Jaune the Imperishable or how Settra got his Golden Body (RWBY/Warhammer Fantasy) ch.14

+++

[SPOILER="Egypt = Civ VII Ancient"][URL unfurl="true" media="youtube:1FaLk7eTxrE, list: RD1FaLk7eTxrE"]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1FaLk7eTxrE&list=RD1FaLk7eTxrE&start_radio=1[/URL][/SPOILER]

Oobleck had thought he had seen everything. But as he knelt by a patch of freshly sprouted wildflowers, their colors vibrant under the sunlight. he knew this was something new. He adjusted his glasses, his sharp eyes scanning the lush greenery with a mixture of awe and curiosity.

"Remarkable," he murmured, brushing a finger over the petals. "The ecosystem here has rebounded at an unprecedented rate. It's as if the land itself has been reborn!"

He could only think of one place just like this. Forever Fall, a lush forest that seemed to be in eternal autumn.

Professor Port, standing a few feet away, nodded thoughtfully as he observed a trio of birds flitting between the trees, their songs harmonizing with the rustling leaves. "Indeed! Do you feel that as well, my good man?"

Oobleck nodded. "Yes. My heart is pumping at a rate lower than usual. This matches to the state when one is happy."

Port raised an eyebrow. "You don't look happy?"

"My academic curiosity is overcoming my sense of euphoria," Oobleck explained as he stood up. They had been sent into the forest to investigate the effects of Jaune Arc's semblance and by the brother gods, it was unlike anything Oobleck had seen before. He worked fast, gathering samples wherever he could find them. Their eyes were not the only ones there.

Watching from Beacon Tower, streaming directly to the Headmaster's office, Ozpin watched, arms crossed, as Oobleck laughed, his euphoria clear as day. At his side, Glynda stood, keeping notes.

"We should report this to the Council," she suggested. "A semblance that purifies the land could change everything."

Normally, Ozpin would agree. But the truth of the world meant this had to be kept under wraps for as long as possible, at least until he was certain this was permanent. He did not want certain figures hearing about this. "We must continue to test Mr Arc's semblance until we are certain this is permanent," Ozpin decided. "Then there is the matter of shaping his raw talent. He must finish his studies first before we unveil him to the world."

Goodwitch listened, then glanced down at her scroll. She pressed into it, switching to their database.

Before one was accepted into Beacon, applicants underwent extensive background checks. Arc had all the excellent bells and whistles, at first glance. Then she made calls. His Huntsman Preparatory School had no records of him ever attending and upon showing his records, denied ever having enrolled him. That was a glaring red flag which she immediately brought the the Headmaster's attention. But Ozpin had intervened on his behalf. The Headmaster's word was law however, and she had no choice but to approve his enrolment.

Seeing his earlier performance at initiation made her want to tear Ozpin apart. Then Arc surprised everyone by pulling out an unheard semblance.

That honestly threw her off.

Glynda Goodwitch did not like unknowns. Not when lives were at risk.

"If we need to know about his semblance, shouldn't we at least interview him? We could learn so much more if we simply spoke to him," Goodwitch pointed out.

Ozpin shook his head. "I fear pushing him too soon could lead to disastrous consequences. No, we must observe from a distance. Jaune will come to us, in time."

Glynda's lips pressed into a thin line. "Ozpin, we are talking about a semblance that has purged an entire's forest of Grimm. Barring that, any that have tried to enter perish. Do you not find that significant?"

Ozpin leaned back on his chair. "Of course I do. But Glynda, Jaune is yet unfamiliar to us. We must make certain of his convictions and loyalties. Then, and only then, should we approach him."

Glynda blinked, then understood. "You want to groom him."

"As students of Beacon, I want to groom them all," Ozpin replied. "Each one of them, provided they show the grit and skill, deserve to be Huntsmen and Huntresses. Jaune Arc however is a special case. If we thrust attention to him so quickly before he understands himself, or indeed, we understand him, we risk overwhelming him. Worse, we risk driving him away."

He nodded with finality. "The cake has been assembled, I say. It is only proper we let the oven do its work, and let it cook."

