Here we are, the first actual chapter. Now, be warned. This chapter is really religion heavy, and if you're here to see Jaune do some heroic, knightly things, we are not quite there yet.
"Induction"
Jaune Arc dreaded his birthdays.
You wouldn't think it possible for a child only six years of age, but he managed it.
Oh, how easily he managed it.
It wasn't that he disliked birthdays or his family, per say.
What he disliked was the chaos that followed his family around like a lost puppy with a bad case of rabies, but despite that, he still tried to love them in his own way.
The current problem was partly that the chaos followed them to each and every birthday/social gathering visited by the Arcs. Including his.
But like he said, that was only part of the problem.
You see, Jaune disliked being the center of attention, especially when being that center meant being surrounded by a maelstrom of cheer and chaos and noise so wild it hurt his head just thinking about it.
After all, even Jaune knew that he wasn't normal for a kid his age.
A kid his age should running free, doing stupid things and then learning from their mistakes, so that they are better prepared when they next do something stupid.
Jaune was perfectly fine not running headlong into mistakes of his own making.
Other kids were loud and noisy, or at least voiced their complaints.
Jaune knew that the only way he was going to get any peace and quiet was if he was the peace and quiet. It was part of the reason his clothing always blended in, rather than clashing with the other colors in the household. At least, excluding the colors his family wore.
His sister Amy, who was only a year older than him, had commented that he had all the emotional capacity of a potato, in words not so elegant.
He simply told her that he would rather be compared to a rock. Rocks were less likely to get smashed in a maelstrom, like, say, the one known as the entire Arc family minus Jaune.
God, he envied rocks. He tried not to, but he couldn't resist. Their lives were so deliciously simple.
Emotions would simply swing him to and fro, simply adding more chaos to his already overly eventful life. So, he took stock of how he felt about something, and then filed that information away for further analyzation at a later time.
Despite all this, his family seemed to think that the solution to his problems was more noise.
Now, were it any other Arc's birthday, it wouldn't be an issue.
He would quietly give whatever gift he had made/found/stolen/regifted-with-a-different-paint-job, and then slink off into the eye of the storm, so his family would think he was participating even though he was actually in heaven in everything but soul and body.
However, his family refused to let him just quietly slink away into his happy place on his birthday.
If they got him a game, they wanted to play it with him. If they got him a book, they would creepily watch him read it, or read it over his shoulder. If they gave him a giftcard, they would insist they be there every step of the way to spending it. He was willing to bet that if they gave up and gave him money (like he actually asked for), they would have him keep it where everyone could stare at it (and possibly steal it).
He understood that it was their way of showing him affection, and he could appreciate the sentiment.
He couldn't, however, appreciate it to the point where he enjoyed it like everyone else seemed to.
Seriously, if they wanted him to know they loved him, they could show it by allowing him his peace and quiet when he wanted it, and giving him love and affection when he needed it, but noooo.
They seemed intent to surround him with everything he hated, year after year after year.
The noise, the chaos, the gifts that only got stranger and harder to regift every year, and did he mention the noise?
But this year, he had a plan.
He wasn't go to tell them to stop, no. Down that path laid only regrets, emotional outbursts, and possible visits to the shrink.
So instead, he was simply going to leave the house, and go for a nice, quiet walk.
He would hop out of his bedroom window, do the roll he had been perfecting for a whole week, and be on his merry way for a nice walk in the woods.
Provided he stayed near the house, he would be fine. After all, what Grimm would want to mess with a family like the Arcs? A family that had at least three strong huntsman in the household at any one time?
Of course, plans are made to go wrong. As he was learning the hard way.
He wasn't sure how, he wasn't sure when . . .
But the fact that he was staring at a lone Beowolf was the first sign that the plan had gone awry. Mission failure. Game over.
At least it looks young. Maybe it won't be capable of killing me instantly?
Apparently, the Beowolf found itself thinking something similar, as it wasted no time leaping at him.
Jaune crouched low, holding his arms above him to protect his head, and darted forward, underneath the leaping Beowolf.
He hissed when the Beowolf's back claw scratched across his forearm.
Ignore. File away pain. Keep running.
Jaune knew he had to keep running. He was still small, far better equipped to move through the closely pack trees that surrounded them than the young Beowolf.
Jaune barely managed to avoid stumbling when the Beowolf nicked him across his back.
He kept running. Looking for a way out.
Eventually, he found it.
Running into a clearing, he saw two things.
A tree branch laying on the ground that was as thick as his arm and held a sharpened edge, and at the end of the clearing, a large rock that he reckoned he could barely lift.
