Jaune Arc was a soldier.

Emphasis on "was."

As he stood there, clad only in his boxer shorts before two strangers, he didn't know what he was anymore. Stunned, to be sure, as all that he'd known had just disintegrated before his eyes. A little drafty as well, due to his abrupt lack of pants. That could be a problem moving forward. Well, that and the fact that Jaune Arc simply didn't have the slightest clue as to what he was meant to do after The General had stripped him of his armor, shattered his weapons in front of him, and told him in no uncertain terms to get out.

So it was with both confusion and no small amount of relief that one of the VIP's that The General had invited to oversee his evaluation had offered him a place in his school.

"Am I to follow your orders now...sir?" Jaune asked, unsure as to where the stranger - or himself, for that matter - stood on the chain of command.

The stranger took another sip from his mug. "Well, young man, that depends on what you want."

"What I want, sir?"

"Indeed. My name is Professor Ozpin, and I am the Headmaster of Beacon Academy, the finest institution for higher education and the training of Huntsmen in the world. The school year is beginning in two weeks, and I believe that there is much that you could gain from the experience. Furthermore, you could be of great service to the people of Remnant by putting your skills to use in their defense."

Jaune blinked. "As a Huntsman, sir?"

"As you say. But before you give me an answer, I would like to pose a question to you. Why is it that you refused General Ironwood's final order to you?"

"I…" for the first time, Jaune faltered as he searched for an explanation. "The dog is important to someone. When The General gave his order…" his hand clenched into a fist at his side. "All I could think of was that Weiss would never forgive me. If I were to turn on someone that loves me without condition. And I...I just...I couldn't, sir. It would break her heart. She loves that dog."

"And you love her," Ozpin noted. It wasn't a question.

Jaune gazed, despondently, at the floor. "The Vanguard does not know fear. Or love. There is only duty. I failed that duty today."

"If I wanted a teenage robot, I would have toured the other project."

Arc looked up sharply. "You know about Penny?"

"And you do?"

"I haven't seen Penny in years, not since her 1.01 update. She was an...enthusiastic partner on a few missions."

"Are you sure you should be discussing this?" Glynda asked the Headmaster, concerned.

Ozpin sipped from his cup once more. Distantly, Jaune wondered what it was the man was drinking so incessantly. "Now, now, Glynda. If The General neglected to attain a legally-binding Non-Disclosure Agreement from young Jaune here before so rudely dismissing him in a fit of pique, well, that's hardly the boy's fault, now is it?" He winked at Jaune, setting the young soldier at ease. "Back to more pressing matters, though. The dossier that General Ironwood provided for us was quite extensive as it pertained to your abilities, you know. Your training, weapon proficiencies, mission record, and especially your extremely high Aura capacity. But what was lacking was information on your Semblance. Given that you've had your Aura unlocked from a very young age, your Semblance should have manifested by now, perhaps even undergone its first evolution. And yet, nothing."

Jaune said nothing, dropping his gaze to stare at the floor once again.

"I believe that this," Ozpin continued, gesturing widely at the entire training room setup, "is, to some extent, smothering your soul. Some part of you, buried so deep you may never have even realized it, has been rebelling against this situation the entire time. It has been telling you that this is wrong, even if you couldn't hear before. I am correct in my assessment, aren't I?"

Please, please don't kill me

The most recent bloodied memory rose, unbidden, to Jaune's mind. The former soldier stayed quiet for a long while, before finally speaking up. "Do you think enlisting in your school will help?"

"You'd be enrolling, not enlisting. You would be a student, not a soldier, though of course, you would be learning combat tactics, battlefield strategy, team operations and carrying out missions. This, however, would be alongside general education but also socialization and, dare I say it, even fun? There is a balance, you know. If nothing else, it would give you direction, in a moment where it is painfully obvious that you are lacking such."

Jaune nodded slowly. After all, it wasn't like he had any better ideas at the moment.

Ozpin hid a smirk. "Did I mention that a certain Miss Schnee is enrolling this year as -"

"I'm in."

The Headmaster chuckled, as Glynda muttered something in an exasperated tone. Young men, no matter their circumstance, would always remain young men, it would seem. "Well, Mister Arc," he said, his voice tinged with open mirth, "Why don't you go retrieve your furry associate before we depart? I assure you that no harm will come to him."

