Stupid!
Jaune was so close to playing the song perfectly!
He'd been practicing for what felt like hours, his fingertips burning from trying to play this son perfectly. He'd found the song on the and decided he'd try to play it because he really wanted to impress this one girl he had a crush on.
After all, his father said confidence was pretty much all you needed!
Jaune begun strumming and plucking his guitar before he heard something in the distance that sounded unnatural and… distorted. It sounded sort of like something was roaring? Jaune looked up from his guitar and saw what could only be described as a mass of darkness that was slowly growing in the horizon.
Jaune quickly and carefully put down his guitar and stood up as fast as he could, trying to get a better look. This was the perfect time to use those binoculars he'd begged his father to get for him! He quickly looked around to see where he'd put them before picking the binoculars up and clumsily putting them to his eyes, nearly dropping them off the roof in the process.
Jaune's jaw dropped in a mixture of awe and fear.
It was a huge horde of Grimm. He'd never seen a single Grimm before in his life, not even the painfully common Beowulfs that commonly showed up near settlements. Jaune started for a few seconds before he realized what this meant.
Grimm were coming towards the village. The village he lived in.
Jaune stood there for a moment, processing what he just realized before he quickly ran to the ladder he'd used to get up here, not caring that his mother might catch him going up onto the roof without asking her. Hundreds of Grimm were more important than being chewed out by his mom.
Jaune quickly scaled down the ladder, nearly falling off. Why did their house have to be so tall?!
After what felt like centuries, he finally got to the bottom and ran off towards the front door of the manor, trying to find his dad who just so happened to be leaving for one reason or the other.
"Dad!" Jaune yelled, his father turning around curiously with a raised brow, wondering what could've gotten his son in such a panic.
Jaune quickly grabbed his father's wrist and tried to pull him up towards the ladder to the roof.
"What's got you all riled up?" His father, Alexander, asked with an amused chuckle and a tilt of his head.
"Check the roof!" Jaune replied, yelping in surprise when his father picked him up like a sack of potatoes and hopped to the top of the three story manor effortlessly.
"Oh." Alexander said blankly, seeming waaay too calm in Jaune's humble opinion. "That's gonna be a little problem."
"Little?!" Jaune screamed incredulously.
"I'll deal with it."
Jaune nervously watched from the walls of his village, wondering how his father was going to single handedly take down a horde of Grimm that seemed as an entire football field. Jaune didn't notice how every one of his sisters –and his mother too– was watching in anticipation and that he was the only one even remotely worried.
"This is gonna be so awesome!" One of his sisters whispered, Jaune didn't hear it of course because he was too busy focusing on the fact that his father was walking into a horde of bloodthirsty darkness monster wolf things with literally nothing but the clothes on his back and a chain with a spiky ball on the end.
His father seemed really small from way up here, but that made the horde of Grimm look even bigger compared to him.
Alexander raised Fraglans Mors high above his head, the flail's chains rattling loudly as if the weapon was eager to be used. His father seemed so powerful, flail glowing a brilliant orange, roaring as he prepared to swing the weapon towards the hoard of Grimm that charged the village walls.
The earth shook as what seemed like a second sun appeared.
And Jaune's nervousness was quickly replaced with awe.
The explosion was deafening, making Jaune's ears ring, the shockwave was so powerful Jaune, even as he stood atop the village walls, had to be grabbed by his sisters and mother so he wouldn't fall off. Even so, Jaune didn't stop gazing at his father in amazement.
He couldn't even see Alexander from the huge dust cloud that was formed by the blow, but when it finally cleared a bit, his father could be seen striding out confidently of the smoke, not a single scratch on him despite being in the literal center of the explosion and twirling Flagrans Mors as if wasn't an absolutely huge flail that didn't weigh at least half a ton.
The ground was charred, there were multiple small fires and there were plumes of black dust from the Grimm that were instantly decimated in the blast.