Running, he grabbed the tree branch and stuck it into the ground, pointy end up, and faced his back to the big rock so he could see the results of his work.
As expected, the Beowolf stuck a paw onto the branch.
What wasn't expected was that the branch went straight through the paw, effectively impaling it.
The Beowolf let out a roar of what sounded like pain.
Jaune wasted no time, grabbing the rock, and rushing forward to smash it upon the beasts head.
The beast saw him coming, however.
And so, as he heaved the rock above his head, the creature slashed across his stomach.
With a gasp, Jaune dropped the rock onto the creature's head.
With a sickening splat, the rock completely destroyed the creature's head. The Grimm then fell forward, awkwardly as the tree branch was still firmly upright.
Stumbling back, Jaune landed with his back against a nearby tree.
Cradling his stomach, Jaune didn't even bother to look.
He knew he would regret it if he did.
And as Jaune sat there, he realized something.
For once in his life, it was far too quiet.
There was no wildlife around, scared away by the struggle.
There was no wind to make noise as it caressed the grass and trees.
And all of his emotions were safely filed away, like usual.
This wasn't peace and quiet.
This was emptiness.
So this is what true peace is like, then? Tch.
Here he was, bleeding out like any number of fools who played around with Grimm, and he had nothing to show for it.
No sound.
No chaos.
No emotion.
Just this peace, this emptiness.
So, he was pleasantly surprised when the sound of disturbed shrubbery interrupted his musings.
Turning to look at the source of the sound, he quickly filed away the emotion he felt under the category of awe.
The person-he couldn't tell the gender-wore the heaviest armor he had ever seen. Standing at what looked like six-feet tall, they had a helmet, heavy pauldrons, a shining breastplate, gauntlets . . .
The person before him dressed as an ancient knight, and not only that, but they seemed to wear the armor like it was little more than skin.
Surveying the area, and seeing the remains of the dead Beowolf, the person turned to him, and, after a moment of what seemed like hesitation, removed their helm.
It was a man. His face seemed like it was made entirely of angles, and his eyes made him think of a tsunami, an endless blue that threatened to swallow him. And then, there was his hair.
It was short and cropped, but that wasn't what was noteworthy. It was that his hair was completely white.
The knight moved towards him, and then kneeled and offered him a gauntlet covered hand.
"My name's Turk. What's yours, little man?"
Grabbing his hand and giving it a light shake, Jaune replied.
"Jaune Arc."
The man gave him a smile. It looked shaky, unsure. Like he wasn't used to making such a complicated expression.
Jaune could relate.
The man quickly drew him to his feet. Jaune stood, albeit shakily.
"Care to come with me to the church? We can get those scratches of yours looked at."
Jaune scoffed.
"I don't think I have enough guts left in me to refuse, sir."
The man let out a chuckle. It sounded suspiciously like he was breaking rocks between his teeth.
"Indeed. Then let us be off."
The man put a hand on Jaune's back, and began to move.
Jaune knew what he was doing.
He was trying to save his pride by allowing him to walk seemingly by himself.
Jaune found himself not minding.
After all, his pride got filed away just like anything else.
Jaune had been recovering in the church for about six days now. Admittedly, recovering was a strong word, considering his wounds were already fully scarred over.
But more than that, he found himself feeling . . . content. And he knew why.
He had found what he had been looking for. A peace and quiet that wasn't empty.
No matter where you went in the church, you could find something filling the air.
Contemplation. Faith. Duty. Honor. Knowledge.
Everyone walked with purpose. Even the Seekers did, and they were destined to leave this place for at least ten years.
The priests dedicated themselves to healing, and it showed. Whether they were speaking, moving, or actually using their abilities, they had one goal in mind. Healing.
The scholars took their time. They always seemed to be analyzing everything they saw, as if every single stone could hold within the knowledge they sought, if they would only pay attention.
And the knights. They carried themselves not with pride, but with a sort of understanding. Like they were in on a inside joke, but the joke had stopped being funny a few hundred repetitions ago.
And the Templars were representations. They each had a Name that described who they were under their god's watchful eye, and the Names were uncannily accurate.
Turk was one of these Templars, and his Name of White (as these titles were called) was Tide. When he exercised the ways of war, he struck with force, and then pulled back, and then struck again, wearing away his enemy's defense with a grace and ease that said he had all the time in the world.
And what united all these people . . . it was Faith, and yes, it needs the capital F.
It was tangible, really. How connected these people were.