Jaune snapped to attention and performed a crisp salute before executing a textbook about-face. The military grandeur of the maneuvers were unfortunately somewhat diminished by his performing them in his undergarments, though it seemed as though Mister Arc was unaware of the comic aspect as he departed back to the training room. Behind Ozpin, Glynda cleared her throat.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? He executed that woman in cold blood. He killed men and women as they fled screaming, and he never so much as blinked."

Ozpin sighed. "There are two very good reasons to take on Jaune Arc as a student, Miss Goodwitch. The first is that, well, we have the opportunity to take a misguided young man and lead him down a better path than the one he was set to from birth."

"And the other reason, sir?"

"It would be far better to keep such a dangerous and skilled young man close, with us, than adrift, resentful, and ripe for recruitment from the enemy. I fear that, in his anger, James erred and could have caused a much greater problem down the line." Those were both true and valid reasons for Ozpin to have recruited young Arc, but they were not the only ones.

As much as Ozma had subsumed the personalities of his hosts throughout the ages, each man had left his mark in turn upon the immortal being. The small fragment that had once been Charles d'Arc le Magne had yearned to reach out to Jaune, the last of his blood and his many-times removed great-grandson. Frankly, Ozma had seen no reason to deny him that much, at least.

For all that the sad realities of life in Remnant had forced Ozma to make hard choices, he had always tried to be as compassionate as circumstances would allow. Of all the personalities that combined to create the immortal wizard, he would always be, forevermore, a grieving father. This was one of the rare occasions when the right strategic move happened to be the kinder one, and that was an occurrence too rare for Ozpin to pass up.

"Oh, James," Glynda sighed, grief heavy in her voice. "What happened to you?"

Ozpin frowned. "James...uncovered something that he should not have. Something that convinced him that more...extreme measures were required."

"Is he right?"

"I suspect that we shall find out sooner, rather than later."

Their conversation fell silent as Jaune returned, a small ball of happy golden floof bounding along at his feet. Despite herself, Glynda smiled at the sight. "And what is your companion's name?" she asked, unable to resist the urge to kneel down and pet the little canine.

"His name is Percival," Jaune answered.

"After the legendary knight?" asked Oz.

Jaune nodded. "Weiss named him," he said by way of explanation.

That part of Ozma that was Charles d'Arc was over the moon. He had discovered that his descendants had not all died out after all, he was taking the boy under his wing, and his grandson even had a faithful canine companion named after his oldest and most loyal friend and protector. All that was missing was the blade to be given to his grandson, its rightful owner.

Ozma reminded Charles that Jaune wasn't actually his grandson.

Charles said that he would refer to Jaune however the bloody hell he pleased, and that if Ozma didn't get Crocea Mors to the last of the Arcs sooner rather than later, there would be hell to pay.

Ozma wondered just how exactly he could be threatened or harmed by a part of his own gestalt consciousness. Charles admitted that he didn't exactly know how, but he could give it a try.

None of this showed on the face of Professor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon Academy, who distantly wondered if he had finally gone insane. Rather than consider that question too deeply, he opted to stow the mental dialogue to the back of his mind and take his turn to greet the young pup. "A Huntsman's life is a dangerous one," he said to Jaune, as he allowed the happy dog to sniff his hand. "But it does not have to be a lonesome one."

He held out his hand to place his palm upon the dog's forehead and closed his eyes, concentrating for a brief moment. To Jaune's astonishment, a white flare of aura emanated from Percival, before fading back down. The golden retriever puppy barked happily before flopping on the ground and demanding belly rubs.

"Animals have Aura?" Jaune asked, truly taken by surprise.

Glynda coughed. "Your education has been...focused, but obviously limited in its scope. Humans, Faunus, and all the animals of earth, air and sea have Aura within them."

"We couldn't very well have the brave dog knight succumbing to harm, could we?" Ozpin asked as he stood up. Percival whined as the belly rubs came to an end. "Well, with that taken care of, I do believe that it's time for us to begone from this place."

Jaune stood at attention. "Are we headed to your school, sir?"

Ozpin shook his head. "No. There is somewhere else that you need to see first."

"Sir?" Jaune asked, obviously confused.

"A man should know his home, Mister Arc."

