[RWBY] RWBY Shorts

[AndrewJTalon]

The door knocks. A CAMPUS COURIER hands COCO ADEL a small, perfectly wrapped box.

COCO(reading label, eyebrow raised)"For Miss Schnee. Courtesy of Madam Adel's personal tailor. –G."(opens it, whistles) Garak doesn't do gifts. He charges extra for air.

Inside: a dove-gray cashmere scarf with subtle silver threading. A card.

WEISS(taking scarf reverently) This is… exquisite.

COCO He's in town for the week. Mom booked him solid, but he always squeezes in "special projects."

BLAKE Who's Garak?

COCO Best tailor on Remnant. Intense. Like he knows exactly where to stick the pins.

WEISS Then why did he send it to me?

CUT TO:

EXT. BEACON COURTYARD – NEXT MORNING

Team JNPR drills. NORA turns footwork into a dance party. PYRRHA diplomatic, REN meditating through chaos. And RWBY is watching their turn.

A shadow falls across the mats.

GARAK (O.S.)(calm, cultured) Excuse me. Might I borrow Mr. Arc for a moment?

GARAK: middle-aged grey lizard Faunus, dark hair, tailored tunic in muted greens and browns. Smile warm, eyes unreadable.

JAUNE(stomach drops) Garak!

GARAK(spreads arms)Jaune, my dear boy! All grown up and swinging a sword like you were born to it. I'm almost proud.

JAUNE Ah, well... Um... Y-Yeah

Teams RWBY and JNPR freeze.

WEISS(marching forward, scarf around neck)You. You're the one who sent the scarf. Why?

GARAK Why not? The Schnee Heiress wearing one of my scarves? Who wouldn't want such an opportunity?

PYRRHA How do you know him?

GARAK Old family friends.

JAUNE And... Well, he did help me get into Beacon...

RUBY Forging your transcripts?

Dead silence.

GARAK(innocent confusion) Forgive me, I believe I'd remember committing a crime of that magnitude.

JAUNE(muttering)You said it was "a simple matter of creative documentation."

GARAK(eyes sparkling) Did I? How shocking. I'm merely a tailor. Plain, simple Garak. I stitch hems and mend seams.

NORA(gasps)You're the mystery man who got Jaune-Jaune into Beacon?!

GARAK Allegedly. And only if one believes transcripts measure a Huntsman. Narrow-minded, don't you think?

WEISS You could have ruined his life.

GARAK Or I recognized potential where others saw paperwork. Reckless, foolish, determined. Reminded me of myself at his age.

PYRRHA Why help him at all?

GARAK(wistful) Many reasons. Perhaps I saw a boy willing to risk everything for a dream. Sentimental old tailor's heart.

(beat, distant)

Or I never forgave Isabel Arc for doubting my artistry. Quite vocal about not trusting "that strange man in the village" with her wedding dress. Ungrateful, after I made her radiant.

JAUNE Mom still thinks you're a spy.

GARAK(laughs richly) A spy? With these hands?(holds up elegant fingers) I assure you, the only secrets I keep are which clients prefer natural fibers.

YANG So which is it? Noble mentor? Petty revenge? Something else?

GARAK(sly) A man is entitled to his mysteries. Perhaps I found the idea of an Arc stumbling into greatness… amusing. Expected him to wash out spectacularly. Imagine my delight when he didn't.

RUBY That's kind of mean.

GARAK Or prophetic. Greatness often begins with a stumble.

BLAKE(quiet) You're not just a tailor.

GARAK Exactly what I say I am. A man who sees potential in unlikely places. Who believes the right person in the wrong place can change everything.

(turns to Jaune, softens)

You've done well, my boy. Better than expected. Your mother must be proud, even if she'll never admit it.

JAUNEY ou never told me why. Really.

GARAK (eyes ancient, weary—just a flash)

Because the darkness is coming. Someone told me an Arc would be needed. Someone has to make sure you're in position.

(mask snaps back, cheerful)

Or perhaps I simply enjoy a good practical joke. Who can say?

He claps hands.

GARAK Now—measurements. Miss Nikos, fascinating shoulder-to-waist ratio. Structured jacket? Miss Schnee, scarf suits you. I could add protective embroidery.

