-(=RWBY=)-
Queen of Air and Darkness
Part I
Light at Midnight
-(=RWBY=)-
Chapter 1
-(=RWBY=)-
His alarm sounded, and Jaune Arc woke to the withering reality that was his team hating him almost as much as they hated each other.
Eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling, Jaune tried to enjoy the last few minutes of tranquillity before the screaming started.
His teammates, meanwhile, were waking up.
Pyrrha Nikos rose from her bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Jaune could not help but look across at his partner, and smile – in an act that could be considered both apology and olive branch – but her eyes hardened, his smile grew strained, and that marked the end of the attempt to mend bridges; they both knew where they stood.
"Hey.
"Hey yourself.
Jaune made the effort to smile, as he introduced himself.
"Nice to meet you, partner. I'm Jaune Arc. You're Pyrrha Nikos, I suppose? Four-time winner of the Mistralian Championships."
"Nice to meet you too, Jaune."
With the trees rustling around them, and the Grimm still far from their position, Pyrrha smiled back in turn, her commercial-worthy teeth shining in the soft morning light – even as the curve of her lips never matched the coolness in her eyes.
Jaune faltered, the immediacy of her coldness making him unsure; and after a moment's consideration, decided it was probably a better use of both their time to get a move on – after all, the strongest friendships were forged in the harshness of battle.
"Shall we head towards the temple, and get the relics the headmaster mentioned?"
Pyrrha nodded her assent, and the newly-forged partnership started making their way north.
This continued for a minute or more – and all the while, the uncomfortable silence grated on him. Deciding not to let his initial failure discourage him, Jaune made a second attempt at making friends.
"Hope I don't sound too fanboyish in saying this, I've watched your matches before. Pyrrha – and you always show such incredible skill, and such liquid movement. Any pointers for a fellow fighter?"
Combat was what he was good at, and the same could be said of Pyrrha – and hence Jaune hoped that they could bond over their shared love of clashing blades and battle conducted at the edge. He favoured her with a grin, one sincere as he truly was being.
Pyrrha smiled, again, but this time, not only did it fail to reach her eyes, her lips themselves seemed barely to twitch upwards.
"Oh, practice, and good trainers – nothing to write home about."
It was an answer given a thousand times to hungry journalists and flashing cameras, and Jaune found himself wondering where he went wrong.
Nothing worth doing was easy, however, as his aura-unlocking proved. And so he forged ahead one, last time – but on this attempt, he went for a semi-serious joke.
"Ah, no secret semblance? I swear I saw your opponents' weapons move in strange ways before – faltering before a decisive blow, or failing a block that could not be failed. I hope they aren't all taking a dive or something."
Jaune smiled, in a manner he hoped was roguish and charming.
And yet –
Pyrrha Nikos's mouth grew thin, and she killed both the conversation and their potential friendship with –
"I'm no cheat. And I would be pleased if would not impugn my reputation or my hard-won wins."
Jaune generally considered himself to have a silver-tongue, but the conversation had gone in so mangled a direction that he could not but cut his losses and concede defeat.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, honestly. Let's just go north, shall we?"
And so they did. It was an easy journey, all things considered, the low-level Grimm of the Emerald Forest being no match for the Champion of Mistral and the last son of Arc.
Together, they carved a unerring path to the temple. And yet, for all her strength and all his skill, they could not escape the silence that spanned the two.
Jaune sighed, even as Pyrrha made her way to the bathroom to freshen up. He wasn't in the habit of bathing in the morning – it wasn't as if one sweated that much at night – and so was more than happy to let Pyrrha go first.
As for his other teammates...
On the far side of the room, Blake Belladonna was already changed into her combat attire, having seemingly woken up before the rest of the team. A book in hand, she was magnanimous enough to spare him a cold glance, before heading straight out of the room.
And if the door slammed shut in a way that couldn't be remotely construed as polite, well...
... things could be worse, or so Jaune reminded himself.
Initiation was over, and they had passed with consummate ease. Aura truly was a miracle for the ages, the enhanced speed and strength and toughness and awareness allowing him to best the Deathstalker in single combat while his team dealt with the more minor Grimm.
Having obtained the relics and returned to the cliffs, Weiss was now further pestering Pyrrha on some inconsequential matter, and with the latter – unconsciously or otherwise – speeding up to escape the former, that left Jaune and Blake walking back to the school at a more leisurely pace.
