Something new.

Chapter 1: Sieben

Coffee, with cream. A small pot filled with sugar cubes. Three of her favorite pastries, each of them fixed with a bit of whip cream and topped with cherry preserves.

With one hand behind his back, Jaune moved about the Schnee Manor with a trained, dignified air. He could see his coworkers, numerous other maids and butlers quickly moving throughout the halls, each of them getting ready to tend to the tasks at hand today. Jaune's task was the same as always—one he had inherited from his foster father, Klein. Tending to the needs of someone so close to him in age was somewhat weird, but fortunately he got used to it quickly.

Jaune rapped his knuckles against the door twice, allowing himself inside once he heard a soft, "Come in."

In the comfort of her own room, Weiss Schnee was a mess. Her hair, usually in a side ponytail, was let down, her only clothing being a nightgown. The heiress apparent to the Schnee Dust Company barely moved from her position, the girl lazily kicking two legs up in the air as she laid on her stomach.

"Good morning," Jaune said, with a smile. He closed the door behind him softly, stepping towards his charge with light feet. "How do you feel?"

"Like I want to sleep for the rest of the day," Weiss mumbled. She got up slowly, moving so that she was off her stomach and actually sitting. With a bit of a yawn, she hoisted her fist up and stretched, her lithe muscles apparent as numerous joints hissed and popped. With a satisfied grin, she held her hands out, catching the tray Jaune handed to her. "How about you?"

"You want the honest answer, or the one I'm supposed to give you?" Jaune asked. When Weiss only rolled her eyes, he stifled a laugh beside his gloved fist before continuing. "I'm tired, but I'm fine. The one-on-one tutoring sessions with Professor Eisner have been very fulfilling."

"I'm glad to hear," Weiss said, earnestly. The smile she offered proved the genuity to her words. Weiss Schnee was a bit of a complex girl—a lot of unfair responsibility fell on her as the daughter of Jacque Schnee and the heiress to the SDC. As a result, a majority of her actions are construed as cold or mean, but as far as Jaune knew, a lot of it was because of the ideology of how a Schnee was supposed to act, atop it being a self-defense mechanism for her.

"Everyone is," Jaune said, clenching and unclenching his hand in a fist at the brief return of phantom pain. "But he's called the Ashen Demon for a reason. I don't know how or why your father decided to employ a mercenary as my trainer. I understand your safety is the most important thing, but I'd have figured that a soldier, specialist, or ace operative would suffice."

"You know how he is," Weiss said, waving the subject away as she finally bit into a pastry. Her eyes lit up at the taste, and Jaune allowed his heart to swell with pride at her expression. "Is this—"

"Nix et amor," Jaune said, grinning. "I learned from my father that you enjoyed these, but because I am not my father, I wanted to try things a little differently. What do you think?"

"These are good!" Weiss said, happily. "Klein's are delicious, but there's something so different about yours that makes them really good too. Klein typically used a fruit filling only, but you—"

"Used fruit and chocolate." Jaune said with a wink. "Although Mr. Schnee might have me overstep my boundaries a bit as your retainer, your health and safety are my main priorities. Granted, that's not to say everything has to be boring, which is why I brought breakfast to you. I'm open to what you'd like for lunch and dinner, but both might run a little late considering after this I'm supposed to return to my instruction with Professor Eisner."

"I don't understand why'd they have you keep up with your training if I'm to be departing for Beacon tomorrow," Weiss said. "After tomorrow, I'll be an entire continent away. We won't see each other for a while."

"He has his reasons," Jaune said.

"Reasons you can't tell me?"

"Careful there, Ms. Schnee. People might talk."

"Weiss."

"No can—"

"When it's just the two of us," she said slowly, as if talking to a child. She even gestured at the space between themselves. "It's just Weiss."

"Weiss," Jaune said, crossing his arms over his chest. The sleeves of his dark suit strained against his arms as he did so. He leaned against the wall, staring past the girl and out of the window into the courtyard. "Okay, you want the truth? They've been planning for me to be stationed nearby. Supposedly, I wouldn't be in Beacon, but I would be in Vale. I'd be given a monthly stipend and special instruction in making sure everything was okay while you're attending Beacon."

