D’Arc Hotel.
Jaune Arc was a lot of things. But, if somebody told you he’d be the owner of a huge mansion you probably wouldn’t believe them. If they also told you that he’d turn it into a retreat for Hunters it would give them licence to punch you in the face. God only knows what you’d be able to do if they told you that, on top of all that, he let his friends move in on a permanent basis.

Well, yeah it happened. It’s happening now. Why? Well simple, he got it from his grandfather and thought he couldn’t live there by himself. Now the how or why his friends moved in there is an individual tale, around seven individual tales, maybe more. Wanna pull up a chair? This can get a little long.

The gentle humming of the motor in the car made the trip a little easier. The funeral Jaune was on his way to still weighed on his mind. It was his grandfather, one of the very few people that thought Jaune could full well do as he pleased. Not in a hedonistic way, mind you; just about the only person that thought that was now dust in the wind. No, dear old granddad Arc was the only person that gave Jaune the drive he needed to get to Beacon. Now he was gone.

Every week or so Jaune would call hum up on the scroll to give a little report of how things are going for him. Failing that he’d write a letter and send it off, awaiting the reply he’d get two weeks later. The postal service on Remnant was abysmal, it was a wonder Jaune had even gotten the invitation to the funeral in time at all.

Now the only thing left was to go and grieve with the family, attend the funeral and return to his home before anybody was the wiser. Two weeks holiday, surely needed but he was hoping that nobody got wise and realised that he was upset before he left. Ok he was a complete and utter wreck when he left and the only way nobody noticed is if they were blind. But still, he’ll take these two weeks and move on eventually.

The funeral and wake were happening that the Arc manner in a somewhat remote village just south of vale. About four days by car, or two if you really floor it. Jaune did not want to be late so he took the latter option, which took him through some trees and a small clearing. All of which were left ablaze by the turbo fire dust injection engine that somehow only hummed.

Thanks to what will later be known as the “humming bird way” Jaune saved a good few hours, he’d arrive in the morning, or he could drive for another hour and sleep in a way Inn. Either way he’d be there before the funeral and he’d even arrive in his best suit. Granddad Arc deserved the upmost respect you could give him, so wearing anything but the best would be insulting.

Pulling up to the gate he saw the entire family. A near uncountable sea of Blondes and a few other colours standing outside the manor. Greetings were swift and the service was lovely, each of his sisters telling a story from their childhood about their fondest memories with granddad Arc. No, nobody knows what his name is, he will forever be referred to as granddad Arc.

The day flew by after that and in what bits Jaune could remember they were meeting with the lawyer to watch the video will the recently deceased had left.

Getting washed and dressed was made a near impossible challenge by the ringing in his ears and the unwillingness of the world to stay still for a moment or two while he did what he needed to. He’d fought Grimm the size of a sky-scraper, killed monsters that could be called Gods and at one point probably were. Yet here was Jaune’s nemesis. The button on his jeans. God only knew that his belts were going to be like to strap.

Jaune didn’t so much as walk to the room as he stumbled in and fell on a chair. It was hard to focus but there was one thing that caught his attention. “To Jaune I leave my estate” the voice in the video stated matter-of-factly. “He may do whatever he wants with it, it’s his now” the room fell still and silent as the voice of Granddad Arc continued.

When the world stopped spinning Jaune came to his senses and sat thinking about what he could do with the place. Too big for himself, his family are really entrenched in their home and if they wouldn’t move for a wave of Grimm they wouldn’t move for this. He knew that was a futile effort from the beginning, asking them if they would didn’t yield any real result aside from a firm no.

The voice in Jaune’s head began to tease and taunt him “you can’t do anything, may as well give up and sell it off, not like there is much else a hunter can do…” Jaune struck his face with the palm of his hand, attempting to smack the voice out of his head. Then it hit him. His palm and the idea, though he reacted to the palm first in a small yelp of pain and stupidity.

Hunters travel all over the world. Few of them ever settle down long enough to relax and fewer still have much to call their own. What if there was a place that gave them that? What if he created a place for hunters to come and relax and not have to worry about killing Grimm or saving a village?

Jaune had a realisation on the spot. There were seven people he could offer a room to, they’d make an excellent study. The rest of his time off would be extremely busy, but there was no real time to waste, Jaune had to get the rooms clean, find some staff and send out the invitations. Then he had to think of a name. What would you call this place now? Hunter Holidays? Um, no that’s a little on the nose. Oh well, there is plenty of time to keep trying.