Despite the disaster that was his earlier attempt to befriend Pyrrha, Jaune reasoned that it was probably just her being a standoffish celebrity – and it wasn't like lightning could strike twice. To Blake, therefore, he said,
"So, Blake, what brings you here? I thought Menagerie was planning to open up its own combat school – wouldn't that have been more convenient for you? Though I guess Beacon is the best, and –"
Gambol Shroud ripped from its sheath, and on reflex Jaune drew Crocea Mors in reply, to face off against the inexplicably furious girl.
With her sword levelled at him, she demanded,
"How do you know I'm a faunus? What do you want?"
Jaune's grip on his sword tightened – before relaxing. Blake, he realized, was terrified, and it didn't take a genius to figure our why. The responsible thing was to deescalate and reassure, and accordingly, Jaune sheathed his sword. Raising his arms to show his lack of hostility, he said,
"Hey, calm down. I recognized your name, that's all – I mean, your parents are famous. For the record, I have nothing against faunus, and I don't hold it against you or your parents that Sienna Khan resorted to terrorism after she took power."
His words worked – to some extent. Blake lowered her blade, even as the anger in her face failed to fade away.
After a few seconds of what was clearly internal turmoil, Blake said, with a real edge to her voice –
"Keep this to yourself. I don't want trouble just because bigots hate my race or my family. Promise me."
Jaune nodded.
"I promise, don't worry."
Then, after a brief moment of hesitation, he added,
"Though honestly, I don't think anyone will give you trouble over this. Maybe Winchester – his family has hated faunus since forever – but most younger folks don't care for the old bigotries."
And, gentle as spring rain, he asked,
"Do you really think you need that bow here?"
Blake's anger was gone now, Jaune could see. And in its place –
– contempt.
In a quiet voice that carried, Blake Belladonna gave a reply burdened with the weight of history.
"If you ever want to know why anti-faunus discrimination still exists, Arc, simply look in the mirror – and see someone who helps evil by pretending that the problem is gone, and that we should all just move on."
Jaune rubbed at his temples. Remembering the conversation from yesterday made him both upset and uneasy. He didn't think it was fair of Blake to disparage him as she did – while he might have not been sufficiently considerate of her feelings and her own experience with discrimination, he certainly didn't believe that it no longer existed. It wasn't as if he was like...
Jaune glanced near the bathroom door, outside which the final member of their team silently waited her turn while ignoring his existence. Her hair white as fresh-fallen snow, and the angry scar over her left eye only lending her the exquisiteness of imperfection, here was a girl with all the beauty, and all the warmth, of a lake in winter frozen and in spring unthawed.
He might have gotten off to a bad start with Pyrrha and Blake, but compared to what last night with Weiss had wrought...
Their new dorm room was nice and spacious, even if Jaune was unsure how living with three girls would work. On the one hand, it sounded excitingly dirty, like the multiple-romance plot of Mistralian animation; on the other hand – and if he was being honest with himself – it was going to be awkward at best and a disaster at worst.
As the newly minted team leader of JWBN – pronounced Jubilation, according to Ozpin and whatever monkey-typed dictionary he was using – Jaune took the initiative.
"If any of you girls want to use the bathroom first, I'm happy to wait. While the first person bathes, the rest of us can unpack."
As Blake didn't seem to care, and with Weiss trying to curry favour with Pyrrha, the latter ended up getting to shower first, despite her obvious aversion to the favouritism.
The rest of them got down to unpacking, which for Jaune was an admirably swift process – since it involved little more than retrieving a pile of clothes, a bag of toiletries and a solitary water bottle from his luggage and dumping them all into the cabinet nearest his bed. That done, he pulled out his scroll, and started checking the news.
...
"Fuck."
"Excuse me, Jaune Arc? Please do watch your language, especially if you'll be living with three ladies."
In the midst of unpacking her absurd amount of luggage, Weiss nonetheless took out the time to berate him for his swearing. Blake, meanwhile, had quickly completed her unpacking as well, and had started reading a book on her bed.
"Sorry, Weiss. It's just –"
The Vale News Network article staring at him from his scroll told a brutal story bordering on the gruesome.
Jaune considered not telling Weiss what it was that he had just read, but she was going to find out eventually – and she deserved to know.
"– the White Fang just attacked a Schnee mining operation in Atlas. Dozens killed, with the bodies showing... signs of... torture and mutilation."
Now that shocked Weiss into horrified silence – while also drawing Blake's attention from across the room. The latter was frozen in the middle of turning a page, and a plethora of emotions warred on her face – horror, distress, distaste, disgust.
