The Familiar of Arc

Chapter 1 – The Arc

The crack of a something hard against an oak desk snapped Jaune Arc out of a stupor on the edge of sleep. His sobering mind thanks its lucky stars that it had. After all, falling asleep in Lecture Hall Sirius, the lair of the most feared professor at Beacon Academy of the Arcane Arts, was a death sentence for the soul.

That woman had a death glare that put irate mothers and librarians to shame. And her scoldings… well Jaune imagined that part of the reason the Old Voices were gone was because Goodwitch had firmly told them it was either fade away or spend a detention with her.

So it was a very good thing that a loud noise had kept him from nodding off and drawing her ire.

Ever so slowly, the gossamer mists of sleep retreated from around his thinking mind and dots began to get connected. That sound… that sound was familiar. It was Goodwitch's wand hitting her desk. She did this when she was demanding attention, settling the class down, or reprimanding someone.

His eyes leapt from his notebook and rushed to the little stage at the head of the room where the good professor's desk was situated.

Too late.

"Mister Arc." Goodwitch's voice was as sharp as a sword, slashing through the air to strike their target with the proverbial force of an Impactor spell.

He froze. It was as if some deep, hidden part of his brain thought perhaps Goodwitch couldn't see him if he didn't move. This was an utterly stupid notion, discarded just as quickly as it came. He then proceeded to attempt something just as stupid: playing innocent.

"Yes, Professor?" The slur of sleep tainted his voice, betraying him even in the unlikely event that she bought the act.

Goodwitch's glare intensified, seeking to burn through his forehead and out the back of his skull. Then it swept across the room like a scythe. "I am fully aware that this day is both the first day of classes following the semester break as well as one truncated by the Familiar Summoning Ceremony. Most of you have spent a full month now back at the estates of your parents and benefactors away from the responsibilities and discipline placed upon you here.

"Need I remind you that you are once again within the hallowed halls of the most prestigious school for the study of the arcane sciences on the continent? That you are in training to become mages: those who alter and weave the very fabric of reality? In each of your futures rest the hopes, dreams and prosperity of your respective noble houses and guildhalls. Lax attitudes and inattention can destroy you and everything you care or work for."

The class reacted with sheepish looks and glances away from their professor. She was right and they knew it, though one or a thousand tongue-lashings wouldn't cow youthful exuberance for long.

Satisfied, Goodwitch returned her attentions to Jaune. "Now. Mr. Arc, since you so clearly do not require my refresher lecture, then please come down here and demonstrate for the class our final project from last semester: the Far Reach."

Jaune stifled a groan so as not to dig himself deeper and scrubbed a hand through a head of scraggly blonde hair. He knew this was his own doing. Goodwitch, however fierce, was fair in her dealings and usually didn't call on him for demonstrations because she didn't believe in embarrassing him.

And it would embarrass him. She, he and every one else in the class knew that this would end in failure. Not so much because he couldn't perform the spell, but because he couldn't control the mana he poured into it.

The Arc magical legacy was one of massive stores of the energy that powered spells and Jaune had the 'luck' of having reserves that dwarfed even his esteemed family's. Which would be great if one's magical fine control wasn't akin to threading a needle while wearing boxing gloves. In Jaune's case, casting a spell with his mana reserves was like trying to fill a thimble but pouring water out of a bathtub. The effects on common spells were often dramatic and disappointing.

Gods turn and Voices scream, he really didn't deserve it this time. He was tired for a good reason! A reason even Goodwitch would approve of if she didn't just assume it was an excuse. Head hung as if awaiting the gallows, Jaune rose from his aisle seat and started making his way down the carpeted stairs to the stage.

"Um… Professor?" A small, nervous voice came from the back row. The speaker was a small young lady, obviously younger than the late teens of everyone surrounding her. She had short back hair, dyed black at the tips and had augmented the typical blouse-blazer-skirt uniform all the girls wore with a red cape adorned with her personal sigil: a rose defined by red petals surrounded by negative space. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she shrank back as if Goodwitch would send a fireball up to punish her for the interruption.

Ruby Rose. One of Jaune's best friends and someone he wish would just let him hang rather than bring Goodwitch's wrath upon her trying to help him. And for a second, for her hesitation, he thought maybe she would get away without admonishment.

Then Ruby's sister, Yang just had to butt in. Sitting beside Ruby, it was hard to tell just by sight that Yang was related in any way to young Ruby. Tall and well-built beside her sister's slight frame, Yang had voluminous golden hair and her own uniform was a strategically rumpled mess with the tie worn loose beneath an unbuttoned blazer with enough undone toggles on the blouse beneath. Her expression was one of encouragement as she goaded her sister on with a gentle elbow to the side.

