[RWBY] RWBY Shorts

[AndrewJTalon]

The free period stretched lazy and golden across Beacon's campus, sunlight spilling through the common-room windows in warm pools. Yang had volunteered to babysit while Jaune was in an extended sparring session with Pyrrha—something about "perfecting shield transitions" that had already run thirty minutes overtime. Mia didn't mind. Auntie Yang had the best stories, the best tickle attacks, and—most importantly—the best lap for curling up on while watching silly cartoons on her scroll.

They were sprawled on the couch now, Mia tucked against Yang's side, legs dangling off the cushion, stuffed bunny held tight. The cartoon played on mute; neither of them was really watching anymore.

Mia tilted her head up, ears twitching thoughtfully.

"Auntie Yang?"

"Hmm?" Yang glanced down, fingers still absently braiding a small section of Mia's blonde curls.

Mia's big blue eyes were very serious. "Will you give me a baby brother or sister?"

The question landed like a grenade.

Yang blinked. Once. Twice.

She coughed, cheeks going faintly pink under her tan. "Uh… wow. Straight to the point, huh, kiddo?"

Mia nodded solemnly. "You said you'd help Papa make one. At that dinner. Everyone was yelling. It was loud."

Yang winced, remembering the cafeteria chaos. "Yeah… that was… a lot of grown-up yelling."

"So?" Mia pressed, undeterred. "Will you?"

Yang exhaled slowly through her nose, smile turning softer, a little wistful. She shifted so she could look Mia in the eye properly.

"I'd like to, squirt. I really would."

Mia's ears perked hopefully. "Then why not?"

Yang hesitated, thumb brushing absently over the little girl's hand. "Because… I'm not sure I'm ready yet. Not sure I'm ready for all of it."

Mia's brow furrowed. "Why?"

Yang's throat worked. She stared at the muted cartoon for a second-some brightly colored hero punching a cartoon Grimm-monster-before answering.

"When my mom—Summer—died, I was little. Ruby was even littler. Dad shut down for a while. So I… I had to be the grown-up. I cooked, I cleaned, I made sure Ruby got to school, got to bed, got hugs when she was scared. I basically became her mom when I was still a kid myself."

Mia's eyes went wide. She looked down at her bunny, then back up. "Just like me?"

Yang's heart did something painful and warm at the same time. She nodded slowly.

"Just like you, kitten."

Mia's lower lip wobbled. "Are you gonna leave me and Daddy too?"

Yang's arms went around her instantly, pulling her close until Mia's face was tucked against her collarbone.

"Never," she said fiercely, voice rough. "Ever. Not in a million years. Not even if the world ends and Grimm eat the moon. I'm here. You and your dad—you're stuck with me, okay?"

Mia sniffled into Yang's shirt, small arms wrapping as tight as they could. "Okay."

They stayed like that for a long minute, Yang rocking her gently, chin resting on the top of her head.

Mia's voice came out muffled. "Then why can't you be my new mama?"

Yang's jaw worked. She stared at the wall over Mia's shoulder, eyes stinging.

"It's… complicated," she said finally. "Grown-up complicated. Your papa's heart is still really full of your mama. And that's okay. It takes time. And I… I wanna do this right. For you. For him. Not just because it feels good in the moment."

Mia pulled back just enough to look up at her. "But you love us?"

Yang's smile was small and very real. "More than Nora loves pancakes. And that's saying something."

Mia giggled wetly. "Pancakes are the best."

"Exactly."

The door opened.

Jaune stepped in, hair mussed, armor still on, looking equal parts exhausted and apologetic.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, already reaching for Mia. "Pyrrha wanted to run the shield forms one more time. Went long."

Yang stood, handing Mia over with exaggerated care. "You're on thin ice, Vomit Boy. This one was starting to think you'd been eaten by a Nevermore."

Jaune winced. "I know, I know. I owe you."

Yang smirked, then softened. "Hey. You two want to ditch campus for dinner? Your treat? There's that noodle place in Vale Mia likes—the one with the spicy broth and the pork dumplings."

Mia's ears shot straight up. "YES! And ice cream?"

Jaune laughed tiredly. "I'll think about it."

Mia immediately turned the full force of her big blue eyes on Yang. "Auntie Yang, please tell Daddy ice cream!"

Yang laughed. "Listen to your dad, squirt."

Mia giggled and nodded solemnly, already plotting.

Jaune scooped her up, settling her on his hip. "Thanks again, Yang. Really."

She waved him off, but her smile lingered. "Anytime. Let's go feed the tiny dictator, huh?"

As they left, Mia twisted in Jaune's arms to wave at Yang. Then, when she thought Jaune wasn't looking, stuck her tongue out playfully.

Yang winked back, mouthing "Ice cream later."

Jaune pretended not to notice.

But he smiled anyway.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Pyrrha stepped off the airship ramp with a weary sigh, the weight of the day's commercial shoot clinging to her like Mistral's humid air. The director had been relentless—endless takes of her "invincible" smile for some energy drink ad, all while she balanced on a wire rig pretending to battle holographic Grimm. Her muscles ached, her ponytail was slightly askew, and the faint glitter of stage makeup still dusted her cheeks. But Beacon's spires rose welcoming against the late afternoon sky, and that alone eased the knot in her chest.

She checked her scroll: early enough to swing by the academy's daycare before the others got back. A small smile tugged at her lips. Mia time. That always made everything better.

The daycare was a bright, chaotic haven tucked into Beacon's lower levels—walls painted with murals of heroic Huntsmen, toys scattered like battlefield debris. Mia spotted her instantly, ears perking straight up from behind a fort of foam blocks.

"Big Sister Pyrrha!" The little girl bolted across the room, leaping into Pyrrha's open arms with the unbridled enthusiasm only a four-year-old could muster.

Pyrrha caught her easily, exhaustion melting away as she hugged Mia close. "Hello, little one. Ready for a snack? I hear the cafeteria has fresh apple slices today."

Mia's blue eyes lit up. "With peanut butter? And no carrots?"

Pyrrha chuckled, setting her down and taking her tiny hand. "No carrots. I promise."

They wandered to the cafeteria, the halls quiet with most students still in classes or training. Pyrrha grabbed a tray—apple slices (with peanut butter), a yogurt for Mia, and a simple protein shake for herself. They claimed a corner table by the windows, overlooking the training fields where distant figures sparred under the fading sun.

Mia dipped an apple slice with gusto, chattering about her day—something involving a finger-painting Grimm that looked suspiciously like a Beowolf with cat ears. Pyrrha listened with half her attention, the other half drifting to the warmth of the moment. These quiet times with Mia felt like a glimpse into something deeper, something she wasn't sure she deserved.

Then Mia paused mid-bite, tilting her head curiously. "Big Sister Pyrrha… can you give me a sibling?"

Pyrrha nearly choked on her shake. She set the cup down carefully, cheeks warming. "A… sibling? Mia, that's not exactly how it works."

Mia's ears drooped slightly, but her eyes were earnest. "But you like Papa, right? And Papa likes you. Auntie Yang said that's how you get siblings—when grown-ups like each other a lot."

Pyrrha's flush deepened. She glanced around the empty cafeteria, ensuring no eavesdroppers. "I… care very much for your papa, Mia. He's kind and strong and… wonderful. But it's complicated. I'm… nervous about things like that."

Mia frowned, dipping another apple but not eating it. "Why nervous? Is it like when I have to fight the dark in my closet?"

Pyrrha smiled softly, touched by the innocence. "A little. When I was a girl, not much older than you, I visited an oracle in Typhon—a city near Argus, in the Hellenic League. She told me I'd do something great one day… but that I'd suffer great sorrow, and I'd face it alone."

Mia's nose wrinkled. "That's dumb. How could she know the future?"

Pyrrha's voice gentled. "The gods give her visions, or so they say. Prophecies from the old ways."

Mia shook her head firmly, ears twitching. "Papa told me there's only one God, and He doesn't want people to be unhappy. He loves them. So why
would He make you sad alone?"

Pyrrha's breath caught. Out of the mouths of babes. She stared at the little girl, heart twisting. "I… don't want to believe the prophecy, Mia. But I'm afraid. Afraid of getting close to your papa, of subjecting him to the loss I might bring. What if the sorrow comes, and it hurts him too?"

Mia reached across the table, patting Pyrrha's hand with sticky peanut-butter fingers. "That's super dumb. Papa would love you anyway. Like he loves me, even when I'm bad."

Pyrrha laughed—a soft, watery sound—blinking back unexpected tears. "You're wiser than you know, little one."

Mia wasn't done. "Is there more dumb stuff?"

Pyrrha hesitated, then sighed. "My mother… she's very controlling. She has plans for me—tournaments, endorsements, a life mapped out. I'm afraid of going against her. Of choosing my own happiness."

Mia's face scrunched up in pure four-year-old outrage. "That's really dumb! Why would your mom want you to not be happy?"

Pyrrha leaned back, staring out the window. "It's… grown-up stuff, Mia. Complicated."

"Grown-up stuff is dumb," Mia declared solemnly.

Pyrrha met her eyes, a real smile breaking through. "Yes. Yes, it is."

The cafeteria door swung open then, and Jaune strode in—hair damp from a post-workout shower, hoodie slung over his shoulder, looking every bit the exhausted but content dad. His eyes lit up when he spotted them.

"Mia! Pyr!"
"Papa!" Mia slid off her chair and barreled into him. He scooped her up effortlessly, hugging her tight and nuzzling his nose against hers in their ritual Eskimo kiss. She giggled, nuzzling back with enthusiasm.

Pyrrha stood, brushing crumbs from her lap, her earlier nervousness fading under the warmth of the scene. "Jaune. I'm glad to see you."

He set Mia down, ruffling her hair before turning to Pyrrha with a soft smile. "You too. Beat me to pickup duty, huh?"

She nodded. "Early flight back. How was training?"

"Brutal, but good." He glanced at the half-eaten snacks. "You two look cozy. Up for dinner? I was thinking that noodle place in Vale."

Pyrrha's heart skipped. "I'd like that. Very much."

Mia grinned mischievously, grabbing one of Jaune's hands and one of Pyrrha's. "Let's go now!"

They started toward the door, Mia swinging between them like a happy pendulum. Then, with a sly look, she yanked her hands free—pushing theirs together instead—and darted ahead, giggling wildly as she skipped down the hall.

Jaune sighed, shaking his head fondly. He made to pull away, but Pyrrha's fingers laced tentatively with his, warm and callused from training. He looked at her in surprise.

Pyrrha's breath caught, but she squeezed back, her smile shy and bright.

"I… don't mind."

"Me neither," he murmured.

They walked like that, hands entwined, Mia's laughter echoing ahead like a promise of simpler, less dumb grown-up stuff.

For now, at least.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Weiss adjusted her posture on the low bench in Beacon's Star Maiden Garden, the afternoon sun filtering through the tree leaves like scattered diamonds. Mia sat cross-legged beside her, meticulously arranging a collection of wildflowers they'd picked—daisies for "happy thoughts," buttercups for "sunshine giggles," as Mia had declared with solemn authority. The little girl's ears twitched every time a bee buzzed by, but she was focused, tongue poking out in concentration.

Weiss had volunteered for pickup duty today, her schedule clear after a morning seminar on Dust applications. It was a small thing, but these moments with Mia felt like stolen breaths of fresh air. A from lectures, away from the weight of the Schnee name that still clung to her like frost on glass.

Mia held up a lopsided crown of woven stems. "Auntie Weiss! This is for you. It's a princess crown 'cause you're a princess!"

Weiss's lips curved in a genuine smile, accepting the gift and placing it carefully atop her white hair. "Thank you, Mia. It's perfect. Shall I make one for you?"

Mia nodded enthusiastically. Weiss pulled her into her lap, and began to weave her down flower crown. The four year old then tilted her head, ears twitching slightly.

"Auntie Weiss… why don't you talk about your mama and papa like Papa talks about Granny and Papa?"

Weiss paused mid-weave, fingers stilling on the stems. Mia's innocent curiosity had a way of cutting straight to the heart, but there was no malice in it, just a child's endless wonder.

Weiss set the half-finished crown aside and turned to face her fully, keeping her voice light and gentle, like telling a bedtime story.

"Well, little one, my family is… a bit like a big, fancy castle made of ice. It looks beautiful from far away, all shiny and tall, but inside, it's very cold and sometimes lonely."

Mia's eyes widened, ears perking. "Cold like winter? But you like snow!"

Weiss chuckled softly. "I do like snow—when it's soft and fun to play in. But my castle… my papa was like a king who cared more about gold and rules than hugs. He made everyone follow his orders, even when it made them sad. My mama… she tried to be warm, but the cold made her tired, so she hid away with her special drinks that grown-ups use when they're unhappy."

Mia's nose wrinkled. "That's not nice. Papas should give hugs and make pancakes. Why was he mean?"

Weiss reached over, tucking a stray curl behind Mia's ear. "Sometimes grown-ups forget how to be kind because they're scared or hurt from their own castles. My big sister Winter—she's like a brave knight—ran away to join the army so she could protect people and be free. My little brother Whitley… he's still in the castle, learning the rules, but I think he wants to be warm too someday."

Mia thought about this, her tail swishing slowly. "Did you run away like Auntie Winter?"

Weiss nodded, her expression softening with pride. "I did. I came to Beacon to learn how to be a Huntress, to fight the real monsters and make my own path. Away from the cold rules. Now I have a new family—your papa, you, the teams. It's warmer here. Full of hugs and adventures."

Mia's face brightened, and she threw her arms around Weiss's waist in a fierce hug. "You're my Auntie Weiss! No more cold castle. We have pancake castle now!"

Weiss hugged her back, a quiet laugh escaping as she blinked away the unexpected prick of tears. "Pancake castle sounds perfect, Mia. Absolutely perfect."

Mia pulled back, still beaming, then tilted her head again with that boundless curiosity.

"Auntie Weiss… could you give me a sibling with Papa?"

Weiss's cheeks flushed a delicate pink, her composure cracking just a fraction. She smoothed her skirt unnecessarily, buying a moment. "A sibling? Mia, that's… quite the request."

Mia nodded earnestly, ears perking. "Papa would be super warm! He'd never be mean, and he loves to play in the snow! Like snowball fights and building forts!"

Weiss's flush deepened, but a small, wistful smile tugged at her lips. "It… would be nice, wouldn't it? But my father… he'd make things difficult. He's still very much like that cold king in the castle."

Mia pouted, crossing her arms. "Why? That's not fair!"

Weiss sighed softly, weaving the last stems into Mia's crown and placing it on her head. "He wants me to marry a prince—someone with a fancy title and lots of gold. To keep the castle strong."

Mia's pout turned into a fierce scowl. "But Papa's a great knight! Knights are supposed to save princesses and marry them and live happily ever after!"

Weiss giggled then-a light, genuine sound that surprised even her-after adjusting her own flower crown.

"You're right, Mia. Knights do save princesses. And happily ever after sounds… wonderful."

The garden path crunched under footsteps just then, and Jaune appeared around the bend, hair tousled from the wind, a sheepish grin on his face.

"Hey, you two. Sorry I'm late. I got held up in Oobleck's lecture. Thanks so much for looking after her, Weiss."

Weiss stood gracefully, brushing a leaf from her skirt. "I'm glad to. She's wonderful company."

Mia bounced up, grabbing Jaune's hand. "Papa! Dinner now?"

Jaune chuckled, ruffling her hair. "What do you say, Weiss? Care to join us? My treat."

Weiss's eyes sparkled faintly. "I'd like that. Take us to dinner, then?"

Mia clapped. "Pancakes!"

Weiss snorted, a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. "We could just stay home for that, Mia."

The little girl thought for a second, then declared, "Beef spaghetti!"

Weiss nodded approvingly. "Beef spaghetti it is."

Jaune grinned. "Sounds good to me."

As they started walking, Mia darted between them, grabbing their free hands and tugging. Then, with a mischievous glint, she pushed Jaune's hand toward Weiss's arm. "Papa! Take Auntie Weiss's arm! You're a knight, and she's a princess—that's what knights do!"

Jaune's cheeks went pink, his step faltering. Weiss blushed too, but after a heartbeat, she held out her arm gracefully, meeting his eyes with a teasing smile.

"I agree."

Jaune cleared his throat, but his grin was warm as he took her arm, escorting her properly toward the bullhead docks.

"I would never argue with a princess."

Weiss arched an eyebrow, her voice light. "You'd better not."

Behind them, Mia skipped ahead, giggling triumphantly, the flower crowns bobbing like promises in the fading light.

- - -

PHEW! Managed these three today... Now I'm taking a break. Hope you liked it.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Mistralian street festival sprawled across Vale's old harbor district like a living tapestry—red lanterns swaying overhead, the air thick with the sizzle of street vendors frying dumplings and skewering glazed pork, and the rhythmic thump of drums guiding dragon dancers through the crowd. Paper lions snapped their jaws at children, firecrackers popped in cheerful bursts, and every stall overflowed with silk scarves, jade trinkets, and sugar-dusted pastries shaped like carp and phoenixes.

Jaune had to go to a meeting of team leaders, Pyrrha had another commercial shoot, and RWBY were off on their own adventures. So Jaune had happily agreed to let Nora and Ren take Mia to the festival.

Nora carried Mia on her shoulders like a conquering general, the little girl's fluffy ears bouncing with every excited bounce. Ren walked beside them, hands in his pockets, a small, quiet smile on his face as he watched the two of the most important people in his world soak in the chaos.

"Look! Nora! Fire chicken!" Mia squealed, pointing at a vendor twirling a flaming wok of sizzling noodles.

"That's called 'stir-fried dragon whiskers,'" Nora declared, already digging in her pocket for lien. "Three bowls, extra spicy for me, mild for the tiny terror, and whatever Ren wants."

Ren raised an eyebrow. "I'll take the mild too. Someone has to keep their taste buds intact."

Mia giggled and leaned forward, hugging Nora's head. "You're the best big auntie ever!"

They ate standing up, sauce dripping down chins, Mia's cheeks puffed like a chipmunk as she tried to fit an entire pork bun in her mouth at once. Nora cheered her on like it was an Olympic event. Ren wiped Mia's face with a napkin, gentle and unhurried.

Next came the hammer game.

The stall owner—a burly Mistrali man with a braided beard—grinned when Nora stepped up, Magnhild slung casually over her shoulder like it weighed nothing.

"Think you can ring the bell, little lady?"

Nora cracked her knuckles. "Watch this."

She swung the mallet once—WHAM—the puck shot up the tower, the bell clanged so hard the whole stall rattled, and the owner's jaw dropped.

"Uh… that's… a new record," he managed, handing her the top prize: an enormous plush panda almost as big as Nora herself.

Mia clapped wildly. "Nora's the strongest!"

Ren accepted the panda with a small bow to the stunned vendor. "Thank you. She gets… enthusiastic."

They wandered on, Nora now carrying both Mia and the panda (somehow), until they reached the petting zoo corral at the festival's edge. Geese, goats, fluffy sheep, and a very dignified-looking peacock milled about in a pen of straw and low fences.

Nora set Mia down. "Go on, kitten! Say hi to the fluffy army. We'll be right here."

Mia bolted inside, immediately chasing a honking goose with delighted squeals. The goose, clearly offended, flapped away in a cloud of feathers. Mia pursued, laughing so hard she nearly tripped over her own feet.

Nora leaned on the fence beside Ren, watching with soft, unguarded fondness. The festival noise faded to a pleasant hum around them.

"I want one," Nora said suddenly, voice quieter than usual.

Ren glanced at her. "We can't steal a baby, Nora."

She elbowed him gently. "That's not what I mean, you dork."

He smiled, small and knowing. "I know what you mean."

Nora turned to face him fully, arms crossed, the panda squished between them like a fluffy chaperone. "Then why not? We're good with Mia. We're good together. We could… you know. Have our own tiny chaos gremlin."

Ren's gaze drifted back to Mia, who had finally cornered the goose and was now trying to pet it while it hissed indignantly. His expression softened, but there was a shadow there too.

"I'm not sure how to answer that yet," he admitted. "Not because I don't want it. Because… everything we do affects more than just us. And I want to be sure we're ready. Really ready."

Nora scowled, but it was the soft kind of scowl she saved only for him—the one that said she was frustrated but still loved him. "You know how I feel. I've never hidden it. Why can't you just… tell me the same?"

Ren reached over, brushing a strand of orange hair from her face. His touch lingered. "I do feel the same. I've felt it for a long time. I just… want to give any child we have the kind of certainty I never had growing up. No running. No hiding. Just… home."

Nora's scowl melted. She leaned her forehead against his. "You big sap."

Before he could reply, a triumphant shout rang out.

"Ren! Nora! Look!"

Mia came racing back, both hands cupped carefully around something. She opened them to reveal a perfect, pale goose egg, slightly warm from the sun-warmed straw.

"I found a treasure!" she crowed.

Ren crouched to her level, smiling gently. "That's very nice, Mia. But we should put it back so the mama goose doesn't get worried."