Weiss, meanwhile, had pulled out her scroll to verify the news for herself; and as she doubtlessly read the same VNN article he did, her face deepened into cold, intense rage. And when she spoke, it was fire she spat.
"What vile animals the White Fang are – torture, mutilation, execution; is no enormity beyond them? General Ironwood should have killed them years ago; hunted them down and destroyed them root and branch."
From behind Weiss, Blake's eyes narrowed to slits, the mention of animals and wholesale destruction doubtlessly angering her. Jaune could feel a ruinous argument coming, and tried to head it off, but he was too slow, as Blake snapped –
"Weiss. You're upset, and I understand, but there's no call for racist language, or for talking about destroying anything root and branch in the context of a people who has historically been killed in pogroms and ethnic cleansings."
Upon hearing this, Weiss spun upon her heels to glare at Blake.
"What? I can't believe I'm hearing this. Don't make spurious accusations of racism or ethnic cleansing, Blake – we're not talking about faunus in general, just the White Fang. Terrorists. Brutal, insane murderers who need to be destroyed!"
Jaune was a helpless bystander now. Words failed him; but it did not fail Blake, who returned fire with an intensity Jaune did not expect, even accounting for her faunus heritage.
"You can't paint the crimes of a few White Fang members on the whole organization! On the whole, the White Fang only attacks military and Schnee targets, either in self-defence or to free faunus trapped as slaves in Schnee mines!"
Weiss gaped.
"What nonsense is this? The Schnee Dust Company does not enslave anyone, faunus or otherwise! This is just typical conspiratorial nonsense thrown about by malicious liars and amplified by the sensationalist media to hurt the SDC's reputation."
At this point, Blake gave a masterclass in mock incredibility.
"Oh yes, of course, it's just a conspiracy. Everyone's just out to get the poor, victimized Schnees. It's totally not the case that reputable organizations like Liberty International have compiled tons of investigative research showing faunus in the Schnee mines being beaten and whipped, of female faunus being raped, of faunus men being mutilated with the fucking SDC logo –"
Blake stopped mid-rant. She was pale, and growing paler. And for some inexplicable reason, she was pointing at her left eye, and yet was now looking at her own pointing hand with growing horror.
Without another word, she fled the room.
Weiss was speechless; Jaune, meanwhile, only felt a sinking feeling, as he got a sense of the truth behind the last – admittedly insane-looking – finger pointing part of Blake's rant.
Weiss, who had thus far been facing towards Blake's side of the room and away from him, now turned around once more.
"Jaune, surely you don't believe the deluded lies Blake was spreading?"
Jaune shook his head – though not at Weiss's question so much as in resignation.
He was caught in a bind here – however he answered, he was sure to offend one of his teammates, further fragmenting his new team of half an hour.
Though, Jaune drily noted – could they truly fragment if they never were united in the first place?
Snorting at that little bit of grim humour, Jaune then decided to tell Weiss the truth – his conscience demanded it, on an issue as morally significant as this; and it wasn't inconceivable that he could put Weiss onto a path of changing her mind.
Gathering his thoughts, Jaune spoke.
"Weiss. This –""
He raised his scroll to show the VNN article on the White Fang's brutal attack.
"– is evil, and the White Fang are brutal terrorists who need to be stopped –"
Weiss seemed to preen, before his next words stopped her cold.
"– but Blake is not wrong that there are well-documented cases of abusive labour practices by the Schnee Dust Corporation. Beatings and whippings, used by overseers to sate their own sadistic urges, or to punish faunus who try to escape. Rape, too, does happen. The same can be said of torture and disfiguration by branding – it's a sick insult, you see; it implies the faunus are cattle."
By this point, Weiss's face was cold – almost insanely so.
"The White Fang is the scum of the earth, and I have sworn to destroy them. They are my enemy; and so is anyone who makes apologies for them by slurring my family."
Jaune exhaled. He didn't want to make an enemy of his teammate...
... but he wanted to be a hero, and a hero spoke the truth, even when it was inconvenient. Especially when it was inconvenient.
Looking Weiss right in the eyes, Jaune calmly stated,
"Those weren't slurs; they're the publicly-documented truth."
Weiss nodded, and with coldness that could freeze the sun, said,
"I'll rather be friends, but if that's what you want, so be it. Enemies it is."