WEISS(involuntary hand to scarf)What kind of protective?

GARAK(winks)The kind that keeps prying eyes away. A lady should have her secrets. And I can do so much more!

REN Why?

GARAK Call it an investment in the future... And besides, up and coming Hunters in training showing off my styles? Who could resist?

COCO appears, dragging enormous garment bag.

COCO Garak! Mom's having a fit—you're late!

GARAK(theatrical sigh) Duty calls. Jaune—keep thriving. In your case, it is far more entertaining than failing.

At the gate, he pauses, looks back.

GARAK Remember, Jaune. Sometimes the plain and simple truth is the most complicated lie of all.

He vanishes into the crowd.

NORA Your family is so cool.

JAUNE(quiet, fond dread) Yeah. Terrifying, isn't it?

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Cross Continental Transmit (CCT) Network of Remnant
Overview

The Cross Continental Transmit System (CCT or CCTNet) is the backbone of global communication across Remnant. Established in the decades following the Great War as part of the peace accords and the broader post-war world order, the CCT is a network of massive transmission towers that enables instantaneous, high-bandwidth voice, video, text, and data transmission between Scrolls, terminals, and broadcast systems anywhere on the planet. It is one of the few truly transnational institutions that all kingdoms agree is essential to civilization's survival, and its protection is considered a sacred rule of engagement.

Core Technology: Quantum-Linked Primary Towers
At the heart of the CCT are the four Primary Relay Towers, one located in the capital of each Great Kingdom:

• Vale City Tower (Vale)
• Atlas City Tower (Atlas)
• Mistral City Tower (Mistral)
• Viracocha Tower (Shade Academy vicinity, Vacuo)

These towers are linked via quantum entanglement Dust arrays—a rare and highly guarded application of exotic Dust crystals that creates instantaneous, unbreakable communication channels regardless of distance or interference. The quantum link allows for virtually unlimited bandwidth and zero latency across continents, making real-time holographic calls, global news broadcasts, and massive data transfers possible. The exact mechanics are classified, known only to a handful of physicists and maintained under joint H.A.R./kingdom oversight.

The quantum link is the reason the CCT is considered "unjammable" by conventional means—any attempt to disrupt it would require physical destruction of the towers themselves or computer infiltration.

Secondary Infrastructure: Repeaters and Radio Backbone
While the Primary Towers handle the quantum core, the network extends globally through a vast array of repeater towers and high-altitude balloon relays.

• Repeater Towers: Thousands of smaller towers scattered across kingdoms, settlements, and even remote outposts. These use conventional radio waves to receive and retransmit signals from the Primary Towers, extending coverage to areas without direct quantum access.
• Balloon Repeaters: Autonomous, high-altitude balloons that float in the upper atmosphere. They serve as mobile relays in regions with poor tower coverage (e.g., Vacuo deserts, open oceans, or Grimm-infested wilds). Balloons can be redeployed quickly and are equipped with emergency radio transceivers.

In emergencies, the repeater and balloon network defaults to standard radio transmission. This allows basic voice and low-bandwidth data communication, ensuring no kingdom is ever fully isolated.

Rules of Engagement and Protection
The CCT towers—primary and secondary—are explicitly non-targetable under international accords formalized after the Great War. Deliberate attacks on CCT infrastructure are considered crimes against humanity, as they would isolate entire regions and cripple coordinated Grimm defense. Even in the rare event of kingdom-level conflict, all parties treat the towers as neutral sanctuaries.

Violations are vanishingly rare but carry severe consequences: universal condemnation, H.A.R. sanctions (license revocation for involved Hunters), and potential joint military retaliation.

Civilian and Cultural Usage
Beyond official communications, CCTNet is deeply woven into daily life:

• Scroll Network: Personal devices connect seamlessly for calls, messaging, social media, and streaming.
• Broadcast Media: Global news (VNN in Vale, Atlas Military Network, etc.), entertainment, and public alerts.
• Ham (Amateur) Radio: A beloved hobby across Remnant. Enthusiasts maintain independent stations, often using repeater networks or balloon relays. Ham radio culture thrives in rural areas and among survivalists—it's a point of pride in Vacuo and a nostalgic pastime in Vale's outer provinces. During CCT outages, ham operators become vital community links.