Jaune's mother then effortlessly hopped off the dozen-meter tall walls, landing gracefully with a small twirl and embracing her husband, the only reason she wasn't kissing him silly being the fact that the kids were watching.
She really loved it when he showed people how powerful he was.
As Jaune's mother and father embraced each other, hundreds of disintegrating Grimm corpses behind them along with the crackling of small fires and the earthy smell of burnt grass, Jaune realized one thing.
He wanted to be a Huntsman.
His father, Alexander Arc, was a 6'5 goliath of a man. He had a beard that he always kept trimmed and tidy, a head of long hair which seemed to merge with his beard and deep blue eyes that had seen quite a lot in his life. He was forty two, not that old considering he had his Aura unlocked and people with unlocked Aura's often lived much longer than average. But he was a Huntsman and living to forty two basically meant he was ancient in Huntsman years.
Jaune immediately begged his father to train him as soon as they got home.
Alexander smiled in amusement, he's had this talk with literally all of his children besides Saphron – she was always more reserved compared to everyone else in the household, but Alexander wouldn't force her to be a Huntsman if she didn't want to.
"Please?" Jaune asked for the third time.
"Why the sudden enthusiasm?" Alexander asked –he knew the answer, who wouldn't after he put up a show like that – putting down the newspaper he was reading – an article about how Faunus workers were being forced to work in horrible conditions in the Schnee Mines – and leaned forward.
Jaune seemed to lose his enthusiasm a bit and tilted his head, seeming to think on his reason. He was only fourteen.
"W-well, when you were out there, you looked so strong and so, uh, brave! And I was always kinda scared of stuff, and I was always one of the weaker kids in class. I wanna be strong like you! I wanna be strong enough to protect my sisters and my friends from those stupid bullies!" Jaune said, gaining some of his confidence back as he spoke enthusiastically.
Alexander smiled at the reason. It was a perfectly good reason, if not a bit childish. Every Huntsman had a reason like that at the beginning, some saw their favorite heroes and wanted to be like them, others wanted to kill Grimm, nothing more, nothing less.
Alexander then frowned slightly as he realized Jaune had realized his dream a bit late, the boy always being so indecisive about what he wanted to do. Sometimes he wanted to be a musician, other times he wanted to be a chef. He hadn't wanted to go to a Combat School when they asked him.
Alexander prepared to break the truth to Jaune, hoping he wouldn't take it too hard.
"Jaune," Alexander began, Jaune's enthusiasm fading away as he heard his father's dour tone. "You're too old to register to a Combat School. You're fourteen, most other kids start Combat School at twelve and some start as early as six years old." He said with a frown, watching as Jaune's smile slowly shrunk.
Alexander sighed, he was a man that loved fun and loved laughing. He never really knew how to handle it when people were sad around him, it's why he tried to keep everyone smiling. He didn't know how to deal with other emotions.
But to his surprise, the sad look on Jaune's face was quickly replaced by something more steely. More…rigid.
It was determination.
"E-even if the other kids started earlier, I'll just work twice–no, thrice as hard to catch up with them!" Jaune said loudly, clenching his fists that were so small compared to Alexander's. Alexander smiled as he was filled with nostalgia, he had said the same exact words to his own father after all. It reminded him of back when Jörg Arc was still alive. When he would train for hours with a wooden training flail, accidentally hitting himself and coming home with dozens of bruises. When he would struggle to kill a single Beowolf, swinging his flail in a panic, accidentally getting it caught on his own armor and having to be saved by his father.
Alexander hadn't even gone to a Combat School and he still managed to get into Beacon, so what if his son was late? So what if he was completely untrained? So what if he was gonna have to compete with those who had years of training? Alexander was one of the best Huntsman in all of Remnant despite being a country bumpkin, and that meant his son could also be the best.
"Be prepared to work five times as hard, because you're not just gonna be a Huntsman, I'm gonna make you the best Huntsman Remnant has ever seen." Alexander said with a wide smile, getting up – the newspaper on his lap fell to the ground, completely forgotten – and ruffling Jaune's hair before walking away, pulling a ring of keys out of his pocket and striding excitedly towards a door that was purposely hidden out of sight in the large manor they lived in.