Glynda Goodwitch remained silent for a moment, mulling over his words. She had worked alongside Ozpin for years, and while his methods were often unorthodox, they usually carried a purpose. Still, this situation left her uneasy. She understood what he was trying to say however. She did not become Deputy Headmistress because she was stupid. No, it was because she had the talent to translate Ozpin's cryptic messaging into something actionable. "That is a significant gamble, Ozpin. The boy's background is questionable at best, and his lack of training would make him an easy target for manipulation. If someone else were to reach him first-"

"They won't," Ozpin interrupted softly but firmly. His gaze shifted to meet hers, his eyes filled with the quiet confidence that had kept Beacon running through countless crises. "We will be distant, but observant. Furthermore, Jaune has already begun to develop bonds with his teammates, and with time, he will come to see Beacon as a place of trust, of belonging. He will not betray that loyalty."

Goodwitch thought about his team-mates. The Heiress. The Spartan. The Rose. While she could count on Ruby and Pyrrha, she had to admit some doubt on Weiss's part, courtesy of her blood. Glynda exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Potential means nothing if it isn't cultivated properly, Ozpin."

"That is where you come in," Ozpin replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You have a way of guiding students, Glynda. Of bringing out their potential without overwhelming them. Jaune will need that guidance, even if he doesn't realize it yet. I trust that you will help him find his footing here at Beacon."

Goodwitch blinked. "You want me to ensure his loyalty?"

Ozpin nodded. "Indeed. Can I count on you, Glynda?"

Goodwitch's expression turned queer for a moment. "How?"

Ozpin thought about it. "He is a young man. I am sure you can think of something."

"Attention!" Port suddenly cried out. Ozpin and Goodwitch swiftly turned back to the screen. There, the cameras found the edge of the glow. And it was thinning, like sunlight setting for the night.

"It appears that the perimeter is pulling back, like a bubble losing strength," Oobleck commented. The green-haired professor had a thought, and took a step out of the semblance touched forest.

"I seem to feel...empty, like morning swithout coffee," Oobleck commented idly, glancing at his hands. Port followed, and shivered.

"Oof! That is quite right!" Port flummoxed. "The leaves, they are becoming less green!"

"What do you mean less green?" Glynda asked, fixing her glasses as she leaned in next to Ozpin.

"Hmph, like someone sapped it of life," Port said.

Ozpin's fingers drummed absently against his desk, steadying his disappointment. If it was permanent, this would have been instrumental in saving lives. Glynda sensed Ozpin's disappointment, she could see it too. It was clear on his face. 

"What is the rate of decomposition?" Glynda asked, turning back to the screens.

On-screen, Oobleck went on one knee, his eyes glued to the light. "Slow but consistent. It's like someone is peeling wallpaper but they aren't in a rush." 

​Ozpin tapped his finger again. 

Glynda glanced down. "Are you sure you do not want to bring in Mister Arc, Ozpin?" 

Ozpin closed his eyes. He thought about it, the necessity. But it was simply not the right time. It was not as if Arc was going anywhere. He opened his eyes, and made his decision. "No. He must comes to us," he decided. He glanced up to Glynda. "I leave that conclusion to you, Gylnda."

Glynda grimaced, then she nodded. 

+++

Ruby languished.

Class had started or at least it was supposed to. The professor was late.

By two minutes.

For Ruby, it was utter horror.

Ruby glanced around the room and found she wasn't the only one suffering under the weight of boredom. Most of the class looked equally unenthused. Weiss, of course, sat perfectly poised, her notebook open and pen ready, as though the professor's tardiness was merely a test of patience she intended to pass. Pyrrha, ever diligent, was flipping through her notes; what little she'd managed to pull together from the syllabus. And then there was Jaune, fidgeting in his chair, glancing around the room like a restless child.

Ruby sighed and let her head drop onto the desk with a dull thud. Waiting was exhausting.

"Ruby, sit up straight," Weiss chastised. "You're setting a terrible example."

Ruby groaned, her cheek still pressed to the desk. "An example to who....?"

"To yourself," Weiss huffed, crossing her arms. "Decorum, Ruby. Sit with dignity. You are in class."

Ruby lifted her head just enough to shoot Weiss an incredulous look. "Are you serious...?"

Weiss's eyebrow shot up, ice-blue eyes twinkling. "No, I am not. I am merely jesting." 

Ruby sighed. "Oh, I thought you were serious." 

​"Oh for the-" Weiss massaged her forehead. "Of course I am serious! Sit straight!" 

Ruby groaned louder this time, dragging her head off the desk with all the enthusiasm of someone being asked to lift a boulder. She slumped back into her chair but deliberately refused to sit upright, instead leaning at a dramatic angle with her arms dangling over the sides.

Weiss's eye twitched. "That is not what I meant, Ruby. Sit. Properly."

"Why does it matter?" Ruby shot back, throwing her arms up.