Military Integration
Each kingdom maintains proprietary encrypted sub-networks layered atop CCTNet for secure command-and-control. These are supported by dedicated military "satellites" (high-altitude balloons or airships) and ground stations.

• Backup Systems: All militaries retain robust radio networks and experimental balloon-based relay chains for redundancy. Vale and Atlas in particular test tethered balloon arrays for battlefield comms in Grimm-heavy zones.
• Mobile Relays: Valean, Atlasian and some Mistralian capital ships also act as floating CCT nodes. Many powers also have heavily fortified relay stations and some sea ship based relay vessels for extra redundancy.

Navigation Functionality
CCTNet doubles as a global positioning and navigation system, using the tower/relay grid as a constellation of beacons.

How It Works:

1. Triangulation via Signal Strength/Timing: Scrolls and vehicles ping multiple nearby towers/relays. By measuring signal return times and strengths, devices calculate precise position (accurate to within meters in dense coverage, ~50m in remote areas).
2. Quantum Synchronization: Primary Towers provide an absolute time reference via quantum link—eliminating drift and enabling hyper-accurate GPS-like functionality even in bad weather or Grimm interference zones.
3. Fallback Beacons: Balloon repeaters and secondary towers broadcast emergency navigation pulses on radio frequencies, guiding airships or ground convoys if CCTnet connection fails.
4. Military Enhancements: Encrypted channels overlay tactical grids; Huntsmen Scrolls can "tag" Grimm signatures for real-time tracking shared across units.

In practice, losing local CCT coverage (e.g., tower destruction) blinds navigation in that region—airships revert to inertial/dead-reckoning, and ground forces rely on compass/maps. This makes tower protection a strategic imperative beyond mere communication.

Future

Proposals for creating additional Primary Relay towers across Remnant to increase coverage are common, but given the security risks and extensive resources and logistics required for a single core tower, this limits candidates that can host a new Primary. Menagerie, Fuujin, Pandu, and the Hellenic Confederation have all made numerous proposals to build new Primary Towers in their territories, but ongoing political and economic issues make these slow going.

Additional proposals for a "Neutral" tower have been made in neutral territory, but few areas across Remnant qualify that would be acceptable to the Four Kingdoms, HAR, or for the needed resources and logistical support.

- - -

Just my own twist on the CCTnet, based on the canon but with my own expansions.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The RWBY dorm common room had been commandeered for "team bonding"—Nora's code for smuggling in a bottle of Hunter-grade Mistralian firewhiskey she'd "borrowed" from a senior's stash. Yang had contributed a flask of something even stronger, grinning like she'd won a bet.

"Time to bond like adults!" She declared.

"I dunno Yang, this might be bad," Jaune tried. Ruby scowled.

"You're not gonna narc on us, are you Jaune?"

"What? No!" Jaune said, "But this stuff is pretty high grade!"

"Of course it is! Uncle Qrow drinks it!" Yang grinned. "What, you never had a little drink before, Farm Boy?"

"I've literally been drinking wine since I was five, thank you," Jaune sniffed. Weiss scoffed.

"Sure you have!"

"What, does that mean you'd outlast us?" Yang grinned in challenge. Jaune coughed.

"Well, I-"

"Put up or shut up, VB!" Yang challenged.

Now, Jaune Arc may have had his pride beaten to pieces and had to build himself back up... But he was still a Gallian at heart. And nobody challenged him to a drinking contest without an answer. He nodded.

"All right."

"Jaune," Pyrrha said worriedly. Jaune shook his head.

"I've got this, Pyr."

"And we all should drink, too!" Nora enthused. "Right Ren?"

"I suppose it can't hurt... Too much," Ren said.

"Pfft, you're all babies," Yang scoffed, "You'll all be passed out the moment you get a whiff of this! I am the Queen of Holding her Liquor! And you'll be bowing down to me!"

"Please!" Weiss sniffed. "I've already had wine at parties! This is nothing to me!"