All in all, their first day as a team had been a disaster too epic for words, and Ozpin's plan to improve human-faunus relations by bringing Weiss and Blake together was tragically hilarious.
Still, there was nothing to do but soldier on. He hadn't work so hard, or sacrificed so much, just to get here and then give up.
After Pyrrha and Weiss had finished showering and changing, Jaune slipped into the bathroom to put on his own combat attire of jeans and hoodie and armour. After that, the three of them started making their way to the dining hall. No one asked where Blake was; but then again no one said anything at all.
The dorms were located on the south-western corner of campus, while the dining hall was at the north-eastern end, so getting there was somewhat of an inconvenience.
With Jaune leading the way, the three of them headed down the initial path from the dorms, to reach the front courtyard.
It was a grand, beautiful place, full of soaring arches and flowing water. Jaune hadn't really allowed himself to appreciated it yesterday, when he was fully focused on initiation. Now, he took the time to stop and drink in the atmosphere of the place – even if, ultimately, he had eyes for only one thing.
The Heroes.
Standing high atop the rock that served as their pedestal, two figures of legend stared out heroically into the distance, the man raising his sword high, and the woman sending fire screaming across the sky.
The First King of Vale, on the one hand, and his greatest champion Jeanne d'Arc, on the other; and together, they had ended the Daybreak Wars, quelled the Twilight Plague, and driven back the tide of Grimm to the modern borders of Vale.
If he could be even a fraction of the hero that she was, the world would be saved.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Jaune realized that Pyrrha and Weiss had left him behind. He was about to start jogging to catch up with them –
– only to see Headmaster Ozpin and Deputy Headmistress Glynda Goodwitch looking at him from under the tree where they were quietly speaking.
Manners dictated he greet them, and so he did, with a slight but respectful bow.
The headmaster lifted the cup he was sipping from, as if in salute, while his deputy gave a sharp but not unkind nod.
Then Ozpin gave a slight beckon with his head – a summons Jaune could not refuse.
He made his way across to them.
"Good morning, headmaster; deputy headmistress."
The latter looked somewhat uncomfortable at his presence, and the feeling was mutual, as no doubt the sight of each other only conjured memories of five years ago.
That was the first and only time Jaune Arc had ever seen a Collapse, or titan-class combat, and he wasn't eager to repeat the experience.
Ozpin, either oblivious – or uncaring – of the slightly tense atmosphere, enquired,
"How are you finding Beacon so far, Mr Arc?"
Jaune could have lied, or given some platitudinous non-answer, but he wasn't feeling up to it this morning.
"It could be better, sir. My team isn't getting along very well, and I hope that'll change for the better with time."
He wanted to add, and I'm pretty sure we set human-faunus relations back ten years, but he held his tongue.
Ozpin nodded in sympathy.
"These things require time. If you continue working on it patiently and thoughtfully, you four will surely grow close, both as a team and as good friends to last a lifetime.
"Why, one of the best huntsman teams to ever graduate Beacon started the first day by trying to kill each other. And then your famous ancestor herself, too, started out hating the man who would one day become king. She found him... too reticent, too secretive."
He smiled faintly, as if it were a joke only he understood; beside him, Goodwitch looked like she wanted to snort.
Jaune, meanwhile, said,
"Thank you for the advice and encouragement, sir. If that's all, may I be excused? I need to catch up with my team and have breakfast, before combat class."
Ozpin nodded genially.
"Of course. Do not let me keep you, Mr Arc."
"Thank you, sir. Ma'am."
Jaune nodded his goodbyes, and then turned and walked away at a fast pace – all the while feeling the keen gazes of the two professors never leaving his back.
He ended up making good time to the dining hall – the school itself wasn't too hard to navigate, so long as you knew the general direction of where you wanted to end up.
When he arrived, the dining hall wasn't particularly crowded; and though he couldn't say how packed it would ordinarily have been, it was still fairly early, and he suspected many of students were choosing to sleep in.
Heading to the front of the hall, Jaune joined the queue for the serving counter, and in a short while, he got the serving lady to load up a plate with full breakfast for him. Grabbing an extra croissant and banana for good measure, Jaune balanced everything on his tray, and then started scanning the hall for his errant teammates.
Blake was nowhere to be seen, but Pyrrha and Weiss were easy enough to spot, given the former's flame-red hair and the latter's snow-white tresses, as well as the small crowd of people that had begun congregating around where the two celebrities were seated.
Weiss seemed at home with the attention, but Pyrrha seemed disinterested – and indeed, she was looking at the other side of the hall with a frown.