"Because it's about maintaining standards," Weiss snapped, her voice rising a note. "Ever heard of that?"

​Ruby, for the life of her, stared at Weiss. "How does sitting up straight help fighting the Grimm?" 

Weiss opened her mouth for what was sure to be another sharp retort, but then stopped herself. She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice was clipped but restrained. "Pyrrha," she said, turning toward her red-haired teammate. "Surely you can talk some sense into her."

Pyrrha blinked, startled at suddenly being dragged into the argument. She glanced between Weiss, who looked ready to deliver a lecture on the virtues of discipline, and Ruby, who was grinning like she'd just won a prize. "I... um..." Pyrrha hesitated. "Well, Ruby does have a point that... uh... sitting straight might not be essential for combat readiness?"

Weiss's eyes widened in disbelief. "Pyrrha!"

Pyrrha winced at Weiss's tone. "But," she added quickly, "there's nothing wrong with maintaining good posture either. It shows self-respect and focus."

Ruby snorted. "Yeah, because when Grimm attack, they're gonna be like, 'Oh no, look at her posture! Better back off!'"

Weiss groaned in exasperation. This little shit. She turned her attention towards Jaune, hoping for his input. A good leader had to be attentive, to make sure they knew what was happening on the ground to make effective tactical decisions. But...Jaune was distant, his head tilted slightly, staring at nothing in particular.

"Jaune!" Weiss snapped.

Jaune jolted upright, his chair creaking loudly as he scrambled to look attentive. "Huh? What? I'm paying attention, I swear!"

Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply. "Clearly, you weren't. Ruby refuses to sit up straight, and it's setting a terrible example. I asked Pyrrha for support, and now I'm asking you. What do you think?"

Jaune blinked, the question hanging in the air as he scrambled to process what was happening. His gaze flicking to Ruby, who crossed her arms, lips pouting in bratty disagreement. 

Weiss's foot tapped impatiently against the floor. "Well?" she prompted, her tone growing sharper. "What's your opinion?"

Before Jaune could answer however, the doors to the hall opened. Professor Port strode in, his imposing mustache practically bristling with energy. 

"Ah, my apologies, my young scholars!" Port boomed, his voice filling the room. "I fear I was detained. An important matter arose with my esteemed colleagues that required my immediate attention. But fear not! I am here now, ready to impart wisdom upon you all!"

Ruby's head shot up from her slouched position, and she grinned victoriously.

Weiss's jaw clenched, and she growled softly under her breath, her grip on her notebook tightening.

Ruby leaned back in her chair, arms folded smugly. 

Weiss glared at her, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "infuriating." Pyrrha gently rested a hand on Weiss's arm, an attempt to calm her down as Professor Port rambled in the background. He paused, straightening himself and glancing around the room. His gaze lingered briefly on Jaune before he glanced away. 

Pyrrha was quick to notice that however. 

"Did you notice that? Professor Port looked at you just now. For a moment, I thought he was going to say something."

Jaune blinked, her words barely registering. He had been staring at his desk, his fingers lightly tapping in an uneven rhythm. "Huh? Oh...yeah," he mumbled distractedly.

Pyrrha furrowed her brow, leaning closer. "Jaune, are you okay? You seem…distracted."

Was it...was it the voice inside his head? 

​Their eyes met. 

He grimaced.

+++

"This is unacceptable, boy," Settra's voice boomed in his head. "How will you expect to fund your armies if you do not have wealth?"

Settra had been quiet for most of the morning, thankfully, That was until they entered class and sat down, him opening with a question on his wealth. 

His answer of his youth infuriated the Great King.

"At your age, I was devising methods to free myself off the Royal Purse!" Settra spat. "If I could do it, so can you!" 

Jaune clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to groan aloud. He glanced around the classroom. Ruby was still grinning smugly at Weiss, Pyrrha was watching him with quiet concern, and Weiss herself looked like she was one snide remark away from combusting. The last thing he needed was to be caught talking to himself.

Well, I'm not royalty Jaune shot back mentally. His family may have had some great ancestors up the line but they weren't necessarily swimming in dough.

Settra's scoff echoed in his mind. "You are now by virtue of my presence inside your body. That makes you a prince, whether you accept it or not. And royalty must have wealth."

How am I supposed to get wealth? Jaune demanded. I'm in school!

"How then were you able to support yourself living on your lonesome?" Settra asked. 

