It is a good thing I only intended for this to be two chapters because if I had wanted to maintain the relationship between Jaune and Charles that I set up in this chapter it would be a GIANT pain in the rear. Still, I think this one came out okay. I took some inspiration from Martin and Tolkein in how I wrote some of the info dumps and a lot of Charle's dialogue but I'm not nearly at the level those two titans are at so if it seems to draw on a bit too long at parts please be leinent.
More importantly however: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! May it be better than the last!
The Arc compound that Charles had chosen to live in and raise a family in was relatively small. A small fort with a dozen bedrooms– when he first chose which estate to live in he hadn't thought he'd end up with eight children–, a stable that had long since been converted into a garage, a courtyard for leisure, a small training field, and a small chapel that can hold seating for two dozen. It was to the chapel that Charles escorted his son after the younger man finally returned home and gave his brief report about why he had come back.
Jaune had waved his friends off, telling them to follow his mother and sisters to the dining hall while he followed his father. Good. What was to come would be much easier without an audience.
Charles had to force himself not to look at his son as they entered the chapel, walking in silence as they both moved to take their places. Jaune knelt three steps away from the low steps of the chapel's dias while Charles climbed the two steps to stand above his son, drawing his sword, Joiuse III– the bastard sword variant of the original arming sword Joiuse used by his namesake and one of the five swords traditionally used by Arc's who's Semblance revolved around Light– and planting its point against the stone floor stared down at the kneeling man. "Do you know why I brought you here Jaune?" He asked him seriously. If his son wanted redemption or absolution, he needed to be able to identify and speak his sins and wrong doings.
The younger blond swallowed hard, his head lowered to stare at the shards of Crocea Mors wrapped tightly in his own torn and repurposed t-shirt, "I stole a blade of an Arc, brought it into battle without leave and without wielding it with the skill those who bore it before me deserved," he began, his voice slightly wavering but still clear and strong, "I lied to my general, Ozpin of Beacon, about my abilities. I failed to be at my partner's side when they fell in battle," Jaune's eyes closed tightly as he admitted this, the memory clearly bringing him great pain. Still, he continued on, "I delegated my duty as a leader to another. I sought the blood of an enemy in the name of vengeance and hatred… I condemned an innocent for the crimes of their forebearer. I broke my vow to protect those who stand beside me in battle by taking the life of a friend." He reached out to rest a hand on the wrapped remains of the ancient sword of the Emperor General, "Under my care one of the Arc blades was broken by an enemy that I failed to slay. And I failed to remain by the sides of my allies when they needed my aid… These are my sins as I know them, and now I kneel before you in judgment for them father."
Charles held back the desire to wince. He hated being addressed as 'father', it felt far to professional and cold to his ears. At least he didn't list laying with one he swore to kill, maybe he was wrong about him and that short assassin girl after all. Still, there were a lot of things that needed to be addressed. "For the crime of stealing from your family, I pardon you for it was I who drove you to committing this act," he stated calmly, admitting to himself and his son that he was wrong to bar his son from pursuing his dream to become a Huntsman. Jaune's head snapped up in shock at the admission, disbelief shining clearly in his eyes even as Charles continued, "For the disrespect you showed the wielders of Crocea Mors before you, I absolve you for you improved with every battle and did well to honor its legacy as the blade of commanders and generals." Charles may not have been close to Peter Port, but the two knew each other thanks to Charle's father fighting several battles with the former adventurer in their youths and the mustached man honored that severed connection by occasionally giving Charles a few reports on his son. Hearing that Jaune was apparently a natural at tactics and perhaps strategy as well had helped ease a lot of tension Charles had felt back when his son was actually at Beacon.