"Come on, Blake! Join in!" Ruby enthused. Blake sighed and closed her book.

"Fine."

"You're gonna eat your words, VB," Yang grinned devilishly. Jaune shook his head.

"Then let's get this started!"

"HA! You're going down!" Yang laughed.

One round of shots later...

Jaune Arc—liver forged in the fires of family meals and Albion whiskey festivals—had sipped his glass politely and felt… fine. A warm buzz, nothing more.

Everyone else? Not so much.

Weiss Schnee, usually the picture of poise, had dissolved into giggles after her first sip. She swayed on the couch, cheeks flushed pink, belting out an off-key Atlesian opera aria about snowflakes and lost love. "And the iiiiiice… melts for noooo one!" she warbled, arms flung wide like she was on stage.

Ruby Rose had lasted half a shot before collapsing into a giggling heap on the floor. "I'm a centipede!" she declared, crawling around on her belly with wobbly determination, hugging everyone's ankles as she passed. "Hug tax! Pay the hug tax!" She latched onto Jaune's leg like a koala. "You're warm, Jaune-Jaune!"

Blake, perched on the windowsill, ears twitching regally, eyes half-lidded in drunken imperiousness. "Genji," she purred. "My loyal ninja lover. You've been neglecting your princess. Come here and attend to me at once."

Jaune blinked. "Uh… Blake, I'm not—"

"PRINCESS NEKO COMMANDS IT!" She pointed dramatically, nearly toppling off the sill.

Yang, the "Queen of holding her liquor"—had gone through the emotional rainbow in record time. First tears ("You guys are the best friends ever, I love you so much!"), then anger ("Who drank all the good stuff?! I'll punch 'em!"), and now… affection.

She'd latched onto Jaune like a blonde octopus, arms wrapped tight around his waist, face buried in his chest. "You're so comfy, Vomit Boy. Don't ever leave. Ever."

Jaune patted her back awkwardly. "Yang… air?"

Pyrrha, the Invincible Girl, was anything but invincible tonight. After finishing her shot, she'd started frustrated muttering about "improper training regimens" and "lack of discipline". She then escalated to insults. "Nora, your hammer form is sloppy! Ren, your emotional suppression is unhealthy! Jaune, you're—you're stupid!"

Then the tears came. Big, confused tears as she grabbed his sleeve. "You're so stupid and I hate it and why are you so stupid?!"

Ren sat cross-legged in the corner, eyes half-closed, mumbling Pathist sutras under his breath with serene drunken focus. "The self is illusion… the hammer is also illusion… pass the enlightenment, please…"

Nora, meanwhile, had reached peak Nora—louder, wilder, bouncing off walls like a human pinball. "WHO WANTS TO SEE ME BREAK THE SOUND BARRIER WITH MAGNHILD?!"

Jaune dove, catching her arm before she could grab the hammer. "Nora—no smashing! Dorm rules!"

Zwei trotted through the chaos, tail wagging, being aggressively cute—stealing socks, barking at nothing, and occasionally licking someone's face before darting away. Utterly unhelpful.

Jaune—mostly sober, exhausted, and surrounded—tried to herd his drunken teammates like cats.

"Weiss, maybe sit down before you serenade the window again—"

"Never!" Weiss trilled, twirling until she bumped into Blake.

"Genji! Attend your princess!"

"I'm not Genji! But he's mine, you-you hyprocrite!" Weiss sputtered. Blake glared at her.

"Oh yeah?"

"YEAH!"

They started scuffling... Then fell to the floor.

"GENJI IS MINE!"

"NO MINE!"

Yang tightened her grip. "Mine."

Blake scowled up from the floor as Weiss ineffectually yanked on her sleeve.

"You-You two bimbos can't have my himbo!" She yelled at something slightly to the left of Yang. "OR THIS OTHER BIMBO!"

"Du Katzen-Schlampe! Dein Arsch ist scheiße, nicht sexy!" Weiss shouted in Allomenian.

Oh God why is that sexy? Jaune thought. Yang, as though sensing this thought, clung more tightly to him and whispered in his ear:

"Wǒ yào nǐ cāo wǒ, gěi wǒ shēng jǐ gè bǎobǎo, nǐ zhè ge xìnggǎn de kuáng nán~."