Jaune winced. He did have money, but he couldn't exactly touch it. If he did, his parents would know where he was and they would haul ass to get him back home. Thusly, he was forced to earn money that would not alert his folks of his whereabouts. "I did some favours for the guy that got me in here..." Jaune trailed. 

"Favors? Explain."

Jaune shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

The guy who got me into Beacon...he was a forger, Jaune admitted reluctantly. I didn't have enough money, so I worked for him to pay off the rest.

Settra of course knew about this. He knew all. The specifics was just lost to him. He had to admit, begrudgingly, that Jaune had the stones to do what it took to survive, even if he was working for scum. 

Settra's silence peaked Jaune's anxiety. He quickly added. I do not owe him anything anymore though, just to let you know.

Settra gave no reply. 

This worried Jaune. 

Okay. What even brought this on? Why do you suddenly care if I have money or not? You've been quiet all morning, and now I need to fund an army? What gives?

"Are you truly foolish?" Settra replied quickly, disdain in his voice. "Wealth is power, boy!"

Yeah, you've mentioned that already, Jaune shot back, rolling his eyes internally. But why now? Why are you suddenly so obsessed with me getting rich?

Settra's tone shifted, becoming almost haughty, as if explaining something to a particularly dense child. "Do you think miracles simply fall from the heavens, boy? If you desire more of my power, you must earn it. The gods of Nehekhara are not so easily appeased. To grant you further boons, I must offer them tributes worthy of their greatness."

You're telling me I need to get rich so you can bribe your gods? Jaune blinked.

"Bribe?" Settra growled, his voice thick with offense. "Bribe!? I will lash you a thousand times for this blasphemy! Do not sully the sacred practice of tribute with such a vulgar term! This is equivalent exchange. We offer the gods tribute, they in turn provide boons. How impious are your people that you do not give your own gods tribute?" 

Jaune sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Okay, okay, I get it. You want treasure. But, uh…what exactly do you mean by 'wealth'? Like, what counts as tribute to your gods?

Settra's tone became reverent, almost wistful. "Gold, boy. Gold and jewels. Gems that gleam like the sun, coins hammered from the purest ore, artifacts of untold craftsmanship. The Gods care not for scraps or trinkets. Only treasures of true worth will suffice." 

Jaune blinked, remembering again that Settra lived in a time similar to Ancient Vacuo. But before he could continue, Settra elaborated. "We could offer the Gods souls as well. But I do not think you want to sacrifice your fellows to Ptra for his favour." 

We are not doing human sacrifices! Jaune cried inwardly, horrified. 

Settra clicked his tongue. "Hence why I turn to wealth. It would be the easiest for you." 

Jaune wished for nothing more but to hit the Great King in the face. Okay. He said simply. I'll think of something. Maybe I can turn to my plug for jobs. But no human sacrifices!

Settra hummed, and said nothing more. Jaune continued. Okay, say I get the money. How would this work? Does um...does Ptra accept Benmo? FinanceBro?"

He could feel the Great King's stare into his soul. "What nonsense are you babbling about now?" Settra demanded, his voice tinged with irritation.

Jaune sighed. He leaned back in his seat, pretending to take notes so no one would notice him talking to himself. Okay, so...we use this thing called fiat currency. That's, uh, money that doesn't have intrinsic value. Like, it's not made of gold or silver or anything valuable on its own. It only works because everyone agrees it has value.

Settra's scoff practically echoed through his skull. "Absurd. Why would anyone accept worthless scraps as payment? What imbecile devised such a system?"

Look, I didn't come up with it, Jaune shot back. It's just how things work now. Instead of trading gold or jewels, we use paper or digital numbers to represent value. And then there's stuff like Benmo and FinanceBro. They're automatic payment systems. You don't even need to exchange cash physically. You just...send money to someone electronically. Like, through your Scroll or computer.

For a moment, Settra was silent. Jaune could feel the ancient king struggling to process the concept. Then for what felt like an eternity, he spoke. "As foolish as it sounds, it seems efficient." He paused, then added with disdain, "But it is no substitute for true wealth. The gods of Nehekhara require real treasure. Ptra is no FinanceBro."

That sentence was delivered so disdainfully, so seriously, that it was absurd. And because it was absurd, Jaune snorted, loudly. In the distance, Port continued to speak, rambling on and on. But such was the noise of Jaune's snort that the professor heard it. Port hummed in approval, believing that Arc had found his stories amusing. 

He continued to ramble. 

The class groaned.

+++

A/N: Updoot, tihi. 

Benmo is Venmo. FinanceBro is Remnant PayPal.