"Oh," she said, her eyes narrowing into dangerously thin slits. "How long have you known?"

"Remember when you introduced the idea of attending Beacon to your father?"

Wordlessly, the white-haired dust heiress nodded.

"He ended up bringing back what was a largely defunct private militia specific to the Schnee Dust Company that your ancestors created. I don't know how, but he managed to get reapproved by the council and then rebranded that militia."

Jaune let out a sigh before continuing, "I've been in training for a while now. It started when I was at least twelve years old. Back then, it was older or retired huntsmen. It wasn't until recently that I was made to take it seriously, and as a result became the pupil of Professor Eisner. A lot of people that seem like regular maids and butlers are members of it. His plan was only to unveil it unless it was absolutely necessary. The one I'm a part of, where we are to guard Whitley and you, is called the Crownsguard. The one specific to Mr. Schnee is called the Kingsglaive."

"And how come I've never heard of this?" Weiss asked.

"Because he knew you'd loathe the idea of having 'freedom at a cost'. That's why I wasn't supposed to tell you, but clearly my loyalty is more to you than your father. When my father still actively worked as your butler, he would come home and tell me of all your accomplishments, or the things you've done in your day."

The blonde paused briefly, a hand coming up to support his head as his fingers drummed his cheek idly. "I guess after he was allowed to retire, I'd consider it a disservice, both to you and him, if I didn't keep up the same level of effort to make you happy. Even now, I can easily be terminated and replaced for telling you of your father's plan."

"You needn't worry. I won't tell him, and the very last thing I'd let him do is terminate you. I'd refuse every retainer until I had gotten you back."

"How sweet," the blonde said, stifling a yawn with his hand.

Jaune smiled to himself, letting the heiress-apparent enjoy her breakfast of coffee and dessert. Such a concept was typically frowned upon by Jacques Schnee. After all, a Schnee never did anything that could have their public image tarnished, tampered, or misconstrued, and a breakfast of coffee and sweets could be seen as childish if you wanted to slice it that way.

It was only when Weiss finished her coffee with a satisfied sigh, did she say, "So you'll be in Vale while I'm attending Beacon?"

"That's the idea," Jaune said. Bending low just a bit, he retrieved the tray from Weiss, easily balancing a simple kettle, coffee mug, and small jar of cubed sugar. "Far enough for you to be independent, close enough to run home because that's what he believes as inevitable."

"And you?"

"C'mon Weiss, he's so obviously right," Jaune said, with a roll of his eyes. He laughed to himself as a pillow bounced off his chest, narrowly catching it before it could hit the ground with his free hand. "My loyalty lies with you, Ms. Schn—Weiss. If your father is insistent on basically giving me four years worth of vacation while you attend Beacon Academy, then I'm more than happy to put myself to task. It'll be great—you'll be doing all the work, and I only have to play."

"You're a dolt, you know that?"

"Say what you'd like," Jaune said, grinning. "But remember, I'm the one that makes your meals. I'll just end up making something totally out of season. Like quillhorn soup."

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes, as Jaune twisted the knob to her door and stuck one foot out. "I don't like that, even when it's in season."

Jaune shot one last look back inside, giving her only a smarmy smirk. While Jaune's personalities and eyes didn't switch like Klein's, his facial expressions were capable of conveying a range of emotions.

And for a boy, whom Weiss' mother, Willow, found in the frigid snows of Argus, who was taken in by Weiss' personal butler, and eventually grew to be her own retainer—

There was something about the way Jaune Sieben moved, that was too damn cocky.

/ - N - /

"Oh," Professor Eisner said, blowing the wooden dummy into smithereens with a single attack. He leveled his sword at Jaune, who pulled his own sword free from the sheath on his hip. His training attire was simple: an asymmetrically sleeved shirt, navy trousers, and dark boots the trousers were tucked into. A belt, affixed with the sheath of his sword and a few daggers and dust grenades kept his trousers secure. "You're early. I'm surprised. Typically you enjoy taking your time."