It was strange how something as simple as a shared faith could make people seem so close. Make them feel like they belonged. Because, in the end, they did. From the highest priest to the lowest knight, they all belonged. It didn't matter to them how differently they carried the Faith. No matter how many differences they had, they belonged.
Jaune found it enviable.
After all, while he loved his family, it was . . . forced. He loved them because he knew he had to, after all they did for him. But he never truly felt like he belonged.
In the end, while they would never say it to his face, or even to each other, he knew. They had been trying to 'fix' him. Make him just another Arc.
And sure, maybe given enough time, he would have become just another Arc, maybe he would have even enjoyed it.
But that wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want to give in, to give up on who he was just because others thought he was broken in some way.
He wasn't broken. He just was.
It was these thoughts that led him to where he was now, in front of the council chambers. While the council wasn't in session at the moment, there was always someone of importance there, like it was some sort of unspoken agreement in the church that somebody important needed to be where someone could find them at all times.
Jaune opened the doors, and wasn't surprised when they closed behind him.
He was pleasantly surprised by whom he found there, however.
The man before him was the eldest priest, Theon. He was old, older than even his hunched back, wrinkled skin, and white beard told. It was said he had forgotten more about healing than any ten leading doctors in the world were likely to ever know.
But that wasn't why Jaune liked him.
Most in the order thought he was just a crazy old man. In fact, almost everyone in the order thought he was a crazy old man.
But Jaune knew better.
The man before him simply had a different perspective than most, after all, he had lived for hundreds of years. And he spent almost all of those years helping others through problems of one sort or another.
And that's why when he first met Jaune, he laughed.
Originally, Theon had wanted to see the boy Turk had brought in, the boy who had just taken down a young Beowolf without Aura and, provided someone took care of his injuries, would live to tell the tale.
Theon saw right through him, and laughed at his problems. It wasn't mean or mocking, but just delighted. Delighted that people still had simple problems. And afterwards, he healed his wounds, a fact that many in the order found surprising, as Theon was known to let the younger priests gain experience by healing in his place. Not surprising enough to stop them from kneeling and praying before the sight, however. Healing was considered a holy act by the Way of White, after all.
At first, Jaune didn't get the joke. Then, as he spent more time around the old man, he began to smile as Theon regaled him stories twisted by his sense of humor. The smile sometimes turned into chuckling, and then the chuckling sometimes turned into laughter.
After all, his problems were simple. He wanted to remain himself, like so many before him. So, Theon had given a simple answer to a simple problem. All he had to do was find something to act as an anchor for him. Something to allow him to finally become the stone that stood against the forces that aimed to destroy it.
And Jaune had finally found what it was he wanted to hold him steady.
Faith.
Upon entering the room, Theon's gaze had immediately settled on him. The man had always seemed to know what Jaune was thinking, though even he had trouble telling what Jaune was feeling.
So did Jaune, honestly. At this point he filed away his emotions so fast, he'd miss them if he wasn't paying attention.
In this situation, however, there were only two logical things he could have felt. Anxiety and excitement.
Or maybe he really didn't feel anything for this situation.
He didn't know. Didn't really find any meaning in knowing either.
Jaune kneeled, one hand on his right knee with the other on the floor.
"Priest Theon." Jaune greeted.
In the Way of White, referring to someone by the title of their sect was a sign of respect, and also a sign of serious conversation.
Theon merely chuckled.
"I figured this day would come, though it came a little sooner than I expected. Couldn't have waited an hour or two more, brat? Old men like me lose credibility when we're wrong about things like this, you know."
Jaune resisted the urge to smile. While Theon's tone was teasing, the tension that had entered the room could be cut with a knife. This was no time to lose his cool.
Apparently sensing his seriousness, Theon's smile disappeared, his face assuming a neutral expression.
"Our god is named White, and we consider him the one and only. Do you know why this is?"
Jaune shook his head. No matter how many times he asked, he never got the specifics of what they believed in. Just a simple 'maybe later' or 'another time, perhaps'.
"In essence, it's because when others showed their hatred, he showed them compassion. When others chose death, he chose life. When others howled with wrath, he displayed mercy."
Theon's face took on a look Jaune had only seen once before.
It was reverence.
It was the same look he had worn when he had first used his powers to heal him.