Jaune turned his head –
Ah.
A change of plans was in order.
Instead of going over to Weiss and Pyrrha, Jaune headed for back of the hall –
– and on the way, activated his aura and barged into the back of Cardin Winchester.
The large boy was flung to the floor, and the frightened rabbit faunus whose ear he had been pulling took the chance to scamper away, her own tray of food left forgotten.
"What the fuck? Watch where you're going!"
Winchester roared his displeasure, as he picked himself up.
But when he saw who it was that had knocked him down, his simmering anger erupted into full-blown fire.
"Arc, you bastard, you did that on purpose!"
Jaune set his tray down – he didn't want his tray to go flying and the food to go to waste, if it came to blows. Then he smiled, with a cocky insufferable smirk only he could pull off so well.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Cardin, I didn't notice you."
"You fucking liar!"
Cardin looked ready to punch him, before Jaune said,
"Save it for combat class, Cardin – or after school, when I'll be pleased to fight you in the training rooms. Or would you rather go a round with me now, and then when we're hauled before the headmaster, explain to him just what you were doing before I interrupted you?"
The larger boy glowered – but he backed off.
"I'll smash that smirk off your face later, and that's a promise."
He stormed off, and the rest of Team CRDL, who had been hanging back thus far, followed, though not before Russel Thrush shot him an appraising look.
With that bit of trouble over, Jaune picked up his tray again, and was about to head over to his team, when he realized that the whole dining hall was still looking at him.
So to them, he said,
"What a heroic bunch of huntsmen and huntresses you all are, to sit by and do nothing, when injustice is occurring. Good job."
Angry murmurs broke out in the hall
Jaune, however, had eyes only for his teammates.
Weiss, predictably, was angry – even if she tried not to show it, the narrowed eyes and mouth pressed flat spoke well and loud. Pyrrha, however –
Pyrrha gave a brilliant smile – one bright as the sun, and sincere as none of her other ones had been.
Jaune felt a weight lift off of him, and returned her heartfelt smile with one of his own, before making his way over.
The groupies and hanger-ons dispersed at his coming, and he sat down across from Pyrrha, and next to Weiss – though giving the latter a wide berth.
Pyrrha no longer seemed to actively dislike him – or think him just some asshole disparaging her Championship wins – but Jaune decided it was still good to talk things through.
"Pyrrha. I know we got off on the wrong foot yesterday, and that I'm to blame, but I hope you can forgive me, and that we can still become good partners, and good friends."
Pyrrha seemed taken aback, somewhat, but quickly recovered to say,
"Oh no, I should be the one apologizing, for overreacting to a joke. Of course we can be friends – shake on it?"
She smiled warmly, and offered her hand.
He took it, and they shook to confirm that bygones were bygones.
Weiss seemed none too pleased, but right now, her anger was dust to him.
They began eating their breakfast, and throughout Jaune kept up small talk with Pyrrha; and while his partner was still somewhat reserved, that seemed more her personality than anything, and all things considered, Jaune counted that morning an unqualified success.
Now, if only he could persuade the other two members of his teams not to hate him, or each other...
He mused on that thorny issue, but if the way Weiss occasionally shot him dirty glances, he would have his work cut out for him.
Once they were all done eating, they cleared their trays. Then, they made their way towards the armoury to retrieve their weapons, before walking over to where the combat arena stood.
A large, imposing structure, the arena was more stadium than school building. Entering through the main entrance and going straight, Team JWBN sans Blake came upon the wide, empty circular space at the heart of the building, where battles would take place.
Taking one of the two staircases that wound up the walls surrounding the combat circle, the team reached the upper level of the arena, where tiered benches rose up in ever larger concentric circles.
The ceiling, far above, completed the grand atmosphere of the place, and almost made it feel like the sort of real stadium used for the regional combat Championships.
A glance around revealed that they were the first to arrive. Choosing a bench mid-way up, Jaune sat, and his team followed suit, Pyrrha settling down beside him and Weiss perching further down.
The silence was pleasant, and relaxing. Tilting his head back, Jaune let the soft light from the ceiling high above wash over him.
And that was when a shriek pierced the silence.
Jaune snapped his eyes open, even as Weiss exclaimed in disgust,
"It's that child again!"
Team RVLY was lying in a collective heap in the middle of the combat circle, evidently having sprinted here before proceeding to trip over each other.