"Ah, well. You know me, Teach," Jaune said, pointing the business end of his blade towards the former merc as he stepped closer. The training arena was located towards the western side of the manor, where each worker typically received rudimentary self-defense and weapon handling training, until they requested, or were asked to do more. "I'm all about surprises."

Without warning, the professor rushed forward, suddenly raising his sword high and above him. Jaume brought up his own in the nick of time, the feeling of adrenaline coming and going just as quick as his training would allow.

Jaune allowed the brief clash of swords with Professor Eisner for only a second, the ex mercenary turned private tutor still outclassing him in strength. Jaune's own arming blade was no match for the intricate bonelike sword used by his instructor.

A careful swing had Jaune placed in perfect spacing for a swing of his sword. An attack against someone without aura would probably be strong enough to cleave through flesh and bone.

So instead, Jaune's fist lashed out and struck Professor Eisner in his cheek.

The former merc gave him his usual blank stare, but Jaune could see the beginning of a smile grace the corners of his lips.

"Good," Professor Eisner said, his smile on full display. "Usually people believe in honor and fairness in a fight."

"Really not the one for that, Teach," Jaune said. He slipped under the professor's swing, bringing his blade up for a slash. Professor Eisner allowed it, the gears in his mind turning as Jaune prepared his swing.

With a spin, Jaune swung his sword towards the professor's shoulder. The man's gloved hand easily struck the flat of the blade, disrupting Jaune's swing. Jaune let the sword fall from his grasp, his fingers flitting towards a dagger on his belt. His other hand slipped towards his back, reaching for something else.

Jaune launched the dagger with pinpoint accuracy, but Professor Eisner dodged it with contemptuous ease, the tip just grazing his face. The other object in his hand, an ice dust grenade, would've caught Eisner in his chest if he didn't catch it on his sword.

His weapon frozen, he tossed it to the side without care, instead putting his hands up in a boxing stance. The former merc bounced on the balls of his feet, patiently awaiting Jaune's first move.

Jaune slipped his final two daggers from his belt, holding them both in a reverse grip. The two clashed, but despite the blonde's best efforts, Professor Eisner was a master of all things close-quarters. He found it strange how someone only two years older than him was the strongest instructor Weiss' father could find, but his experience showed.

For every glancing blow across Eisner's ribs Jaune got, his instructor would inflict three or more. Even when Jaune caught him with a feint and tossed a mixture of gravel and dirt towards his eyes, Professor Eisner didn't back down. He lashed out viciously and artfully, completely destroying Jaune.

It wasn't until he planted one final boot in the blonde's chest did he stop, his breathing even as if this was a typical walk in the park. "You did better."

"Heh," Jaune chuckled. "You were pretty good yourself, professor."

"I would hope so," Professor Eisner said. He outstretched his hand, offering to help Jaune to his feet. "I'm supposed to be getting paid for this."

"You haven't?" Jaune asked.

"I thought my payment was only the food the maids cook."

"What? No!" Jaune said, incredulously. "You're telling me you haven't been given your monthly stipend? Or have you not checked the bank?"

"I don't do banks," Professor Eisner said.

"How could—don't answer that," Jaune said, striding over to his sword. He picked it up, tossing it into the air with a flick of the wrist. He caught the spinning blade with his opposite hand, guiding the sword back into its sheath without a second thought. "I forgot, you've been a mercenary all your life. It would make sense you don't do banks."

"I would if I could." Professor Eisner added, unhelpfully.

"I'm sure you would," Jaune said. "Pass me your scroll."

When the mercenary complied, Jaune slowly showed him how to access his bank information using the app the Schnee family had preinstalled on his scroll. Jaune wasn't sure how he was managing to do so fine without knowing he was getting compensated monetarily, but after a brief moment of thinking, figured it was better he didn't know.