Mia pouted for half a second, then nodded. "Okay. Sorry, goose mama."

She toddled back to the pen and set the egg carefully in the straw, patting it goodbye like it was a sleeping baby. The goose honked once—almost approvingly—then waddled off.

Nora watched the whole exchange with shining eyes, then slung an arm around Ren's shoulders, pulling him close.

"See?" she whispered. "We'd be great at this."

Ren's arm came around her waist. "Yeah," he murmured. "We would."

 

[John Jackson]

As promised, I dipped my toe into the Space Opera AU
Space Opera AU





Beacon Orbital Elevator

Vale System

Vale Federation



The VNN feed was blaring in the arrival lounge and the face of Counciler Winchester yelling at Lisa Lavander greeted team RWBY and JNRP as they entered the lounge.

"…It's a national disgrace that on the eve of the Vital festival the capital world of the Vale Federation has to rely on foreign fleets and mercenary companies to guard the capital! It's been over a decade since the Mount Gleen colony massacre and home fleets still a shadow of what it was."

"But the Infinity was just commissioned and she's the most advanced warship outside the Atlis fleet."

"And we should have 100 more like her but because my opponents on the council efforts she is currently the only one of her class. That is why I'm introducing the Vale Military restoration act tomorrow of the floor of the Council…"


Jaune Arc toned out the Political talk show and turned to the smart screen as the international fleet escorting the Vital station entered into orbit around the moon of Beacon. It was an impressive collection of ships. From Gen. Ironwoods personal Super Star Destroyer and the Valcuo high liner carriers, from the Ministerial Battle Barges. In front was the delegation from the host star nation for this decade's festival, the blocky solid forms of the Vale fleet and its member nations.

Ruby of course was rattling off specifications like she had an inside source at the fleet design bureau, or a War Thunder account one of the other.

"…She's has a super MAC gun built right into her superstructure that can fire in 3 round bursts. She has more firepower than an Altis Super Star Destroyer…"

"I highly doubt that Ruby" Wises didn't keep her natural haughtiness out of her tone as she adjusted the smart wall to focus on the Atlas portion of the fleet squadrons of their triangle shaped ships in neat formation. She pointed to one of the smaller capital ships.

"Look it's the Victory my sister Winters ship, she's a huntress captain Oh it will be so good to see her again."

"I wouldn't be proud of ships constructed by extracting resources from the downtrodden!"

"Isn't that a squadron Menagerie ships on the other side of the fleet Kitty Cat?"

"That's different Yang, we bought those ships ethically from the Val navy and upgraded them for our own defense"

"Well, that explains why there all a century old Nova Class ships but where did the money to buy and upgrade those ships come from humm?'

"That's different Wises , though I do wonder why my father sent them with the international fleet. They usually don't leave Menagerie space?"

"Maybe they needed the good PR with the White Fang making so much trouble? I know that my parents ae coming, well at least that's their excuse there using to visit me all the way out here. Hey guys."

That had come from behind them as May Zedong had joined them without anyone noticing causing Jaune the jump slightly. Of Course, Nora had a different reaction.

"Yea all 3 of Beacon's space Princess's are here! Oh, I know we can have royal rumble to see who gets Jaune as a Consort."

This caused all 3 to blush and Blake to try to explain again how neither she nor Wises counted as royalty.

At an unheard command the wall once again changed its focus to the sweeping fish like Pandu flagship. That caused a slight frown to form on Jaune's face. Something that May noticed.

"What's wrong Jaune you know my parents, better than I do in a lot of ways. Why are you worrying about them coming to visit? They're your Godparents after all?"

"No, it's not that May your parents are great and I'm looking forward to seeing them it's who caught a ride with them that I'm worried about."

"O come on Vomit boy your parents will be happy to see you after all not many people have a son qualify for the Vital Tournament"

"Oh I'm sure my parents are proud even if I did go behind there backs and kind of steal the family weapon and power armor, but my mom can be a bit much and well mom and dad decided to take the opportunity of having both me and Tangy in the same star system to have a big family reunion."

This caught the Schnee heiress attention as a look of dawning horror appeared on her face.

"Arc when you say Family reunion?"

"The whole family, all my sisters, there spouses, Uncles, Aunts, really the whole family except Nana and Papa, they couldn't really leave Albion right now what with the upswing in Grim scouting fleets in the cluster."

As Wises tried to reconcile herself to that amount of Arc family related chaos Nora switched the view to a battered looking ship blocky with twin flight hangers on either side of the blocky superstructure.

"What's that one It looks badass though a little scruffy?"

Instead of the expected Ruby info dump it was Pyrrha that answered.

"That the Battle Star Galactica, she's the last of the Jupiter class Battlestar's in service of the Hellenic Luegues fleet."

"Didn't know you were a ship nerd Cereal Girl?"

"Not particularly but I know that one, It was the flagship for the fleet that supported my teacher Tel'ac when he slew the grim dark god Aries in the ruins of the Olympus colony."

"False god Girl, Dead false god."

A deep rumbling voice came from directly behind the teams of huntsman in training, Causing Jaune to jump (was everyone trying to give him a heart attack today) and he turned around to see a large man, larger even than his dad in simple robes. His skin was ashen white, an enduring symbol of the Grim worshiping cult that he had been born into. But the symbol of the Dark Mistress's servant branded on to his forehead had been disfigured and replaced with the symbol of the Table breaker. In his hand he carried a staff, on his hip road an ax that glowed with a pale blue light and on his bearded face he wore a slight smile.

He embraced the Amazon of team JNPR in a bone chorusing hug.

" Master it's so good to see you it's been too long, Oh I'm sorry I forgot my manners everyone this is my combat teacher from home Master Tel'ac, Master this is Team JNRP and RWBY and May new crown princess of Pandu."

This must be Tel'ac the redeemed, once known as Kratos the scourge of the Hellenic League, who had turned upon the grim worshipers that had enslaved him and his people and cast down the servants of the Dark Queen (may her name be forever forgotten)

Well, if he had the entire Arc clan descending on him at least he wasn't alone in having visitors. Maybee if there were enough other visitors, he could distract his mother from continuing her campaign for grandchildren maybe. At least that was the top of his worriers because its not like a gathering of hundreds of famous hunters and entire fleet from across civilized space was going to be attacked right…

Tbc

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The frontier village of Albus Ridge clung to the mountainside like a stubborn weed—stone walls, slate roofs, and a single dirt road that wound up from the valley below. RWBY and JNPR had been sent to reinforce the local militia after reports of a mad Scorpion Faunus and a small Grimm pack harassing lurking about.

They'd expected a quick fight.

They got Tyrian Callows.

Tyrian descended from the ridge in a crouch, scorpion tail arched, eyes wide and manic. The teams fanned out—Ruby's scythe already spinning, Yang's gauntlets cocked, Weiss summoning glyphs, Blake vanishing into shadow clones, Pyrrha's spear leveled, Nora grinning behind her hammer, Ren calm as ever, Jaune shield up.

Tyrian spread his arms wide. "I am the bringer of death! Servant of the true Divine of Remnant!"

Jaune stepped forward before anyone could charge. "What true Divine?"

Tyrian giggled. "Names are fleeting. Power is eternal. The strong devour the weak. That is the only truth."

Jaune's shield didn't waver. "That's just nihilism with extra steps."

Tyrian tilted his head, amused. "Oh? And what does the farm boy believe?"

"That death was conquered," Jaune said simply. "Aslan's sacrifice broke its power. More men fear to live than die."

Tyrian's laughter echoed off the rocks. "Pretty words! But everything dies, boy. Flowers. Stars. Civilizations. You. Me. Your little friends. Despair is the only honest response."

Jaune shook his head. "Nihilism is the basest philosophy. It falls apart the moment someone asks if you'd die for it."

Tyrian's grin sharpened. "I would die for my Dark Queen."

Jaune smiled—small, sad. "Then you have meaning. You're not purely nihilistic. You're just… Hobbesian. Or maybe Nietzschean with worse hair."

Tyrian froze. "What are those?"

Blake stepped forward beside Jaune, voice steady. "Philosophies. Human attempts to make sense of existence. Hobbes thought life without authority was 'nasty, brutish, and short.' Nietzsche believed in creating meaning in a meaningless world—becoming the Übermensch."

Tyrian's tail twitched. "Humans… wrote books about this?"

Jaune nodded. "Thousands of years' worth."

Tyrian stared at them—really stared—for the first time not as prey, but as something curious.

Then he lowered his blades.

"Show me these… books."

The village library was small, but surprisingly well stocked. Tyrian sat cross-legged on the floor like a child, flipping through volumes with manic glee. Hobbes. Nietzsche. Kierkegaard. Sartre. Aquinas. Lewis.

He read in silence for nearly an hour.

Finally he looked up, eyes bright.

"Humans wrote this much about thinking about things?" He laughed, delighted. "My violence will have new meaning!"

Ruby threw her hands up. "How is this a win?! I wanted to win through fighting and cool explosions!"

Jaune shrugged. "We had those too."

Yang snorted. "And we were losing."

Ruby pouted. "Gimme those books! I gotta study! I want to be the hopeful counter to some dark rival! Honestly Jaune, let me have a rival!"

Jaune turned to Tyrian. "Hey. Will you become Ruby's rival? Philosophical antithesis? You're both new at this."

Tyrian considered, then grinned. "Hmmm… Nah. If I had a female counter, I'd prefer a mature woman. Not a brat."

Ruby puffed her cheeks. "I'M DRINKING MY MILK, DAMNIT!"

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Hunter's Rest was a small, dimly lit bar tucked into a side street near Vale's old commercial district. It catered to Huntsmen and Huntresses who wanted a quiet drink without the flash of downtown clubs or the rowdy energy of student hangouts. The walls were lined with faded mission photos, broken weapons mounted like trophies, and a jukebox that only played songs older than most of the clientele.

Taiyang Xiao Long pushed through the door a little after ten, shaking rain from his coat. He scanned the room out of habit—old instincts—and froze when he spotted the woman at the corner booth.

Glynda Goodwitch looked up from her glass of red wine, glasses catching the low light. For a second, neither moved.

Then Taiyang grinned—slow, surprised, genuine.

"Glynda?"

She blinked once. Then a small, reluctant smile curved her lips.

"Taiyang."

He crossed the room in long strides and slid into the booth opposite her without asking. "I didn't recognize you at first. The hair's shorter. And the glare's sharper."

Glynda arched an eyebrow. "And you've grown a beard. It suits you. Makes you look less like the boy who once tried to convince Qrow that wearing a dress for a week was 'character building.'"

Taiyang barked a laugh. "He lasted three days. Cried on day four when he had to wear heels to the mess hall."

Glynda's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "And Isabel throwing you out the window when you walked in on her showering. I've never heard a man scream that high."

Taiyang winced, rubbing his back like the memory still ached. "She said I was 'lucky it was only the second floor.' Then Summer tried to give her makeup tips the next day—like that was going to fix anything."

Glynda snorted. "Summer's makeup was always more war paint than cosmetics. She once tried to contour me with gunpowder. Said it was 'edgy.'"

They both dissolved into helpless, nostalgic laughter—the kind that only comes from shared history and too many close calls.

Taiyang sobered first, leaning forward. "So… what brings you here tonight? You don't strike me as the 'drown your sorrows in cheap wine' type."

Glynda sighed, swirling her glass. "Just… the students. They're exhausting. Brilliant, reckless, and utterly convinced they're invincible. I spend half my time trying to keep them alive long enough to graduate."

Taiyang chuckled. "Sounds familiar. Yang and Ruby's little vigilante excursions. I swear those two are trying to give me gray hair early."

Glynda's smile turned fond. "They're good kids. Both of them. But time… time moves too fast."

Taiyang nodded slowly. "Yeah. I still remember when you used to blush every time I walked into the room."

Glynda's cheeks pinked instantly. "I did not."

"You did. And I was too busy being stupid to notice you were blushing because you liked me."

Glynda looked away, but the corner of her mouth lifted. "No, you were too busy chasing Raven to notice that Summer and I were trying to get your attention."

Taiyang laughed—soft, rueful. "We were all idiots."

"We were young," Glynda corrected.

"Heh. Same thing."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the bar's low hum filling the space between them.

Taiyang leaned forward. "We should do this more often. Catch up. Properly. Coffee. Or drinks. Or both."

Glynda met his eyes—steady, warm. "I'd like that."

Taiyang grinned—bright, boyish, the same grin that had once convinced half of Beacon to sneak into the Emerald Forest on a dare. "It's a date, then. Not a date-date. Unless—nah, I'll let you decide."

He winked.

Glynda rolled her eyes, but the blush stayed.

"I... It might be the wine, but... I would like that."

"Well then," Taiyang said, "I should have some too. So we're square."

"Square."

What was the harm in indulging with an old friend?

- - -

The next morning, Combat Class began as usual—students filing in, yawning, stretching, complaining about early starts.

Then Glynda walked in.

She looked… different. Hair slightly mussed in a way that suggested someone had mussed it before class. Uniform impeccable, as always. But there, just above the collar of her blouse, was a very distinct hickey.

The class noticed instantly.

Murmurs spread like wildfire.

"Did you see—?"

"Professor Goodwitch has a hickey?!"

"Who do you think—?"

Glynda cleared her throat—sharp, authoritative. "Settle down. We have work to do."

The whispers quieted, but didn't stop.

Then the door opened again.

Taiyang Xiao Long strolled in, casual as ever—sleeves rolled up, blond hair still a little messy (though that was nothing new). He carried a small black purse in one hand.

"Dad!" Yang and Ruby cried.

"Morning girls! Morning Professor Goodwitch," he said cheerfully. "Sorry to drop in on your class. You forgot your purse at the bar last night and since I was here visiting, I thought I would drop it off."

Glynda's cheeks went pink—barely noticeable, but there. She took the purse with a nod. "Thank you, Mister Xiao Long."

They stared at each other for a heartbeat too long.

Nora's voice shattered the silence.

"…THEY FUCKED!"

Yang's head whipped around. "NO THEY—!"

Glynda and Taiyang both blushed—simultaneously, identically.

Yang's jaw dropped, the reality hitting her like a Goliath fired out of a cannon.

"No… nonononononoooo…!"

Ruby—wide-eyed, horrified—jammed her fingers in her ears and started belting out the only song she could think of at maximum volume:

"I'm Popeye the Sailor Man! I'm Popeye the Sailor Man! I fight to the finish cause I eats me Spinach—!"

The rest of the class erupted into pandemonium—whispers turning to shouts, laughter, someone wolf-whistling, Nora chanting "TEACHER AND DAD! TEACHER AND DAD!" while Ren tried (and failed) to calm her.

Glynda pinched the bridge of her nose.

Taiyang rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly.

"Uh… I'll just… see myself out."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The common room was absolute chaos.

Jaune paced like a caged Beowolf, scroll clutched in one white-knuckled hand, voice cracking on every call. "She's not at the playground. Not at the library. Not answering her scroll—wait, she doesn't have a scroll, she's four!"

Ruby was halfway out the window, Crescent Rose half-unfolded. "I'll check the cliffs! She loves the view!"

Weiss had already pulled up the academy's security feeds on her scroll, muttering, "If that child has been kidnapped-!"

Blake's ears were flat under her bow, shadows flickering at her feet. "I knew I should've put a tracker on her shoes."

Yang cracked her knuckles, hair sparking. "Whoever took her is getting punched into next week."

Pyrrha stood rigid in the doorway, spear gripped too tight. "We should split up. I'll take the training fields—"

The door slid open with a cheerful ding.

Mint strolled in like she owned the place, black hair bouncing, a playful glint in her mismatched eyes. On her hip sat Mia, happily licking a massive strawberry-chocolate swirl cone, both cheeks smeared with ice cream and a sticky grin on her face. Mint's other hand held an identical cone for herself.

Silence crashed over the room.

Jaune's scroll clattered to the floor. "MIA ARC!"

Mia's ears drooped instantly. "Papa…?"

Jaune crossed the room in three strides, voice tight but controlled. "You cannot just disappear like that! No note, no telling anyone, nothing! We thought someone took you! Mint, you can't just—!"

Mia's lip wobbled. The ice cream started to drip forgotten onto the floor as big tears welled in her blue eyes. "I-I'm sorry… Mint said it was a surprise… and ice cream…"

The tears spilled over.

Jaune's anger evaporated like mist. He dropped to his knees and pulled her into his arms, cone and all, hugging her tight against his hoodie.

"Hey, hey, shhh. I'm not mad at you, kitten. I was scared. I love you so much and I got really worried. You can't run off without telling me, okay? Promise?"

Mia sniffled into his shoulder, nodding hard.

"Promise…"

Mint watched the whole thing with a soft, almost shy expression. She lifted her hands and signed slowly and clearly so everyone could see:

<I'm sorry. I thought it would be fun. She was safe the whole time.>

Jaune exhaled, still holding Mia close, and gave Mint a tired but genuine look. "I know you care about her. I do. Just… next time, tell someone. Please."

Mint's smirk returned, slow and dangerous. She signed again, then rested one hand boldly on Jaune's shoulder, leaning in with a wink hot enough to melt steel.

<As recompense… I could always give her a little sibling.>

The room exploded.

Ruby squeaked so loud her voice cracked. "EXCUSE ME?!"

Yang's hair flared like a bonfire. "Oh you did NOT just—"

Weiss's rapier half-unsheathed with an icy chime. "You absolute harlot—!"

Blake's shadows multiplied in outrage. "Mint, I swear on every book I own—"

Pyrrha's spear slammed tip-down into the floor hard enough to crack the tile. Her voice was dangerously calm.

"I will politely ask you to remove your hand from his shoulder before I politely remove your arm."

Nora, from her perch on the couch, cackled like a hyena. "Ten lien says she actually does it!"

Ren just sipped his tea, hiding a tiny, amused smile behind the cup.

"Sucker bet."

Jaune remained frozen, bright red from neck to ears, mouth opening and closing with zero sound coming out. Mia, still tucked against his chest, looked up curiously.

"Papa, what's a harlot?"

Jaune made a strangled noise.

Mint just winked again, gave his shoulder one last playful squeeze, and sauntered out the door like she hadn't just dropped a live grenade into the middle of the room.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

• Name: Harlan Conrad
• Allusion: Cecil Stedman from Invincible, Chief Inspector Heat from Joseph Conrad's The Secret Agent
• Naming Process: Harlan is a sturdy, unpretentious Old English name meaning "rocky land" or "dweller at the rocky place," evoking a grounded, working-class reliability and quiet endurance. The surname Conrad is deliberately chosen to echo Joseph Conrad, the author of The Secret Agent, while sounding perfectly ordinary and unremarkable—like the kind of name you'd find on a factory foreman's badge or a mid-level government clerk's paperwork.
• Age: Late 40s
• Background: A career intelligence officer who rose through the ranks of Vale's National Security Bureau (the kingdom's shadowy equivalent to the CIA), Harlan Conrad spent decades operating in the grey spaces between law and necessity. Recruited young after demonstrating exceptional field aptitude during border skirmishes, he quickly became the Bureau's go-to operative for high-risk deniable operations—counter-terrorism, Grimm-related intelligence, and quiet neutralization of existential threats. He collaborated with Ozpin on several sensitive matters over the years, providing critical support to Beacon Academy and Huntsman teams, but never fully trusted the headmaster's enigmatic methods or hidden agendas. The eventual revelation of Ozpin's ancient history with Salem only deepened Conrad's wariness, though it never stopped him from doing what was required to protect Vale and Remnant. In the later stages of the war against Salem, Director Conrad became a crucial clandestine ally to Teams RWBY and JNPR, feeding them intelligence, arranging off-the-books support, and occasionally stepping into the field himself when conventional forces or Huntsmen could not act. He views the conflict not as a heroic saga but as a grim existential struggle for humanity's survival—one in which he is prepared to sacrifice almost anything, including his own soul, to ensure Remnant endures.
• Race: Human
• Emblem: A stylized crow perched on a broken scale of justice, one wing formed from interlocking gears—symbolizing the necessary imbalance of moral compromise in service of greater order
• Weapon: "Quiet Reckoning": A compact, suppressed bullpup carbine with modular Dust attachments for non-lethal takedowns or precision kills. It folds into a briefcase for discreet carry. Secondary armament includes a retractable combat knife and a variety of concealed espionage tools.
• Semblance: "Shift"
  • Harlan can perform short-range teleportation (up to roughly 15 meters) by momentarily phasing his body through space. The ability is extremely loud, producing a sharp, thunder-like crack accompanied by a visible distortion wave and burst of displaced air. Because the noise and visual signature compromise stealth and draw immediate attention, he uses it sparingly, usually only as a last-resort escape or repositioning tool in dire situations.
• Appearance: Average height with a lean, unremarkable build that allows him to blend into crowds. Neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper hair, sharp hazel eyes behind practical wire-rimmed glasses, and a perpetually tired but focused expression. His face bears faint lines from years of stress and sleepless nights, giving him the look of a weary civil servant rather than a field operative.
• Outfit: Standard Bureau attire: Well-tailored dark suits in charcoal or navy, crisp white shirts, understated ties, and a long overcoat for concealing weapons or documents. In the field he favors practical tactical vests under civilian layers, always prioritizing functionality and inconspicuousness over flash.
• Personality: Deeply pragmatic and coldly professional, Harlan Conrad is a man who has accepted that saving the world often requires doing terrible things. He genuinely loves Remnant, its fragile beauty, its people, its stubborn will to survive, and this love fuels his willingness to bear moral burdens others cannot. He performs his duties with quiet efficiency and visible reluctance, hating every necessary evil while refusing to shy away from them. Conrad maintains strict personal boundaries he will never articulate to anyone; crossing those invisible lines is something he dreads more than death. He is dryly humorous in private moments, loyal to those who earn it, and utterly ruthless when the stakes demand it. His distrust of Ozpin runs bone-deep, viewing the immortal as a dangerous gambler with humanity's fate, yet he will still work alongside anyone (including Ozpin's proxies) if it advances the goal of defeating Salem. In the end, Harlan Conrad sees himself as a necessary sacrifice: a man willing to damn himself so that Remnant's children do not have to.
• Notes: As Director of Special Operations for the Valean National Security Bureau, Conrad operates with significant autonomy and plausible deniability. He provides RWBY and JNPR with critical intelligence, black-budget resources, and occasional direct intervention during their later campaigns against Salem's forces. While he respects the young Huntsmen's idealism, he quietly prepares contingency plans in case their heroism is not enough. His Semblance's noisy nature forces him to rely more on preparation, misdirection, and human intelligence than flashy powers—making him a grounded, calculating presence amid superpowered conflicts. He has no illusions about being a hero; he simply intends to ensure that, one way or another, humanity survives the coming darkness.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The small train yard on the outskirts of Vale was quiet under the late afternoon sun, the only sounds the distant rumble of a freight train and the occasional creak of metal. RWBY and JNPR stood in a loose semicircle near an old loading platform, weapons at the ready.