Ruby Rose was the first to pick herself up, and with a quick scan of the benches confirming that they were largely empty, she exclaimed, happily,
"Oh, thank the cookie gods, we're not late!"
Yang Xiao-Long, looking torn between amusement and annoyance, shook her head, and said,
"I told you so, sis. There wasn't a need to rush."
Lie Ren, meanwhile, looked exhausted.
"Nora, I can't believe there are now basically two of you. If things continue as they are, my hair will turn grey from stress."
The busty, and apparently perennially chirpy orange-haired girl grinned at her friend.
"C'mon Rennie, you know there's only one NORA VALKYRIE!"
She thrust her warhammer up, and posed for all to see.
"Well, well, you guys are an interesting bunch."
Jaune, along with the rest of his team, had walked towards the railings at the edge of the upper level, from which they could peer down at their excitable fellow students on the ground floor.
Jaune gave a friendly wave, even while thinking to himself –
Team Revelry sure is well named.
Ruby seemed embarrassed, but after a moment's hesitation, waved back shyly.
The members of Team RVLY then made their way up their stairs, at a more sedate pace relative to how they entered the arena.
"Eep!"
Ruby made a sound that seemed a cross between bird chirp and mouse squeak, as Weiss stalked up to her. Wagging a finger at the other girl, Weiss exclaimed,
"You! Do you have any sense of decorum at all?"
Ruby made to hide behind her sister, who sighed.
"Lay off her, will you, Weiss cream?"
The nickname amused Jaune – and Pyrrha, who failed to sufficiently stifle her giggle – but served only to further upset Weiss, who looked about ready to begin ranting.
Jaune stepped in.
"Weiss. Enough."
The white-haired girl turned around to glare at him; and, as expected, her deep and lasting anger at him made her forget the minor annoyance that the sisters posed.
Spinning upon her heels, she stalked away – only to almost collide into Blake Belladonna, who had just come up the staircase.
They glared at each other, before going off in opposite directions.
Jaune ran a hand through his hair in exasperation.
His team.
He really had to think of something, or at this rate the whole bunch of them was going to die from disunity and mis-coordination one day, on one difficult mission or another.
But speaking of good relationships –
He turned back to Ruby and team, and offered a hand.
"Hi, I'm Jaune, and this is Pyrrha."
"Oh! Nice to meet you Jaune. Nice to meet you too, Pyrrha."
Everyone present took turn shaking hands, while Ruby introduced her team.
"This is Yang, my sister. And that's Ren, he's like a super-duper cool ninja, and he's with Nora, who can basically punch out Goliaths once you feed her enough electricity."
"Please never do that, Ruby."
With his words and demeanour, Ren was clearly the sensible, responsible person in his team. Nora, meanwhile had a manic grin and a grip like an industrial gravel crusher. But as interesting a pair as the two made, it was Yang Xiao-Long who drew Jaune's attention the most.
She looked familiar – distressingly so, because he couldn't quite trace the resemblance to its source.
"See anything you like, ladykiller?"
The girl in question caught him staring, and gave him a smile dangerous and alluring in equal measures.
Jaune laughed, and only said,
"Nah, I just thought you looked familiar. Maybe I saw you around Vale once, or something."
"Oh, yeah, maybe! Do you club?"
Yang began quizzing him on his interest in getting shitfaced at nightclubs – which was none – and the conversation eventually drew everyone into a discussion of their hobbies.
As more they chatted about everything and nothing, other teams filtered into the arena, and began taking seats on the various benches. It struck Jaune, then, how normal and how nice Team RVLY was. Meanwhile, he was the one stuck with group whose makeup was almost designed, with surgical precision, to have its members hate each other.
In a way, he supposed it was – if, as he thought, this was all some political side-project by the headmaster.
The bell rang.
Right on the dot, and not a moment too early or late, Glynda Goodwitch marched in. The whole class – of perhaps eight teams – fell silent; such was the respect her stern demeanour commanded.
It helped, of course, to be the most famous huntress on Remnant, one whose power was capable of levelling cities and murdering armies.
"Good morning, class, and welcome to Year 1 Combat. The goal of this class is to improve the combat abilities of each and everyone of you. To that end, we will have practice combat each session – sometimes, this will involve one-on-one duels here; other times, they will involve fighting a horde of Grimm in controlled conditions at the edge of the Emerald Forest; and yet other times, this will involve a test of endurance as you face a continuous stream of Grimm for a fixed duration of time.