Professor Eisner was a talented young man. At the age of nineteen he was commanding his father's band of mercenaries as a tactician before his father and company were bought into the Schnee Dust Company. He knew tactics, combat, and strategy like one would the back of their hand, his skill as a mercenary apparent.

But in every other aspect, he was… peculiar. It was funny, if you could keep a constant suspension of disbelief. It was almost as if you were explaining something or speaking to a child.

"You can take it from here, right?" Jaune asked.

"The scroll? I could have taken it at any time. You should be more careful with how you protect things."

Jaune rolled his eyes, but nevertheless gave his professor a warm smile. "I'll keep that in mind, Teach."

/ - N - /

"Mr. Sieben."

Jaune took a half-second glance away from the salmon he was searing in the pan. The sizzle of cookware assailed his ears just a tad, but if he were being honest he enjoyed the insanity of a busy kitchen. Learning how to cook had been fulfilling; not only for Weiss, but for himself. When he thought about it, it came as a bit of a surprise that everything he had expressed interest in, or anything where any of his talents shone, were all to the benefit of Weiss.

Granted, it made some degree of sense considering his own father once worked as Weiss' butler before he took over as her retainer.

"Mr. Sieben?"

If anything, he seemed more like a house husband than anything. While Weiss would be attending an academy that trained the warriors of the future, he'd still be cooking, cleaning, and retaining.

Jaune let the thoughts dance across his mind. Would being her retainer forever have anything negative effects? He couldn't figure. It wasn't as if they wouldn't outgrow each other eventually. Someday in the near future she'd be more than capable of standing on her two feet. More than she typically does anyway.

"Mr. Sieben!"

With an internal sigh, Jaune turned the burner on the stove down to low, picking up the strip of salmon with a pair of metal tongs. He flipped it expertly, letting it cook slowly on the other side as he turned to address the man.

The head of Mr. Schnee's own personal army, Aaron Leon. The man cut an imposing figure—broad shoulders, an overall well muscled body, all of it punctuated by the vicious looking scar that ran across his forehead.

The man should've been scary. The keyword truly was, "should've", as Jaune learned from others that outside of battle, Aaron Leon was actually quite kind. An ex-Ace Op turned militia general, everyone knew of his nickname all across Atlas and Mantle.

The Hound of Atlas.

"With all due respect Mr. Leon, you're free to just refer to me as Jaune," the blonde said. With his mind on autopilot, he began to add the necessary spices needed to prepare the dish to Weiss' liking, eventually saying, "Is there anything you needed from me, sir?"

Aaron watched the kid with mild interest, his ability to multitask unsurprising. Members of the Crownsguard were expected to be able to handle multiple things at once. The Kingsglaive was expected to handle even more responsibilities than that.

But there was something unique to how Jaune collectively managed to cook, think about a different topic, and talk to him all at once that left him somewhat bemused.

"Jaune then," the older man began. Jaune gave him a quick glance before going back to cooking, still confused as to why Mr. Schnee was so insistent on attempting to disguise the members of the Crownsguard and Kingsglaive. A quick glance at Aaron would show that there was no way he was a regular butler—what kind of butler cuts such an imposing figure like that? "I only came to say that Mr. Schnee would like to see you after you deliver Weiss' dinner to her room. I was also supposed to let you know that the necessary preparations have been made."

"Thank you, sir," Jaune said. He pulled a new pan free from underneath the sink, quickly prepping it to make the sauce for Weiss' salmon. As his deft hands moved, he thought to himself quietly, necessary preparations have been made, huh? Guess this actually is happening after all.

"Actually," the large man said, offering him a half-smile as he began to walk away. "It's just Aaron."

"With all due respect, Mr. Leon," Jaune called out to him as he grabbed the salmon with his tongs. "I'm pretty cautious of not being entirely respectful to someone who looks like they can pick me up and snap my spine and their leisure."

With the salmon in one hand, Jaune used his free hand to finish prepping the pan of sauce. Spinach, cheese, a bit of butter, evaporated milk, and a handful of sliced in half cherry tomatoes allowed him to create the sauce to Weiss' liking. When he made the dish for himself, he typically added some sort of pasta too, but figured it would be in his best interests to save a heavier meal after she finished her last bit of training for the day.