Jaune went bright red. "Wh-What?!"

"I can be sexy tooooo!" Yang whined, gnawing on his shoulder. "Gimme!"

Ruby crawled past, hugging Ren's leg. "Centipede hug!"

Ren didn't stop chanting.

Pyrrha sniffled against Jaune's other arm. "Stupid Jaune… I'm... I'm sexy... STUPID!"

Nora tried to climb the bookshelf. "THUNDER THIGHS ACTIVATED!"

Jaune sighed, steering her down with one hand while balancing Yang with the other. Weiss and Blake then hopped onto his back.

"PIGGY BACK RIDE!"

"ARGH!"

It was going to be a long night.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

It was Jaune Arc's sixteenth birthday, a milestone marked with a lively party at the family farm. Cake, streamers, and games filled the air with joy, thanks to the efforts of his sisters, his dad Nick, and friends Katy and Mercer. But the absence of his mother, Isabel, cast a shadow over the celebration. She'd called, citing an emergency at the hospital—typical of her demanding job as a doctor, but on his birthday? The sting was sharp. Disappointed and frustrated, Jaune retreated to the woods near the farm, venting his anger by swinging an old sword and shield he'd found in the armory: Crocea Mors.

"HA! HYAH! HA!" Jaune's arms trembled with each furious strike, the blade embedding into a makeshift training dummy scavenged from the militia's grounds. I know she's busy, she's always been like that… but she used to make time for us. His thoughts churned as he yanked the sword free, swinging with wild, imprecise blows. "Honestly! If she didn't want to come… ! She could've at least said she was busy…! But no, last-minute cancel… ! The hospital shouldn't even be this busy…!"

He took hold of the sword with both hands and began to beat the training dummy in his frustration.

"SO! WHY! DIDN'T! SHE! COME?!" The dummy split in two under his final, enraged strike.

Bad enough she tried to control his life, pushing him toward medical school away from his dreams, and now she skipped his birthday? Jaune's frustration boiled over, as he panted in his fury and sorrow.

"Hello, Jaune," Isabel's voice cut through, calm but startling.

"GAH!"

Jaune fumbled Crocea Mors, nearly dropping it, and shrank back, scratching his neck nervously.

"Mom?! By Aslan's Mane, how long have you been standing there?!"

Isabel's smile was sad. "A while. I'm sorry, Jaune. I didn't mean to miss your birthday party."

Still miffed, Jaune crossed his arms, trying to brush it off. "I-It's fine… it's not like you promised you'd be there or anything."

A flicker of dark anger crossed Isabel's face—her eyes almost seemed to glow red for a moment before softening back to regret. "You're right. I broke my promise." She paused, her tone gentle. "So… what's the best birthday gift I could get you? To try and make up for it?"

Jaune hesitated. He knew this game—"the workaround," as he called it. Arcs always kept their word, but his mother had a knack for twisting hers, leaving loopholes to dodge commitments. He and his sisters had learned to parse her words carefully. Glancing at his reflection in Crocea Mors's blade, he saw the boy he was and the man he could become. Gripping the sword tightly, almost cutting his hand, he turned to her with fierce determination.

"I want to be a Huntsman!"

Isabel raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Is that all?" She smiled. "Okay."

Jaune froze, gaped at his mother. She continued to smile sincerely. He pinched himself, making sure it wasn't a dream. "R-really? …Just like that?"

"Just like that," Isabel confirmed, her smile warm. "We have a year and a few months to get you in shape for Beacon. So…" She stepped forward, placing a hand on his chest. In a flash, a wave of light surged through him—his Aura unlocked.

Jaune gasped as the sensation hit, like a flood of strength and lightness, as if he could take on the world. Aura, he'd heard from his dad, his family and the militia, was a Huntsman's power: defense, healing, strength. But no one had explained how it was unlocked or its deeper workings. As the energy settled, he felt something else—an imprint, like a flash-burned silhouette. For a fleeting moment, he saw his mother with white hair. A primal instinct warned him not to ask about it.

