Since Clark wasn't willing to impose on national governments, the most effective method of supporting humanitarian causes on Remnant was for him to spend money on them. A lot of it.

However, Clark had also agreed in his Accords to refrain from engaging in a number of private enterprises. Even so, there were still a few options available to him. In fact, Jacques Schnee had suggested the way that Clark was currently pursuing by speaking to a trademark attorney.

"Here you go, Superman." Across the table, Cyril Gould passed over a few forms which he'd taken out of his briefcase.

Cyril was an attorney in his mid-forties who Ironwood had recommended to help Clark trademark both the Superman name and the crest of the House of El. They had chosen a nondescript building near Atlas Academy for their meeting, otherwise they would have been pestered by a mob of journalists.

It had been a pleasant talk, Cyril had some degree of awe for Clark, but the lawyer was able to stay professional and describe the trademark process to Clark. It was mostly just to satisfy Clark's curiosity though, he wouldn't have to do much. Cyril and his team would take care of the process of not just trademarking his name in Atlas but also internationally.

Clark held up the papers, typical trademark application forms he supposed, and filled them out with information about him and what he was applying for trademarking. He read through them in a split-second, confirming all the information. He took slightly longer to fill in his signature wherever it was need. There was a limit to how much speed the paper could take and how much ink the pen could give out at a time.

"Here you go," Clark handed the papers back to Cyril.

The attorney accepted them and put them back in his briefcase. "Thank you. Just a reminder, sir. The process normally takes months, but in your case I'm sure we can speed it up so that we can have it done in a handful of weeks."

Clark nodded. "Good. Also, when it's done, I'd like to be consulted before any legal action is taken against anyone who's already using my symbol or name. I'd prefer incorporating any existing businesses selling products with my name rather than suing them into nonexistence, or however it goes."

Cyril chuckled. "Something like that. I'll make sure to contact you for those cases."

"Thank you. It was nice meeting you, I'll be heading off now." Clark waved goodbye and when he left the door, he flew up.

\\

Arthur Watts acknowledged that Salem's Seer Grimm had several advantages over modern video calls. They were unhackable, unjammable, and untraceable with modern technology. Unlike the radio signals sent by computers, they didn't need a CCT or other signal repeater to reach across Remnant. The magical alternative was superior to the technological in many respects, at least for now.

However, there was one significant disadvantage to using a Seer. It was a Grimm, which meant that the danger of discovery was high. Lionheart had kept one in a secret room at Haven, but Arthur had no authority here, nor any convenient secret hiding places for even a small Grimm. That was why he had to trek out miles into the snow, away from the town he planned to stay at for the few months, in order to have a conversation with Salem.

It was at times like these when Arthur wished that he could use video calls instead. However, any signal going from Atlas' CCT to Salem's castle deep in the land of Grimm, even through a convoluted path through intervening transmitters in other nations, would be noticed, so one had to make do with the tools at hand.

The Seer Grimm which had been concealed in a cleft in the snow-covered rock floated out in front of him. Already, the image of Salem was present on its smooth surface. She sat on her throne, candles lit in the dark room of the castle.

"It is good to see you, ma'am." Arthur bowed in head in respect. "However, I have bad news."

She scowled. "What is it?"

"The Relic of Knowledge, I've discovered where they've hidden it. Superman took it to the moon."

"The moon?" she asked. "Are you certain?"

"Ironwood left a message online which would be meaningless to anyone but me. It was very clear that Superman had agreed to fly up and leave it there."

Salem scoffed, less skeptical than indignant now. "And I suppose he didn't bother to include the specific location on the moon where it was placed?"

"No, he didn't. Would that help us?"

"No." Salem scowled and looked up, as though she could see the moon through the castle walls.

Silence weighed on Arthur for a while. He was normally a patient man, but acquiring the Relics was the key to Salem's plans. He needed to know what their next step was, how they would react to this bizarre situation, with one of the Relics hundreds of thousands of miles away in space.