Jaune would need a weapon after all.
"C'mon Jaune, I wanna show you something."
Jaune ran after his father, his short legs barely keeping up with the long strides of Alexander when Alexander abruptly stopped in front of a bookshelf and pulled a thick red book that let out multiple clicks before the bookshelf revealed a hidden doorway.
It was just like those adventure movies Jaune loved! Jaune had absolutely no idea how it worked and didn't know why they had a secret bookshelf door in the manor but it looked like his father was gonna show him so he didn't ask questions despite wanting to know every reason why this secret door was here.
"That never gets old." Alexander said with a little chuckle. Jaune peered around his father and saw it lead to a long stone hallway that was lit by fire lanterns.
Two words. Adventure Movie.
Alexander chuckled at the excitement and anticipation on Jaune's face. Alexander had probably made the same exact face when Jörg had shown him this room. He'd shown all of Jaune's sisters. It would be unfair to Jaune for him to not see it.
Jaune quickly walked behind his father, their footsteps echoing as Alexander's dress shoes clacked on the stone floor.
"This… is the Arc Armory." Alexander said dramatically, raising his hands as they finally came to the end of the hallway to reveal a tall ceilinged room, a fire place with two armchairs and a sofa. There were multiple metal tables and stations with a myriad of different tools that Jaune couldn't name.
But that wasn't important, what was important was the hundreds… hundreds of weapons and sets of armor. Most weapons were hung up onto the walls and each had a plaque naming who had used them. Some suits of armor were damaged, others had pieces missing, few were intact.
Gravis Mors, a greatsword that had belonged to his grandfather, Jörg Arc. It was as large as Alexander and probably weighed thrice as much. The Gravity Dust on its edge had allowed him to alter the weight of the sword, either to make the swings quicker or that much more forceful.
Nimbifer Mors, a whip that had belong to one of his great-great grandmothers. Each crack of the whip sounded like thunder, and when it's Lightning Dust chamber was used, actually looked like lighting.
These two weapons were just a few of the hundreds of weapons that sat here in the Arc Armory.
"Nearly all our ancestors weapons and armor are stored here after they pass, either from old age or much more commonly… out in the field." Alexander said grimly, staring at Gravis Mors with a melancholy look in his eyes. The look of someone who had accepted what had happened but still wished it could be different. Jaune didn't really understand the look but knew his father was not exactly happy.
"The Arc bloodline goes back much farther than most people know. Some of our history is literally set in stone, ancient texts carved into rock tablets in a language lost to time. We are the most influential Huntsman family in all of Vale, and we would have been the most influential in all of Remnant if not for The Schees." This time it was said with a tone of pride, but not arrogance. Jaune looked around him, seeing the ancient stone the walls were built with.
Jaune looked around, feeling a much more muted sense of amazement. He realized every single weapon here had a user, and those users had their own lives, their own families and their own hopes and dreams. He looked at the suits of armor.
Some had large holes from being impaled onto something, some had large gashes torn out their chests. Some had their helmets crushed, others were torn apart. Jaune realized there were so many more broken suits of armor compared to the intact ones.
Legs torn off, heads crushed, bitten in half, there were so many signs of how those before him had died a gruesome death.
"You don't have to be a Huntsman Jaune." His father said gently, putting a heavy hand on Jaune's shoulder. "Just because everyone else is a Huntsman doesn't mean you have to be. You're your own person and you have your own choices. After all, Arcs never believe in destiny."
"They forge their own path."
Alexander smiled gently down at him, in a way Jaune had never really seen before. A content, small smile that contrasted greatly with his father's usual bombastic and fun-loving energy.
Jaune didn't know why but he felt tears well up in his eyes slightly. His father had never looked at him like this before, had he?
"Of course I want to be a Huntsman! I-I'm not a coward that would be scared of a little Grimm!" Jaune said, feeling confidence he hadn't really felt before.