"Woah…"

Besides, the feeling of power flowing through him erased any doubts or misgivings he might have had.

Isabel smiled. "That said, this won't be easy. Getting you up to snuff will take a lot of effort. Are you willing to put in the work, Jaune?"

Still woozy, Jaune straightened, sheathing Crocea Mors and saluting like a knight. "Yes, Ma'am! …Er, Mom, hehe…" He scratched his neck awkwardly.

"Good. Let's get home," Isabel said.

They walked to the farmhouse, where Nick waited on the porch, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, Jaune, hey Izzy."

"Hello, Nick," Isabel replied. "I was just giving Jaune his birthday present. Sorry I missed the party."

Jaune's excitement burst out. "MOMSAIDICOULDBEAHUNTSMAN!" His grin was infectious.

Nick blinked, then grinned back. "That's great, son! She did?"

"SHE DID!"

"I did," Isabel confirmed.

"Well… Beacon starts in a year," Nick said. "We'll have to train you extra hard to get in, but I know you can do it, son!"

Jaune's face set with determination. "I'll take whatever you throw at me! Don't hold back—if I'm gonna catch up, I need to train like my life depends on it! Put me through the ringer, like it's hell week and I-I need a lesson in humility!"

Isabel hugged him, kissing his head. "Don't worry, Jaune. We won't go easy on you in the slightest!"

Nick slammed a hand on Jaune's shoulder, nearly toppling him. "We sure won't, kiddo! I'll work up a training regimen ASAP. Now, go inside—your sisters missed you while you were gone." Jaune nodded, bounding into the living room, a ball of energy ready to crash into his unsuspecting sisters.

---

Such a small decision, yet it had brought so much joy to Isabel's… Her son. Salem couldn't help the sincerity of her own smile as she watched him excitedly tell his sisters the good news through the windows. A contentment rose in her chest, a feeling she had not felt in millenia.

Nick turned away from watching their son to her, surprise and concern in his eyes. Isabel arched an eyebrow.

"What?"

"…So, what changed your mind? You've always said you didn't want Jaune in this life. I understood, went along with it… but what happened?" Nick asked.

Isabel looked briefly surprised, then shook her head. As much of a goof as Isabel's-Her husband could be, he had surprisingly keen insight. She thought very carefully before she spoke.

"Nick… I missed our son's birthday because my job was more important than my family. Yes, I saved a life, but I sacrificed our happiness for it. I hurt our son… and I realized that, no matter his career, there'll be times he hurts those he loves. And he'll get hurt, too. I was trying to protect him, but I can't shield him from everything. So… we'll train him, support him, send him to Beacon. If he fails, he can try medical school. But I can't treat him like my baby boy anymore." She paused. "Is it wrong to think that way?"

Nick scratched his neck, sighing. "No, I don't suppose it is."

Salem held her breath. Nick then glanced at Jaune twirling with his sisters in the living room, smiling. "Still, I wish you'd had this change of heart sooner. A year and some months to catch up to Beacon's prospective students… It's a tall order."

Salem relaxed a bit.

"I have faith in our son," She said warmly, moving up to take his hand. "Between us? He'll be the most powerful Huntsman alive." Her eyes gleamed and her smile became almost devilish. "…Besides, I have other motives."

Nick raised an eyebrow, oblivious to the dark thoughts swirling within her. Salem's mind turned to Ozpin, her old nemesis. She no longer sought his destruction as her destiny, but her hatred burned eternal. Sending Jaune to Beacon would give her a pawn to undermine him, to make him suffer. Especially if Isabel, now wearing her face, was carrying out the plan.

"Is armor one of them?" Nick guessed. "He'll need a fresh set before he goes. I can get Thomas started on one. And if he's keeping Crocea Mors, it'll need a refurbish—Papa Shiro should have it ready in time."

Salem blinked. "What? No! I was…" She groped for an excuse. Someone in common with Salem, the Arcs, Beacon…

"... Just thinking of Summer Rose. Her eldest daughter should be at Beacon next year. Poor Jaune broke up with Katy recently… it might be nice to give them a push together. We know Taiyang and Qrow are good people…" She grimaced. "Well, Taiyang."