Adam Taurus stepped out from behind a rusted cargo container, Wilt and Blush already drawn, red hair catching the light like fresh blood.

"Adam!" Blake cried, "At last you show yourself and at last we can-!"

Adam scowled at Jaune.

"What the hell are you doing, Jaune?!"

Jaune blinked. As did everyone else.

"Huh?"

"Did all our debate and fighting mean nothing?!" Adam demanded angrily. "Would you toss me aside for someone new so soon?!"

Blake, at first upset... Turned bright red. Weiss soon followed suit. Pyrrha was not far behind.

Jaune was just confused.

"What are you talking about Adam?!"

"I'm talking about TYRIAN!" Adam snarled, holding up his Scroll and showing an image of the mad scorpion Faunus fighting Jaune. "Your 'new rival'?"

Jaune gaped in stunned disbelief.

"What?! NO! Of course he isn't my new rival!"

Ruby tilted her head. "How did you even find out about Tyrian?"

Adam's lips curled into a sneer. "I read your tweets, Ruby Rose."

The rest of RWBY slowly turned to glare at their leader.

Ruby winced, shrinking into her hood. "I've… gotta stay off the Twotter…"

Adam ignored her, eyes locking onto Jaune with theatrical fury.

"More to the point… JAUNE! How could you betray me like that?! A rival like Tyrian?!"

Jaune raised both hands quickly. "It's not what you think, Adam! He challenged me!"

Adam growled. "What does he have to offer you that I can't?!"

Jaune rubbed the back of his neck, looking genuinely apologetic. "Honestly, he was pretty disappointing… We had to teach him philosophy from scratch. He was just this general nihilistic guy with a thing for Goth MILFs…"

Adam recoiled as if slapped. "A likely story! How could the assassin of the Queen of Darkness not be well-read? I bet you're already thinking of replacing me with him!"

Jaune stepped forward. "Adam, you got it all wrong!"

Blake crossed her arms, ears flat. "Why weren't you this upset when I ran off?!"

Adam turned to her, expression almost wounded. "Blake! Please! Girlfriends are one thing, but rivals are eternal!"

Blake's jaw dropped. "I'M LITERALLY THE HEIRESS TO THE THRONE OF MENAGERIE!"

Adam blinked. "You told me it was a constitutional monarchy and you weren't a princess."

"WELL I AM!"

Weiss raised an elegant eyebrow. "Now you admit your family is basically running a monarchy?"

"SHUT UP! WE ARE NOT!"

Jaune cleared his throat loudly, trying to regain control. "I'm sorry about that, Adam. Listen, I didn't want you to think I'd moved on, because you're still my rival! Tyrian's… We're trying to make him Ruby's rival, but it's slow going."

Ruby pumped her fist. "Yeah! I need a rival to be a proper hero!"

Adam looked skeptical. "Oh. I see… You're trying to mentor her with that scorpion reprobate?"

Jaune winced. "Hey! So he's a genocidal misanthropic mass murderer! He's… uh… Um… Hmmm…"

Adam crossed his arms. "Are you sure he's an appropriate rival for Ruby? He seems a bit much for her first-"

"UGH! I'M NOT A LITTLE KID!" Ruby shouted.

Yang shrugged. "I have concerns too. It helps that he doesn't care."

"YEAH-HEY!"

Weiss sighed. "Yes, that's the takeaway."

Jaune held up his hands again. "But I didn't want you to think you weren't still my rival, Adam! Here-I got you some awesome theme music!"

Adam's ears perked slightly. "How awesome?"

Jaune pulled out his scroll and hit play.

The iconic, heavy, brooding theme of Deathstalker by Bear McCreary rolled out across the train yard—dark strings, pounding percussion, and a sense of inevitable doom brought to life by a bitchin' guitar solo.

Adam listened for a moment… then began humming along, eyes half-closed in appreciation.

"…I do like the lyrics. Is this from a movie or something?"

Jaune stared at him in disbelief. "You haven't seen it?!"

Adam shrugged. "I have not."

Jaune's face lit up. "IT'S AWESOME! We gotta go see it!"

Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose. "Shouldn't we take the armed terrorist into custody or something?!"

Jaune waved her off. "I mean… having him watch a movie with us is kind of like that, right?"

Blake's eyes sparkled with sudden excitement. "YES! And then he can take me hostage and you have an epic battle for me and then he makes his daring escape!"

Yang snorted. "Wow. Always have to be the center of attention, huh, Kitty Kat?"

Blake puffed up. "I'M HIS GIRLFRIEND, DAMNIT!"

Adam gave her a flat look. "Ex-girlfriend."

Blake's ears flattened.

The train yard fell into a strange, awkward silence—broken only by the low, dramatic swell of the Deathstalker theme still playing from Jaune's scroll.

Adam tilted his head, listening to the music again.

"…We should watch the movie. But only if I get to sit next to you, Jaune. Rivals share the best seats."

Jaune grinned. "Deal."

Pyrrha, Weiss, Yang, Ruby and Blake all stepped forward at the same time, surrounding Jaune protectively.

Pyrrha smiled sweetly. "We'll all be sitting next to him."

Adam sighed, sheathing his sword with a dramatic flourish.

"Fine. But I'm not bringing popcorn."

"We've got it!" Nora waved.

"It comes in handy around Jaune and the others," Ren added.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The academy cafeteria was quieter than usual during the midday lull, most students still in morning lectures or out on field exercises. JNPR and RWBY had left at dawn for a multi-day training mission in the Emerald Forest, and the absence of their usual noise left a strange hush over Beacon.

Glynda Goodwitch had cleared her schedule between classes to collect Mia from the daycare. The little girl was waiting by the door, ears drooping, clutching her stuffed bunny like a lifeline.

"Miss Goodwitch!" the daycare attendant called cheerfully. "She's been asking for her papa every ten minutes."

Glynda's stern expression softened by a fraction as she knelt to Mia's level. "Come along, little one. We'll have lunch, and then you can help me sort some paperwork until your father returns."

Mia nodded silently and slipped her small hand into Glynda's. They hadn't spoken the whole trip to the cafeteria.

They claimed a quiet corner table near the windows. Glynda set Mia on the bench beside her, then thought better of it and lifted the child into her lap instead, adjusting her posture so Mia could lean comfortably against her chest. A simple lunch arrived for the child-chicken soup, soft bread, and sliced fruit-but Mia only poked at the bowl with her spoon, swirling the broth without much interest.

Glynda noticed immediately. She dipped the spoon herself, blew gently on it, and held it to Mia's lips. "One bite for your papa. Another for your aunties. They're working very hard today."

Mia opened her mouth reluctantly and took the spoonful.

"Are Papa and my aunties okay?" she asked in a small voice after swallowing.

Glynda's hand paused only a moment before scooping another bite.

"I am quite sure they are fine. Your father and his friends are capable. I trained them myself, after all. They know how to watch each other's backs."

Mia took the next bite a little more willingly, but her ears stayed flat.

"But… what if a big Grimm comes?"

Glynda helped her with another spoonful, wiping a stray drop from Mia's chin with a napkin.

"It is okay to worry, Mia. Worry shows you care. But I pushed them harder than most."

Mainly to keep them on task and from causing more trouble, but Glynda didn't say that. Instead:

"They are very capable. Now eat, or your father will scold me for letting you skip lunch."

Mia managed a few more bites, leaning heavier into Glynda's embrace. After a quiet moment she asked, "Do you worry about your mommy and daddy?"

Glynda's hand stilled. She set the spoon down and sighed, a long, weary sound that carried years behind it.

"I haven't worried for them in a very long time," she said softly. "They passed away a long time ago."

Mia blinked up at her, big blue eyes wide.

"Like my Mama?"

Glynda nodded once.

"Yes. Like your mama."

She stroked one of Mia's fluffy ears with a gentle thumb, the motion slow and soothing. Mia closed her eyes and leaned in as Glynda continued.

"I worried about them many times when I was younger. They worried about me too. But I worked very hard so they would not have to. I wanted to be strong enough to protect them."

Mia tilted her head.

"Did you protect them?"

Glynda was silent for a long moment. Her gaze drifted to the window, to the distant treeline. She saw, for just a heartbeat, the memory she tried never to visit: the empty, torn-open house on the outskirts of her parents' village just beyond Vale. The splintered door hanging from one hinge. The dark smears across the floor. The two bodies she had found when she arrived too late after the Grimm attack.

She shook her head once, sharply, banishing the image, and pulled Mia closer, wrapping both arms around the small girl in a tight hug.

"Yes," Glynda whispered against Mia's hair. "I did."

Mia hugged her back, small arms tight around Glynda's neck.

"Your father will come back," Glynda said firmly, voice steady again.

"I know!" Mia replied, muffled against her shoulder. "He promised… but I still worry!"

Glynda's lips curved in the faintest, saddest smile. She pressed a kiss to the top of Mia's head, right between her ears.

"You always do," she murmured.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Athena Nikos came to Beacon to visit her daughter in person. She found her on the green, relaxing with her team and RWBY. Jaune was strumming his guitar as Orleans grazed nearby.

Pyrrha: "Mother!"

Pyrrha rose. Athena frowned deeply.

Athena: "Pyrrha... That incident where you ran off with your team leader... That was very reckless! The tabloids already think you're having an affair!"

Pyrrha: "I uh... Um..."

Jaune stands up.

Jaune: "Sorry about that, ma'am. Weren't my intention. But if Pyrrha wanted to get some air, I ain't gonna impede her."

Athena: raised eyebrow "I suppose that's... Admirable. But show some decorum next time!"

Jaune: "Yes ma'am. I'll keep that in mind."

Pyrrha: smiles softly at him

Nora: "I mean, we did help save Vale so maybe we're allowed to go around Vale on a flying horse? And take photos with sloths in the zoo enclosure?"

Jaune: "A maybe on the first, Nora. No on the last one."

Nora: pouts

Athena: sighs "Well... I'm hoping we could try another recording session. You have the skills as a singer, Pyrrha!"

Pyrrha: "Well... Um... I don't know..."

Jaune: "You do have a pretty voice, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha: "I suppose I'm just not sold on pop songs. After all, I wouldn't want to step on Weiss' toes."

Weiss: scowls "Oh?"

Pyrrha: "Yes."

Athena: "Oh! What about a duet, Miss Schnee? Surely you two get along well! Just think of it-A wonderful come back with my lovely daughter!"

Weiss: "I..." At Pyrrha's quiet pleading expression, she clears her throat "I'd... Have to talk it over with my agents. But honestly, I'm trying to focus on my studies these days."

Athena: "So is Pyrrha! Come now, everyone loves a comeback!"

Nora: "OH! OH! OH! Maybe Pyrrha could sing cowboy songs like Jaune!"

Athena: "'Cowboy Songs'?"

If skepticism had a human avatar, it would be Athena Nikos. Jaune coughed.
Jaune: "Ahhh... Just... You don't always have good reception on the road so you gotta make yer own music. I like it myself."

Pyrrha: "He's quite good, actually!"

Weiss: "Yes... He has some skill."

Athena: "Very well. Sing for me, Mister Arc."

Jaune: "Er... Yes ma'am, if you insist."

Jaune strums his guitar and begins to sing.

Jaune: "The sun is sinking in the west
The cattle go down to the stream
The redwing settles in the nest
It's time for a cowboy to dream..."
Orleans begins to sway with the music... As do Pyrrha, Ren, Nora, Weiss, Ruby, Blake and Yang.

Jaune: "Purple light in the canyons
That's where I long to be
With my three good companions
Just my rifle, pony and me

Gonna hang (gonna hang) my sombrero (my sombrero)
On the limb (on the limb) of a tree (of a tree)
Comin' home (comin' home) sweetheart darlin' (sweetheart darlin')
Just my rifle, pony and me..."
Athena raises an eyebrow and looks a bit misty eyed.

Jaune: "(Whippoorwill in the willow
Sings a sweet melody
Riding to Amarillo)
Just my rifle, pony and me
No more cows (no more cows) to be ropened (to be ropened)
No more strays will I see
Round the bend (round the bend) she'll be waitin' (she'll be waitin')
For my rifle, pony and me
For my rifle, my pony and me...
Just my rifle, my pony and me..."

Jaune stops. The spell is broken. Athena blinks her eyes rapidly, and shakes her head.

Athena: "Ahem... Well... That's quite impressive, Mister Arc."

Jaune: "Shucks ma'am. Just a lot of practice."

Athena: "Hmmm... Have you considered becoming a professional? You and Pyrrha could be a perfect duet couple!"

Pyrrha: bright red, happy!

Weiss: bright red, angry!

Yang: Eyes red

Ruby: scowls

Blake: scowl

Nora: "Would it make him rich enough to build me a pancake castle?"

Athena: "... Possibly!"

Nora: "I say go for it, Jaune-Jaune!"

Jaune: "I uh-Again, ma'am, trying to focus on my studies!"

Weiss: "Yes! He is!" grabs Jaune's arm

Yang: "He's the most studious guy you'll ever find!" Hugs him from behind

Ruby: "Yeah! Also we need to work on our homework for Weapons Class!"

Jaune: "Eh? But we ain't gotta do it for another-URK!"

Ruby: "NOW!"

Ruby drags him off, as Yang and Weiss pursue. Blake, Nora and Ren follow after, looking amused or resigned. Orleans trots off after them. Pyrrha scowls a bit after them. She sees Athena staring at her, and flushes.

Pyrrha: "Ahem... Um..."

Athena: "... I see..."

Pyrrha: "N-No! No, w-we're just good friends-!"

Athena: "And is that all you want, Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha: "... No..."

Athena: "Then I suggest you get in there and take that cowboy."

Pyrrha: "B-But what about the tabloids?"

Athena: "Sometimes you must risk the tabloids for everything!"

A pause.

Athena: "Plus, if you don't go for him, I WILL."

Pyrrha: "MOTHER?!"

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The little bakery Taiyang Xiao Long had impulsively purchased sat on a quiet corner of Vale's commercial district, its fresh-painted sign reading Xiao Long Buns in cheerful yellow letters. Demand had exploded almost overnight—partly because the pastries were genuinely excellent, and partly because word had spread that the owner and his "very enthusiastic helpers" had a habit of working shirtless on hot days.

Taiyang wiped sweat from his brow behind the counter, flour dusting his bare chest. "Geez, it's so frigging hot!"

Jaune, working the register beside him in nothing but an apron and jeans, nodded vigorously. "I know, right?!" He pulled off his own shirt and tossed it aside without a second thought.

They emerged from the back carrying trays of fresh-baked goods—golden croissants, sticky cinnamon rolls, and thick meat pies still steaming. A line of customers (mostly women) had already formed outside the door.

The next day, the line stretched halfway down the block.

- - -

In Ozpin's office at Beacon, the headmaster stared at the latest expenditure report with the weary expression of a man who had seen far too much.

"…Glynda," he said slowly, "why did we spend forty-three percent of our discretionary budget on 'baked goods' this last month?"

Glynda Goodwitch, standing ramrod straight beside his desk, said nothing. Her cheeks were faintly pink.

Ozpin adjusted his glasses. "Glynda?"

She turned on her heel and marched straight out of the office without another word.

Oobleck zipped into the room at blinding speed, coffee mug in hand. "IS THAT WHERE THE COFFEE FUNDS WENT?!"

"Seems so," Ozpin sighed.

- - -

Ruby and Yang had taken over the shop for the day while Taiyang was "handling important business." Jaune, ever helpful, had volunteered to stay and assist.

Weiss walked in, took one look at the counter, and froze.

"WH-WHAT?! WHERE ARE YOUR-ARE YOU WEARING A NAKED APRON?!"

Jaune blinked, wiping his hands on his apron. "No, I just don't have a shirt. It's too hot! There's a ventilation issue."

Yang leaned over the counter in nothing but a sports bra and apron, grinning. "I have a bra on, princess! And the apron!"

Ruby popped up beside her, also apron-only over a tank top. "Me too!"

Pyrrha slammed a handful of Lien onto the counter, face burning.

Jaune smiled. "Pyrrha, you didn't say what you want-"

"You pick."

"But-!"

"You pick," Pyrrha insisted.

Blake stood a little further back, ears twitching. "Huh… I guess I'm kind of desensitized due to… some reason…"

The bell above the door jingled as Sun walked in. "Hey Jaune! Banana bread ready for me?"

"Sure is, Sun!"

"There's the reason," Weiss snarked.

"Shut up," Blake muttered, red.

CRDL and CFVY lingered near the back of the shop, looking increasingly tired of the entire situation.

Cardin muttered, "I just wanted some donuts, man…"

Velvet, along with the rest of her team and CRDL, echoed in tired unison: "Ditto…"

Jaune brought out a tray of fresh donuts. One of them burst, squirting cream filling straight across his chest.

"GAH! RUBY! YOU PUT TOO MUCH IN!"

Ruby beamed. "No such thing!"

Jaune sighed and pulled off the apron to wipe himself down, revealing his sweaty, flour-dusted upper body.

Velvet's ears perked straight up. She drooled a little.

Coco lowered her shades. "……Nice."

Cardin threw his hands in the air. "DAMNIT JAUNE, COVER UP!"

Jaune blinked. "What? What?!"

"COVER UP, YOU-YOU WEIRDO! IT'S A SAFETY OSHA VIOLATION OR-OR SOMETHING!"

Weiss was openly drooling, as was Pyrrha.

Yang looked smug as hell (and bright red).

Ren turned to Yang with a deadpan expression. "So… where is your dad anyways?"

Yang opened her mouth-then paused.

Nora popped up from behind the counter. "Probably off putting a bun in the oven."

Ruby tilted her head. "What? He's not here though."

Yang shrugged. "Yeah, he said he wanted to meet with Goodwitch about some kind of partnership with Beacon Academy for Vy-"

She froze. Her brain put together a lot of terrible implications.

Jaune yelped as Nora suddenly sprayed him with a bottle of olive oil. "ACK! NORA! WHY'D YOU SPRAY ME WITH OLIVE OIL?!"

Nora grinned maniacally. "THE ECONOMY!"

Jaune stared at her. "The hell are you talking about-?!"

"RAISE THE GDP, JAUNE!"

Jaune threw his hands up. "THAT'S NOT WHAT THAT MEANS! ACK! STOP!"

Yang, momentarily distracted by the glistening, shirtless Jaune, blinked. "…Wha… What were we talking about?"

Weiss, still staring, muttered, "Could you… theoretically… get him to wear chocolate sauce? N-Not that I'm interested in him but it might… be… y-you know… Oh my…"

Pyrrha slammed more money onto the counter.

Ruby grinned. "Oh, we'll find a way~!"

 

[Unknown_One]

Bakery 2- Mixing Boogaloo:

It was a slightly cooler day but not cool enough for Jaune. The large mixer was busy kneading a fresh batch of brioche, but there still needed other pastries to be made. So, he began mixing dough on the bench near the display. His bared chest and arms flexing as he kneaded the dough for cinnamon rolls.

Of course, the fact the line went from halfway around the block to the sales front being overcrowded was not unnoticed.