So pressed, Ruby squeaked and continued, "I don't think this is such a good idea. Jaune was up really late this weekend and—"

Goodwitch brought her up short with a raised hand. The previous half-year had seen the two sisters from the tiny island territory of Patch offer up numerous excuses from the sole male scion of the Arc name. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the loyalty—in fact, that was one of the founding principles of Beacon dating back to when it rose from the ashes of the previous Magi War. No, she was simply disappointed that they were choosing some weekend tomfoolery to defend. Not only that, but as hard as he had to struggle to make even the slightest headway in his classes, Jaune himself should have known better.

"Miss Rose, this is not the time nor the place. Mister Arc is more than capable of facing the consequences of his actions without making excuses." She saw the concern on her pupil's face. Previous incidents early in the first semester when it came to the Arc lad using magic in front of the class gave good reason to be wary, so she was quick to reassure both Ruby and the class as a whole.

"Nevertheless, I will be warding the area here against any mishaps that might occur." As hard but fair as she liked to portray, it did make her stomach drop to see the grimace Jaune tried to suppress upon hearing this. She more than almost anyone at the school knew that it wasn't the young man's fault. Fate had chanced to make his birthright into a curse.

She knew he was trying though, and that's why she pressed him so hard. To be ushered ever onward, no matter how impossible, was preferable to be coddled to immediate failure. If it were possible for Jaune Arc to succeed, she would try everything in her power to get him there. Even if he didn't like it.

As soon as Jaune reached the stage, Goodwitch opened a drawer in her desk and produced a brass bell, which she placed on the floor before her in full view of the classroom. Then she raised her wand; a length of rolled, hardened leather just shy of the length of her forearm and swept the tip through the air in a complex pattern.

A curtain of blue-white energy shimmered briefly into existence along the circumference of the stage before fading from view. Unbeknownst to the students, she had cast this force shield with additional reinforcement—just in case.

With her preparations made, she nodded to Jaune and then the bell. "This will be a simple task for the Far Reach. Lift the bell to chest height and ring it. Then put it down."

Jaune glanced to her helplessly. They both knew what was coming. Goodwitch nodded for him to continue and after taking a deep breath, he drew his wand from his belt and leveled it at the bell. The training wands were all the same: six and a half supple inches of willow bound with silver rings and capped with the same.

As expertly as any of the other students, he traced the pattern for Far Reach in the air, then focused on filling that pattern with magic. Normally, the wand patterns were invisible to all but very specific detection spells. But as a flood of mana from Jaune's overstocked reserves swiftly overflowed the parameters of the spell, it blazed with brilliant azure light so bright that none in the room could stand to look directly at it.

The bell, the focus of the Far Reach, vibrated where it stood. The clapper tinkled against the brass walls, barely audible.

And then the bell shot straight up like a fire rocket with a sound like a small explosion. There was a blue flash as it struck the top of the force shield and clattered to the floor. One side had been hammered flat from the sheer force.

Certain sections of the class gasped at the violence of what just transpired. Others burst into laughter.

Jaune, unable to keep himself from glancing up into the group, picked out a chosen few whose opinions mattered more to him than others. His two best and only friends; the Patch sisters were both wincing in sympathy. Then, despite his knowing better than to look, his gaze traveled to the front row.

There, in all her beauty and dignity sat Weiss Schnee; second to the foremost noble house of the Kingdom of Atlas and first in his dreams. Albeit, those dreams usually didn't involve so much of her turning up her nose at him as if he were something rakes out of the stables as she was doing at the moment. Sadly, reality featured that expression quite often.

His stomach rolled, unhappy at just everything about his life just then.

Goodwitch's voice cut through the laughter, killing it where it tried to linger. "Thank you Mister Arc, that will be all. Class, I will hear no jeering, as this stands as a valuable lesson to us all. Vigilance in your training and especially your physical health is nearly as important as keeping up with one's studies. Such a mishap could happy to any of you—with dangerous results."

Before Jaune was halfway through with his long, shameful climb back to where his seat was, she concluded. "However, there is another important milestone we must attend to shortly: the summoning of your familiars. Class shall dismiss early today so you may all make what I am quite sure will be last minute preparations."

With one last, sharp nod, she released her students to do as they needed.