Once the sauce began to thicken, he placed the salmon inside, covering it with a lid and letting it simmer. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against some cabinets in the kitchen.

"Wow," Whitley said, stepping into the kitchen. "That actually smells really good."

Jaune gave Weiss' little brother a quick one-over, before going back to focusing his attention elsewhere. Another common misconception was that Whitley was, to quote Mari, "A little shit."

Okay maybe it wasn't a misconception. Apparently he was actually quite the little shit. He's heard from his fair share of maids around the Schnee Manor that Whitley was an overall brat. He was rude, crass, and held himself to a high esteem over everyone.

Jaune was confident in the fact that it happened. He's seen the way Whitley walked around the halls, or the way in which he talked to other people. The only thing that stopped Jaune from not quite liking him outright, was that for some reason, Whitley had spared Jaune of all that venom.

Typically, Whitley was kind of nice to him. Sometimes his questions got a bit annoying, but overall he wasn't super unpleasant to be around.

"Really?" Jaune said, staring at him incredulously. "I'm surprised. I thought you said you hated fish."

"It's fish?" Whitley asked.

"Yeah. It's a salmon."

"Isn't that the one they call the chicken of the sea?"

"Nah. That's what they call tuna," Jaune said. He finally turned the burner all the way off, placing the salmon on a bed of spinach. He took a tablespoon measure, using it to drizzle the sauce he made atop the salmon. "Did you need or want anything? I know I typically cook for Weiss and myself only, but if you're okay with giving me some time to drop this off with Weiss and speak with your father, I could whip you up something as well."

"That would be nice, but I'm not hungry," Whitley said. "I actually just came to ask you a question."

"Oh?" Jaune said, taking the plate of Weiss food and placing it on a platter. One hand slid the plate onto a tray, the other covering it in a fluid motion. Holding the food with one hand, he reached into the fridge and grabbed a chilled bottle of sparkling cider, using that same hand to fish for a glass out of the cabinet. "I've always got time for you. Ask away."

"Okay! But bear in mind that this first question doesn't count," Whitley said. "When did you leave to buy salmon? No one ever saw you leave the manor."

"I didn't go into the city, if that's what you're wondering," Jaune said. He motioned for the boy to follow him, beginning his stride towards Weiss' room from the kitchen. "I'm sure you know of my personal trainer?"

"Byleth?"

"Mhm," Jaune said, affirmatively. "After training ended, Professor Eisner and I went fishing at a stream a few miles away from the manor. You can get there by walking. Maybe I'll take you one day. If you want to go, that is."

"That would be nice."

"I'm glad. You've ever been fishing before?"

Whitley shook his head. "Father calls that, 'peasant work.' That's not to say I wouldn't be up for attempting it, though."

"That sounds promising," Jaune said. "I love fishing. I find that there are few things as relaxing as fishing. Just don't let Professor Eisner take you fishing, though. I figured we'd just spend a bit of time talking and pulling a fish or two or three. Instead, he discarded his shirt and cape, snapped and sharpened a smaller branch off of a tree, and dove right into the water."

"Dear gods," Whitley said, mortified.

"I had the exact expression," Jaune said, smiling to himself. "He came up after about three minutes with three fish skewered on the same stick. He saved the salmon for Weiss at my request, but the two bass he managed to catch alongside the salmon were cooked right there at the creek. Using some leaves and an additional two branches as kindling, he managed to get a fire going. With his dagger, he gutted and descaled the fish, and after cooking them, we ate them as skewers right there."

Jaune watched with a bemused expression as Whitley clutched at his stomach, his face going a little green. "That sounds sickening. The smell of blood, the gutting, the descaling. I'm surprised you went along with eating what he caught. I know Byleth is a mercenary, but I didn't expect him to be so…"

"Strange?"

"I was going to say brutish, but what you said sounds significantly nicer."