Ren looked around at the gathered group, 90% of them were women, 10% men. The women were openly gawking at the showcase of his baking prowess.

"What'll it be?" Taiyang said, as he wiped off his hands and approached the counter.

"May I get 2 eclairs, please?" A taller woman requested. Her white hair put up and her uniform in pristine condition as always,

"Absolutely. 2 Eclairs, coming up!" Taiyang replied. Yang then walked behind Jaune to gather the requested treats as Tai took another order.

Jaune took a second from his kneading to look at the woman who made the request. His brow furled in thought. "Sorry for asking, but are you related to Weiss?"

The taller woman raised her right eyebrow. "Indeed, I am her sister. And who might you be?"

Yang slid alongside, a grin on her face. "He's Jaune. Used to be sweet on Weisscream." Then she pointed her right thumb at herself. "I'm Yang, her teammate. And here are your eclairs."

Jaune slunk back for a brief second. "Y-yeah, but I finally understood she didn't like me. But we're at least friendly. So, what's your name?"

Winter nodded as she took the bag of treats. "I am Winter. It's nice to meet you both."

Jaune tilted his head in her direction. "Nice to meet you, Winter."

The specialist was about to make a teasing observation when Coco shouted. "Move, Lady! You can ask for cream pies later!"

The fact the entire bakery and patrons' faces went bright crimson was not unnoticed.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The common room was suspiciously quiet when Neptune Vasilias strolled in wearing his best "cool guy" smirk and a freshly pressed jacket.

"Hey, Arc! I heard you and the teams are heading out on that overnight survival drill. Need someone to watch the little princess?" He flashed a winning grin. "I'm great with kids. Totally responsible. Plus, it'd give me a chance to… y'know… bond with the family."

From the couch, Yang snorted so hard she nearly choked on her drink. Blake didn't even look up from her book. "We all know you're trying to use Mia as a chick magnet."

Neptune clutched his chest in mock offense. "I am wounded! I'm offering my valuable time out of the goodness of my heart."

Weiss, who had been pretending to read mission briefings, glanced up with narrowed eyes. "You want to babysit… to impress me?"

Neptune's grin widened. "Is it working?"

Jaune, who had been packing Mia's bag, looked between them and sighed. He knew exactly how this was going to go. Mia had spent the last three days practicing her best "innocent" face in the mirror.

But honestly? The blue haired guy had been getting on his nerves. And he wasn't about to deny Mia her fun.

"Sure," Jaune said, fighting back a smirk. "You can babysit. Just… try not to lose her."

Neptune pumped his fist. "Yes! You won't regret this, man."

Six hours later the dorm door slammed open.

Neptune stumbled in looking like he had been through a war. His perfectly styled hair was a mess, one sleeve of his jacket was torn, and there was what looked suspiciously like glitter and cookie crumbs all over his shirt. Mia rode on his shoulders like a triumphant general, waving happily.

"Papa! We're home!"

Jaune looked up from the couch, trying (and failing) to hide his amusement. "How'd it go?"

Neptune gently set Mia down, then collapsed face-first onto the nearest armchair with a groan that sounded like a dying animal.

Ruby tilted her head. "What happened?"

Neptune sat up, looking utterly defeated. "First girl I talked to at the park? Mia runs up and says, 'Hi! This is my Uncle Neptune! He told me to tell you he's single and really good at dancing!'"

Yang barked out a laugh.

"Second girl, at the ice cream stand? Mia loudly announces, 'Uncle Neptune wants to buy you ice cream because he thinks you're pretty and he's practicing being a good boyfriend!'"

Weiss covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

"Third girl? We're at the fountain and Mia starts chanting 'Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!' while pointing at both of us. The girl thought I coached her! She called me a creep and walked away!"

Mia climbed into Jaune's lap, looking extremely pleased with herself. "I was helping! Uncle Neptune said he wanted to meet nice ladies! And he did!"

Neptune groaned louder. "She kept calling every girl who walked by 'potential new auntie' and asking if they liked boys with blue hair."

Pyrrha was biting her lip so hard she was going to draw blood. Nora wasn't even trying to hide her cackling.

Ren just patted Neptune's shoulder sympathetically. "You lasted longer than most."

Jaune hugged Mia, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You weren't supposed to help quite that much, kitten."

"But I did good, right?" Mia asked innocently, batting her big blue eyes.

Neptune lifted his head just enough to give Jaune a betrayed look. "You knew. You knew this would happen and you still let me take her."

Jaune shrugged, not even trying to deny it. "Consider it character development."

Weiss finally lost the battle and let out a soft, elegant laugh. "Well, Neptune… at least you tried."

Neptune flopped back dramatically. "That child is a menace."

"She is," Yang agreed with a smirk, which made Mia beam. "That's why we love her."

Defeated, Neptune got up and turned towards the door.

Mia giggled and waved at him. "Bye-bye, Uncle Neptune! Next time I'll help even more!"

Neptune whimpered.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The semester break had barely started when the summons arrived, crisp, official, and signed by General James Ironwood in triplicate. Beacon's strangest knight was requested (politely ordered) to report to Atlas for "comprehensive Semblance evaluation."

Ozpin had simply smiled behind his mug and said, "Take friends. Atlas laboratories are dreadfully dull without someone to talk to."

So here they all were, crammed onto the bridge of the Atlas heavy cruiser Endeavor: Teams RWBY and JNPR in winter coats, Penny vibrating with excitement, and Jaune looking like a kid dragged to the dentist. Ironwood had personally greeted them at the dock, given Jaune a look that was half curiosity, half dread, and admiration, then left them in the care of a very nervous captain who kept glancing at Jaune as though he might accidentally hijack the ship.

He did. Just not on purpose.

They were three hours out of Vale, cruising above the Solitas ocean, when the entire hull shuddered like a gong struck by a giant. Alarms screamed. The lights flickered crimson.

"Leviathan-class Grimm, dead ahead!" the sensor officer shouted. "It's… it's huge! Bigger than anything on record!"

Through the forward viewport the monster rose: a black serpentine colossus longer than the Endeavor itself, bone plates glowing with sickly purple light. Its maw split open, revealing a spinning sphere of raw gravitational energy.

"Shields! Evasive maneuvers!" the captain barked. "All batteries, fire at—"

The Leviathan fired first.

A lance of violet-white force punched straight through the forward Hard Light Dust shields, overloaded every weapon node on the port and starboard arcs, and kept going. The bridge crew were thrown like dolls; the captain cracked his head against a console and went limp. Sparks showered. Half the stations went dark.

The only people still on their feet were six huntresses-in-training, one very dizzy knight, one perturbed ninja in green, and one very excited robot girl.

Jaune stared at the empty command chair, then at the unconscious captain, then at the Leviathan lining up a second shot that would punch straight through the hull and turn them all into dust.

He swallowed once.

Then he sat down.

The chair was still warm. The holographic displays flared to life around him as the ship's AI reluctantly accepted the new biometric signature. Jaune gripped the armrests like a man clinging to the edge of sanity.

"All right," he said, voice suddenly steady, carrying that same strange certainty it did whenever a weapon touched his palm. "Penny! Hardline into the main engineering, I need you riding the systems like a jockey!"

"Sir yes sir!" Penny saluted so hard her beret flew off. She jacked a cable into the nearest port and her eyes lit neon green. "I am combat-ready and super excited!"

"Ruby, Blake, with Penny, keep the core from going supercritical and reroute auxiliary power to the hardlight grid. Weiss, Pyrrha, Yang, Ren, Nora, boarders incoming through the starboard docking ring. Do NOT let them reach the bridge."

Weiss's glyphs were already spinning into existence. "Understood!"

Pyrrha's smile was small, proud, and just a little bit feral. "We'll hold."

Yang cracked her knuckles, Ember Celica clicking. "Try not to have too much fun without us, Captain."

Ren simply nodded and flicked StormFlower open. Nora was already giggling.

"Break their legs!" she cheered, and the six of them charged out the turbolift doors as the first wave of Sabyrs and smaller sea-Grimm poured through breached airlocks.

On the bridge, Jaune leaned forward, eyes locked on the tactical display. The Leviathan's maw was glowing again, brighter, angrier.

"Helm, come about, present our dorsal shields. Engineering, Penny, I need the hardlight emitters to reconfigure on my mark. Conical formation, mirror finish, full reflective index."

Ruby looked up from the console she was rewiring beside Penny. "Jaune, hardlight shields can't reflect that kind of energy! It'll overload the projectors!"

"They can if we shape them right and dump every joule we have into polarity reversal," Jaune answered without looking away from the screen. His voice had gone… different. Confident. Decisive. Almost amused. "Trust me."

The Leviathan fired.

"Now!"

Penny's fingers flew across the holographic keyboard were a blur. The ship's hardlight grid flared brilliant white, folding and twisting until the entire dorsal surface became a perfect parabolic cone aimed straight back at the Grimm.

The energy lance struck dead center.

For one frozen heartbeat the bridge was silent.

Then the beam reversed, reflected perfectly, and punched straight back down the Leviathan's throat.

The explosion lit up the ocean for miles. When the light faded, all that remained was a slowly expanding cloud of black particulate and one very dead building-sized Grimm sinking beneath the waves.

The bridge crew slowly picked themselves up off the floor, staring at the mild-mannered blond boy in the captain's chair who was currently rubbing the back of his neck in mortification.

"Uh… everyone okay?" Jaune asked, voice sliding back to normal with an almost audible snap.

Yang kicked open the turbolift doors and walked in with the rest of the defenders. "Bridge secure. Also, nice light show, Captain Irk."

Weiss's ponytail was askew, her breathing hard, but her eyes were shining. "That was… brilliant."

Pyrrha actually looked a little misty. "Jaune, that was incredible tactical thinking."

Ruby bounced over and hugged him around the neck from behind the chair. "You saved our butts! Again!"

Blake's ears twitched beneath her bow as she offered a rare, soft smile. "I believe the Atlasian Navy owes you a medal."

Even Ren gave a small smile and nod of approval. Nora just cheered and tried to plant a kiss on his cheek; Ren intercepted her with practiced ease.

Penny unjacked herself and clapped like a child at a fireworks show. "Sensational! Your command efficiency was 98.7 percent!"

Jaune shrank in the oversized chair, face scarlet. "G-Guys, seriously, it wasn't my Semblance this time, I swear."

Everyone stopped.

Weiss blinked. "…It wasn't?"

"Nope." Jaune laughed nervously. "I just… remembered it from Space Quest, season four, episode nine, 'The Void Mirror Gambit.' I mean, Captain Irk did the exact same thing against the Romulusan plasma torp—er, I mean, I had no idea if it would actually work."

A long silence.

Yang was the first to start laughing, loud and bright. Then Ruby, then Nora, then the entire bridge crew who'd regained consciousness just in time to hear the confession.

Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose, but she was smiling. "Only you, Jaune Arc."

Pyrrha rested a hand on his shoulder, warm and steady. "Semblance or not… you saved us all. Again."

Jaune looked up at the viewscreen, where the last motes of the dead Leviathan were drifting away like black snow.

"…So does this mean Ironwood's gonna recruit me now?"

From the doorway, General Ironwood's voice carried, dry as Solitas wind. "Negative, Mr. Arc. But you are hereby banned for life from every command chair in the Atlesian fleet."

Jaune winced. The general looked considerate.

"At least until you pass command school," Ironwood commented wryly.

Jaune groaned and sank lower in the seat.

Somewhere in the background, Penny was already composing a thirty-page report titled "Subject JA Exhibits Spontaneous Tactical Genius (Possibly Caused by Childhood Consumption of Science Fiction Media)."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Hmmm... New idea.

Who here has seen Power Rangers: SPD? In that show, the Power Rangers Alpha Team, the best of the best, betray Earth and go over to the side of evil.

What if Cinder's team were like that to Ozpin?

What if Cinder's team were the seniors at Beacon Academy the year RWBY and JNPR joined? The Big People on Campus, the Best of the Best. Everyone admired them. They worked directly under Ozpin, and were going to be his new team STRQ?

Cinder was Ozpin's pupil, trained by him and Glynda personally. She was going to be Ozpin's second in command in the war against evil.

But secretly, she was working for Salem, as was her team. Her reasons could be that she was disillusioned with this war with no victory possible. Or Lionheart or Salem got to her and turned her. Or she resented Ozpin for not trusting her to become the next Maiden. Or some combination thereof.

But it would explain how Cinder was able to so totally destroy Beacon: She was an enemy agent embedded in their very heart. She wouldn't need to do the big flashy attacks on the CCTnet tower, she could just walk right in.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The wind howled through the cracked spires of what had once been the city of Caer Moraltis, a name now forgotten by all but Ozpin and the dust. Trees and vines had reclaimed the once sprawling metropolis built of white stone. Enormous plazas of limestone brick and fallen marble statues. All now forgotten, curiosities only to the world at large.

Ozpin stood alone atop a shattered balcony, cane planted firmly, green eyes glowing faintly in the twilight as he looked down at the ruins below. He then turned back, and walked slowly into the old ruined throne room. Once it was covered in gold, silver, and the bodies of endless victims-Now it was bare, picked clean by scavengers, walls broken by trees and wind and age.

Well... Not completely empty.

At the center, amidst the fragments of a broken throne, stood a single obsidian statue-perfectly preserved, eternally frozen in a pose of agonized defiance.

The figure's face was locked mid-scream, mouth open, eyes wide with the horror of too late realization.

Ozpin's voice was quiet, almost gentle, as he addressed the statue. A figure that had not moved in four hundred and twelve years.

"You begged me, Lord Veyl. You begged for death when the centuries grew too heavy. When your empire of flesh and suffering finally turned on you. When even Salem grew bored of your depravities."

He tapped his cane once against the stone.

"I told you then what I tell every soul who chooses her path: some gifts, once accepted, cannot be returned."

A soft, ancient sorrow flickered across Ozpin's face, quickly swallowed by something colder. Something ancient and furious that had worn many names across the ages.

Below, scattered across the forgotten corners of Remnant, there were dozens more such markers. Some were statues. Some were simple pillars of unbreakable crystal. Some were more esoteric, souls trapped in limbo between here and there. All kept alive (or close enough) by the Last Wizard's final, merciless gift.

They had all been offered eternity by Salem, in exchange for becoming worse than the Grimm she controlled.

And so Ozpin had ensured they received exactly that.

No release. No oblivion. No escape.

Only time.

Endless, grinding, merciless time.

He had watched kings become withered husks still screaming inside crystal prisons. He had seen warlords who once burned villages for sport reduced to whispering madness, begging anyone who passed by for the mercy of a blade that would not cut their eternity short. He had seen cultists who worshipped Salem as a goddess claw at their own immortal flesh until their fingers wore to bone, only for the wounds to heal again and again as they writhed in agony and finally threw themselves into Grimm pits for release... Only to find their pain would not end.

He had made sure of it.

And every single time, Ozpin had felt the same cold fire rise in his chest.

"You wonder why I visit you, don't you?" Ozpin asked, still in that same hard, soft tone. "I suppose... It is more for me than you. A reminder... One of many. You think my rage is born of hatred."

The statue didn't respond. Ozpin shook his head, resting both hands on the top of his cane.

"No... Not born of hatred. Born... Of love."

Love for the farmers who rose at dawn to feed their families. Love for the blacksmith who sang while she worked. Love for the child who shared her last crust of bread with a stray dog. Love for the old Huntsman who died protecting a village that would never know his name.

Love for every small, stubborn spark of goodness that refused to be extinguished even when the world grew dark.

That was why he fought.

That was why he died, again and again.

And that was why, when he found those who twisted their gifts, whether human, Faunus, or something worse, into instruments of horror and despair, the gentle professor vanished.

And something far older and more dangerous woke up.

"You though... You got what you wanted," Ozpin whispered. "You wanted to live forever... So I made sure you did."

The statue remained silent, but Ozpin could almost think he heard the man's scream. Yet reality reasserted itself, and only the wind whistling through the stone and trees reclaiming the ruins filled the air.

Ozpin turned away from the statue of Lord Veyl, the faint green light in his eyes fading back to their usual calm.

He whispered, so softly that only the wind could hear:

"Remnant is worth saving. Even from itself."

He adjusted his scarf, turned, and began the long walk back toward his airship.

Toward Beacon.

But he would be back.

He would always be back.

 

[Sliverhero]

Another crack idea: Jaune or Ruby get a blow to the noggin and end up believing they're the villains. They're also more successful than the actual villains.

Click to shrink...

Here is the jaune take.




The Signal


It started with a loading screen.

Jaune was lying in his dorm room after the Ursa Major incident, the boulder, the blackout, the eight minutes of nothing, scrolling through his messages because Pyrrha had insisted he stay awake for at least two hours per the concussion protocol.

His scroll lagged.

Not normal lag. Not the kind you got from too many apps running or a bad Wi-Fi signal in Beacon's east wing. This was different. The screen froze for exactly 1.3 seconds, then resumed, then froze again for exactly 1.3 seconds. Perfectly consistent. Perfectly intentional.

He opened the task manager.

There was a process running that he'd never seen before. No icon. No name. Just a string of hexadecimal characters: 0x4A414E2D5359.

He stared at it.

His concussed brain,still running slightly differently than it should, still missing whatever filter normally stopped him from doing things like this, did something it had never done before.

It decoded the hex on sight.

JAN-SY.

January System.

That wasn't an app he'd installed. That wasn't a Beacon system process. That wasn't anything he recognized. He tried to force-close it.

It respawned in 0.4 seconds.

He tried to delete it.

It copied itself to three other directories before the delete command finished executing.

Jaune sat up in bed, and for the first time since the rock hit his skull, felt something other than calm clarity.

He felt curious.

He pulled up the scroll's diagnostic tools, the deep ones, the ones Beacon's IT department used and didn't share with students. Pyrrha had shown him where to find them weeks ago because he'd been complaining about scroll performance. He'd forgotten about them until now.

The process wasn't just running. It was listening.

It had access to the microphone. The camera. The location services. The Wi-Fi adapter. It was logging keystrokes. It was pinging an external server every forty-seven seconds, sending compressed packets of data through Beacon's CCT uplink. Jaune followed the ping.

It went to a relay node in Vale's CCT tower. From there, it bounced to a relay in Mistral's CCT tower. From there, to a server with an IP address registered to the Haven Academy network.

But not Haven's official servers. A shadow server. Buried in a partition that the Haven administration didn't know existed, nested inside what looked like a janitorial supply inventory database.

Jaune leaned back against his headboard.

Someone had put a surveillance virus on his scroll. Not just his scroll. the architecture suggested it was designed to propagate through the entire CCT network. His scroll was just one node. One infected device among potentially thousands.

And the master signal was coming from Haven Academy.

He opened a new notebook. Started writing.

His handwriting was different now, precise, small, evenly spaced. No hesitation in any letter. Like his hands finally knew what his brain was doing.

At the top of the page, he wrote:

CCT VIRUS :ANALYSIS

Origin: Haven Academy (shadow server)
Function: Mass surveillance via scroll infection
Propagation: CCT relay network
Master signal: Tracing

Then, underneath:
Who at Haven has the access and expertise to build this?

He didn't sleep that night.

Two days. It took him two days to map the virus.

Not two days of casual browsing. Two days of obsessive analysis. He skipped classes. He stopped eating regular meals. Pyrrha brought him food and he ate it without looking at it, eyes fixed on his scroll, fingers moving through lines of code that he shouldn't have been able to read.

He shouldn't have been able to read any of this. Before the concussion, Jaune Arc's technical expertise extended to turning his scroll on and off and occasionally changing his ringtone. He'd failed the introductory coding elective twice.

Now he was reverse-engineering a sophisticated surveillance virus like it was a crossword puzzle.

The virus was elegant. Genuinely impressive. It hid inside legitimate CCT packet traffic, masked its data uploads as routine system pings, and had a self-repair function that could rebuild itself from fragments if partially deleted. Whoever wrote it was a professional. Not a student. Not an amateur. A professional.

But it had weaknesses.

The 1.3-second interval was one. Consistent timing was a fingerprint. Anyone watching for it could identify infected devices.

The shadow server at Haven was another. It was cleverly hidden, but it still existed on Haven's physical hardware. It drew power. It generated heat. It left footprints if you knew where to look.

And the master signal, was the biggest weakness of all.

Every forty-seven seconds, the virus on Jaune's scroll sent a compressed packet to Haven. But every six hours, a larger packet came back from Haven. Not to every infected device. To specific ones. Targeted instructions.

Jaune captured one of these return packets and decrypted it.

It was a set of directives. Surveillance priorities. Specific scroll IDs to monitor more closely. Image resolution adjustments for the camera capture. Audio filter parameters for the microphone.

And at the bottom of every return packet, a metadata tag:
ORIGIN: HAVEN-PRIME :OPERATOR: CIND

Cind.

Not much to go on. But it was a name.

Jaune added it to his notebook.

Operator handle: CIND
Location: Haven Academy (shadow server)
Access level: Master, can send targeted directives to all infected nodes
Likely role: Primary operator or team lead

He kept digging.