"All these simulate the various combat scenarios you might face – duelling a powerful rogue huntsman, for example; or fighting against a pack of Grimm individually weak but collectively dangerous; or, perhaps, holding a ruined village gate against an unending tide of nightmares until reinforcements arrive.
"The threat we fight, and the dangers we face, are very real, and you must all work hard to ensure your skills are up to par. In particular, you must understand that this class ought not be the only time you are doing combat training. Rather, this class is meant to give me the chance to observe you in action, and to offer suggestions as to how you might improve. You must then train in your own time, and attempt to implement my suggestions – whether it be to practise a specific combat form, or to add and master a crowd-control weapons function, or to improve your general endurance. I expect to see improvement, and I will be most displeased if none is in evidence."
And you don't want to face my displeasure – that was the threat made but left unsaid. It was an implication, Jaune sensed, that everyone understood well enough.
"Today, we shall be practising one-on-one combat. Typically, I would do the choosing as to who fights whom, but Beacon has a tradition of allowing – on the first day, and on the first day only – the students to choose whom they wish to fight.
"Now – who wishes to go first?"
Far down the bench, Cardin Winchester stood, and shouted,
"Me, Professor! And I challenge Arc."
Goodwitch sighed.
"Your father said that too, Mr Winchester."
Jaune smiled.
Cardin was a moron, truly. Not in the sense of lacking intelligence, but in the sense of not using it.
Aside from the fact that he was going to lose – badly – the boy had never stopped to think as to why this old tradition even existed.
Prevailing since even before their fathers attended Beacon, the reason for said tradition was obvious – to identify and gauge simmering animosities amongst the students, especially in the wake of the Great War, so that the staff could take the appropriate disciplinary and corrective measures. Without said tradition, students would simply fight outside the confines of class – leading to hurt and injury in the near-term, and a disunited and ineffective huntsman corps in the long-run.
In more modern times, of course, as the older enmities had died out, the tradition was used more to souse out the troublemakers and the bullies – those who liked violence, lacked restrain, and could not see reason.
Way to out yourself, Winchester.
Jaune stood, and spoke up.
"I'm more than happy to fight Cardin, Professor, though I would have thought he'd rather let ancient feuds die. What does it matter, who killed who, a hundred years ago?"
Upon hearing his words, Goodwitch favoured Jaune with a nod.
"Well said, Mr Arc. Your maturity is commendable, and something that could be emulated by others."
Context, let alone her glance back at Cardin, left no doubt as to who she had in mind.
Cardin looked fit to explode – but could not bring up the truth, without risking exposure over the faunus bullying matter.
Regardless, there would be no backing out now, for either Cardin or himself.
Reassuring a concerned looking Pyrrha with a smile, Jaune went over to the railing, and then jumped down, aura cushioning the landing.
Cardin did the same from his side, and Goodwitch began issuing instructions for the fight.
"Link your scrolls to the arena's combat system. You can do so by opening the Beacon app on your scroll, navigating to the Combat page, and selecting the very bottom button labelled Link."
Jaune did as he was told, but from the whispers that had broken out all around, the class was clearly no longer paying attention to Goodwitch – preferring, instead, to discuss who would win this duel.
Shaking her head in annoyed disapproval, Glynda Goodwitch snapped her crop, and dust sorcery did the rest, producing a ear-splitting clap.
Pained winces were evident all around, even as Goodwitch sternly said,
"Pay attention, for you will all need to do this later, and I will not deign to repeat myself."
Chastened, the class paid close attention to the giant screen at the other end of the arena, on which Goodwitch demonstrated how to perform the simple scroll linking.
After that, Goodwitch changed the screen, and made it instead show Cardin's and Jaune's faces, along with their accompanying aura meters.
"Combat will start only when I say it starts; and it will end immediately when either party's aura goes below 33%, or when I call a stop. I warn you, do not test me on this – I will not hesitate to suspend or even expel any student who risks the safety of his peers by ignoring these rules. Am I understood?"
A chorus of 'Yes, Professor' echoed throughout the arena.
Satisfied, Goodwitch seemed ready to begin the fight –
– only to pause.
Blinking in annoyance and then sighing, she gave the impression of being vexed with herself for forgetting something. Turning to Jaune, she asked,
"May I see your sword, Mr Arc?"
"Of course, Professor."
He drew his sword and made to walk over, but he needn't have, as a tell-tale violet-black glow lit up around his blade, and Glynda Goodwitch's famed telekinesis levitated the weapon over to her for inspection.