For his part, Jaune ignored his fellow students as they filed past him. Feeling hollow and still tired, he packed up his books into his satchel, careful to avoid bending the two leather folios already there. Those were the reason for his current exhaustion—and hopefully the keys to his future.

To his surprise, the Patch sisters were waiting when he finally exited the lecture hall.

Yang pushed off the wall opposite the door and gave him her classic big, cheesy grin. "Tough break, Jaune-boy. Too bad Goodwitch decided to be Rhymes-With-Witch today, huh?"

Offering a shrug, Jaune started off toward the hall that would take them to the courtyard. "Kind of bought it on myself. But thanks for the support in there. Both of you."

Ruby zoomed to his side as Yang trotted along just a step behind. "But why didn't you explain? I mean if she knew you stayed up pretty much all weekend studying and working, she would have gone way softer on you."

"If she believed me," Jaune pointed out. "But when's the last time I lost sleep working hard on schoolwork? Or technically had to. From anyone else may it'd be believable, but I'm just the screw-up coasting on my name and the fact I'm related to…" he paused, choosing his words carefully… "one of the school's founders."

Behind him, Yang had crossed her arms behind her head, idly watching the veins in the marble of the ceiling go by. "Which makes me wonder why you're trying so hard now in the first place. You're the only one here who can't be kicked out. Free ride all the way. And you're what? Eighth in line for being head of your house? There's no way you're ever going to be needed to do anything, so why do it?"

Jaune's grip tightened on his bag. "Because maybe I want to be needed. Or wanted. Just once. Everyone else in my family's useful. Everyone here is useful. The whole point of being an Arc is being useful. Being a hero. Being the companion of a hero. Throwing this giant sea of magic we've got inside us around when people need it."

He lowered his head and added darkly, "You know, without something exploding or going shooting off into the middle distance. I need to prove myself. And I can't just say it like I say my name's Arc." He opened the satchel and pulled out both folios. "And these are how I can do it. An actual top-grade treatise on the Old Voices and their influence on magic and most importantly, my familiar summoning spell."

Trying to look supportive, Ruby couldn't hide her pensive expression. "Um, Jaune? I don't know how to put this, but… well how exactly are you going to summon a familiar?"

Yang caught up, moving to the other side of Ruby from Jaune. "Yeah, I've been wondering this all weekend when you were talking about this. You overcharge every spell you try and they go haring off every which way. Remember when your Animus enchantment made the mop vibrate out of existence? Won't your familiar pop like a soap bubble or something? No offense."

A bit of pride entered Jaune's expression as he brandished the folios. "That's exactly the point. See, from all that research I did, I found out that different familiars require different amounts of mana. You can't totally control what you get, but the sort of… tier… of familiar you get is determined by how much mana you can feed into the ritual."

"Okay, but with how much mana you throw into everything you cast, isn't it still going to overcharge any familiar you summon?" Yang asked.

Jaune shook his head and shuffled through one of the folios, revealing sheet after sheet of vellum filled with his own tight, small writing. "But that's the thing! I found records from the Magi War of really powerful familiar summons; summons that actually require a constant supply of mana."

The Patch sisters both leaned over the pages, trying to make something out of Jaune's nearly indecipherable script.

Ignoring that they weren't following, Jaune chuckled giddily. "This is going to solve all my problems: I'll get a powerful familiar and prove I'm not a useless mage, and that familiar will constantly be draining my mana, which will probably take some of the pressure off and I won't overcharge every spell anymore."

Ruby spoke up, voice hushed in shock. "Does that word really say what I think it does?"

Jaune nodded. "Uh-huh. I'm going to summon an Angel."

RWBYRWBYRWBY

AN: So yeah. A year-long hiatus from all writing has left me with a lot of ideas sitting around collecting dust. Not only that, but I need to get into the habit of writing again without letting all my rust tamper with my existing work both fanfiction and original.

Thus, I've pulled an old idea out of mothballs and letting it out into the world to see if I'm back in fighting form so to speak.

For those who are long-time fans, you've likely seen me discuss this idea before. It's lost a lot of its Familiar of Zero elements as its been marinating in my head, especially since I've been inspired to play with magical systems by my writing idol, Brandon Sanderson.

Expect a lot of slice-of-life and worldbuilding both on the Beacon and Hell sides of this, especially when (totally not a spoiler alert) Ren and Nora among others are on the demon side.

Don't worry thought, fans of my other works: everything will be updating soon. Even old stuff like Azure Renaissance and Phantom Reboot. It took me years to finish What Grows in Deception, but it did get finished. As will they all.