Nick's face lit up. "Oh yeah, that's right!" He slapped his knee. "The two of them'll get along like peas in a pod. Summer and I knew it was bound to happen—that's why we wrote that contract—" He froze, feeling Salem's oppressive aura.

"Contract?" Salem's voice was dangerous. "What contract?"

Nick gulped, and Salem was pleased to see her presence was still powerful. He looked thoughtful for a moment, before he wrapped an arm around her waist, twirled her into a dip, and kissed her lovingly. "Nothing you need to worry about," he said with a fond smile.

Salem giggled. He always knew just how to distract her. Better than Ozma ever had, or could.

"…Well, I'll let you handle it. But! Only if you do one little thing for me, Nick…" Her eyes gleamed with desire.

Nick's eyes softened with love. "Anything."

Salem, suppressed for millennia, craved intimacy, and Nick's rugged charm was too much to resist.

"Let's make another baby," she purred.

Nick blinked in shock. He laughed happily. He scooped her up in a princess carry, heading for their bedroom. "Then let's get started, shall we?" In the background, their kids groaned, texting their siblings to steer clear of the house for a while.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

A Tract Concerning the True Spring of Grace
and the Necessity of Separation from the Corruptions in Aelia Paravel

By Brother Aldric of Albion ,a humble servant of the Table Breaker and His pure Word,
written in the year 1341 AMF,
on the eve of the founding of the Church of Albion.

To all the faithful scattered throughout Vytal, Arminus, Gallia, Vale, and beyond; to every soul who hungers for the unadulterated grace of the Table Breaker and grieves at the profanation of His sacrifice—grace and peace be multiplied unto you through the knowledge of our Lord who broke the Stone and shattered every chain.

Beloved, the time has come to speak plainly. For many years we have borne in silence the heavy yoke laid upon the Church by the Four Chairs of Aelia Paravel and their Pontifex Leo Alexander II, who styles himself High King after the manner of blessed Peter yet walks not in Peter's humility. The sacred deposit entrusted to the Stewards has been twisted into a market stall, and the Table itself—once broken to set us free—has been rebuilt in men's imaginations as a ledger of debts payable in silver.

They sell indulgences as though the blood shed upon the Stone were insufficient, promising remission of sins for coin that fills their coffers and adorns their palaces. They exalt tradition above the holy writings handed down by the disciples. They bind consciences with decrees that the Table Breaker never spoke, and they silence any priest or monk who dares remind them that salvation is by grace alone, through faith alone, in the Table Breaker alone.

I ask you, brothers and sisters: when the Table cracked and the dawn broke upon the third day, did our Lord rise to establish a new priesthood that would sell pardons? Did He commission the Four Chairs to sit as brokers between the penitent and the Divine Spark? No. He rose to declare the debt paid in full, the curse broken, the way to paradise open to every soul—human and Faunus—who believes on His name. "It is finished," He cried with His returning breath, and no further payment is required.

Yet in Aelia Paravel they have forgotten this. They have turned pilgrimage into profit, relics into revenue, and the sacred fragments of the Table into a spectacle that distracts from the true power of the resurrection. They claim infallibility for their councils while the Grimm prowl ever closer, drawn by the very despair and division their greed engenders. For when the shepherds fleece the flock instead of feeding it, the wolves find easy entry.

We do not separate lightly. We know the peril of schism in a world where the Creatures of Grimm hunger for every outburst of human strife. Yet there comes a time when to remain in a corrupted house is to partake in its corruption. As King Edmund once taught the Quitalans, "Come out from among them and be separate, says the Lord, lest you share in their plagues" (Edmund to the Quitalans). We separate not to create a new church, but to restore the old—to return to the pure fountain of the Table Breaker's teaching before layers of human invention obscured it.

Therefore, in the year 1342 AMF, by the grace of the Divine Spark and leave of King Lucius II, we establish the Church of Albion: a fellowship of believers who hold these truths:

1. The holy writings of the disciples and stewards are the sole infallible rule of faith and practice.
2. Salvation is by grace alone, through faith alone, in the Table Breaker alone—no works, no payments, no intercessions of men can add to His finished sacrifice.
3. Every believer is a priest before the Divine Spark, with direct access to the throne of mercy through the broken Table.
4. The true Church is the company of all who trust in the Table Breaker, not an institution seated in any earthly city.