Said weapon was, of course, not Crocea Mors – Jaune was neither cruel nor stupid, and would never in a thousand years choose to bring Anra steel to combat practice. Instead, he had with him a plain sword of ordinary steel, one worn and notched from the long years of practice he had given it.
After gently pressing the edge of his nameless practice blade down on her aura-protected skin, and finding no blood drawn, Glynda Goodwitch nodded her satisfaction, and floated the blade back to him.
Jaune gripped its hilt, and began walking leisurely towards the centre of the circle, where Cardin awaited with his mace hefted over his shoulder.
Goodwitch sighed, and looked as if she would still rather not do this; nonetheless, she called,
"Ready yourselves. Three –"
Gathering his aura, Jaune raised his sword to the heavens, and settled into his preferred starting position that was the high stance.
"– two –"
Cardin held his mace low and loose in two-handed grip.
"– one –"
Cardin's legs were straight, untensed, with the man himself unready, which meant –
"– begin!"
Jaune closed the distance in less time than it took to blink, and his sword smashed down upon Cardin's head.
Perfect – just as practised, and just as planned.
"Argh!"
Cardin cried out in real pain, even as his aura protected him from fatal damage.
That pain left him vulnerable to further attacks, but Jaune only kicked him away, instead of following up and ending the fight.
This wasn't out of consideration to Cardin, but it wasn't to humiliate him either – rather, it was for Jaune's own benefit, and for the sake of honing his skills to a deadly polish. In a real fight, with Crocea Mors in hand, such a successful strike would have been fatal, with no follow-up attacks needed. Practising any such continuation would have been wasted, and would have yielded no practical benefit. Instead, by giving Cardin space, and resetting the fight, Jaune got the chance to test himself once more, and to try out additional techniques drills as the circumstances saw fit.
Cardin was recovered by now, and with a roar, he hefted his mace.
Jaune shifted his shoulders, and tensed his legs, and all in all made a less-than-subtle show of his intention to lunge in once more.
Cardin, no fool, saw this, and swung his mace in a counter-strike that would have smashed Jaune's face in had it hit –
– though, of course, it didn't, as Jaune ended up only edging forward half a step, his feint successful and Cardin's mace passing inches in front of his face.
And now, with his enemy over-extended and unable to either defend or attack, Jaune struck – first with a blow to the hands, and then to the face.
Flawless – just as trained, and just as intended.
Cardin was really, really angry now. An animalistic roar ripping from his throat, he charged in, heedless.
And Jaune saw, with impossible clarity, the moment of vulnerability coming to be.
Immaculate – just as rehearsed, and just as formulated.
Fully committed to his attack, Cardin was unable to react to Jaune's perfectly chosen counter, of blocking under the head of the mace using the base of his blade, even while twisting around to cut –
Violet light and stygian darkness lit up the world, and a crushing pressure stopped Jaune cold.
On reflex, he fought it, but for all his strength, and all his power, he could not overcome that which had made elder Grimm cringe and cower.
"Enough. The fight is over."
Goodwitch's cool voice cut through to Jaune, and lifted him out of his combat haze – that single-minded focus he slipped into, so as to see through his opponent and to allow him to always choose right course of action.
The professor's telekinetic grip faded, on both himself and Cardin, and they stepped away from each other.
Cardin was glaring hatefully at him, but Jaune himself was more interested in looking at the arena screen, which showed –
– Cardin, and his aura at 10%.
That certainly explained why Goodwitch had stopped the fight – at 10%, there was little chance that Cardin could withstand another blow to the head, as Jaune was about to inflict, and escape significant injury.
Cardin didn't seem to have appreciated any of this nuance, however, and instead had stormed off without another word.
That was convenient, however, since it allowed Jaune to turn to Professor Goodwitch and quickly but quietly explain the reason for Cardin's antagonism – the bullying from that morning, and what Jaune did to stop it.
The Professor's face darkened, like the sky in storm, and with a soft voice more terrifying than thunder, promised to speak to the girl in question – one Velvet Scarlatina – and then take the appropriate disciplinary actions from there.
Well-satisfied, Jaune headed back up the stairs to the upper level of the arena, where he was received by the enthusiastic cheers of Team RVLY, and rewarded, by a beautiful smile and quiet congratulations from Pyrrha.
It left him with a warm, pleasant glow in his chest – and Jaune had to admit that having friends was the best.
-(=RWBY=)-