Jaune's head once again fell to stare at the wrappings of the broken blade, seemingly unhappy that he was being given passes for two of the things he felt were crimes against his family and their codes of honor and ethics. Not exactly surprising, Jaune had always had a tendency to be rather hard on himself about pretty much everything. "For lying to your general… with the knowledge that he was aware of the deceit from the beginning I pardon you, for if he did not see it as a slight, nor will we… For failing to be by the side of your partner's side in their time of need I task you to find their kin and beg for mercy, admitting your failure and accepting your part of the blame of their losing a member of their family."
"I've already done that," Jaune cut in, breaking protocol by speaking out of turn. "In the town of her birth I found her memorial and spoke to her mother. She forgave me, too easily. I ask for a different punishment." Ah, so that was it. He still felt guilty about it and was looking for something else to try and wash the pain away with.
"Denied." Charles spoke calmly, "For passing on your duty to another out of turn, I task you to reclaim your position by deed and will, convince those you passed off to follow you by their own wills without the authority of another backing you." That he knew would be very difficult. Not only had his team expanded a great deal since he originally gave up his position as the leader, but there were those who commanded a great deal more respect among their number than Jaune did. It wasn't impossible, but it could take his son a long time before he completed that task. "For seaking the blood of another on the grounds of vengeance and hatred, I burden you with the responsibility to save the lives of a hundred wounded warriors as a healer. For condemning an innocent, I task you to take up their burdens as your own, their quests are now yours to complete so long as they do not go against our creeds."
Jaune winced hard at that, though he didn't look ill or annoyed at the sentence in the least. Maybe his son had already begun to carry out this punishment? Was he already working to aid the one he had slighted? He'd have to ask him or one of his teammates later, he didn't exactly have the full context to everything that was going on in his son's life after all. "For breaking your word… I strip you of your name, from henceforth you are to be known only as 'D'Arc' until you've regained your honor… For taking the life of a friend… I take from you the right to bare a shield, for if you refused to protect their life, you forfeit the ability to defend your own." That particular sentence was very, very, hard for Charles to bite out. Just because he accepted that he should have let his son try and become a Huntsman in a way that didn't involve him stealing a sword and running away didn't mean he didn't still wish his son would abandon such a path and take up a somewhat safer profession instead. Taking away his shield, no matter how much precedence for similar acts to his son's had laid out, was not something Charles wanted to do. Even if he was being 'lenient' by allowing Jaune to retain the right to wear armor into battle it still made him feel ill that he was removing a layer of his son's defenses.
"For allowing one of our blades to be broken under your watch, I task you with supplying the Blood Iron needed to aid in its reconstruction, and to find a master smith capable of restoring Crocea Mors to its proper glory." He didn't actually know how much of the sword his son had managed to recover after it had been broken, but family tradition stated–for reasons Charles could never really understand– that one in twelve parts of an Arc family blade had to be made with steel made from iron harvested from the blood of an Arc so with a bit of luck his son would have gathered up little of the sword and would require a few weeks to supply the blood needed to harvest enough iron to meet the requirements. The rest of the metal needed was from one of the sacred mines owned by the Arcs, and there was a small stockpile already in the estate's vault so that would unfortunately not slow the reconstruction down in the slightest. "Finally, for not being at the sides of your allies when you were needed, I absolve you, for the reasons behind your absence were beyond your control." At least he was fairly sure it was as the only thing that Charles knew about that could have resulted in Jaune being away from his friends was when he fell into the abyss with half of them. And he still needed to ask about what the hell happened after that because from how it was worded his son really should have died from that.
"Do you accept your sentence, D'Arc?" He asked seriously, keeping his voice level and steady just as he had during the listings of his son's punishments.
"I do," his son replied, "but if I am to aid the one I falsely condemned I will need a blade, and I can't stay here for weeks waiting for Crocea to be reforged if I want to help him. I'll need a new sword." Gods be damned he hated hearing his son talk like this. He just didn't sound right at all even if Charles knew that this was how his son was supposed to talk when in the situation he was in.
