Professor Ozpin was sitting in his office, going over the last of the report cards his staff had turned in, and reviewing the final marks for the Battle Tactics and Combat Strategies test he had made for team leaders not long ago.

He had just topped up on coffee and was looking forward to a few slices of hot-buttered toast for a quiet rest of the afternoon. But just as he approached the final stretch in the stack of papers, the elevator bell rang.

Ozpin looked up; at first, he felt mildly annoyed, but then he became quite puzzled.

No one would come to see him at this hour.

'Who could that be?' He wondered.

"Enter." He called.

The door opened, and he found his answer.

"Oh, good afternoon Mister Arc," Ozpin was a bit surprised, but pleased nonetheless, "I wasn't expecting you. Please come in, how may I help today?"

Jaune was dressed as he would normally be for combat or missions, with his sweater, jeans, armour and weapons, but now he had a duffle bag over his shoulder; he set it on the ground, walked over and sat down in the chair in front of Ozpin's desk.

The decidedly blank expression on his face slowly morphed into one of caution, and he clasped his hands together over his knees. It seemed, to Ozpin, that Jaune was trying to find his words. All the while, the hands of the clock kept ticking, and the gears clunked quietly together in the mechanism.

After a moment, Jaune finally spoke,

"Professor Ozpin," He began slowly, "I have something I need to tell you . . ."

"Oh?" Ozpin raised an eyebrow, "Do tell."

There was a pause.

"About the transcripts I submitted," Jaune explained carefully, ". . . I should tell you . . . I faked them, none of what you saw on those papers is real. I've lied to you, to my parents, and to my own team."

He kept his head low as he finished speaking, ready for the incoming verbal lashing. But Ozpin didn't react right away, he simply sat there; his gaze didn't waver or harden, and he watched his student, thoughtfully.

Jaune took that as his cue to begin again.

"If you're wondering why I'm telling you this, it's because . . ." He took a breath, "I've decided to leave Beacon. And I don't plan to come back."

Once again, Ozpin was puzzled, but said nothing because it seemed like Jaune still had more to say.

"I don't belong here, and I don't think I ever will, no matter what I do." He continued quietly, "I just wanted to let you know because- . . . Well, you're the headmaster, you'd've found out eventually. But I figured it'd be better if I just came out and said it."

Jaune cast his gaze down to the floor for a moment, before looking back up at Ozpin.

"I'm sorry, Professor." He said, "I'll accept whatever punishment you think is necessary."

Ozpin gazed at Jaune, and pensively sipped his coffee.

"I see." He murmured at last.

Ozpin set his mug down on the desk and looked his student in the eye; he searched Jaune's expression, but to his surprise, he saw nothing to suggest a lie or a joke.

All he could see was regret.

'Of his own volition . . .' He realised, 'He truly means to do this . . . But . . . I must wonder . . .'

Gazing back at Ozpin, Jaune was surprised not to see even a slight hint of anger or even any signs of disappointment. Just a passive calm, as always.

Finally, Ozpin broke the silence,

"You should know, Mister Arc." He said, "I think it's only fair to tell you . . . I've known about your papers since the day they were sent in."

Jaune paused, then he felt shocked. He stared at Ozpin, his eyes popped open, and his jaw dropped,

"W-what? You knew!?" He asked, "A- And . . . This- This whole time . . ."

Ozpin folded his fingers together in front of his face to hide the budding smirk and allowed for Jaune to take in what he meant.

He almost let out a quiet chuckle. Ozpin often enjoyed playing little mind games with a few of his younger students, if only for a chance at seeing how baffled they would look.

'It never gets old.' He thought, 'This is some of the best fun I get to have.'

Again, Ozpin almost let out a quiet chuckle,

"Mister Arc, I personally oversee all of the transcript submissions myself." He explained, "Did you honestly think I wouldn't recognize a fake transcript, should I ever stumble across one?"

Now, Jaune's face was paler than ever, and he looked quite nervous.

Ozpin smugly sipped his coffee.

"But- but why?" Jaune looked ready to lose his mind, "If you knew this the whole time, then why did you let me in? Why did you put me in charge of a team? What was the point of it all?!"

He was almost frantic now. Ozpin simply offered a kind, wry smile, and set his mug back down.

"Oh, nothing really," He smiled, "I just thought to return the favour to my old friend, Jaden."

Jaune paused,

"Jaden?" He asked, "You know my dad?"

Ozpin nodded,

"I have, for many years now." He answered, "Your father is quite a character, and a crafty warrior."

Jaune was surprised, but he listened, rapt with attention.

"Long ago, Jaden Arc was a huntsman-in-training." Recounted Ozpin, "And I did oversee some of his training myself for a while, he was well on his way to becoming a great huntsman.

