort, helped partially by a growing feeling that his newest tutor was deliberately testing that, and some amount more of growing confidence that he truly might be a Gamemaster.

Memnol said, "Most excellent, and as said, I shall begin."

A solid eighteen seconds of silence passed, then Memnol turned over his left side and said to the open air, "Good afternoon Doctor Oobleck, this is Whitley Schnee, my student."

Whitley Schnee looked to his right and said to the open air, "Good afternoon Father, allow me to introduce Memnol Elodyr, my current tutor, as you know."

Memnol nodded, "Quite good. Now, I will begin with the basics of what a Practitioner is, as I believe that while I am not necessarily the last practitioner in the world, I am confident that there are at the absolute most approximately two-dozen in existence at this time, including myself eleven times. I will not explain that one. Do you know, intellectually, the basis of aura?"

Whitley said, only losing a moment or two to the seeming non-sequitur, "Yes, Hunters and some people in high-risk jobs use it as a form of protection. Aura is a manifestation of the soul, most often used to protect those who have it."

Memnol nodded, "Correct. Now, the way Hunters use Aura is very much different from the way Practitioners, such as myself, use Aura."

At this, Memnol gave the same explanation as before, how Practitioners discretely partition what would become their aura to the point where standard aura could break but Practitioners could still use their Pieces, how each piece was did something semblance-like, the sheer requirements to learn it on one's own, and so on.

Memnol said, "I trust you are understanding so far?"

Whitley said, "Yes, but if I may ask, why are you beginning with this extremely unique edge case, rather than say, Math or Literature? Isn't this, no offense, essentially just trivia about yourself?"

Memnol said, "It is because whether or not you accept an offer I will make shortly will radically alter how I teach you. I will say that to decline will lead to a far more standard method of teaching, though I believe far less effective. There is still one majorly important detail of being a practitioner that I believe will help explain, or at least allow you to believe, what I am offering."

At this, Memnol took out a simple piece of paper and two pens, red and black, and quickly wrote out a basic graph, only writing Time/Experience for X and Overall Individual Power for Y. Then he added a simple line with the red, going up at a steady rate from one side to another, and labeled it 'Standard Hunters/Warriors/Fighters/Semblances'.

Memnol looked at Whitley and said, "Tell me the most obvious thing you can notice mathematically about that red line."

Whitley quickly said, "It's a straight line, making it linear, with a constant change in growth."

Memnol said, "Quite correct, so let's just assign the basic function of Y equals X to that one."

Then Memnol added a second line, starting much lower than the red one, using the black pen, but it curved steeper and steeper as it went along, ending well higher than the red one.

Memnol said, "Again, what of this line?"

Whitley said, "It's exponential."

Memnol said, "Indeed, again arbitrarily let's assign the slightly more complicated Y equals X squared minus five. Now, I've been able to tell that you're a smart kid- While on my mind, how old are you precisely?"

Whitley said, "Fourteen, actually."

Memnol nodded, "For myself, Seventeen, utterly uncertain, and either seventeen or twenty, I can explain that in detail later. Regardless, as I was saying, you're clearly a smart kid, and not merely by comparison to others your age mind, using your foot as a signal to take advantage of my height to hide it is indeed rather clever, so I believe you've figured out by now what to label the black line, yes?"

Memnol handed over the pen as Whitley nodded, internally unsure how Memnol had caught him signaling Klien that he felt fine to be left alone, though with a solid extra jolt of certainty that Memnol was indeed a Gamemaster, and Whitley steadily wrote out in his usual finely practiced cursive "Practitioners/Pieces" to label the black line.

Memnol nodded, "Quite correct. I am among the most powerful of practitioners and have access to a very particular piece I would like to use on you. To preface before I introduce the piece, we can both agree that in standard education, a noticeable amount of any subject is simply memorization, even mathematics as it has many formulas and methods to remember, even PEMDAS for example is, ultimately, memorization. We are agreed?"

Whitley nodded, and Memnol continued, "I have a piece, the precise name of which I will not say, that will allow me to implant any number and time frame of memories into a nearby target's mind, which I can give perfect clarity. Memories of arguments never had, a day's outing with someone that never existed, an entire lifetime from toddlerhood to death, all with perfect clarity. I swear upon all the nine, the eye, the hand, Law, and my use of The Art itself, I hold no intention of implanting any of those or doing anything similar. However, by the open look on your face, as you've let your normal mask slip, young Mr. Schnee, I will let you take a guess as to what I am about to suggest."

Whitley quickly cleared his throat, put a hand behind his back, and said, "If I accept, you'll give me perfect memories of much of what I would need to memorize, mathematic formulas, grammar rules, and that like, correct?"

Memnol said, "Not merely 'much', everything you would memorize throughout the course of both this equivalent academic year at a high-end school and what you would memorize over the next year."

Memnol leaned forward and said, "What I am offering, Mr. Whitley Schnee, is the opportunity to save an incredible amount of time on memorization, so that way we can have more time for important matters. Namely, ensuring that you understand the actual application and use of that information, getting you used to calling up that memorized information so that way there's no, discernable at the least, time in recalling it so that you can apply it, and of course, The Game."