That aside however Charles could at least fix this particular issue easily enough, and as his son was using the context of one of his punishments as a reason to ask he was more or less required to do so. So much for trapping his son at home for a while. Turning around Charles quickly walked over to the small altar that dominated the back of the dias he was standing on and picked up the long wooden box that had been resting on its stone surface for nearly two years since his own father passed away. Strictly speaking Charles should have returned its contents to the castle Camelot, the one true castle that the Arc family owned, and interned it in one of the great vaults hidden inside its walls… unfortunately Charles was rather sentimental and found himself previously unable to part with this one reminder of his father, instead keeping it here in the chapel of the nameless estate where it was close by.
Flipping open the simple wooden lid revealed a finely polished bastard sword– nearly a long sword given its extra length– made of dark gray, nearly black, steel with a golden crossguard shaped like pointed screws, a dark blue leather wrapped grip, and a closed dragonic claw for a pommel. Durandal, the sword of the Unyielding and of Stone Cutters, was not as old as Crocea Mors was, but it was still ancient by most account and originated from roughly the same time period as the original Joiuse though while the wielders of Joiuse were said to be 'blinding' those who held Durandal were seen as… well the nicer things were 'eager' and 'steadfast' but words like 'stubborn' and 'cocky' weren't uncommon either. All terms that had fit his father well and unfortunately seemed to describe his son just as accurately.
Gently picking the blade up with his off hand, his own sword still being grasped in his right, he turned back to his son and walked down the dias steps to stand in front of his kneeling form. "Normally being given your first sword would be a time of celebration," Charles admitted, "but seeing as this is your second, and the circumstances around me giving it to you, I think we can skip all the posh ceremony crap." He held out the sword, the blade pointed downwards, "I don't want to give this to you. I still wish that you would give up these dreams of being a Hunstman, that you would focus on your guitar or go to a normal school to become something safer, but I know you won't. I know that you won't abandon the path you are now on… And while I hate it I will admit I am still proud of you. So take this, and promise me that when the time comes to return it to the vaults, you will be the one to do it."
D'Arc gave a sad smile as he stood up and grasped the sword's hilt, "My word isn't exactly worth much right now," he pointed out.
Charles held the sword tight, stopping his son from taking it fully, "Your word as an Arc may be tarnished, but your word as my son means as much as it ever has," he told him seriously, "Now promise me that you will make it home again. Promise me that you will live long enough to be able to be able to put this sword to rest again, that when that day comes it will be because you have no intention of picking one up again."
D'Arc swallowed hard but still nodded his head seriously, "I promise. I'll make it home." He took the sword from Charle's grip, claiming it as his own.
Charles wanted to say that those words put him at ease, but truth be told there was something in his son's eye that told him… that told him that his son was lying.
Hell yeah, got both time stamps that I wanted and it doesn't read like shit nor is it just smutty oneshots. I call that an accomplishment.
For those who care, the Joiuse varients go like this: Original- Arming sword, II- Long Sword, III-Bastard Sword, IV-Small Sword, V- Great Sword.
I wanted Jaune to come off as feeling like crap here and really, really guilty and mad at himself while I wanted Charles to be more... fatherly I guess is the best descriptor I can think of. I know his name doesn't fit the color naming rule, but since Jaune is meant to be based on Joan of Arc I figured going with a French naming scheme could work. Charles for Charlemagne who had a sword that supposedly blinded his opponents called Joiuse, Jaune is Joan, Crocea Mors is actually roman and was the sword of Julius Caesar who was an emperor and a general- hence why I call Crocea Mors what I did- and Durandal's legend says it was indestructible and could cleave through a boulder in a single swing while its wielder Roland- the legend one not the historical one- was said to be cocky and rash but also brave and valiant and I thought that fit Jaune really well so I added that in to this just to round things off.
Like I said I don't have any plans to continue this but I do want to know what you all think about this one. I'm a glutton for reviews you know? Anyway I hope you all enjoyed and be sure to check out my other stories and leave reviews there as well! Until next time, Happy New Years!