Jaune was intrigued; his father had never told him much about his time before becoming a huntsman. In fact, the only stories he could remember his father telling him about, were his romantic escapades – most of which, his mother, and strangely, his Uncle Norman had confirmed to be untrue.

"Although he wasn't a student here at Beacon, we ended up working together on a number of missions," Continued Ozpin, "both he, your uncle, and I became good friends after a short while, and in a way, they helped me become the man I am now."

Jaune was amazed.

'I didn't know Dad was friends with Ozpin . . .' He thought, 'Hell, I never knew Uncle Norm knew Ozpin neither! . . . But I guess that makes sense, considering how much he never told me about it.'

Ozpin still had more to say,

"When I saw your name on those papers, I must confess, I was curious." He admitted, "I wanted to see for myself if you shared any of your father's qualities. And, while you do not match him in strength,"

Jaune felt a little disappointed when he heard that.

"Your heart is just as big, and your mind is sharp as his." Finished Ozpin, "He never turned his back on his friends and never gave up, no matter what he was doing."

Jaune perked up a bit, he chuckled weakly before glancing down at his feet again.

'An Arc never goes back on his word.' He remembered.

"I guess Dad was always pretty committed," Jaune reasoned, shrugging a little, "He did help raise eight goofy kids for more than twenty years . . ."

Ozpin allowed a faint smile – although he remembered how silly the notion sounded when he first heard the news, he couldn't deny what Jaune had said. Jaden's loyalty ran deeply, especially if he genuinely cared about someone.

'I suppose that would extend to raising children.' He thought, 'I wonder who wanted more?'

"Yes, your father was all of that." Ozpin nodded, then he raised an eyebrow, "But now, I must ask if he really did pass his devotion on to you."

Jaune stifled a frown,

"What?" He asked, "What do you mean?"

Ozpin straightened in his seat and gazed intently at Jaune,

"Indeed, Mister Arc," He explained simply, "When I first met you, I knew about your- uh, unique circumstances, but, once again, I wanted to see if you were anything like your father. I did, in fact, think you had his drive, given how loyal you are to your teammates and friends."

When he heard that, Jaune couldn't hide the faint, tickling blush from spreading across his face.

"But now," Continued Ozpin, "Here you are, asking me to drop you from my school."

His intent gaze became inquisitive.

"This is not something your father would ever have wanted to see happen." He reasoned, "Let alone, would he have even considered were he in your shoes."

Jaune looked away, abashed.

"That said Mister Arc," Concluded Ozpin, "I must ask you . . . why?"

Jaune kept his gaze off to the side, he had clearly been hoping to avoid this question.

"It- It's like I said earlier," He said quickly, "I don't-"

Suddenly, Jaune was cut sharply off. The office began to shake and shudder, as if the room was being lifted off the tower. The ancient gears in the walls and floor creaked and groaned against the strain. Jaune fell out of his chair and clung to the nearest desk leg until it all finally stopped. A moment after, Ozpin addressed him again.

"That's not what I meant, Mister Arc." He said plainly, "What I want to know is, exactly why do you want to drop out of my school?"

He narrowed his gaze at Jaune, lacing his nimble fingers together to hide the ever-present smirk on his face, and watched his student stumble back into the chair.

Jaune, meanwhile, was caught off guard; having just felt something so terrifying, he realised he was in no position to mince words. At last, he sighed and looked down at his hands.

"I-uh . . . I overheard something." He answered sheepishly, ". . . Something . . . one of the other students said."

Ozpin nodded.

"What did you hear?" He asked, concerned.

Jaune looked a bit more uncomfortable now. Ozpin quickly noticed how much smaller he seemed just then, unlike before.

'Perhaps the tremors were a tad much . . .' He reprimanded himself.

"I'd rather not talk about it," Jaune answered, quickly and quietly, "But long story short, what I heard . . . it made me realise that . . . I'm not nearly strong or worthy enough to be at this Academy. I mean, I cheated my way in. So, how can I possibly say I belong here? Especially when I can't fight nearly as well as everyone else?"

Now, Ozpin understood, and he nodded.

'Ahh, he feels inferior . . .' He thought, 'But then, who wouldn't share his feelings?'

Thoroughly glad to have finally said his piece, Jaune stood up, removed his weapon from his belt, and set it on the desk.

"So, before I do leave, could you send this back to my Grandad in Oakdale, please?" He asked, "I know I'm not ready to use it, not that I deserve to. I think it'd be better to send this to him."

'He probably wants it back now anyways.' Jaune thought to himself.

Ozpin said nothing for a moment and watched as Jaune set the old weapons on his desk. Once again, he eyed his student analytically, wondering.

'How could I help you . . .?'