[/]

The Bullhead touched down in a forest clearing across from a hill. One side of the hill was sheer, revealing a white stone cliff, while at the top stood the crumbling, burnt-out remnants of what had once been either a very large, walled mansion house or a small castle. Jaune and Percival hopped out of the aircraft, followed shortly by Ozpin. The three walked a short distance from the Bullhead so that Ozpin could address his newest student.

"Chateau d'Arc du Sauvignon Blanc," he announced. "The Arc Castle of the Savage White. The name, of course, refers both to the frontier nature of the province and the striking white cliffs that we see before us. It was here that Charles of Arc founded your line, and it was here that, for generations, the Arc family defended the South of Vale from the Grimm. Sauvignon Blanc was actually a small kingdom for a time, before it was reorganized into a province of Vale. But though kingdoms rise and fall, the Arcs stood strong to protect the people."

"Until the White Fang," said Jaune.

"Until the White Fang," Ozpin echoed. "Vale has its problems, of course, as does every nation, but I daresay that its outlook on Faunus is considerably more egalitarian than Atlas, or even Mistral. There is still much to be done, of course, but with more glaring examples of injustice before them, why would they attack a frontier outpost of a small, relatively unimportant kingdom?"

Jaune's cobalt blue eyes narrowed. "Someone wanted the Arcs out of the way. Leave the south of Vale open to the Grimm. Using the Grimm as an advance force?"

"Given that the small town located two miles north of here was subsequently wiped out, that would seem to be the case."

The last of the Arcs shook his head. "Seventeen years is a long time to plan an invasion. Someone is playing a very long game here. But who?"

Ozpin clapped a hand on Jaune's bare shoulder. "Now you're starting to ask the right questions. Take some time. Explore your family home, find what truths you can. I will return in a week and a half, and should you still wish to enroll in my school after reconnecting with your heritage, I will take you to Beacon."

Jaune nodded. "Of course. I...thank you, sir."

"If you live up to even half the potential that I see in you, it will be me thanking you someday," the Headmaster said. He turned to walk back to the waiting Bullhead, though he stopped after a few steps to give some parting words to young Jaune. "Incidentally, I understand that the remains of the library in the east wing had some very interesting reading. I will see you soon, Mister Arc."

As the Bullhead took off, he watched as Jaune strode boldly into the remains of his family home, his dog trotting faithfully behind him. His reverie was broken by the sound of a very-familiar, very put-upon sigh from the Deputy Headmistress.

"Honestly, Ozpin. You couldn't have given him some pants before you dropped him off?"

[/]

The sun had begun to set as Jaune and Percival ventured into the ruins of Chateau Arc. In order to see properly, Jaune had gathered up the dusty remains of a tablecloth and a splintered leg of the shattered table on which it had rested to make a torch. By the flickering torchlight, the pair carefully made their way towards the east wing. Though the bodies had been removed long ago, the ruins still bore the scars of the intense fighting that had taken place nearly two decades prior. A thick layer of soot covered all the surfaces of the main antechamber, bullet holes liberally peppered the crumbling walls, certain passageways were blocked off by the collapsed stonework of the sundered upper floors, and there were more places devoid of an actual ceiling than without, the majority of the structure left open to the starry night sky.

He tried to hide his disappointment as he came upon what once had been a grand library. Few books remained in any legible condition, the vast majority either scorched to cinders or else caked with mold due to rainfall over the years. Jaune was about to give up for the night and find somewhere relatively sheltered to sleep, when he happened to find a case with a large, heavy tome within. Brushing the dust off the cover, Jaune found the book to be entitled "L'histoire de Arc," being a detailed family history and genealogy.

His mind reeled with all that he had learned. For so long, he had been nothing more than Cadet Jaune Arc, an orphan from nowhere in particular. His life prospects had been simple; he would fight for the people of Remnant until the occasion of his death. If he were really, truly fortunate, he would survive long enough to rise the ranks himself, carrying on the same fight, but on a larger scale.

But now?

Now, he was someone. His mother's diary, one of the few books that had survived and which he had perused earlier, had revealed that he had four older sisters, and that their mother was expecting another child when the attack came. His mother had loved them all dearly, and she must have saved his life with her dying breath.

Jaune Arc, of Sauvignon Blanc, was someone.