Memnol leaned back into an upright position and said, "Now then, I have been speaking for a good while, and I have just left you a major decision. I intend on leaving the room for around fifteen minutes to give you time to collect your thoughts and truly consider your choice, because it truly is that, your choice. Before I leave however, I give you one more choice, though far more minor: Lemonade or Grape Soda? You have ten seconds for that one."

Whitley Schnee, his mask and normal built-up self having been steadily worn down, blurted out in surprise, "You actually found grape soda somewhere?"

Memnol removed the 23rd and 24th sapphires from his band of Instant Summons sapphires on his arm, and while saying gibberish, at least to Whitley who didn't know the draconic word for grape, crushed the 23rd sapphire in his right hand, leaving a can of 'People Like Grapes' soda in its place. A quick repeat in the left hand, with the 24th sapphire and the draconic word lemon, left Memnol a can of lemonade.

Memnol set down the can of grape soda in front of Whitley, who currently hand a bit of a look on his face, before retrieving his dagger from its blotchy form on his arm, seeming to pull it from his sleeve to Whitley, and used that rather than the tab to open his own can of lemonade, before putting it back up his sleeve and re-casting the Silent Absorb Weapon with just a few gestures. With a wink and a smile so utterly cheeky that it could be seen even on that face, Memnol left the room, quietly knocking on the door and muttering "Come in" on his way out, not bothering to look at Whitley's new and utterly stumped expression.

It had been a minute since his new tutor left and Whitley, looking at the unopened can of grape soda clearly cold enough to have condensation on it, could only come to the conclusion that he was, if not a Gamemaster, than absolutely far better with The Game than him. Whitley had realized that the only times he had spoken in the past while were times he was prompted, even his attempt to question why he brought up The Art at all had only either played into his hands or he had managed to spin it to his favor so quickly that he didn't need to pause. That or Memnol had figured that a question like that might pop up.

For a moment, the hand Whitley had behind his back started to reach for his scroll, to call his father and tell him at least something. How the security measures failed to stop his tutor from bringing in a dagger, the deal his tutor just offered him, but then Whitley's hand stopped, as that little bit of emphasis reared itself into Whitley's head. It was his choice. With that in mind, Whitley thought about everything he had heard for a while.

After a few minutes of thought, Whitley got up, stretched out, then sat back down and started to slowly enjoy the grape soda. He noticed it tasted a bit different from the typical Atlesian 'People Like Grapes', and chalked it up to regional recipe differences.

A few minutes later, Memnol knocked on the door three solid times, whispered "Come in,", and sat down across from Whitley. When Whitley was about to speak, Memnol held up one finger.

After some while of silence, Memnol faced left and said, "Your attire is quite catching, Ms. Adel, this is Whitley Schnee, the student I'm tutoring."

Whitley kept himself from rolling his eyes, faced the air, and said, "It is good to see you in pleasant health, Mr. Stone, this is Memnol Elodyr, my current tutor."

Memnol nodded, "Grand. What have you decided?"

Whitley gave his most confident smile and said, "I'll go with the method you think is best, and let you use the Piece on me."

Memnol said, "Now that you've decided, allow me to say, I was right to believe you were already rather smart. I just need you to remain within the room for the next ten minutes. I will not mind if you check your scroll or play a game or something, just make certain that it doesn't run the risk of distracting me, as I only prepared the one use for today."

Ten minutes later as Whitley Schnee was idly checking his messages, Memnol said, "Now then, Whitley Schnee!"

Whitley quickly put away his scroll and said, "Yes?"

Memnol said, "Where in the Dan decimal system would I find ancient Atlesian slash Mantlean mythology passed down through oral tradition?"

Whitley looked confused for a moment, but after searching through his memories, found a memory with his vision completely overtaken by space with all its stars, and with four intact moons which looked rather odd to him, and in that single fraction of a moment in the memory he just knew that-

Whitley said with some shock in his tone, "Ancient Mantlean oral mythology is found under two-hundred and ninety-three point one three in the Dan decimal system."

Memnol smiled and said, "I am glad to see the Piece worked. With that out of the way, we should have the rest of the hour and quarter, before we both need to leave for dinner and the rest of our days, to help you bring it up quicker and quicker."

What followed for the rest of the session was Memnol quizzing Whitley with random questions that steadily got more and more specific, and less and less related.

Before they split ways, Whitley asked, "Also, what were the three responses earlier about?"

Memnol said, "Ah, In order, chronological, mental, and physical ages."

Whitley would consider on his way to the Schnee Mansion that Memnol felt it was necessary to make that distinction. The rest of the day, by comparison, was far less eventful for either of them, as Memnol simply messaged Weiss that the introductions had gone well before returning to making the dress, and Whitley confirmed to his father that Memnol was, by all means he could tell, a Gamemaster, absolutely effective as a tutor, and definitely not out to kill him.

For everyone beyond the three Schnees, Klein, and Memnol however, it was just any other Monday. Well, a young faunus man named Sun Wukong had a moment where he accidentally fell asleep during lunch and woke up surprisingly sore, at least as far as his own memories went.