After a brief pause, Ozpin spoke again.

"Mister Arc," He began carefully, "In spite of your doubts and, uh, confidence, I cannot, in good conscience, allow such a promising student to drop out from my institution so . . . freely. Even though you did enter through . . . less than honourable means, I will make you a deal."

Jaune perked up,

"A deal, Professor?" He asked,

Ozpin unlaced his fingers and rose to his feet.

"I will allow you to leave Beacon," He began, "But not for long. I will give you one year. After which, I'd like you to return for an evaluative exam. One I will put together especially for you."

He leaned forwards, studying the boy's expression as he laid out his proposal. He could see Jaune was interested.

"Should you pass this test," Continued Ozpin, "Then I will, shall we say . . . 'accidentally lose' a certain set of illegitimate papers. And, once again should you pass the test, you may return to my school, but this time, you may enter with your head held high."

Ozpin looked Jaune directly in the eye.

"How does that sound to you, Mister Arc?" He asked.

Jaune couldn't deny it, he was truly stumped to have received such an offer. He had expected to be booted from the office and removed from Campus Grounds.

'What's going on here?' He wondered, 'Something's off . . .'

"S- Sounds like a good deal . . ." He admitted carefully, "But- But why would you do this? Wouldn't it be breaking one or two rules?"

He was still trying to wrap his head around everything that had happened since he arrived at the office. But by this point, Jaune was completely convinced that something had been accidentally mixed in with the coffee of his seemingly bottomless mug.

'Either that, or he's been drinking too much of it.' He thought, 'Actually come to think, can drinking too much coffee have adverse side effects on the brain?'

Jaune was sure he would never know.

Ozpin took another sip before setting the mug back down. He looked intently at Jaune.

"Because, as I said Mister Arc," He replied, "I'm paying a favour to Jaden. And as much as you do remind me of your father, temperamentally speaking, you're a match for your mother, Poppy."

Then Ozpin chuckled,

"Although," He added, "When you get angry, you're not nearly as fierce as her."

Jaune chuckled too, but weakly; he briefly remembered how vicious his mother could get if ever and whenever someone tried to bring harm to her family or friends.

He didn't know how she had gotten it, but Jaune knew his mother had the patience of a Saint. That said, Poppy Ghislaine-Arc was a truly frightening woman should anyone somehow manage to cross her.

"Also," Added Ozpin, "I'm doing this because, like everyone else here at this school, I believe you have the potential to do amazing things. Should you fully dedicate yourself, you may even change the whole of Remnant. All you need is a good push in the right direction."

An encouraging grin danced across his face. Jaune still couldn't believe what Ozpin was offering him.

The Headmaster of Beacon himself was giving him the chance to catch up to his peers – to take some time off and get through his preliminary training, then come back to the friends he'd made here – that way, he could prove to others, and to himself, that he was as good as them.

'I could be a great Huntsman one day.' He realised, 'And someone other than Pyrrha believes it . . . I think . . . I think I can actually do this . . .'

Finally, Jaune made his decision.

"Okay Professor," He nodded, "You've got a deal."

Jaune stuck out his hand, and Ozpin shook it.

"But can you still send Crocea Mors back to my Grandad?" He asked, "I'd prefer it if I didn't use these 'til I know I'm ready."

"Oh, of course, Mister Arc." Nodded Ozpin, and he picked up the weapons, "I will honour your request and send this back to your home. But as a faculty member, and the Head of Staff, I simply cannot allow you to go out into the world completely defenceless . . ."

He walked away from his desk and strode over to a large cabinet in the corner of the office, next to a very expensive looking coffee machine.

Jaune tilted his head.

'I don't remember that being there before . . .' He thought.

"So, I won't." He said, "Therefore, I feel it is only appropriate that I give this to you."

He opened the cabinet doors, reached inside, put Crocea Mors on one of the racks, produced a rather simple looking sword, and presented it to Jaune.

"Ooh . . ." Jaune watched with interest.

'I bet Ruby would appreciate this cabinet being up here.' He smiled wryly.

He unsheathed the sword and laid it out on the desk. It was a handsome weapon, and Ozpin knew Jaune could wear it well.

"This sword belonged to your Father once." He told him, "He named it Avenger, I believe that giving it to you should properly mark the start of your new journey."

Jaune nodded and gazed intently at the weapon, before mounting it on his belt.

It was a plain longsword; its blade was definitely longer than Crocea Mors and a little bit thinner too, but not by much.

The hilt had a simple guard with slightly-curved quillons, and little brass bands around the ends. Its handle was long enough for two hands to grip it, and wrapped with worn brown leather. A small, dark blue gem – likely a Lapis – had been embedded in the bottom of the pommel.