"Ma'am," Arthur spoke softly. "Is there a magical method we could use to acquire the Relic of Knowledge from the moon?"

Finally, she looked back down to him. Arthur almost regretted asking his question when it had resulted in those red eyes boring into him.

"There is not," she answered. "If there were such a convenient spell, I would have used it the moment the Relic was removed from its vault."

"Then, what will we do now? Focus on the other Relics? Is there a way to retrieve the Relic of Knowledge?"

"I will be forthright with you, Arthur. This is a major stumbling block on our path to victory, but not one that is impossible to overcome. Yes, for now we will focus on obtaining the other Relics, but in the end we will have them all."

Her hand, the one that had been resting on her throne, clenched into a fist. "And then we will make Ozpin and his pet alien suffer."

\\

At around five in the evening, Clark flew down to the Atlas Academy library and raced through its halls. There were some students inside, but it was far from crowded, so Clark could fly by their stationary bodies with little danger of bumping into any of them. Finally, he entered a door which had been left open waiting for him.

When he passed through the door and came to a stop, Weiss, who'd been standing in the room ready for him, gave a slight flinch at his sudden appearance. It was a minor reaction, typical for people used to his speed, even when they were expected it. Weiss was more subdued than Ruby or Yang though, Clark doubted that anyone without enhanced vision could have seen the tension enter and then leave Weiss' body.

She closed the door behind him and gestured for him to sit down at the table, which he did. Weiss took the seat across from him and almost immediately leaned forward eagerly and asked:

"So, how did your meeting with my father go?"

"Well, he wasn't happy about my insistence that I'm not going to endorse the SDC in ads or otherwise." Clark summarized the conversation between him and her dad.

"So it was just as I'd said." She crossed her arms. "Jacques Schnee is a greedy unscrupulous man who only thinks of his company."

"Even so, he did bring up one good point. Weiss, how experienced are you at executive or administrative roles in the Dust industry?"

Her confidence faltered. "I . . . not much. Actually, not at all. I was too focused with huntress training and then attending Beacon."

"What about after the Vytal Festival?"

Weiss gave him a pointed look. "I was somewhat distressed after the attack and certainly not in the right mindset to think about gaining business experience."

Clark held up his hands in defense. "Hey, I'm not blaming you for that. But Weiss, if you don't have any training in the industry, I think you should reconsider trying to become the SDC heiress."

"And leave it to Whitley? No, I will have to learn what I can when I get the position." At Clark's skeptical look, she said, "I know, I know. I'm not an idiot. Being the CEO of a company like the SDC isn't something you learn 'on the job', but what other choice do we have?"

"Would it really be so bad trying to convince Whitley to use the SDC's resources for good? It's not like we're hurting for time. Barring some accident or disease, your dad will probably be the CEO for at least a few more decades. Convincing him is more important at the moment than his successor."

"Exactly, my father is a healthy man in his late forties, and even if he weren't, he could easily afford the best medical care in the world. There's still plenty of time for me to gain business acumen."

"Okay, then do you have any plans to get your foot into the Dust industry?"

"I . . ." Weiss' expression said it all.

"And I doubt that Whitley is going to wait politely for you to build up your resume. Since your dad is favoring him as the heir of the SDC, he's probably going to get better positions than you are. Not to mention he can do that full-time, while at best you're splitting your schedule between earning your huntress license and whatever you can find in the Dust industry without your dad setting up a good spot for you."

Weiss leaned back in her chair, a more pensive expression had replaced her indignation at her father and brother. "You're right. It does make more sense to have Whitley as the heir to the SDC than me. My time at Vale didn't help matters either, it only helped him become more suitable for the role. But that's just the current situation."

Passion re-entered her gaze. "I still have plenty of time to catch up and exceed Whitley. My team is in a unique position where after a few months, we have the chance to prove ourselves and gain our licenses early. After that, I can apply far more of myself to positions within the Dust industry."