[/]

Then

Cadet Arc stood at parade rest by the entryway of the Schnee Manor. There was some manner of social event going on, but it was of little concern to him. At fifteen, his mind was naturally prone to wander, and the young soldier made a dedicated effort to maintain his focus, unlike the visibly bored sergeant who stood guard on the other side of the doorway. Six months ago, a White Fang cell had attempted to carry out Operation: Snowfall, being the planned kidnapping and public execution of a member of the Schnee family. Jaune himself had stopped the group that had ambushed Weiss in a backstage dressing room, and had taken to clearing out the White Fang operating in Atlas with a particular gusto.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the girl herself glided across the marble floors to stand before him, resplendent in a shimmering gown of deep cerulean. Despite the helmet concealing half of his face, she knew instantly that it was him. The acne of her pubescent years had been scrubbed away with the best skincare products that money could buy, leaving flawless porcelain skin that glowed in the moonlight streaming from the glass dome overhead. Her braces were long gone as well, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth as she smiled up at him. Weiss Schnee's awkward puberty was beginning to yield to an ethereal, almost unreal beauty.

Despite himself, Cadet Arc's heart beat faster in his chest.

"Winter told me that I would find you here," she began. "I don't suppose that you would like to share a dance with me?"

A dance?

"A dance?" Jaune's voice cracked in his sudden nervousness, inciting the sergeant to snicker. The cadet cleared his throat before speaking again. "I am sorry, ma'am, but I am on duty. As such, I cannot -"

"Aw shaddup and dance with the girl," the sergeant interrupted. "You're just a kid, for fuck's sake, at least one of us should have some fun tonight. Now go dance with the princess, or I'll kick your ass up around your ears." The sergeant coughed as he realized that he had just sergeant-ed in front of a young civilian girl whose father owned the SDC and whose big sister was a goddamn Specialist. "Uh, sorry about that, ma'am."

Weiss favored the poor man with an indulgent smile. "Think nothing of it...sergeant," she said, after checking the soldier's rank insignia. "I'm sure that you can maintain a diligent watch over a single room, after all."

"As you say, ma'am."

"Well then," she said, turning back to Jaune with a wicked smile. "I do believe you've run out of excuses, Mister Soldier Man." She reached up and gingerly pulled the helmet off of Jaune's head, revealing the familiar face of her favorite soldier. "I'm sure you wouldn't mind holding this for us, would you sergeant?" she asked as she handed the helmet off to him.

Weiss took Jaune by the hand, and, just like every other time she had dragged him through Schnee Manor, or the Atlas Market District, or the Mantle Stables, he marveled at how small her hand was as it fit into his. He was, however, shaken out of his reverie by a sudden and distressing revelation.

"Miss Schnee?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "We've known each other for years, you dunce. You saved my life. I do believe that we're on a first-name basis by now. Don't make me have Winter make it an order."

"As you say, Weiss!" Jaune quickly agreed, with no small degree of panic.

She smirked at getting a real reaction from the stoic boy. "That's right. Now, what was on your mind?"

"I...I don't know how to dance."

The victorious smirk fell from her face, replaced by a softer, more sympathetic expression. "That's okay, Jaune. Here, I can teach you. First, we hold one of our hands up like so...and now, place your other hand here…"

Cadet Jaune Arc was the consummate soldier. He was, however, still a fifteen-year old boy with Weiss Schnee in his arms. As she gently led him through the steps of a basic waltz, she looked up and then favored him with a coy smile. "Why, Cadet Arc, is that a smile that I see on your face?"

He pulled her closer, as close as he dared. "As you say," he whispered into her ear, causing her to shiver.

"You will unhand my daughter at once!"

Their dance came to a halt as a red-faced, furious Jacques Schnee stormed towards the couple. The head of the SDC got directly into Cadet Arc's face, looming over him in a towering rage. "Just what do you think you are doing?! I tell that fool Ironwood to send extra security, and you have the sheer gall to put hands on my daughter?!"

Weiss attempted to speak up for Jaune against her father. "It was only a dance, father, and he saved -"

"Silence, you." His voice was as cold as the Solitas winds. "The flower of Atlesian nobility is here, and you waste your time dancing with the help? You might as well be seen arm-in-arm with a Faunus!"

Jaune never claimed to be particularly good with people, to say the very least. However, even he understood that it was probably a pretty bad idea to antagonize the people cooking and preparing your food, driving your car, or otherwise carrying out their business in extremely close proximity to your person and your family. That notion was reinforced by the number of open scowls found on the faces of the serving staff, many of whom were Faunus. Jacques Schnee, however, cared not for the opinions of the masses, a fact that he made sure to drive home as brutally as possible.