Jaune was surprised when he actually began to laugh. Even more so when Whitley joined him in laughing as well. The pair paused in front of Weiss' door, and Jaune tapped his knuckles against it twice in succession one more time.

"But seriously, what I actually wanted to ask earlier was… I'm sorry, this is embarrassing. But I wanted to ask, how do you become popular with women? I've tried, but I still don't think it works in getting any of the maids to be interested in me, especially not Mari."

"Oh, that was it?" Jaune asked, smiling. "Just wait right here and give me a second."

Without warning, Jaune twisted the knob to her door and stepped inside Weiss' room. He kept his eyes fixated on the tray, placing it on a little table off to the side. "I changed my mind on making you Quillhorn soup. I was really tempted to, though. I made Salmon instead. It's freshly caught too. There's actually a funny story behind—"

When the blonde finally looked up, he caught more than an eyeful. Weiss was hardly dressed, doing her best to cover herself in her matching black set of undergarments. His treacherous mind betrayed him, and unfortunately his eyes quickly flickered down before he had forcibly squeezed them shut.

Lace.

"Before you kill me," Jaune began.

"No one is killing you," Weiss said, with a roll of her eyes. When Jaune didn't move, she couldn't fight the pink dusting of her cheeks as she struggled to refrain from shouting. "That's not an invitation to stay! You have to go!"

"Right," Jaune said, feeling around for the door knob. He grabbed it and twisted it, but his mind screamed for one last scathing comment. Something to hopefully diffuse any awkwardness. "For the record, I think black really is your color."

"Get out."

Jaune slipped out of her room, his face red. Whitley looked towards him, partly bemused, partly confused. Jaune sighed deeply, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, before saying, "Don't be like me."

"What does that mean?" Whitley asked. "Everyone likes you. No one has anything negative to say about you."

"Sorry, sorry," Jaune said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Maybe that is really bad advice." He motioned for Whitley to follow him again, walking through the main halls and towards Mr. Schnee's personal study. "When I was your age, I used to look up self-help books and tutorials on making friends, or getting the attention of girls. That doesn't work. There's no trick, there's no instant way, none of that. Just be kind. Be patient. Treat them like what they are—people. No one likes to be held on a pedestal, and you'll attract the wrong kind of person by bending to someone's every whim. It also wouldn't hurt to improve yourself. Work out, learn how to cook, develop a hobby. There's something, and someone out there, for everybody."

"Huh," Whitley said.

"Did I sound stupid, or something?" Jaune blanched. He thought he sounded cool, or at the very least, helpful.

"No, it was surprisingly solid advice," Whitley said. "I'm just used to throwing money at things until they solve themselves."

"You can't solve everything like that," Jaune said. From the far end of the hallway, he spotted a maid. If he could recall correctly, her name was Mallow. "For example, watch me."

As they got closer, Jaune began to slow his stride down, holding up a hand and offering his coworker a wave. "Good afternoon, Mal."

"Afternoon, Jaune," she returned. Her dark hair was short, but it offered a nice contrast to her lavender eyes. The beauty mark underneath her right eye only drew attention to her beautiful and powerful gaze. But despite that, something was off putting.

Cautiously, he said, "Sorry if I'm a bit out of line, but did you do anything to your hair?"

"You noticed?" she asked, equally surprised and delighted. "I actually cut it."

"You cut it yourself?" Jaune asked. When she nodded, he smiled. "It looks really good on you. I might ask you for help on taming my unruly mess of hair one day. Is it a business thing for you?"

"I never considered," Mallow said. "I've never cut anyone else's hair either, so I'm not really sure if you're comfortable with me potentially being able to ruin your hair."

"Nonsense," Jaune said, waving the idea away with his hand. "I trust you."

He offered her a warm smile, motioning over to Whitley before saying, "Anyway, my bad for stopping you, but I promised Mr. Whitley I'd take him fishing. If you really ever want to practice on cutting another person's hair though, let me know, okay?"

"Okay," Mallow said, returning the smile.