"Yeah, but do you think you can find ones that are as good as Whitley's?"

She sighed. "If I make up with my father, I think I'll be able to ask him for one."

Clark approved. While he didn't know the specifics of the relationship Weiss had with her dad, it was a show of maturity to swallow her resentment of him to achieve her goal. "When do you plan to do that?"

"Team RWBY's evaluation is in four months. I'll reconcile with him before then and have a position lined up right after we pass."

"I like the optimism, but what if you don't pass?"

"Well first, if we failed because someone in my team didn't put in the effort, there'll be hell to pay." From anyone else, Clark would have thought that was a joke, but she'd said it in such a matter-of-fact tone that he was sure she was serious. "By then, I'll try to ask my father for an internship or something that I can still somehow balance with my schoolwork. Hopefully we'll get another chance after another few months instead of going through all four years of school like the other students."

"Could you also try reconciling with your brother?"

Weiss scowled. "I would prefer not to. Is that necessary?"

"I don't feel like we can rely on your dad to just offer you something good when he's already decided to make Whitley his heir. If Jacques isn't going to help you out, I'd hope that you could try to convince Whitley to do more for the faunus or other charitable causes."

"Convincing my father to give me a position isn't as unlikely as you might think. He'd probably think it's better to keep me around to stop Whitley from getting complacent, even if he doesn't plan to reinstate me as heiress at all."

"But doesn't that mean you getting your father to find you a role in his company isn't much of a guarantee that you can convince him to make you heiress again?"

"Yes," she admitted. "Fine, I'll certainly try to get back on good terms with Whitley again, even if I'd rather not."

"Thank you."

Weiss shook her head. "Please, I should be the one thanking you. You're the only one with a direct line to my father who's on my side, and you've pointed out that I needed to take action to have a chance at becoming heiress again. So, thank you very much."

She stood up and extended her hand. He got to his feet as well and shook her hand.

"I expect you're busy, so I won't take up more of your time. I have to plenty to do as well if I want to be in a secure position to get my license in four months."

They exchanged polite goodbyes. Clark left first, zooming out faster than any human eye could see. His schedule was actually less filled than usual. He had a lesson in Kryptonian sociology in about forty-five minutes, then it was a meeting with some of Vale's officials on more details of their Superman Accords.

When he had some free time alone, he often went to explore some of Remnant's sights. There were plenty of picturesque locations which couldn't be matched on Earth. Lake Matsu in Mistral, for example, was a region with natural floating islands due to the gravity Dust in the region.

Clark had only seen it briefly when he'd helped kill the Lancers attacking Weiss back when he'd met her. He hadn't been able to fly back then, but now he was the perfect tourist for it. So he flew back to the islands, taking a leisurely route that took about a minute.

Well, as leisurely as crossing continents at hundreds of times the speed of sound could be.

It was closer to noon at the islands, and since they were further south the sun rose much higher than it did in Atlas this time of year. Even beyond the fact that the islands were floating, a minor investigation into the wildlife would have shown that Remnant was very different from Earth. Not the Grimm, Clark smacked the few of those left here into dark clouds of dissolving dust. The true animal life here was breathtaking.

Enormous bats bigger than Clark hung by their hooked feet and slept by the dozens in their roosts. There were varieties besides just black, such as dark green and blue. Green lizards smaller than Clark's pinky had webbing across their limbs and tail which allowed them to ride the winds across the islands. Sometimes a few of them would snatch up clouds of insects on their tongues, which expanded into round surfaces almost as large as themselves. He even saw a few monkeys using leaves as parachutes to drop down to other islands, and then one or two clung to stray pieces of Gravity Dust which floated them up.

This was Remnant, an exotic world strangely similar to Earth but also very different. Clark's stay here could last years, even if he devoted himself to learning Kryptonian physics fulltime and discovered a way to return home.

And it was at times like these when he felt that he didn't really mind that much.