Alexander's smile grew slightly as he let go of Jaune's shoulder and gestured around him.
"I brought you here because you need a weapon if you want to be a Huntsman. Sure we could go out and get you a new weapon, but nothing will compare to the weapons here. We have secret forging techniques, Dust Infused Alloys, Advanced Mecha-Shifting, we have it all. It makes sense to give you the best." Alexander explained with a large smile, looking at each weapon. Each weapon that had a previous user, each weapon that had seen both wars and Grimm alike, each weapon that had a story to tell from the countless scratches and chips they sustained.
"Have a pick, and if nothing suits you, we'll figure something out."
Jaune looked at the huge number of weapons around him.
Some felt like they'd be too heavy and barbaric for Jaune. Maces that could transform into flamethrowers, Warhammers that doubled as rocket launchers and other various bludgeoning and explosive weapons
Others seemed too small. Daggers that could spray fire, chain knives that could double as a machine gun and other small weapons that relied too much on precision, which wasn't something Jaune had an abundance of.
Others seemed too bizarre. Serrated whips that were also belts –Jaune didn't want to know what the person who used it was smoking when he designed it–, war fans and some other weapons Jaune couldn't even begin to name.
But after a while, something caught his eye.
A simple sword and shield, those that knights always use. The shield had a golden double crescent on the center, the Arc Crest. They were in the hands of an armor stand that had pure white armor with gold engravings, the type you'd see on a Knight. The Knights that fought the dragons and saved the damsels in distress.
Jaune looked back at his father nervously, who made an encouraging motion for him to grab the sword.
He gingerly gripped the sword, pulling it out of the armor stand's grip and marveling at the feeling. The sword was incredibly heavy, almost too heavy for Jaune to pick up. But even so, it felt so right. It was comfortable in his grip. Jaune looked at the blade and was surprised to see his reflection clearly as if he was looking in a mirror.
He swore his eyes had glowed when he looked into the reflection.
Bah, it was probably just a trick of light.
Jaune looked at the plaque that read who had used it before him.
In Memory of Julius Arc
The man who had single handedly defended this village from a Grimm Invasion for days before reinforcements arrived.
The man who had fought in the Faunus Wars and had orchestrated countless successful attacks on Menagerie.
His weapons, Crocea Mors, or "The Yellow Death."
Jaune looked back down at Crocea Mors, not noticing the rest of the plaque's text had been smudged out.
The Yellow Death… that name had a nice ring to it. Jaune smiled, it was an awesome name. But did he really deserve to use this sword? Wouldn't it be wasted on him?
"Dad?"
"Hmm?" Alexander hummed questioningly.
"Are you sure I'm… worthy? To use this weapon?" Jaune asked, feeling inadequate.
"Jaune, what are you saying?! Of course you are!' Alexander said with a wide smile and ruffled Jaune's hair, nearly making him drop Crocea Mors.
"You're my only son! Why wouldn't you be worthy? You're gonna be the best Huntsman, I can just feel it! It's about time Crocea Mor's got a new user too, the sword's probably nearly a century and a half old." Alexander said encouragingly with a gruff chuckle.
Jaune held back his disbelief at how old the sword was, but realized he really shouldn't be surprised. His bloodline did date back to cavemen times after all.
"Thanks dad." Jaune whispered, feeling proud of himself. It wasn't often when anyone complimented him.
"Anytime." Alexander said quietly before grabbing the shield of Crocea Mors and began walking out of the armory with Jaune walking behind him slowly, still staring at his reflection in the sword.
"Crocea Mors…" Alexander whispered, feeling satisfaction course within him.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wrote this story to get rid of my writers block so I can continue writing Wait, What's A Quirk? I thought it'd be interesting if Jaune was trained but without all the trauma other fanfics pile onto him. Killing his entire family and all.
Feedback would be heavily appreciated.
P.S: Forgot to edit it again, sorry about that.