The scabbard was also wrapped in a lovely deep green leather, and the ends had been capped with polished steel.

Jaune turned around and looked at his reflection in the convenient mirror opposite the desk. He liked this new sword; against his regular clothes, it didn't match his armour, but it didn't stand out too sorely.

More importantly, it felt right to wear as a weapon too. Crocea Mors wasn't bad, but it felt heavy and clunky, whereas Avenger was light and looked much better when it hung from his waist.

'That might also be because Crocea's scabbard turns into a shield.' Jaune thought dryly.

"Thank you, Professor." He said at last, turning around, ". . . For everything."

Ozpin shook his head.

"You needn't thank me, Mister Arc." He smiled, "I have only given you the tools to begin again. It's up to you to take your first steps."

"Yes sir." Jaune replied firmly.

He double-checked the straps of his sword and looked back at his reflection. He checked himself over a few more times and nodded, satisfied. He walked over to the exit, picked up his duffle bag, and – firming his resolve – Jaune made for the elevator.

"Welp," He said bravely, "Here I go."

But before he could leave, Ozpin called out to him.

"Oh, Mister Arc?" He asked, "You don't plan to say goodbye to your friends, do you?"

Jaune paused, and after a moment, he turned back to Ozpin, shaking his head.

"No Sir . . ." He admitted regretfully, "If I go say goodbye to them, they might try and stop me . . . especially Nora, Pyrrha and Ruby."

Ozpin didn't reply right away, he was surprised to realise he had to bite back an explosive and disappointed sigh.

'I might've known it.' He thought sadly,

"Could you please tell them why I left?" Asked Jaune, "And say that I said: 'I'm sorry' and 'thanks for everything', if it's not too much to ask?"

Ozpin understood as well as Jaune, but in spite of his desire to leave the school, his friends would most certainly not be alright with it. And they would make his decision much more difficult than necessary.

'Well,' Ozpin considered, 'All but one might not be . . .'

He nodded all the same.

"Of course, I will Mister Arc." He answered.

Jaune smiled bravely for the first time that afternoon,

"Thank you, Sir." He said, "See you in a year, I guess."

With that, Jaune entered the elevator, and left Ozpin's office.

The Old Headmaster smiled nostalgically as he watched his student leave.

Ozpin hadn't told Jaune yet, but he had remained in regular contact with Jaden, and for some considerable time, he reported Jaune's progress to him. So Jaune's father knew about his sudden advancement, and how it had all been owed to Pyrrha's training.

Deep down, Ozpin did honestly believe Jaune could become a great huntsman.

'All he needs is a little push forward.' He reminded himself, 'Perhaps this will give him the start he deserves . . .'

Now all he had to do was tell Jaune's teammates about his decision. Ozpin pulled out his scroll, and after tapping a few keys, he jumped to the communication application.

He quickly selected a contact and made his call. Not a moment passed before it went through, and the scroll camera focused on Glynda, blurring in and out before finally settling on a decent image-quality.

"Professor Ozpin?" She asked, "What's the matter?"

Glynda was perplexed, Ozpin never usually called her like this.

"Glynda, send Team JNPR to my office immediately." He said, "There has been a serious change."

Glynda didn't quite understand, but nodded all the same.

"Understood Professor," She replied, "They'll be on their way up shortly."

"Thank you, Glynda."

With that, Ozpin ended the call.

Ozpin never did forget the looks on their faces when he told Team JNPR the news.

Nora looked like the wind had been taken out of her sails.

Ren briefly appeared angry and confused, but he accepted it.

Poor Pyrrha's reaction was the worst. She looked as though her heart had been broken.

After hearing about Jaune's decision and the reasons for it, the three of them asked to be excused from classes for the rest of the afternoon and the next day; Ozpin simply agreed.

From then on, Team JNPR became: Team RVN. Strangely, Ozpin found this change to be mildly amusing – and felt rather ashamed of that.

'How extraordinary . . .' He thought, after they left his office, 'They only knew him for such a short time, but Mister Arc's sudden absence has put them all in such a dark place. They've gone from Blue to Black.'

That had happened nearly two-and-a-half years ago, and Jaune hadn't been seen or heard from since.

By now, Ozpin was getting worried.

He couldn't stop wondering if Jaune might never come back. He had no idea how he would explain this to his mother. Having known Juniper for as long as he had, Ozpin was sure she might try to kill him when they next met.

'He's been away for far too long.' He thought, 'I wouldn't be surprised to hear if he'd bled out in a ditch somewhere. Of course, I would rather hope he hasn't . . . And whilst I'd prefer to doubt it, I somehow sense Miss Schnee has had a hand in this.'

But for his most recent report, Ozpin was thanking The Brothers Grimm.