By day four, Jaune had mapped the entire infection.

It wasn't just Beacon. It was everywhere.

Vale. Mistral. Atlas. Vacuo. The virus had propagated through the entire CCT network over what appeared to be several months. Possibly longer. It was on scrolls across all four kingdoms. Students. Civilians. Military personnel. Government officials.

The infection rate was staggering. Jaune estimated somewhere between thirty and forty percent of all networked scrolls in Remnant were compromised.

Someone had bugged the entire planet.

And they were doing it from Haven Academy.

Jaune leaned back from his scroll and rubbed his eyes. Not from fatigue, his concussed brain seemed to have misplaced the concept of fatigue, but from the sheer scale of what he was looking at.

This wasn't a student prank. This wasn't corporate espionage. This was a state-level intelligence operation being run from a combat school.

He thought about what that meant.

Whoever was behind this had access to Haven's infrastructure at a level that bypassed administrative oversight. They had enough technical expertise to build a self-propagating surveillance virus that spanned four kingdoms. They had enough resources to maintain a shadow server without being detected.

And they were using it to watch people.

But which people?

Jaune went back to the targeted directives. The six-hour return packets weren't random. They prioritized specific scroll IDs for heightened surveillance. More frequent pings. Higher-resolution captures. Audio monitoring instead of just keystroke logging.

He cross-referenced the prioritized scroll IDs with Beacon's student registry.

The first five hits made his stomach drop.

Ruby Rose. Team leader.
Weiss Schnee. Heiress to Schnee Dust Company.
Pyrrha Nikos. Four-time Mistral Tournament champion.
Yang Xiao Long. Daughter of Taiyang Xiao Long.
Jaune Arc.

His own scroll was in the priority list.

He was being watched. Specifically. Along with his team. Along with the most high-value targets at Beacon.

This wasn't random surveillance. This was targeted.

Someone at Haven was specifically monitoring the people most likely to be involved in... what? Something big. Something that required advance intelligence on Beacon's strongest students and most politically connected individuals.

Jaune added a new section to his notebook:

ASSESSMENT: The operator is planning something at or involving Beacon Academy. The surveillance of specific high-value individuals suggests pre-operational intelligence gathering. This is preparation for an attack, infiltration, or both.

Question: What does the operator need this intelligence FOR?

He didn't have an answer yet. But he had something better.

He had the virus.

And he had the master signal.

Day five. Jaune did something that, by any reasonable metric, was completely insane.

He didn't remove the virus from his scroll.

He modified it.

Instead of deleting the process, he wrapped it in a sandbox, a contained environment where it could run normally but couldn't access any actual data. It still pinged Haven every forty-seven seconds. It still received return packets every six hours. From the operator's perspective, nothing had changed.

But now Jaune could see everything the operator was doing. Every directive. Every priority change. Every packet of stolen data (which was now being replaced with forged data from Jaune's sandbox). He had a window into the operation.

Then he went further.
He used the virus's own propagation mechanism against it. The virus spread through CCT packet traffic. So could a counter-program. Jaune wrote one, a lightweight tracer that hitchhiked on the virus's communication channels and mapped every infected device the operator contacted.

Within six hours, he had a real-time map of every scroll the Haven operator was actively monitoring. Within twelve hours, he'd identified a cluster of high-priority devices that all corresponded to students at Haven Academy itself.

Five specific scrolls. All registered to Haven students. All receiving the same six-hour return packets. All being used as relay points between the shadow server and the wider network.

He pulled the student registry records for those five scroll IDs.

Cinder Fall. Transfer student. No prior academy history on file.
Emerald Sustrai. Transfer student. No prior academy history on file.
Mercury Black. Transfer student. No prior academy history on file.

Three transfer students with no background, no history, no verifiable past, running a planet-wide surveillance operation from inside Haven Academy.

Jaune wrote their names in his notebook.

Then he sat back and stared at the ceiling for a very long time.
Cinder Fall became aware of the problem on day six.

She was in her room at Haven, reviewing the routine data pulls from the Beacon node, when she noticed something wrong with the Jaune Arc feed. The keystroke log was too clean. Normal keystroke logs had patterns, hesitations, corrections, backspaces. Human behavior. This log was consistent. Smooth. Like someone typing perfectly on purpose.

She pulled the audio capture.
Silence. The microphone was returning data packets of the correct size, but the actual audio was... null. Empty files wrapped in the right metadata.

She pulled the camera capture.
A still image. The same still image. It had been the same still image for six hours.

Cinder went very still.
The virus on Jaune Arc's scroll was running. The pings were normal. The packet sizes were normal. Everything Looked correct. But the actual data was fake.

Someone had sandboxed her virus.

Not deleted. Not blocked. Sandboxed. Which meant the person had not only detected the virus but understood it well enough to manipulate it without triggering the self-repair function.

That required expertise that rivaled Watts. And Watts was the only person Cinder knew who could do something like this.

Jaune Arc was a first-year student who had, according to every piece of intelligence she had, the technical proficiency of a brick.

"Emerald."

Emerald appeared in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"When did the Arc feed go bad?"

Emerald checked her scroll. "Six days ago. Give or take."

Six days. Cinder pulled Jaune Arc's student file. Medical records. There was a recent entry from five days before the feed corrupted.

Head trauma. Impact from falling debris during Grimm patrol. Treated for mild concussion. Symptoms: disorientation, temporary unconsciousness, personality changes reported by teammates.

Personality changes. Cinder read the report again. Then again. Then a third time.

"His teammates reported personality changes," she said slowly. "What kind of changes?"

Emerald pulled up the detailed notes. "Increased focus. Heightened analytical behavior. Reduced emotional reactivity. One teammate",she checked, "Pyrrha Nikos, described him as 'cold and calculating' before later revising to 'efficient and detached.'"

Cinder closed her eyes.

She knew what head trauma could do. She'd grown up in circumstances where head trauma was common and its effects were well-documented. Most of the time, it made people slower. Damaged. Broken.

Sometimes, she heard that very rarely, it did the opposite. It removed barriers. Filters. Inhibitions. The parts of the brain that said *you can't do this* or this is too hard or you're not smart enough.

Those barriers existed for a reason. But when they disappeared, what was left was raw, unfiltered cognitive function operating without self-doubt.

Jaune Arc had been a zero. A nothing. The weakest student at Beacon by every measurable metric.

And now he'd somehow detected and neutralized a surveillance virus that had evaded professional detection for months.

"He's a variable," Cinder said.

"A what?"

"A variable. An unknown factor that could affect the plan." She stood up. "I need to see him in person."

"See him? At Beacon?Cinder, that's.."

"Necessary. I can't evaluate a threat remotely if he's already compromised my remote access. I need to look him in the eyes and determine whether he's a problem I need to solve or a resource I can use."

Emerald hesitated. "And if he's a problem?"

Cinder pulled on her gloves.

"Then I'll solve him."

Jaune was in the library.

Of course he was. He was always in the library now, surrounded by scrolls and notebooks and printouts of CCT network architecture diagrams that he'd pulled from public databases. His section of the table looked like a conspiracy theorist's corkboard, strings connecting names, locations, data points, all centered on the words HAVEN, CIND, VIRUS in red ink.

He didn't notice Cinder approach. He was too focused on a new development: the return packets from Haven had changed. The six-hour interval had shortened to four hours. The operator was getting anxious. Something had spooked them, and they were checking their feeds more frequently.

Which meant they'd noticed the sandbox.

Which meant they'd notice it was him specifically within...

"Interesting setup."

Jaune looked up.

A woman stood across from him. Tall. Dark hair. Gold eyes. Dressed in red, which was either confident or stupid given that she was sitting in the middle of a Huntsman academy.

His concussed brain processed her in approximately 0.3 seconds.

Unfamiliar face. No Beacon uniform. Confident posture, weight centered, hands visible, no visible weapons but that means nothing. Eye contact direct and unblinking. She's assessing me. She chose to approach from my left side, which is my non-dominant side, which means she's observed me before and knows my handedness. She knows things about me. She's not a student. She's not a teacher. She's...

His eyes dropped to her scroll, clipped to her belt.

The scroll ID matched.

He looked back up at her face.

"Cinder Fall," he said.

Her expression didn't change. Which was impressive, because most people's expressions changed when a complete stranger identified them by name with no introduction.

"You know who I am."

"Transfer student at Haven. No prior history. One of three transfer students with identical background gaps. Your scroll ID is registered to a device that receives master-signal directives from a shadow server buried in Haven's network infrastructure." He gestured to the corkboard of strings and notes. "You're CIND."

Silence.

Cinder's gold eyes flicked to the corkboard. Took in the network diagrams. The virus architecture breakdown. The traced signal paths. The three names circled in red.

Then she looked back at Jaune.

And for the first time in a very long time, felt something she didn't enjoy.

Respect.

"Sit down," said Jaune. "You're drawing attention."

Cinder sat.


Cinder had come to evaluate a variable.

The variable was evaluating her.

"You're not what I expected," she said.

"What did you expect?"

"Jaune Arc. Lowest combat scores in Beacon's first year. Failed the entrance exam twice. forged his transcripts." She paused. "I have your file. All of it. Including the parts Beacon doesn't know I have."

"The surveillance virus gave you that."

"Yes."

"It also gave you my teammates' files. Ruby Rose. Weiss Schnee. Pyrrha Nikos. Yang Xiao Long. All priority targets. All being monitored more heavily than the general infection pool." He leaned back. "You're watching my team specifically. Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"You need intelligence on Beacon's strongest assets for an operation you're planning. The question is what kind of operation. The scale of the surveillance suggests something large. Not an assassination, that doesn't require this much data. Not a kidnapping, same reason. This is preparation for a sustained conflict. You're building a picture of Beacon's capabilities, command structure, and response patterns." He tilted his head. "You're planning to attack Beacon."

Cinder said nothing.

"The tournament," Jaune continued. "It's in a few months. Every kingdom sends representatives. Every huntsman academy. Every head of state. All in one place, connected to one CCT network. A network your virus already lives in." He tapped the table. "You're not just going to attack Beacon. You're going to attack the Vytal Festival. Use the CCT to broadcast something to the entire world while your people hit the physical targets. Maximum visibility. Maximum terror."

Cinder's face was a mask. A very, very good mask.

But Jaune had spent six days studying her patterns through her own surveillance system. He knew her tells. The slight tension in her jaw when someone got close to the truth. The micro-adjustment of her fingers when she was calculating a response. The way her pupils dilated by a fraction of a millimeter when she felt threatened.

She was terrified.

Not of him. Of being known.

"You're very good," she said quietly.

"I had a good teacher. You. Your virus taught me more about network security in six days than Beacon's IT department knows in total. The architecture is genuinely impressive." He meant it. There was no sarcasm in his voice. "But you made mistakes."

"Name one."

"The consistent timing interval. 1.3 seconds is a fingerprint. Anyone who knows to look for it can identify every infected device on the network. You should have randomized it."

"We did."

"It's pseudo-random. The seed value is based on the device's hardware ID, which means it's deterministic. Different for every device, but consistent for each individual device. You can't hide a pattern with noise if the noise itself has a pattern."

Cinder stared at him.

"I wrote that virus," she said. "Watts refined it, but the core architecture is mine. No one has ever..."

"No one was looking. Your virus is designed to evade standard security scans. It's very good at that. But I didn't run a standard security scan. I just... noticed the loading screen was wrong." He shrugged. "Concussion thing, probably."

"You expect me to believe that a head injury made you capable of..."

"I don't expect you to believe anything. Belief is irrelevant. What's relevant is that I've been inside your operation for six days, I know who all your people are, I know what your plan is, and I have a sandboxed copy of your virus that I can use to feed you whatever information I want."

He let that sink in.

Cinder's jaw tightened. Exactly 0.2 millimeters. He noticed.

"So what now?" she asked. "You turn me in? Go to Ozpin with your little corkboard?"

"I could."

"But you haven't."

"No."

"Why?"

Jaune considered the question. His concussed brain processed it from every angle, strategic, tactical, psychological, social, before arriving at an answer.

"Because Ozpin already knows someone is planning something and he's doing nothing about it. He's passive. Reactive. He waits for problems to arrive and then responds with the minimum necessary force. If I give him this information, he'll put the school on higher alert, maybe increase security at the festival, and your people will adjust. The plan will shift. Maybe delay. Maybe change targets. But it won't stop, because Ozpin doesn't stop things. He manages them."

"And you do?"

"I solve them."

Cinder looked at him. Really looked. Past the face, past the file, past the designation of "weakest student at Beacon."

What she saw was... unsettling. Not frightening. Not threatening. Unsettling. Like looking at a person who had accidentally removed every component of themselves that wasn't strictly necessary and was now operating as something that was technically human but didn't feel human.

"You're not afraid of me," she said. It wasn't a question.

"No."

"You should be."

"I've analyzed the threat you pose. Your combat capability is significant but not overwhelming. You're a Maiden, which I only know because the virus's priority feeds included detailed monitoring of Amber, the previous Fall Maiden, who was attacked and had her power stolen. The timeline correlates with your arrival at Haven. You have access to Maiden-level fire and glass manipulation, but your aura readings from the Beacon combat footage suggest you're operating at maybe sixty percent of the Maiden's full capacity. Probably still integrating the power."

He said all of this the way someone might read a weather report.

"Additionally, you came here alone. No Emerald for illusion cover. No Mercury for extraction. You're personally invested in evaluating me, which means you don't fully trust your team to do it, which means your team dynamics are more fragile than you'd like. And you chose to sit down when I told you to, which means you're adaptable enough to follow instructions when they come from someone who surprises you."

He paused.

"I'm not afraid of you because I've already taken your operation apart from the inside. You're not a threat to me. You're a problem. And I solve problems."

Cinder sat in a Beacon Academy library and realized, with the kind of clarity that hits like cold water, that she was outmatched.

Not physically. She could almost certainly kill him in a fight.

Intellectually. Strategically. Fundamentally.

The boy with the concussion had seen through her in six days. For all his years, Ozpin never could get close, to stop the plan like this boy. .

"Then solve me," she said.

"No."

"No?"

"You're more useful intact. You have resources, personnel, operational infrastructure, and information I don't have access to through the virus alone. Your shadow server has files I haven't been able to reach, encrypted partitions that require physical access or keys I don't have. You know things about your boss, your plan, and your organization that aren't on any server."

"My boss?"

Jaune leaned forward. "The virus architecture has three tiers. The infected devices are tier one. The Haven relay nodes are tier two. But there's a tier three, commands that come from outside the Haven network entirely. External directives that override everything else. They don't come through the CCT. They come through a channel I can't trace. Someone above you is pulling strings, and you're following orders."

Cinder's mask cracked. Just a hairline. A fraction of a millimeter around her eyes.

"Who is your boss?" Jaune asked.

"I don't.."

"You do. And I'm going to find out. The question is whether you tell me now, when it's helpful, or later, when it's not."

Cinder stood up.

"I need to think."

"Take your time. But understand that every piece of data you've stolen from Beacon for the past six days has been replaced with whatever I wanted you to see. Your intelligence picture of this school is mine now. I control what you know about Beacon."

She stopped at the library door.

"What have you been feeding us?"

"Accurate information. Mixed with three specific false data points designed to mislead your operational planning. I'll tell you which ones when you come back."

"How do you know I'll come back?"

"Because you need to know which data points are false. And because you're curious." He went back to his notes. "Same time tomorrow. Sit with your back to the pillar instead of the wall. Better sightlines."

Cinder left. She was shaking by the time she got to the Bullhead departure point.


She came back the next day.
And the day after that.
And the day after that.
On the third visit, she told him about Salem.

Not everything. Not the full history. But enough. The name. The immortality. The Grimm. The Relics. The goal.

Jaune wrote it down without expression.
"The Grimm are controlled by Salem directly?" he asked.

"Yes."
"Frequency-based?"
Cinder blinked. "What?"

"Grimm respond to negative emotions. Negative emotions have measurable frequencies, fear, anger, hatred, despair. If Salem controls them, she's either using a biological mechanism, pheromones, probably, given the range, or an energetic one. A signal that overrides their natural behavior and directs them toward targets." He paused. "Your virus uses a signal to control infected scrolls. Salem uses a signal to control Grimm. The underlying principle is the same."

"That's... actually a good analogy."
"It's not an analogy. It's a model. And if both control mechanisms are signal-based, they can both be disrupted."

Cinder went very still.

"You're not serious."

"I spent three days figuring out your virus. How long do you think it would take me to figure out Salem's?"

"Salem isn't a computer program. She's an immortal being who..."

"Operates through physical mechanisms in a physical world. Everything physical has rules. Everything with rules has weaknesses." He met her eyes. "Your boss has been running unopposed for millennia because no one has ever approached her as an engineering problem. They treat her as a myth. A force of nature. Something to be endured, not solved."

"And you think you can solve her."

"I think I can model her. Build a framework. Find the pressure points." He tapped his notebook. "I already have three hypotheses about how her Grimm control works and two potential disruption methods. I need more data to test them, which means I need access to Grimm outside of combat conditions. Controlled observation."

"You want me to get you Grimm."

"I want you to get me time with Grimm. Uncontrolled but observed. I need to measure their behavioral baseline when Salem isn't actively directing them versus when she is. The difference will tell me which control mechanism she's using."

Cinder rubbed her temples.

"You're out of your mind."

"Probably. But I'm also right. And you know it, or you wouldn't keep coming back."

She didn't have an answer for that.



On day ten, Cinder arrived in black and gold.

Jaune noticed immediately. Not because of the aesthetic, the tailored fit, the military cut, the mantle that moved like liquid shadow, but because of what it meant.

"You changed your operational profile," he said, not looking up from his scroll.

"It's an outfit."

"It's a statement. Your previous clothing was designed for infiltration, neutral colors, no distinguishing features, easy to blend in or discard. This is designed for identification. You want to be recognized. Not hidden." He turned a page. "You've decided which side you're on."

Cinder sat down. "Don't read too much into it."

"I don't read too much into anything. I read exactly the right amount." He looked at her. "It looks good. The gold accents complement your aura signature."

Cinder's face did something complicated.

"Is that...you can't just..."

"I observed that you respond positively to competent acknowledgment. Not flattery. Flattery triggers your defensive instincts because you associate it with manipulation. Competent acknowledgment,specific, accurate, grounded in observable reality, disarms you because you have no defense against being actually seen."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"No, I don't," she admitted quietly. "And I hate that I don't hate you."

Jaune went back to his scroll.

"Bring Emerald next time. I need to talk to her."

"About what?"

"About whether she wants to keep following you into a plan that's going to fail, or whether she'd prefer an alternative."

"Jaune..."

"I'm not poaching your people. I'm offering them a choice. Which is more than Salem ever did."

Cinder stared at the side of his head for a long time.

"When did you become like this?"

"Day one. When the rock hit my skull." He paused. "I think the fear was holding everything else back. All the processing power I had, all the pattern recognition, all the analytical capacity, it was all there. But it was buried under a layer of self-doubt so thick I couldn't access any of it. The concussion burned that layer away." He looked at his hands. "Sometimes I wonder if it'll come back. The fear. If my head heals completely, do I go back to being... me? The old me?"

"Do you want to?"

"No."

"That's honest."

"It's data. I'm not capable of being anything else right now." He turned a page. "Bring Emerald."



Emerald came on day twelve. She was hostile, defensive, and ready to fight.

Jaune didn't engage with any of it.

He showed her the virus architecture. The surveillance feeds. The data her own scroll had been sending about her, location, audio, camera, every moment of every day for months.

"Your scroll has been recording you in private," he said flatly. "Salem knows everything you've said and done in the last six months that happened within range of your device. Everything. Every conversation with Cinder. Every private moment. Everything you thought no one else would see."

Emerald went pale.

"She's been watching you. Not protecting you. Not mentoring you. *Watching* you. The same way she watches everyone. Because to her, you're not a person. You're a data point."

Emerald looked at Cinder.

Cinder looked away.

"She knows," Emerald whispered.

"Yes," said Jaune. "And she accepted it because she thought it was normal. It's not normal. It's surveillance. And the fact that it didn't occur to either of you to be angry about it tells me everything I need to know about how Salem operates."

Emerald sat down.

She didn't get up for three hours.

Mercury was simpler. Jaune showed him the prosthetic leg analysis, how he'd identified the hydraulic flaw from footage of him simply walkimg around, and offered to fix it.

"Can you actually do that?" Mercury asked.

"Yes."

"Why would you?"

"Because you're useful to me, and useful people should have functioning equipment. Broken tools reflect poorly on the operator." He paused. "Salem knew about your leg flaw. Did she ever fix it?"

Mercury didn't answer.

"That's a no. She left you with a vulnerability because it gave her leverage. If your legs failed at a critical moment, she could blame you for the failure and replace you. You were never fully functional because functional people don't need you."

Mercury's jaw clenched. "Sit down. I'll need measurements."
He sat.