Together, Jaune and Whitley were side by side, stepping in stride. The blonde waited until he was far enough out of ear shot before saying, "See? It's not that difficult. I follow the same principles I learned when I wanted to get better at speaking to people in general. Just talk about things that interest them and overall try to be a good person."

"I see," Whitley said. "Huh. I thought this was what commoners called, 'simping'?"

"Common decency is called simping now? The bar is set really low." Jaune thought aloud.

With a sigh, he stopped in front of Mr. Schnee's personal study. Part of him wanted to look at Whitley for help, however he'd be able to offer it, but he had excused himself the second they reached the door. He steeled himself, doing his best to keep his breathing even. Although he didn't quite get it himself, there was something very unnerving about Weiss' father, Jacques Schnee. He didn't scare him in the way a father would like his own, or cut an imposing figure like Mr. Leon. There was just an air about him that screamed danger at Jaune.

As he stepped inside, the smell of a burning candle hit his nose. Jaune stepped towards the CEO of the Schnee Dust Company, giving him just about six feet of space before he got on one knee and bowed his head. "You've called for me, Mr. Schnee sir?"

"He has."

Instinct took over control, and before Jaune could help it, his head snapped up wildly. "Father?"

"Indeed it is," Mr. Schnee said. There was a way about which he said those words, that sent chills down his spine. He could recall his own father holding Jacques Schnee with mild disgust, if only because before Weiss' mother had her marriage arranged with Mr. Schnee, Klein was her butler.

But nevertheless, Jacques Schnee held all the power now. Jaune watched as he moved away from him briefly, instead grabbing an intricate looking blade from it's resting place over the hearth. It was beautiful, a golden hilt and pommel, the handle doubly wrapped in blue leather. The blade itself was a gorgeous silver, and the detail that stood out to him the most was a wing-like design to guard his knuckles.

With a single hand, Jacques took the blade, tapping Jaune's shoulders with the flat of it. He mumbled something as he spoke, but Jaune wasn't able to make out what he had heard. With a final tap on his left shoulder once more, Jacques himself knelt.

"Jaune Arcenciel Sieben," Mr. Schnee said, his voice and presence deafening in the confines of his study. "With your father present, and through me invoking an age-old tradition of the Schnee Family, we now, not only celebrate your accomplishment as not only my daughter's retainer, but a fully graduated member of the Crownsguard program.

Graduated? Jaune thought.

"Your father has been informed of your mission in Vale, and as a result will be briefly returning to his duties as a butler to the Schnee family. Do not fret. I will make sure that nothing happens to him."

Jaune wanted to roll his eyes, but decided against it. I hope so.

"However," Mr. Schnee said. "I have two surprises for you. As I said before, this is to celebrate your graduation as a member of the Crownsguard. Not only are you a fully realized member of the Schnee Dust Company militia now, but I also entrust to you, this."

Jacques took the blade in both hands, holding it out to Jaune who accepted it with as much grace as he could.

"From now on, you are not just a simple retainer, or a member of the Crownsguard. You are an Heiress' Knight."

Excuse me?

Before Jaune could say anything however, Jacques spoke. "The Schnee family thanks you for your service now, and for your service in the years to come. I offer you the remainder of your day to spend time with your father, because as of tomorrow, you will also be accompanying Weiss to not only Vale, but Beacon Academy as well.

…

"Huh?!" Jaune shouted.

Author's Note

Something new, something a bit different, hopefully it's kind of refreshing. If you've read any of my work before, you'd have seen that I actually referenced an old fic of mine from a while back. It's technically a rewrite, but it's mostly grounded in Remnant, with a couple elements from FFXV. This is evidenced in Weiss even having a retainer despite being only an heiress, for example. Does it mean anything more than that?

It just might.

There's also another reference to a video game and a fic I like in here. I mean, I don't really do much of an attempt to hide it. I've never enjoyed a fanfiction as much as I've enjoyed that one.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Sorry if the ending is a bit rushed. My girlfriend is demanding I spend time with her, and you can't tell some women no, because then they just come and pick you up and my girlfriend is the type to do that.