"He was born a simple boy. A boy who was raised by poor parents in a poor village plagued by evil. As He grew, He saw theft, rape, murder, and so much more. Yet, He also witnessed prayer. Faith. At first, He couldn't believe his eyes. The people had tried to barter peace with their villains, and had failed. The people had tried to fight back against their oppressors, and failed. They had even offered sacrifice to those who would do them harm, and still, their efforts were in vain. And so, they turned to prayer. They prayed to the gods daily. They offered anything they could spare, from gold to bread and so much more. And yet still, the gods did not listen. But the people continued to pray, even after years of silence. After all, what other options did they have? Seeing this injustice, the One swore vengeance upon the gods. He swore that He would rise up, and use the very virtues the gods ignored to enter the heavens. And so began His journey, His journey to show the gods his truth. The journey lasted ten years. He brought people together by taking on their anger and hatred, and showing them love and compassion, showing them healing. He saved the downtrodden and the hopeless by showing them life where before they saw only death, He taught them that knowledge could be found everywhere. He fought combatants, and when He won, he showed them mercy, where they would have shown him wrath, teaching them that war was not based on death, but on understanding. And in the end, when the gods struck down the stairway to heaven, His followers came, and together, they lifted Him into the heavens. And as the gods showed Him anger and hatred, He showed them love and compassion, and when they cursed Him to death, He merely told them of life, and when they struck out in wrath, He stopped them and showed them mercy. And when the gods bowed before Him, begging for forgiveness, He told them the truth He had found. That they could not truly repent until they understood their evil. For as He journeyed, He had come to realize something. When He showed compassion, people had hated became compassionate, when He showed people life, those who used to only see death showed others life, and when He showed mercy, people accustomed to wrath became merciful. He had only to show them another way. And were He to simply forgive the gods, they would simply go on making the same mistakes, as they did not truly understand that what they did was wrong. When people only embody virtues, they begin to lose sight of why virtues are necessary. For it is through the actions of evil that we learn the value of doing good. And so, He did not show the gods the good they craved, but the evil they needed. He cast them down to earth without their powers and with nothing but the rags on their backs, so they could understand the evil they had created, and the good He had fought for. And through this, the gods learned that for them to receive forgiveness, they had to understand why they needed forgiveness in the first place. Through this was balance restored, and through balance, the good finally began to turn back the tide of evil, as White had wished for. And as the former gods lingered on earth, spreading understanding, falling in love, and growing old, White became celebrated as the One True God."
As the story finally wound to close, Jaune looked up, and saw in Theon something he had never seen before.
Youth.
It looked as if the man had regained years of his life simply by telling a story.
Jaune could see why. He was sure that the story he had just heard would follow him for the rest of his life.
Then, Theon strolled towards him, and clasped Jaune's hands together.
"Now, Jaune. Close your eyes, and tell me the truth of what you have heard."
Jaune did just that.
"I learned of understanding."
"Explain."
"I learned that to show true compassion, you must first understand hate. I learned that to show people the value in life, you must first understand the value of death. I learned that to truly understand mercy, you have to understand wrath."
Jaune took a deep breath before continuing.
"I learned that when people who were only shown hatred are shown compassion, they come to understand the value of healing. That when those who know only death are shown life, they will see the value in learning how to live. That when the wrathful are shown mercy, they will know that war is a means of understanding differences, that peace can only be obtained when you embrace what makes you different."
And then, Jaune felt it. The Faith he had in the words he was speaking.
"For it is by sinking to lowest depths that we begin to reach for the highest clouds. For it is through overcoming hatred that we learn of healing, and the value of compassion. By overcoming death, that we learn of knowledge, and the value of life. By overcoming wrath, we learn of mercy, and the value of understanding. For it is through these that we gain the Faith that allows us to face our darkest demons. And by facing our demons, we learn the truth of who we are. Through these words, I will become my truth, the one to hold back the endless night and shepherd the ones yet to see the light of their own truth."
When Jaune opened his eyes, he wasn't surprised when he saw himself surrounded in a glow. Opening his hands, he saw something, and knew immediately that it was of his own creation.
It was a perfectly circular stone of the whitest marble, lightly wrapped in thread of the purest white. The necklace fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. His relic of the faith.
Instinctively, he put it right below his neck, and watched as the thread extended to wrap lightly around his neck.
The stone felt warm and comforting, a solid representation of his faith.
He had been wondering why no two people had the exact same relic in the Way of White, and now he knew why.
They were based on the individual.
Theon let out a hearty laugh.
"It has been a while since someone activated their Aura through nothing but their own Faith. Congratulations Jaune, and welcome to the order."
Jaune held his relic between his fingers, enjoying the feel of it. He let out a smile.
He then looked behind him, and realized that, at some point, he had gathered an audience.
All the eyes he saw were welcoming.
Jaune only had one response. Only needed one.
"I'm home."
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