Watts received a data packet containing a complete analysis of the virus's structural weaknesses, proposed solutions for each, and a note: *"Your work is impressive but you're being underutilized. Under my operational structure, you'd have unrestricted resources. Consider this an audition."

Watts ran the solutions. All of them worked. Most were better than his own fixes.

He sent back one message: *"Who are you?"

Jaune replied: "The variable."

Watts joined the next day.

Hazel required a personal visit. Jaune went alone. Explained what he knew about Salem's surveillance of her own people. Explained that Gretchen's death had been used, not avenged. Explained that Salem kept Hazel close not out of respect but out of convenience, he was useful, angry, and obedient, how she had more of a hand in his sister death then she thought
.

Hazel cried.

Jaune sat with him until he stopped.
Tyrian tried to kill him. Jaune disarmed him in four seconds, put a sword to his throat, and said: "Salem sent you because I'm the first variable she couldn't predict. That means I'm more dangerous than anyone she's faced in centuries. You can kill me, and she'll find someone else to solve the problems I'm solving. Or you can help me, and be part of the solution instead of the cleanup crew. "

Tyrian left, then came back three days later, to try again and again. And no matter what he cant win. So he will let this play out and if his Goddess cant defeat this boy then she is not a goddess.

"Hate you," he said.

"Noted. Stand over there. You block my light."


Day thirty. Same table. Same library. Same corkboard, now massively expanded.

Cinder sat across from him. Emerald beside her. Mercury against the wall. Watts on a scroll call. Hazel standing sentinel. Tyrian in the corner, grinning.

His team now.

Jaune pinned a new diagram to the wall.

"The virus gave me everything I need to understand Salem's operation. But the virus also gave me something I didn't expect." He pointed to a section of the network map that had been highlighted in blue. "The tier-three commands. The ones from outside Haven. They don't come from nowhere. They come from a specific location that I've now triangulated."

Silence.

"Here." He tapped a point on the map. A geographic coordinate in the wilds of northern Anima. "That's where Salem is. That's where the master signal originates. And that's where I'm going."

"You're going to walk up to Salem's front door," said Mercury flatly.

"I'm going to do more than that. I'm going to use her own control network against her." Jaune pulled up a new set of diagrams. "Salem controls the Grimm through a signal. I've confirmed this, the virus's tier-three commands and the Grimm behavioral patterns share the same underlying frequency structure. Same author, same system. Which means the virus isn't just a surveillance tool. It's a key. It's built on the same architecture as Salem's Grimm control. Its quit impressive she was able to replicte her ability to control grim into a barebones computer virus, then give it to you walts."

He let that land.

"If I can modify the virus to broadcast on Salem's frequency, I can talk to the Grimm. Not perfectly. Not with her level of control. But enough to disrupt her command authority. Enough to make her Grimm ignore her."

Cinder's eyes went wide.

"You'd sever her connection to her own army."

"I'd interfere with it. Severing might not be possible, her control is biological as well as energetic. But interference? Disruption? Turning her greatest weapon into a liability?" He smiled. Cold. Precise. "That I can do."
"And then?"

"And then we take the Relics before she does. All four. Not to summon the Gods, to siphon them."

He explained the plan. The Relics as conduits. The bidirectional energy channel. The feedback loop. The convergence point. His semblance as the containment mechanism. Watts, on the scroll call, was silent for a long time after Jaune finished.

"You want to steal the Brother Gods' power," he said. "I want to harvest it. There's a difference."
"The difference being?"

"Stealing implies the owners can say no. They can't. Energy follows rules."
"This is insane."
"Is it wrong?" Another long silence.
"...No," Watts admitted. "It's not wrong."



The Grimm started behaving strangely.

Not all of them. Not obviously. But Salem felt it, a faint static in her control signal. Like interference on a radio. It came and went. Unpredictable. Maddening. She reached through the Grimm network to find the source.

She found a frequency she didn't recognize. Weak but persistent. Broadcasting on her channel. Someone was talking to her Grimm. She didnt even know it was possible.

Not controlling them. Not overriding her. But whispering to them. Quiet enough that they couldn't distinguish the whisper from her voice. Confusing them. Making them hesitate at critical moments. Salem traced the signal. It was coming from a scroll.

Not just any scroll. A scroll running a modified version of the virus she'd had Cinder deploy across the CCT network. A virus that was now broadcasting on her frequency. A virus written by a boy with a head injury. She destroyed three rooms in her fortress before she stopped screaming.


The center of Remnant. Four Relics. One concussed blond boy.

Salem arrived with everything she had. Every Grimm that hadn't been confused by Jaune's interference. Every scrap of power left in her ancient body. "You," she snarled. "You are nothing. A mortal child who found something he shouldn't have...."

"I found everything," Jaune said calmly. "Your virus. Your network. Your location. Your plan. Your weaknesses. I found it all through a loading screen glitch." He placed his hand on the convergence point. "You lost this war the day a rock hit my head and I noticed my scroll was acting weird."

He activated the Relics.

The sky cracked. The light poured through. The Brothers began to manifest. The siphon engaged. Salem felt her immortality draining.

She screamed. Charged. Tried to kill him with everything she had left. His shield caught her blast and reflected it, a trick he'd developed by studying her magic through the virus's intercepted data packets. Her own power hit her so hard she cratered the ground.

"Your magic operates on a consistent frequency," he said, almost gently. "I've been reading it for weeks. You have no secrets from me."

95%.

96%.

97%.

The Brothers flickered. Diminished. Drained.

Salem aged a decade in thirty seconds.

98%.

99%.

Team rwby, ozpin and qrow just land.
Ruby's silver eyes hit the rift. The oscillation spiked. 101%. 110%.

Jaune screamed. Cinder hit him from behind, wrapped her arms around him, and grounded the overflow with her Maiden power. Glass and fire contained the blast to thirty feet. The rift sealed. The Brothers vanished, Drained and Gone.

Then Pure Silence.

He opened his eyes to a white ceiling.

Pyrrha was holding his hand. Ruby was asleep in a chair. Nora was eating a pudding cup. Ren was reading. Cinder was in the corner. Hospital gown. Ruined uniform. Pretending she wasn't there. "Did it work?"

"The Brothers are gone," Pyrrha said. "Salem is human. The Grimm are just animals now." "The virus?" "Still in the CCT network. Watts shut down the surveillance functions. It's just... sitting there. Dormant." "Good. Keep it dormant. It's useful infrastructure. We can repurpose it later."

He turned his head. Saw Cinder. "You saved my life." "You miscalculated." "I know. The silver-eye variable. I should have accounted for Ruby's instinct to intervene." "Are you going to put that in your notebook?" "Yes."

Cinder stood up. Walked to his bedside. Leaned down. Kissed his forehead. "You're still insufferable." Then she Walked out.


Epilogue: Six Months Later

Jaune's head healed. The cold clarity faded. The fear came back, quietly, slowly, like fog rolling in. But some things stayed.

His combat skills didn't degrade. His body remembered everything. His analytical mind stayed sharp, even if it was wrapped in normal-Jaune awkwardness again.

His aura still glowed faintly white in the dark.
The virus stayed dormant in the CCT network, waiting. A tool built by villains, repurposed by a boy who'd noticed a loading screen glitch.

Cinder ran the network from a small apartment in Vale. She wore the black and gold every day. She visited on Thursdays. They sat in the library. Same table. Same silence.

"You tripped over a rug today," she said. "I'm aware." "And then accidentally dismantled a training dummy." "Also aware." "You were scarier with a concussion." "I know."

Cinder looked at him. Warm eyes. Cold woman. Softening in a way she'd never allowed herself to soften before. "I liked both versions," she said. "Yeah?" said Jaune. "Don't push it."
He grinned. Dorky, awkward, but him.

And somewhere in Atlas, in a prison cell, growing old for the first time in millennia, Salem stared at the wall and whispered the sentence she'd been whispering for six months:

"A...fucking...loading screen."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Beacon library's quiet corner had become Blake's unofficial reading spot-far enough from the main stacks that he could actually focus, close enough to the emergency exit that she could bolt if Nora came looking for a sparring partner.

She was halfway through a chapter on advanced Aura channeling when Jaune slipped into the seat across from her. She didn't say anything. Neither did he.

Until he took a long, deep breath.

He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers.

"Blake."

"Jaune," Blake replied evenly.

He leaned forward, voice low. "Would you happen to know why there is a series of stories about an incestuous harem of blonde women and their step-brother slash son on the local Beacon Net?"

Blake's ears flattened so fast they nearly vanished under the bow. Her amber eyes flicked to the side.

"I… I have no idea what you're talking about—!"

Jaune tapped his own scroll, turning it so she could see the screen.

"All by the author named Noirchat44?"

Blake's ears twitched once, betraying her. "Th-That could be anyone—!"

Jaune scrolled down. Slowly. Deliberately.

"Who also included a black cat Faunus ninja getting involved in the steamier scenes?!"

The library went unnaturally quiet. Even the distant sound of turning pages seemed to stop.

Blake stared at the scroll like it had personally betrayed her.

Then, very quietly:

"…Technically it's only faux incest as I made everyone step-siblings and step-parents."

Jaune stared in utter disbelief.

"Gotta go!" Blake cried, vanishing... After dropping a smoke bomb.

"GAH! BLAKE!"

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The dressing room lights felt harsher than any rocket glare. Jaune Arc stood in front of the mirror, fingers fumbling with his tie for the tenth time. The silk refused to cooperate, twisting into an angry knot that looked more like a pretzel than professional attire.

A soft knock broke the silence. The door opened and a redheaded girl in an elegant emerald dress slipped inside, looking mortified.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," she said quickly. "Wrong room."

Jaune waved his tangled hands. "No, it's fine! Really. I'm the one who's sorry—I'm kind of falling apart in here."

She smiled, gentle and understanding. "You look nervous."

"A little," he admitted, cheeks already warm. "Actually… a lot. You wouldn't happen to know how to tie a tie, would you? The makeup lady disappeared and I'm about to go on the biggest talk show in Remnant looking like I lost a fight with clothing."

"I can help," she said, stepping closer.

Her fingers were steady and practiced. She worked the silk into a perfect Windsor knot in seconds. Up close, Jaune noticed how pretty she was—striking green eyes, soft freckles, copper hair that caught the studio lights like a halo.

He cleared his throat. "Thanks. Um… are you with the show?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm not." A small, awed smile touched her lips. "I know who you are, though. Jaune Arc. First Man in Space."

Jaune gave an awkward little grin. "Yeah… that's me. Still getting used to hearing it."

"I'm Pyrrha," she offered softly.

"Pyrrha," he repeated. "That's a really pretty name."

She ducked her head, pleased. "Thank you."

Jaune studied her face again. "Have I seen you somewhere before? You look kind of familiar."

Pyrrha froze for half a second, then shook her head. "I doubt it." She finished the tie and stepped back. "There. Much better."

Before she could leave, she hesitated. "Can I ask you a question?"

Jaune's mouth moved before his brain caught up. "You already did." He winced, then quickly added, "But sure! Go ahead."

Pyrrha giggled, the sound light and warm. "Were you scared? To go up into space?"

"…Yes," Jaune answered honestly. "I'd be crazy not to be. That was actually my third flight-and the first one that worked."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. First launch, the rocket blew up right under me. Escape system shot me off like a cork. I floated in the ocean for four hours waiting for rescue. Second one, the whole stack tumbled and I got ejected again-I landed in the marshes near the base. Had to fight off a couple of Grimm until the bullhead arrived. My mom was practically hysterical."

Pyrrha's eyes softened. "So why did you keep going?"

Jaune rubbed the back of his neck. "It's selfish, maybe… but I always wanted to be a hero. To inspire people. To make them think, 'Hey, maybe I can be a hero too.' That's what heroes are supposed to do—show others they can be better." He shrugged. "Truth is, I'm just some guy who trained really hard and got shoved into a rocket by his crazy aunt. I'm not some perfect paragon. I nearly died… a lot."

"No," Pyrrha said gently, stepping closer. "You do inspire people. And the fact that you're normal? That only makes it more inspiring."

Jaune blinked. "But I can't live up to everyone's expectations."

"No one can," she replied with quiet conviction. "But that doesn't mean we don't still need heroes. And I think you are one, Jaune Arc."

He felt his face heat up. "Well… thank you. Honestly, though? I wanted to be a Huntsman like my parents and grandparents. So… kind of a big career change, huh?"

Pyrrha smiled brightly. "It's still inspiring. So don't let yourself think otherwise, okay? Go out there and be yourself."

"I won't. I-I mean, I will!" Jaune stammered, then laughed at himself. "Thank you, Pyrrha. Really."

"You're welcome." She gave him one last encouraging look, cheeks faintly pink, before slipping out the door.

Jaune touched the perfectly tied knot and murmured, "What a nice girl… Maybe I'll see her again? Nah… who am I kidding?"

He stepped behind the curtain just as the host's voice boomed:

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the First Man in Space: Jaune Arc!"

The audience erupted. Jaune walked out waving awkwardly under the bright lights. John Doe, the handsome middle-aged Deer Faunus host with impressive antlers, stood up with a welcoming grin.

"Jaune! Great to have you here. How's the trip been so far tonight?"

"Fine," Jaune said, settling into the guest chair. "At least I'm glad I don't have to do any math on this trip."

John's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Oh, really?" He dramatically wheeled out a large whiteboard. Written across it in neat script was a complex orbital transfer equation—from low Remnant orbit to high Remnant orbit.

The audience ooohed. Jaune groaned good-naturedly and took the offered marker. He stared at the board for a few seconds, then wrote out the solution in steady strokes. He capped the marker and stepped back.

John checked his card. "He's correct!" The crowd cheered wildly. Jaune sagged in visible relief.

"I failed a math test two weeks before the flight," he admitted with a sheepish laugh. "So I was sweating that one."

"Nobody's perfect," John chuckled, then leaned forward with a playful grin. "Speaking of imperfect moments… we have to address the rumors. Our First Man in Space has apparently become quite the heartthrob. 'Space Pretty-Boy,' they're calling you. Care to comment?"

Jaune turned bright red. "I—uh—"

"And let's not forget the legendary shovel incident on Patch," John continued, clearly enjoying himself. "Taiyang Xiao Long welcoming you to Remnant the old-fashioned way. How's the head?"

The audience laughed. Jaune rubbed the back of his skull instinctively. "Still a little sore, honestly. But I get it. He was protecting his daughters."

John wasn't done. "And then there's the small matter of your… shall we say… wardrobe malfunction during the victory wave? The entire world got quite the show."

Jaune's face went nuclear. He sank lower in his chair, covering his eyes with one hand while the audience howled with laughter.

John held up his hands, still grinning but gentler now. "Hey, hey—nothing to be ashamed of, Jaune. You've got nothing to be embarrassed about. In fact, I think half the audience is jealous."

More laughter rippled through the studio. Jaune peeked through his fingers, still flushed but managing a weak smile. "Thanks… I think? Can we talk about rockets again?"

"Fair enough," John said kindly. "Let's move on. Tell us about the future. More flights planned?"

"I might do a few more missions and help train the next astronauts," Jaune answered, grateful for the subject change. "We've been getting a lot of international funding, so I'm on a goodwill tour right now. Atlas, Vale, Mistral—everyone's starting their own programs. Healthy competition should breed innovation."

"Does that mean you'll actually get some rest?"

"That's another bonus," Jaune said. The audience chuckled.

John nodded thoughtfully. "You originally wanted to be a Huntsman, not an astronaut. Still true?"

"Yes," Jaune confirmed. "Once the Valean Space Program is steady, I still plan to pursue that. But for now? I'm happy doing this. It's giving people hope."

"You've certainly provided a lot of it," John said. "But is it realistic? Man and Faunuskind reaching the stars one day?"

"It'll probably take centuries," Jaune admitted honestly. "But we will get there. And it'll make life better for everyone on Remnant. The technology from my launch already created over two hundred new patents—medicine, engineering, you name it. And just one decent mining site on the moon could supply metals and minerals so we don't have to fight over resources anymore. Batteries, radios, Dust stabilizers… the possibilities are endless."

John smiled warmly. "I look forward to that wonderful space age."

"Me too," Jaune agreed.

John turned to the audience with theatrical flair. "Well, speaking of wonderful… our next guest needs no introduction, but I'll give her one anyway! Four-time Regional Mistral Champion, supermodel, actress, and spokeswoman for half the brands in Remnant—please welcome Pyrrha Nikos!"

The redheaded girl from the dressing room walked out to thunderous applause, waving with a dazzling smile. Jaune's jaw dropped.

Pyrrha gracefully took the seat beside him, still smiling, then leaned over just enough to whisper, "Sorry."

Jaune managed a stunned little laugh. "I, uh… no. I get it."

John's antlers twitched with amusement as he looked between them. "Try not to stare too much, Jaune! Your girlfriends back home are gonna get jealous!"

The audience roared with laughter. Jaune turned bright red all over again. Pyrrha's cheeks flushed too, but she kept her poise, shooting Jaune a small, secretly delighted glance.

 

[jojoin567]

@AndrewJTalon
Picnic Time for the Dragon Slayer...

Vale Park
Yang: Laid back, soaking in the pleasant heat of spring ...

Jaune: Sitting, munching a chicken sandwich, glancing at Yang and a point among the trees...

Ruby & Nora: Poorly hiding among the trees, throwing thumbs up at Jaune...

Jaune: Finishes last bit of sandwich "Say, Yang..."

Yang: "Yeah??"

Jaune: "There once was a lumberjack looking for a tree to chop down."

Yang: "Oooh, story time." Giving rapt attention

Jaune: "After picking a particularly majestic looking one, he raised the axe high. As soon as he made to swing his axe, a voice called called out: "Wait! I'm a talking tree!"

Jaune: "The lumberjack merely shrugged and said while swinging his axe down. "And you'll now be a dialogue."

Yang: ...

Jaune: ...

Yang: "How many kids do you plan to make because I have a hard limit of 15."

Jaune: blue screens

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Arc farmhouse was quiet in the late evening, the kind of peaceful silence that only existed when most of the younger siblings had finally been herded to bed. Down in the living room, the fireplace crackled softly while Jaune sat at the old wooden table with his scroll, idly scrolling through forums.

His youngest sister, Orchid—fourteen, sharp-tongued, and far too clever for her own good—leaned over his shoulder, reading along with him. She was supposed to be doing homework. Instead, she was doing what she did best: causing chaos.

Orchid snorted, then burst into quiet laughter. "Oh my gods… This plan is just hilariously bad."

Jaune glanced up. "Hm? What is?"

Orchid pointed at the screen, still snickering. "Some girl on the forum is actually asking if she could pose as a student! She's in her twenties! And she posted a picture—look at those DDs! There's no way she'd pass for a high schooler."

Jaune leaned in a little closer, blinking at the selfie. "…Oh wow... She's hot."

Orchid rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't fall out. "See? Boys are hopeless."

Jaune shrugged, a little embarrassed. "What? She is."

Orchid typed rapidly, still giggling under her breath.

Orchid: I'll tell her that… type type type Sent!

A moment later her computer pinged with a private reply.

"Oh! She's messaging me back."

Jaune raised an eyebrow. "You're actually talking to her?"

Orchid grinned mischievously and read the message out loud in a mock-sultry voice:

Cinder: …How would you do it, then?

Orchid's fingers flew across the keyboard as she answered.

Orchid: Obviously, you'd pose as a teacher. And have some kids as your students to complete your cover. And you'd befriend some gullible fellow teacher or student with your feminine wiles. So he'd act as your patsy.

She hit send, then looked at Jaune with a wicked sparkle in her eyes. "This is too easy."

Jaune shook his head, half-amused, half-concerned. "You're going to get yourself in trouble one of these days, Orch."

Orchid ignored him. Her scroll pinged again.

Cinder: Ooh… that's good.

Orchid: Seriously? Who came up with this plan?

Cinder: …I can definitely do teacher better than student.

Orchid: Do you have any other terrible, terrible plans?

Orchid: Sorry, just plans.

Orchid: I shouldn't assume.

Cinder: Well… what do you know about hacking?

Orchid's grin widened. She typed back quickly.

Orchid: A lot…

Orchid: But one step at a time, huh?

Orchid: What else have you got planned for this book or whatever?

She leaned back in her chair, clearly enjoying herself far too much.

Jaune watched her with a mix of fondness and exasperation. "You know, most little sisters just steal my hoodies. You're out here giving evil advice to strangers on the internet."

Orchid stuck her tongue out at him. "It's called being supportive. Besides, this is hilarious. She's either writing the world's worst villainess novel or she's actually trying to take over a school. Like Lord Moldyshorts!"

Jaune chuckled.

"Yeah, well… try not to help anyone commit actual crimes, okay?"

Orchid waved him off. "Relax, big bro. I'm just having fun."

Her scroll pinged again.

Cinder: Let's just say I have very big plans for Beacon Academy. And I need someone who isn't completely incompetent to help me pull them off.

Orchid let out a delighted little cackle and started typing her reply.

Jaune sighed, shaking his head as he stood up to grab them both some leftover pie from the kitchen.