Let no one accuse us of pride. We are not innovators; we are restorers. We seek the old paths, where the good way is, that we may walk therein and find rest for our souls. We extend the hand of fellowship to every brother and sister still within the old structures who hungers for reform. Come out, and let us reason together beneath the light of the resurrection dawn.

And to those who remain in Aelia Paravel: repent. Cast down the sale of indulgences. Return the Church to its first love. Humble yourselves before the Table Breaker, lest the Grimm that already circle your walls find open gates in the despair of an oppressed people.
May the Divine Spark who broke the Stone grant us all grace to walk in the light of the true Spring that flows from His sacrifice alone.

Brother Aldric of Albion,
In the year of our Lord the Table Breaker, 1341 AMF

 

[AndrewJTalon]

A White Spring Orthodox Meditation on Endurance

From the Liturgical Tradition of the White Spring Church

Composed by Saint Seraphim of Mantle, Bishop and Confessor (In the year 1587 AMF, during the Long Frosts of Solitas)

Troparion, Tone 4

O Table Breaker, Thou who didst endure the Stone's cold embrace
for three days and three nights in the tomb's unyielding winter,grant us,
Thy servants in this frozen land of Solitas,
the grace to bear the biting winds and endless snows.
As Thou didst shatter the Ice Witch's eternal frost
and brought forth the everlasting Spring,
so strengthen our souls amid the white silence,
that we may stand firm against despair and the prowling shadows.
For Thou art the Warmth that melts every chain,
and in Thy resurrection is our hope of thaw.
Glory to Thee, O Lord who breakest every winter.

Kontakion, Tone 6

In the depths of Solitas' cruel cold,
where the breath freezes and the heart grows heavy,
we cry to Thee, O Table Breaker, our Deliverer:
Thou who lay upon the Stone in deathly chill,
yet rose with the dawn to clothe the earth in green,
teach us endurance as Thou didst endure.
When the Grimm circle our cities like wolves in the blizzard,
drawn by our fears and fleeting angers,
kindle in us the Divine Spark that repels the void.
Let us not falter in the long night,
but await Thy Spring with patient faith,
for Thou hast promised paradise beyond all frost.
To Thee we sing: Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.

Prayer of Endurance in the White Cold

O most merciful Table Breaker,
Lion of divine strength and Lamb of sacrifice,
who didst submit to the freezing fist of the Witch
and broke her power with Thy resurrection warmth:
look upon Thy faithful in Solitas,
where the snows bury our fields
and the winds howl like the ancient tempests.
In this land of iron skies and endless white,
teach us to endure as Thou didst endure—
not with complaints against the cold,
but with hearts aflame by Thy Spark.
When trials assail us like the Grimm in the storm,
grant us patience, that quiet fortress of the soul,
as Saint Coriakin learned amid the follies of his charge.
Strengthen the miners in Mantle's depths,
the guards upon our walls, the monks and nuns in our frozen monasteries,
that they may bear hardship as good soldiers of Thy broken Table.
Let us remember High King Peter's steadfastness in battle,
Queen Lucy's gentle healing in sorrow,
and King Edmund's redemption from betrayal's chill.
In our suffering, unite us to Thy three days upon the Stone:
the first day, acceptance of the cold;
the second, trust amid the darkness;
the third, hope for the breaking dawn.
O Thou who turnest winter to everlasting Spring,
preserve us from despair, from wrath that summons shadows,
from the temptations of the old gods' empty promises.
Make our endurance a testimony to the world,
that even in Solitas' white silence,
Thy Church stands unbroken, awaiting Thy final thaw.
For Thine is the kingdom beyond all winters,
the power that shatters every ice,
and the glory of the paradise of growth,
now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.
Amen.

(This meditation is one of many recited daily in White Spring Orthodox monasteries during the Long Frosts, often followed by prostrations before icons of the Table Breaker rising from the shattered Stone Table, depicted amid blooming flowers breaking through snow.)