"Understand this," he said, in a low, growling voice, pointing his finger in Jaune's face. "Your lot in life is to fight and die for your betters, not to fraternize with them. Get back to your post."

Jaune's face was a carefully-composed mask of stoic indifference. "As you say, sir."

"Tough break, kid," the sergeant attempted to comfort him as he handed him back his helmet. "If it's any consolation, you both looked really happy together."

The rest of that night, Jaune maintained his vigil. Members of the serving staff, perhaps feeling some pity for him, frequently came up to offer him refreshments, but he waved them off with detached professionalism. As he watched the room, he saw Weiss dancing with another teen boy, some son of a noted shipping magnate. Her movements were stiff and robotic, and she openly frowned with tears welling in her eyes.

They held each other's gaze as much as they could for the rest of the night.

Jaune didn't see Weiss for over a month after that night, with Winter not daring to bring the boy to the Schnee Manor with her father so incensed. A few weeks after the night of the dance, Jaune made his way back into the barracks from a mission, when he heard Weiss's voice coming from the common room.

Unable to stop himself, he ran in, only to find the enlisted men gathered around a television, watching Weiss sing in a concert. It was a song he had never heard before.

My first dance here with you

Just three steps

Soft and slow…

My first dance here with you

Hold me tight

Hold me close…

I saw you smiling shyly,

As you gently placed your eyes on me

But did you

Ever know?

That I had mine

On you…

So darling, share with me

The pain that you're holding back

The fear that is haunting you

A grief if that's what it is…

Shall I be the one for you?

You whispered so softly

'As you say…'

Hold me once more

So I know that

We were not dreaming….

Her crystal blue eyes shone with unshed tears as she curtseyed for the audience applause.

[/]

Now

He shook his head to clear it of the memories. He was someone now, to be sure, but that didn't mean that he was someone worthy of her. Oh, not in the eyes of people like her father - he didn't give a fig what Jacques Schnee thought about much of anything - but rather, worthy of the kindness and gentle affection that she had shown him. His lineage and heritage was important, but more important was becoming the kind of man who she could point to and say that she associated with without bringing shame upon her. She would want a man, not a murderer.

Please, please don't kill me...

Jaune shook his head again, resolving to focus on one step at a time. As he picked up the book, intending to take it with him, he just happened to notice that the red felt lining in the case was slightly uneven. Seeing as he had little else to go off of, he placed L'histoire de Arc to the side and used his free hand to feel around the obstruction.

He heard a click, and behind the case, the entire bookcase lining that part of the wall swung open, revealing a descending stairwell. "Percival, on me," he called, waiting at the entryway for the pup to follow him. Carefully, he made his way down the winding stone staircase, pausing occasionally to brush cobwebs out of the way. At the bottom, the stairway opened up to a large chamber. Jaune stuffed more scraps from the tablecloth into sconces along the walls, lighting them in order to illuminate the hidden vault.

The chamber was dominated by a large oil painting of a stern, blonde man in gilded plate armor. He posed holding a white-steel shield, bearing two golden crescents inlaid on the front, with the bottom tip resting on the floor before him. Sprouting from the top of the shield was a golden crossguard and blue leather-wrapped hilt, suggesting that the shield served as a sheath for a sword of some kind. A plaque underneath the portrait named the figure as "Charles d'Arc le Magne," the founder of his line that the Headmaster had mentioned.

The main treasure that the vault held was knowledge. The Arc vault held a vast bestiary of numerous creatures of Grimm, many of which were obscure and highly-dangerous. The volumes were carefully organized and preserved on shelves lining the vault. Unfortunately, most of the display cases whose plaques informed of weapons held within were empty, their contents no doubt lost or destroyed as their wielders did battle during the sack of Chateau d'Arc. However, Jaune was able to find one of his ancestor's weapons. What had appeared to be a simple tube extended, with the push of a button, into a barbed spear apparently wielded by an ancestor named Georges d'Arc to do battle with a Grimm dragon.

There were Grimm dragons?!

Jaune resolved to make a study of the family bestiary during his time at the Chateau.