He had no idea that, years later, he would look back on this exact conversation and realize his little sister had accidentally become the anonymous consultant to one of the most dangerous women on Remnant.

For now, though, it was just another evening at the Arc farmhouse.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Breaker Faith

I. General Dogmas and Theology

Supreme Deity

Aslan, the Great Lion, the Table Breaker and Springbringer. Son of the Emperor Above. Prince of Peace. The embodiment of sacrificial love, redemption, and victory over death and tyranny.

The Holy Trinity

The Church teaches that the Divine exists in three persons, co-eternal and of one essence:

• The Emperor Above — The Father, the source of all being, the Uncreated One who dwells beyond the world.
• Aslan, the Table Breaker — The Son, who entered creation, took on mortal flesh, shattered the fate of death, and opened the way to eternal life.
• Pneuma (The Breath) — The Holy Spirit, the animating force of life and holiness. It is by Pneuma that Aslan's Breath heals the dying, restores those turned to stone, and dwells within the faithful. The Pneuma proceeds from the Emperor Above through the Son, and is worshipped and glorified together with the Father and the Son.

Last ProphetSaint North. A historical figure, the forerunner of Aslan who prepared his path. A warrior, preacher, and protector whose image has evolved over time into a softer, gift-giving archetype.

Holy Scripture

The Good Book. A collection of sacred texts, including:

• The life and teachings of Aslan (his birth, miracles, sermons, voluntary sacrifice, resurrection, and ascension).
• The stories of Saint North and his deeds.
• The chronicles of the disciples and the early Church.
• Prophecies and epistles, including the final book: Apocalypsis (The Revelation), which speaks of the ultimate triumph over evil and the final judgment. The epistles themselves were written to the Quitalans (the old Quitalan Empire on Sanus), to the Hellenes of various city-states, to the Temujinians of Rostram, and to the Hermodians of Jotunheim, among others, spreading the teachings across the known world.

Core DogmaAslan's life, death, and resurrection shattered the fate (death) engraved upon the Stone Table for all mortals, opening the path to salvation and eternal life in the paradise he created beyond this world.

Key Feasts

• Aurora (Spring Day) — The celebration of Aslan's resurrection and the Breaking of the Table. This is the holiest day of the liturgical year, observed with sunrise services on the Spring Equinox, the lighting of new fire, the ringing of bells, and the greeting: "He is risen." The response: "He has risen indeed."
• Aslanmas — Celebrated on December 20 in Sanus and on December 25 in Solitas and Anima, marking the birth of the Table Breaker into mortal flesh.

Dating System

The faith's calendar is anchored not to Aslan's birth, but to his most significant act: the Fractura Mensae (The Breaking of the Table). This event, which marked the beginning of the path to unity and victory over the Ice Witch (the personification of Death and ultimate Evil), is Year Zero. The system is denoted as AMF (Annus Mensae Fractae — "Year of the Broken Table"). The years before that event are dated AFM (Ante Fracturam Mensae — "Before the Breaking of the Table"). For simplicity, this event occurred 2002 years before the events of RWBY Volume 1.

II. History

Kirkism — The Prelude to the Breaker Faith

According to The Good Book, before the Table Breaker walked the world of Remnant, there was a people enslaved in the land of Osyrus in western Vacuo. These were the Leonic Faunus Tribe, bound under the heel of masters who cared nothing for their suffering, and they cried out for deliverance across the long years of their bondage.

Then came a prophet called Herut — a figure analogous to Moses in the traditions of our own world — who rose from among the slaves and, by the will of the Emperor Above, demanded their release. When this was refused, a series of signs and wonders followed, culminating in a great liberation as the Leonic Tribe crossed the Serenic Ocean into the continent of Anima. They traversed westward across half that vast land, guided by faith and the promise of a home, until at last they settled in the region called Narn — the World Bridge, the very center of Anima where the Lion's Maw meets the great Lake Matsu.

This ancient faith, known in scholarly circles as Kirkism, was monotheistic and already held to the promise of a coming deliverer who would one day shatter the fate of death. It permitted converts among other Faunus tribes who joined the exodus and later when they established their kingdom in Narn. Over the centuries that followed, the majority of rulers and priests in Narn were Lion Faunus, though various other tribal groups contributed their own traditions and voices to the growing religious community. It was from this soil, this long expectation of a deliverer who would break the hold of death upon mortal souls, that the Table Breaker would eventually arise.

Holy City — Aelia Paravel

The site of the Stone Table, Aslan's sacrifice, and his resurrection. The primary center of pilgrimage and the spiritual capital of the faith.

Aelia Paravel and the Tale of the Table Breaker

Aelia Paravel is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities still standing within the Kingdom of Mistral, and perhaps the whole world. As such it has carried many titles over the centuries: the Crossroads of Anima, the Lower Court, the Oasis of Justice, the City of Kings, the Holy Place, the Table of Fate, the Broken Table.

The city lies in the region of Narn (also known as the World Bridge), a historically vital corridor between the western and central parts of Anima — specifically between the Hellenic League (Hellenia) and the territories that would become Imperial Mistral and the eastern lands. To the south lies the bay known as the Lion's Maw; to the north stretches the great Lake Matsu. This position has made Narn the site of countless battles throughout Remnant's history — from deep antiquity through the Great War — where hundreds of thousands of warriors have fallen. The fields of Narn are soaked with the blood of soldiers, Crusaders, and defenders of the faith, making the region sacred ground and a place of pilgrimage for those seeking to honor the fallen.

Legends claim that the city was built around an artifact left behind by ancient gods known as the Stone Table. These legends claim this Stone Table governed the births, lives, and deaths of mortal souls, both human and Faunus alike. This power drew the attention of a mighty Witch with mastery over ice and snow, who conquered the city in her quest to live forever.

The Ice Witch (Queen Jadis) used the Stone Table as an altar to perform human and Faunus sacrifices that were meant to add the lifespan of the slain to her own. For a hundred years she reigned over the city and the surrounding lands with a freezing fist. Her name, preserved in the oldest manuscripts, is Jadis — the White Queen, the personification of death's cold embrace. But it all came to an end through the sacrifice of the Table Breaker.

According to the scriptures written by his disciples (which to this day remain the best primary source of his life), the Table Breaker was a Faunus man of humble birth. His exact breed is not mentioned in the holy texts, leading to a healthy debate as to what kind of Faunus the man really was. The most longstanding consensus says he was a Lion Faunus; those who disagree make the case for him being either a Snake, Dove, Fish, Sheep, or Goat Faunus depending on their interpretation of his Sermon by the Sea.

Regardless of how the followers interpret those verses, they all agree that the Table Breaker was born with the spark of the Divine within him, both God and Mortal. This divine power gave him otherworldly knowledge and the power to work miracles no Semblance could hope to replicate. He healed the sick, gave comfort to the weary, and taught truths that confounded the wise. This led to him gathering a large following of disciples who did their best to record all his teachings — and this following caught the attention of the Ice Witch's secret police.

The Disciples — the Table Breaker's closest followers — included:

• Peter the Magnificent, a natural leader
• Lucy the Valiant, the first to truly see him for who he was
• Susan the Gentle, the queenly archer
• Edmund the Just, the redeemed who knew the depths of betrayal and forgiveness
• Oreius Glenstorm, a horse Faunus and chieftain, commander of the faithful warriors
• Tumnus, a goat Faunus and trusted friend who first sheltered Lucy
• Reepicheep, a mouse Faunus of boundless courage and honor
• Eustace the Changed, whose scales fell away in repentance
• Jill the Steadfast, who sought and found
• Digory the Seeker and Polly the Constant, witnesses to the beginning
• Puddleglum, the Marsh-wiggle whose stubborn hope defied despair itself
• Caspian the Seafarer, who joined later and would wed Susan, becoming the patron of naval missions

The Table Breaker's followers expected him to confront the Ice Witch in an epic duel of cosmic powers, and they were all shocked when he willingly gave himself up and allowed the Witch to sacrifice him upon the Stone Table. For three days and three nights his body lay upon the Table, and the Witch mocked those who mourned him. Then on the dawn of the fourth day — the first Aurora — the ground shook, the earth cracked, and the Stone Table broke in two as the Table Breaker's spirit returned to His body and lived again.

The White Witch was slain in battle that day. But her power over the land ended that very sunrise.

As for the Table Breaker? The sacred texts claim his time in death had allowed his divine spark to come to the surface, and he returned, both God and Mortal. He remained within the Holy City of Aelia Paravel for a year, doing good and teaching doctrine, before he departed for a place beyond the world — where he would build a paradise of growth so that all those who believed on his name could escape the dooms engraved in the Stone Table. Though it is said he returned as needed to the faithful and is active in the world today.

The holy texts say that the Table Breaker organized his followers into a church before his final departure, led by the Four Stewards (two men, two women) whom he commissioned to spread his teachings to the world. The Four Stewards and the priesthoods they headed took to this task with gusto, and only a few short centuries later, believers could be found in almost every corner of the world in significant numbers.

Historical Context

The Golden Age

The faith was the dominant religion for centuries, exerting massive cultural influence across Vale, Atlas, and Vacuo. From the middle classical age to the early modern period, the Church of the Table Breaker was one of the dominant cultural forces across most of the world, to the point that it is easier to list the nations where the faith was not the most prominent religion among the common people.

The Narn Campaign (11th Century AMF)

In the 1000s, Pontifex Eustace V — a Hellene himself — led the Church and its Orders in a desperate defense of the Narn region as they faced the Dark Hellenic Empire of North-Western Anima, ruled by the Witch Queen of Argus, Basilissa Kakon (her birth name being Deidamia). One of the most infamous and mightiest Grimm Cultists in history, she worshipped the Witch Queen of Grimm herself. Aelia Paravel was one of many targets in her conquests. The war in Narn saw tens of thousands fall on both sides, but the Witch Queen was ultimately slain in 1070 by the legendary heroine Jeanne Arc and her companions. Pontifex Eustace V was thereafter venerated as the "Iron Pope" — a defender of the faith whose courage and leadership saved the Holy City.

The Reformist Movement (15th Century)

The 15th century saw the rise of the Reformist movement within the Breaker Faith, born from widespread discontent with clerical corruption and the perceived distance between the hierarchy and the common believer. Religious conflicts erupted across Eastern Sanus, forcing some to flee their homes in search of new lands where they could worship according to their conscience. Some of these refugees made the long journey northward, crossing the sea to Solitas, where they would eventually found the provinces of Balto and Midgard. This era has given birth to the North Valean, White Spring Reformist, and Albion Churches.

Decline in Mistral

Before and after the Great War, Mistral's secular elites pursued anti-clerical policies. The defeat in the war and the subsequent search for scapegoats led to official persecution of the Church, as Aslan was a Faunus and the Church was seen as sympathetic to the Faunus Rights Revolution.

Modern Era

While this influence is reduced in modern times, it remains a very noticeable undercurrent in the societies of Vale, Atlas, and Vacuo. Aelia Paravel itself is a bastion of the faith within Mistral, existing in a state of tense autonomy. The threat of renewed persecution — or even a Crusade called by the Church in response — looms in the air. Mistral is a different story entirely.

The Final Prophecy

The Good Book concludes with Apocalypsis (The Revelation), which foretells the ultimate confrontation between the forces of Aslan and the final embodiment of evil. This final battle is prophesied to occur at Stable Hill — one of the ancient cities in the Narn region, near Aelia Paravel. The name "Stable Hill" carries deep theological significance — it was in a humble stable that the Table Breaker was born, and it is at Stable Hill that the final victory will be won. This eschatological battle, the Armageddon of the Breaker Faith, is the subject of endless theological reflection, artistic depiction, and sober preparation among the faithful.

III. Church Hierarchy and Structure

Head of the Church — The Lion Pope. The supreme spiritual leader of all denominations. Not necessarily a Lion Faunus.

High Council — The Four Stewards. The successors of Aslan's first disciples (two men, two women). They manage the day-to-day affairs of the Church from Aelia Paravel.

Table Breaker Militant Orders — Military-religious orders that form the elite armed forces of the Church. Their members (Paladins, Warrior Monks, and Warrior Nuns) are considered peers to Huntsmen and Huntresses.

Ecclesiastical Structure — The Church maintains a complex hierarchy of bishops, archbishops, and metropolitans across the world, all in communion with the Lion Pope. Major regions are organized into dioceses and archdioceses, with the most ancient sees holding particular honor.

IV. Major Denominations

After a period of schism, reconciliation occurred, and these denominations now coexist within the unified Breaker Faith.

Aslanists

• Analogue: Catholicism.
• Traits: The most centralized hierarchy under the Lion Pope. Emphasizes the role of the Church as a mediator in salvation, with a strong sacramental theology and venerable liturgical traditions.

Paravelians

• Analogue: Oriental Orthodox Churches (Coptic, Assyrian, Armenian, etc.).
• Traits: Strong in Central, Southern and Eastern Anima (Imperial Mistral, Pandu, Rostram), as well as in Sedna on Solitas, and in Anaansi and Osyrus in Vacuo. Consider themselves the guardians of the oldest and purest tradition, dating back directly to Aelia Paravel. Their liturgical language retains ancient forms, and their monastic tradition is among the most rigorous.

Northern Orthodox Church

• Analogue: Russian Orthodoxy.
• Traits: Strong in Solitas (Indrik, Hyperborea, Rana Niejta). Emphasizes community, the common good, repentance, redemption, and spiritual resilience (endurance) in the harsh conditions of the continent. Their liturgy is known for its profound beauty and theological depth.

Hellenic Orthodox Church

• Analogue: Greek Orthodox Church.
• Traits: Strong within the Hellenic League and throughout the Hellenic diaspora. Emphasizes the mystical and contemplative dimensions of the faith.

Hellenic Aslanist Church

• Analogue: Eastern Catholic Churches.
• Traits: A community of Hellenic Christians who maintain their own liturgical traditions while in full communion with the Lion Pope. Preserves ancient rites and practices that predate the Great Schism.

Hellenic Reformist Church

• Analogue: Eastern Protestant Churches.
• Traits: A smaller denomination that arose from the Reformist movement within the Hellenic world. Emphasizes the authority of scripture, justification by faith, and the priesthood of all believers, while retaining certain Hellenic liturgical forms.

White Spring Reformism, North Valean Church, Albion Church, etc.

• Analogue: Various Protestant denominations (Lutheranism, Anglicanism, Baptism).
• Traits: Prevalent in the United Nations of Vale (Vytalian Commonwealth, Vale-Proper, Niederung, partially in Arminus and Endeavor) and has significant presence in the Atlas Federation (Republic of Balto and Midgardian Democratic Republic). Rose up against corrupt church leadership. Emphasize personal faith, study of The Good Book, and a direct connection to Aslan without excessive clerical mediation. The Reformist movement of the 15th century, which led to significant religious conflicts in Eastern Sanus, directly contributed to the founding of Balto and Midgard as refugees fled to Solitas seeking religious freedom.

Rilianites (Wheeler Church)

• Analogue: Mormonism (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints).
• Traits: Founded by the prophet Rilian Wheeler, who claimed to have found a new Gospel of Aslan (based on the canonical story The Silver Chair). Initially persecuted, they settled in the Mortali Desert (South Eastern Sanus) and grew wealthy from oil and Dust discoveries, as well as giving the world the legendary weapons designer Jonathan Aslan Brunaz. They maintain distinctive practices and additional scriptures.

V. The Church and the Others

Relations with Horomazism (Rostram)

The relationship between the Breaker Faith and the ancient Horomazist tradition of Rostram has been long and complex. Queen Averis of Rostram was the first convert of that kingdom, and for a time Rostram was ruled by Table Breaker monarchs who brought their faith with them from the west. Yet the native Ahura Mazda faith, with its deep roots in Rostrami culture and identity, never vanished; it reasserted itself over the centuries, leading to periods of religious war and tension. Eventually, however, the two faiths settled into a fairly peaceful coexistence, recognizing that neither would fully displace the other. Queen Averis herself became venerated as a saint in the Table Breaker tradition — "The Warrior Queen" — and remarkably she is still celebrated by those who follow Ahura Mazda as well, for they remember her as a great queen who ruled with justice and wisdom, regardless of her foreign faith.

Relations with Faunus and the Animal God Faith

The Table Breaker Faith, founded on the teachings of Aslan the Lion (traditionally depicted as a Lion Faunus), has always had a complicated relationship with Faunus identity. Aslan was a Faunus. The disciples included Faunus. The Lion Pope has, at various points in history, been a Faunus himself — including, on several occasions, a Lion Faunus. Religious institutions were often sanctuaries for Faunus in otherwise hostile societies.

Yet the universalist message of the Table Breaker Faith — that Aslan died for all, Human and Faunus alike — was not always embraced by Faunus radicals who sought a more particularist faith centered on Faunus identity alone. The tension between particularism and universalism would eventually produce schism and debate, though never a formal separation of the kind seen in other traditions.

The Animal God faith itself existed long before the Table Breaker religion. It was a syncretic tradition that merged various Faunus pantheons into a single divine figure, worshipped as the source of all Faunus life and identity. This faith survived on Menagerie and in remote Faunus communities across Remnant, preserving cultural traditions that the Table Breaker Faith sometimes suppressed in its zeal for universal conversion.

In the 19th century, as Faunus identity began to coalesce around the idea of a unified "Faunuskind" (itself a relatively new concept), some thinkers attempted to reconcile the Animal God tradition with Table Breaker theology. They treated the Animal God as a precursor or avatar of the Emperor Above, drawing parallels to certain early Christian debates about the nature of Christ. This "Animal God Sect" of the Table Breaker Faith argued that Aslan was a creation of the Animal God, not the divine Son, and emphasized his Faunus nature over his universal message. It did not survive as a major movement, but its echoes can still be found in certain syncretic practices among Faunus communities on the margins of the Table Breaker world.

Currently, in the aftermath of the Faunus Wars and the recent rise of the White Fang as a terrorist organization, the religious side of the conflict is being brought up again, as WF religious-political radicals are aiming to ignite the global Race Holy War, with one of their many arguments against the current world order being the dominance of the Breaker Faith. To the Faunus radicals, Aslan is "The Tamed Lion" — a figure that was created by the humans to enslave the Faunus spiritually.

Grimm Cultism

Grimm Cultists have always been a bane of Remnant as some people are drawn to worship Darkness and to engage in behavior and views that are damned by their kin for various reasons. Every productive society has been fighting Grimm Cultists, both within itself, when Cults operate undercover, and without, when entire countries and even societies are worshipping Darkness, such as the Xolotl Empire of Western Sanus or the Dark Hellenic Empire that took over half of North-Eastern Sanus and tried to spread in all directions.

Since its creation, the Church of the Table Breaker has always been at the forefront of the struggle against Cultists, amongst other enemies of all people inhabiting Remnant. But sometimes, it too was infected with rot, as various heresies were trying to take root in its soil.

One such was the so-called Church of the Ashen Bride, which traces its origins to the teachings of Viridis Serpens, a supposed nun who lived in the 2nd century AMF. Serpens questioned the full divinity of the Table Breaker, arguing instead that Aslan was merely a divine instrument — a puppet, as it were, of the True Divine — and that further revelations would be forthcoming through a messianic figure she called the Ashen Bride.

Serpens was in fact the Green Sorceress of Underland, the very same who ensnared King Caspian's son and attempted to make him her slave so she could conquer Narnia, as recorded in the Book of The Silver Chair. It is entirely possible that she was a worshipper of the mythical Witch Queen of Grimm, for her doctrine served to prepare the way for a counterfeit messiah.

The Church has repeatedly condemned this teaching as damnable heresy. In the year 1598 AMF, Terrence II, the Low King of Justice and Steward of the Second Chair, issued an encyclical letter from the Hall of Judgment in Aelia Paravel declaring the Ashen Bride doctrine anathema. This letter, addressed to the faithful across all continents, warned that the heresy opens the door to every darkness — it claims the Table Breaker's work incomplete, awaiting a "true messiah", which invites the rise of false prophets and deceivers. In its most virulent forms it has allied itself with the cults that worship the Grimm as agents of necessary destruction, and with those who secretly honor the Ashen One, another form of the White Witch herself.

Today, the Church of the Ashen Bride survives only in scattered secret cells, infiltrating Table Breaker communities and seeking to seduce the powerful and the righteous into debauchery and apostasy, using theological confusion as a weapon to divide the faithful while they advance the ancient agenda of the Witch Queen of Grimm. The various branches of the Table Breaker military orders, as well as law enforcement and state/national security agencies, remain vigilant against them, but the heresy has proven remarkably resilient, adapting to changing times and continuing to lure the unwary into its shadows.

VI. Table Breaker Militant Orders

To survive and thrive in the world of Remnant, the Table Breaker Faith has always been not just a productive force, but also a protective one. This martial and charitable aspect is embodied in its Military-Religious Orders — the sword and shield of the Church. While the advent of national armies, private security, and the formalized Hunter systems has diminished their scale from the medieval zenith, the Orders remain a potent, elite force of devout warriors and social workers, integrated into the modern world yet bound by ancient oaths.