Moving on, he came upon an armor stand bearing part of a suit of armor. The pieces were of gleaming white steel, with fittings of Mistrali bronze. The armor consisted of a cuirass - a breastplate and backplate - a single shoulder pauldron for the left arm, and a pair of gauntlets and vambraces. The plaque on the armor stand read "Personal armor of young Prince Alain d'Arc, beloved firstborn of Charles d'Arc, slain in valourous combat against a Nuckeleevee at age seventeen."

Jaune ran his fingers over the breastplate. It felt right. He moved to lift it from the stand, to put it on.

It was at that moment that he finally remembered that he had no pants.

[/]

After a week and a half had passed, the roaring sound of a Bullhead's engines rang across the ruins of Chateau d'Arc. As it touched down in the forest clearing, Ozpin saw Jaune Arc standing tall and proud, with a series of cases behind him and his pup at his feet. The part of Ozma that had been Charles d'Arc rejoiced as he saw the boy wearing the armor of his son. Jaune had apparently put his time to good use. He wore buckskin pants, boots, and a tunic, and carried a tube, some kind of weapon, hanging off a snakeskin belt on his right hip, one of two belts that crossed over his hips. Even Percival had been armored, with Jaune having fashioned a homemade lamellar vest out of buckskin and some metalwork that couldn't be salvaged otherwise. Jaune had figured that the design would suffice, being easy to modify as the pup grew. It would take a better armorer than him to craft the plate that he would commission for the dog when he reached his adult size.

Ozpin, carrying a long case of his own in his arms, nodded to his student. "I trust you will be joining us at Beacon?"

Jaune nodded. "The Arc family had… has, an extensive archive on the creatures of Grimm, which I have boxed up for transport. I would ask that it be held in trust for my family at Beacon, until such time as Chateau d'Arc can be restored."

"A simple request, and a fruitful one. This is assuming, of course, that we have your permission to make copies for our own archives?"

"Of course."

"There is one more thing that I have to give you," said Ozpin. He opened up the case, revealing a sword, with blue leather-wrapped hilt and a golden crossguard, resting in a white-steel sheath. Jaune picked up the weapon and drew it, recognizing it as the sword that the founder of his lineage had in his portrait. The white steel glistened in the sunlight, shining brightly through the forest.

"It's name is Crocea Mors," Ozpin said, as Jaune opened the sheath to expand it into a shield. For the first time in nearly two decades, the twin crescents of the Arcs shone across their ancestral home. "The last man to wield it was your father, Guillaume. He was a good man, a friend of mine. When I heard...I rushed here, but you were gone by then. I recovered the blade. I...I am sorry, Jaune. I only learned you still lived when General Ironwood sent me your dossier."

Jaune nodded, satisfied with the feel of the sword and shield in his hands. He sheathed the blade, collapsed the shield, and set the sheath to his belt. "What's past is past," Jaune said, looking up to Ozpin. "Now, we move forward."

[/]

Chapter Endnotes: Not very action-y, at all, but this is important character development and worldbuilding for the story I want to tell.

Yes, I basically made the Arcs into the Belmonts, but for Grimm. Because it's badass.

Yes, Charles d'Arc le Magne is Charlemagne, Charles the Great, the Father of Europe, and quite possibly the greatest king of medieval European history.

Yes, Sauvignon Blanc is a type of wine, which I found to be quite fitting for RWBY and its color-naming. Even if the name predates the Great War. Shut up, don't judge me!

Yes, I made Jaune's family outrageously French, on the grounds that I want to.

Yes, my French is a bit rusty, so, to use a phrase, please pardon my French.

Yes, I adapted "Eyes on Me," from Final Fantasy VIII, for Weiss's song in the flashback.

If you don't know what lamellar armor is, picture steel squares riveted to a sort of vest...that's shaped for a dog. Because even though Percival has Aura now, he is still a baby relative to the seasoned veteran Zwei, and the heckin' good pupper must be protected at all costs.

The knight is, first and foremost, a warrior. This means that Jaune will have a more lethal mindset relative to most of the rest of the Beacon gang, and will have to cope with the consequences of his upbringing. But there is a reason that this story is titled "The White Knight," and not "The Pitiless Killer Who Slaughters Without Mercy or Remorse."

Yes, I know that knights were, historically, armored thugs who beat on the peasantry and slaughtered hapless levies en masse in battles over which inbred lord got to sit on the big shiny chair. This is a fantasy romance, not a historiography of the concept of chivalry. I actually wrote a paper on that topic during my undergrad years.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

-Mahina