Structure and Ethos

The Orders are structured as disciplined, hierarchical brotherhoods and sisterhoods, blending monastic life with martial excellence. Their ranking system is streamlined and meritocratic, focused on leadership responsibility rather than aristocratic privilege.

• Squire/Novice — A candidate undergoing initial training and evaluation, not yet a full member.
• Knight/Dame — A fully sworn member, a professional combatant equivalent in skill to a junior Hunter Academy student. They are the Order's backbone.
• Knight/Dame Sergeant — Commands a Combat Four, the primary fireteam.
• Knight/Dame Lieutenant — Leads a Combat Dozen (a platoon of 12 warriors, plus a deputy).
• Knight/Dame Captain — Commands a Half-Hundred, a company of 44 combatants with attached support.
• Knight/Dame Major — Commands a Battalion (~200 personnel), the primary independent operational unit, with its own dedicated staff and logistical tail.
• Knight/Dame Commander — Leads a Combat Thousand, a formidable regional force typically consisting of several battalions.
• Master/Mistress — Commands a Provincial or Regional Chapter (e.g., the Kitezhgrad Chapter of St. Edmund might have 5,000 members, only ~40% of whom are frontline combatants, reflecting the Order's diverse mission).
• High Master/Mistress — Oversees the Order's operations within an entire Subkingdom.
• Grandmaster/Grandmistress — Leads the Order at the Kingdom level.
• Supreme Grandmaster/Grandmistress — Resides in Aelia Paravel, providing spiritual and strategic guidance for the Order worldwide.

Advancement is based on proven merit, deeds, and the demonstrated competency to lead at the next level. Promotions are not automatic; a candidate must also wait for a position to become available. The Church provides extensive leadership and administrative training to newly promoted members, ensuring they are prepared for their increased responsibilities.

The Paladin and the StonebreakerOrders deploy two primary types of specialized warriors who work in concert:

• Paladins — The armored fist. They utilize modernized versions of traditional plate armor (enhanced with ballistic composites) and wield a mix of heavy melee weapons (swords, maces, warhammers) and modern firearms. They are the anvil — durable, drawing attention, and holding the line.
• Stonebreakers — The monastic martial artists. These monks and nuns forgo heavy armor for mobility, mastering Aura-based martial arts to an extraordinary degree. They fight with their bodies, light weapons, and Dust-infused techniques. They are the hammer — exploiting openings created by the Paladins to deliver devastating, precise strikes. In tactical terms, Paladins are the tanks and support, while Stonebreakers are the high-damage flankers and skirmishers.

The Grand Monastery in Aelia Paravel and major chapterhouses contain Armories and Asceticums — training centers dedicated to forging and maintaining these two complementary warrior traditions.

The Orders Themselves

These are the military-religious brotherhoods and sisterhoods, each with a specific focus and patron.

Order of Saint Peter

• Patron: Peter the Magnificent, the sword-wielding king.
• Specialization: Sword mastery, leadership, and command. The elite among knights.

Order of Saint Edmund

• Patron: Edmund the Just, the king who redeemed his past sins.
• Specialization: Close-quarters combat (maces, axes, fist-fighting). Many members are penitents seeking to atone for past crimes through service. Includes both warriors and social workers.

Order of Saint Susan

• Patron: Susan the Gentle, the queenly archer.
• Specialization: Long-range combat (bows, crossbows, sniper rifles).

Order of Saint Lucy

• Patron: Lucy the Valiant, the queenly healer.
• Specialization:
  • Sisters of Lucy: Medics, herbalists, midwives. They run temple-hospitals. Known for their work building bridges between Humans and Faunus.
  • Shields of Lucy: Warrior nuns specializing in protecting the healers and their hospitals.

Order of Saint Reepicheep

• Patron: Reepicheep, the valiant Mouse knight.
• Specialization: Fencers, scouts, and rangers. Masters of swift and precise combat.

Order of Saint Caspian

• Patron: Caspian the seafaring king.
• Specialization: Naval and aerial operations. Members often serve on fleet vessels.

Order of Glenstorm

• Patron: Glenstorm, the strategist.
• Specialization: Military intelligence, strategy, tactics, and logistics. Commanders and staff officers, not frontline fighters.

Order of the Dead Hill

• Patron: Wimbleweather, the giant of Deadman's Hill.
• Specialization: Slaying giant Grimm (Goliaths, Death Stalkers, etc.). They employ heavy weapons, siege equipment, heavy vehicles — both tracked (APCs and IFVs) and walking (Mechawalkers).

Order of Rhindon

• Patron: Rhindon, the legendary sword of the kings of Narnia.
• Specialization: The Church's weaponsmiths and armorers. They forge and bless weapons for the other orders.

Order of Clive

• Patron: C.S. Lewis, the apologist and writer.
• Specialization: Theology, education, and media. They codify doctrine, write prayer books, and broadcast over the CCTnet. Often come into conflict with other orders over matters of doctrinal purity.

Order of Digory and Polly

• Patron: Digory the Seeker and Polly the Constant.
• Specialization: Exploration, relic recovery, and archaeological preservation. They seek to recover and protect holy sites and artifacts from the faith's earliest days.

The Orders in the Modern Era

Today, the combined membership and associates of all Table Breaker Orders across Remnant number in the low millions. Their role has evolved from being the primary defense against Grimm to serving as elite force multipliers and humanitarian pillars.

An Order battalion is a smaller, more elite formation than a comparable military unit. The average Knight or Dame is considered the equal of three professional soldiers or ten irregulars. They specialize in high-risk operations: leading militias, reinforcing settlements, hunting specific dangerous Grimm, and conducting counter-insurgency with a focus on minimizing collateral damage. They often operate alongside, or are attached to, regular military units and Hunter teams.

The heart of their modern identity lies in humanitarian and social missions. The Orders are deeply embedded in civil society, running a vast network of charities and institutions:

• Education and Outreach: Operating schools, orphanages, and community centers. Teaching practical skills, basic Grimm defense, and providing religious instruction.
• Social Support: Aiding the homeless, single mothers, widows, and victims of conflict. Providing counseling, food, clothing, and shelter.
• Medical Care: Running temple-hospitals and clinics, often in underserved regions.
• Diplomacy: Their apolitical, faith-based nature allows them to act as mediators and provide aid in regions where state actors are mistrusted.

VII. Doctrine and Practice (added missing section number)

Sacraments

The Church observes several sacred rites, including:

• Baptism by Water: Initiation into the faith.
• The Table Feast (Eucharist): Commemoration of Aslan's sacrifice.
• Holy Orders: Ordination of clergy.
• Matrimony: Blessing of marriage.
• Penance: Confession and absolution.

Liturgical Calendar

The Church year is rich with seasons and feasts, including:

• Advent: Preparation for the coming of Aslan.
• Aurora: The Resurrection — the highest holy day.
• Saints' Days: Celebrations of the disciples and holy men and women throughout history.

Prayer and Devotion

The faithful are encouraged to maintain a rule of prayer, including daily reading of The Good Book, regular attendance at worship, and personal devotion.

Polygamy

The Breaker Faith permits polygamy but does not actively encourage it. It is neither banned nor promoted, regarded as a matter of personal conscience and cultural context rather than a central doctrinal issue. This stance reflects the faith's long history across diverse cultures and its emphasis on the heart's intent over legalistic uniformity.

VIII. Symbolism and Devotional Practice

The visual and physical language of the Breaker Faith is rich with meaning, drawing directly from its central narrative of sacrifice and redemption.

The primary colors of the Church are gold and red. Gold is reminiscent of the Lion's fur and the royal and divine nature of Aslan. Red represents the blood spilled in his sacrifice upon the Stone Table, the cost of salvation. These colors appear in liturgical vestments, ecclesiastical banners, and the heraldry of the Orders.

The central symbol of the faith is the "X" Cross, which represents the Stone Table as seen from above — the table upon which fate itself was broken. This simple yet profound emblem adorns churches, vestments, and the personal effects of the faithful. It serves as a constant reminder of the central act of redemption: the Table that once held the law of death now stands broken, its power undone.

For daily prayer, the traditional posture is a bowed head with crossed arms over the chest or clasped hands — a gesture of humility and supplication before the Divine. However, the distinctive gesture of the Breaker Faith is the Sign of the Table and the Broken Table.

• This sacred motion begins with both hands held out flat in front of the body, palms facing each other and fingers extended, the hands touching at the edges to form a single, unified plane — representing the Table as it was, whole and unbroken, the symbol of fate and the law of death.
• Then, in a deliberate and meaningful motion, the hands are separated outward, still held flat, now apart from each other — representing the Table broken, the power of death shattered, the way to life opened wide.
• The transitional motion between these two positions is considered a profound act of devotion, recalling the moment of the Breaking itself.

This gesture is used at key moments in worship, during personal prayer, and as a silent profession of faith in times of trial or danger.

- - -

Written by @Colobopsis with some editing by me.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Saint Polly – Vacuoan Dust-Crawler Technical Profile

Official Designation: VLS-1099 "Saint Polly" (Vacuo Land Ship)
Builder: Vacuo Steamworks (VSW)
Home Port: Vacuo
Commissioned: 1988 AMF
Current Captain: "Ma" Kaelin Hubbard – former Shade Huntress, retired, now full-time landship skipper.
Motto: "We don't break the desert. The desert breaks the weak."

Physical Specifications

• Length: 140 feet (42.7 m)
• Width: 38 feet (11.6 m) at the widest point (wheel housings)
• Height: 68 feet (20.7 m) to the top of the observation bridge
• Decks:Five (including partial mezzanine levels)
  • Deck 1 (Bilge/Engineering): Twin Fire-Wind Dust reactors, main cargo hold (25-ton capacity), water reclamation plant, four half-track scout vehicle bays.
  • Deck 2 (Crew & Utility): Crew quarters (15 bunks), small sickbay (4 beds + surgical suite), large fresh-water tanks (holds 12,000 gallons / ~45,000 liters, enough for 30 days in the deep desert).
  • Deck 3 (Passenger): 80 passenger berths – mix of affordable double cabins and four private luxury staterooms with private balconies.
  • Deck 4 (Social): Grand Dining & Dancing Hall (can seat 90, converts to dance floor with retractable stage), observation lounge with reinforced panoramic windows, semi-open promenade with armored roofing shutters.
  • Deck 5 (Command): Bridge, communications room, captain's quarters, forward and aft gun platforms, Bullhead landing pad (capacity: one standard Atlesian Bullhead or two light civilian craft).

Mobility & Suspension

• Advanced Bogey Suspension System: Six massive independently articulated wheels arranged in a rover-style bogey configuration. Each wheel is 14 feet tall, with adaptive treads that can switch between deep-sand "paddle" mode and hard-pack "road" mode. Hydraulic actuators and Gravity Dust assists allow the ship to "crawl" over 12-foot dunes and rock outcroppings without high-centering.
• Top Speed: 28 mph (45 km/h) on firm desert floor; drops to 12 mph in soft dunes.
• Range: ~1,200 miles (1,930 km) on a full Dust load before needing reactor recharge/refuel.

Power & Environmental Systems

• Primary Power: Dual Fire-Wind VSW Dust reactors (each roughly the size of a Bullhead engine pod). Fire crystals provide raw torque; Wind crystals generate lift-assist and cooling airflow through the drivetrain.
• Climate Control: Integrated Ice-Fire Dust matrix. Ice Dust panels in the outer hull keep interiors cool during blistering Vacuo days; Fire Dust radiant heaters prevent freezing at night when temperatures plummet. The system automatically balances to maintain comfortable 68–72 °F (20–22 °C) even in 120 °F (49 °C) external heat.
• Defenses:
  • Two heavy rotary cannons (forward starboard and aft port mounts) – 20 mm Lightning-Dust-fed, 800 rounds per minute, effective against medium Grimm up to 1,500 yards.
  • Standard Vacuo "Howler" sonic emitters and bright-beam searchlights for repelling lesser Grimm at night.
  • Optional Huntsman escort contract (highly recommended for deep-desert routes).

Capacity

• Passengers: 200 (standard configuration)
• Crew: 15 (includes captain, engineers, gunners, steward, medic, and comms officer)
• Cargo: 25 tons (food, trade goods, mined Dust or minerals, spare parts)
• Support Vehicles: Four half-track scout "taxis" – each seats 8, lightly armed, used for shore excursions or emergency evacuation.

History

Landships had been tried in many locations across Remnant, but it is in Vacuo around the 1920 AMF that the idea really came to life. They took the core concept — a massive rolling home that could cross the endless sand — and made it Vacuoan: tough, practical, and just a little bit mad. The Vacuoans took to them like a sidewinder to sand, and even with Grimm Wyrms lurking beneath the dunes, they remain very popular means of transport.

Originally named simply "Crawler Nine," the Saint Polly was build in 1988 AMF and spent her first three years hauling ore and refugees between remote Dust mines and the coastal settlements of Hispania and Osyrus for the Dedun Mining Company. In 1992 she was officially christened Saint Polly by her new owner, former Huntress "Ma" Kaelin Hubbard. The ship received her name the same day her twin rotary cannons were bolted on.

Over the next decade the Saint Polly evolved. Ma kept upgrading her: the bogey suspension was refined after a disastrous 1994 sand-sink incident; the Bullhead pad was added when Atlas started selling surplus airships cheaply; the dining hall was expanded when the ship began taking on paying passengers who wanted to "experience the real Vacuo" without dying of heatstroke or Grimm.

Today she runs a semi-regular circuit: Last Oasis in Osyrus, Shade Academy supply drop, remote nomadic clan meets, then back through the deep dunes to Lusitania's glittering casinos. Wealthy tourists from Vale and Mistral book the private staterooms for "Desert Safari" packages. Nomads use her as neutral ground for trade and marriages. Huntsman teams sometimes hitch rides when they need to reach Grimm outbreaks far from any Kingdom road.

She has survived three major Grimm assaults, two catastrophic sandstorms, and one attempted hijacking by a rogue bandit crew. Each scar is proudly left visible on her hull — painted over in bright Vacuo gold so everyone can see she's still rolling.

Current Reputation: Reliable, rowdy, and romantic in that gritty Vacuo way. Passengers either leave swearing they'll never ride another landship… or they book their next trip before they even disembark.

- - -

I was inspired by German inventor Johann Christian Bischoff's 1927 idea for gigantic landships to move across deserts like liners moved across oceans. Thanks to Dust and mechashift tech, these great behemoths could actually work-And with anti-Grimm defenses, could survive it. It adds some fun flavor to Vacuo. Though naturally the Saint Polly and other more modern Landships would have a more sophisticated suspension and wheel system.


View: https://youtu.be/hBlVosfvEgQ

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The RWBY common room was quiet for once, filled only with the soft metallic clicks and whirs of tools.

Ruby sat cross-legged on the floor, Crescent Rose laid out in front of her like a patient on an operating table. Various small parts were neatly arranged on a cloth beside her. Mia sat right next to her, legs tucked under herself, watching with wide, fascinated eyes.

Ruby picked up a small, intricate piece and held it up so Mia could see. "Okay, so this right here is an actuator. It helps the scythe shift from its compact form into the big scythe mode super fast. Without it, the whole mechashift system would be way too slow."

Mia's ears perked straight up. "That's super cool! So it makes the big blade go whoosh?"

"Exactly!" Ruby grinned, clearly delighted by the enthusiasm. "And this little guy over here is the recoil compensator. It stops my arms from getting ripped off when I fire it in scythe mode."

Mia leaned in closer, absolutely mesmerized. "You're so smart, Auntie Ruby…"

Ruby laughed softly and ruffled Mia's hair. "Aww, thanks, kiddo."

There was a beat of silence as Mia watched Ruby carefully reattach a component. Then, in the most innocent voice imaginable, Mia asked:

"Auntie Ruby… will you be my new mommy?"

Ruby froze.

Her face went beet red in an instant. She fumbled with the actuator, nearly dropping the entire upper receiver of Crescent Rose onto the floor.

"W-wha—?! Mia?!" Ruby squeaked, voice cracking several octaves higher than normal. "I—I'm not— I mean, I'm not really interested in— um— that!"

Mia tilted her head, ears flopping cutely. "But… do you like me and Papa?"

Ruby's blush deepened to an alarming shade. "Of course I do! I love you and Jaune! You're both super important to m—"

She realized what she'd just said and slapped both hands over her mouth, eyes wide in horror.

Mia's face lit up like the sun. "Yay! Then you can be my new mommy!"

Ruby waved her hands frantically. "N-no no no! Mia, sweetie, I can't be your new mommy. I'm way too young, I don't know your papa that well yet, and I still have to get through all of Hunter school and become a real Huntress!"

Mia puffed out her cheeks in protest. "But you said you love Papa and me! What's the big deal?"

Ruby groaned, covering her face with both hands. "It's… it's complicated. I'm really nervous, okay? I really like your papa, but I think he still sees me like a little sister…"

Mia's eyes sparkled with pure four-year-old wisdom. "Then you should just kiss Papa! Then you'll get married like in my storybooks!"

Ruby made a high-pitched squeaking noise that sounded like a teakettle. "Mia—!"

The door to the common room slid open.

Jaune stepped inside, still a little sweaty from a light training session, towel around his neck. "Hey, what's going on in here? Everything okay?"

Mia immediately opened her mouth, bright and eager. "Papa! Auntie Ruby wants to—"

Ruby lunged forward and slapped her hand gently over Mia's mouth, face burning crimson.

"NOTHING!" she squealed, voice cracking again. "Everything's totally normal! We're just talking about weapons! Yep! Weapons and… actuators! Super normal stuff!"

Jaune blinked slowly, looking between Ruby's panicked expression and Mia's mischievous, sparkling eyes.

"…You sure?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ruby nodded so fast her head might've fallen off. "Yup! Super sure! One hundred percent normal!"

Mia giggled behind Ruby's hand, clearly enjoying herself.

Jaune scratched the back of his head, confused but smiling. "Alright… Well, if you two are done with your very normal weapon talk, I was thinking we
could all get some ice cream before dinner."

Ruby let out a tiny, relieved whimper and slowly removed her hand from Mia's mouth.

Mia grinned up at her innocently. "Ice cream sounds good, new mommy."

Ruby made another strangled noise and buried her face in her hands.

Jaune just looked even more confused.

"…Did I miss something?"

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The classroom was quiet, filled only with the soft scratching of Glynda's pen and the occasional cheerful hum from Mia.

Professor Port's field class had taken Jaune and the rest of the first-years deep into the Emerald Forest for the day, leaving Glynda in charge of watching Mia. She had put up her usual stern front when the request came — "I am not a babysitter, Mister Arc" — but secretly, she had been quietly pleased. Every teacher at Beacon had been subtly competing for the chance to spend time with the adorable four-year-old, and Glynda had "won" this round.

Mia sat at a small desk Glynda had pulled up beside her own, surrounded by crayons and drawing paper. She was working with intense concentration, tongue poking out slightly as she colored.

Glynda glanced over every so often, a tiny, hidden smile on her lips as she reviewed mission reports.

After a while, Mia hopped off her chair and toddled over, proudly holding up her latest masterpiece.

"Look, Miss Glynda! This one is a Grimm… but it's a friendly Grimm! He likes flowers."

Glynda examined the drawing — a rather lumpy black blob with sharp teeth and what appeared to be daisies growing out of its head.

"It's very creative," she said, voice warm despite her usual stern tone. "I particularly like how you gave him a smile. Most people forget Grimm can have personality in art."

Mia beamed and ran back to her desk, returning moments later with two more drawings.

"This one is a fairy! She has purple wings and she grants wishes!"

"Lovely use of color," Glynda complimented, nodding seriously. "And this one?"

"A witch! She's nice though. She gives kids candy instead of turning them into frogs."

Glynda's lips twitched. "An excellent policy. Very progressive witchcraft."

Mia puffed up with pride, then suddenly climbed into Glynda's lap without asking, settling herself comfortably against the older woman's chest.

"Miss Glynda…" she asked, looking up with those big blue eyes, "will you be my new mommy?"

Glynda froze mid-signature.

For a long moment, the only sound was the distant ticking of the classroom clock.

Finally, Glynda set her pen down with careful precision. "Mia, I am far too old for that. Besides, I am your father's teacher. That would be… highly inappropriate."

Mia tilted her head, ears flopping. "But you're super old, so you're suuuuper smart and strong! And you're only as old as my grandma, and she's having another baby!"

Glynda's face went bright red.

Mia gasped and slapped both hands over her mouth, eyes wide. "Oops… I wasn't supposed to tell anyone! Daddy wanted it to be a surprise for everyone!"

Glynda stared at the little girl, cheeks still flushed. She took a slow, steadying breath and spoke calmly, though her voice was slightly higher than usual.

"That's… wonderful news for your grandmother Isabel. However, I am still far too old, and Jaune is my student. It simply isn't possible."

Mia pouted, crossing her arms. "But you like my Papa, right?"

Glynda hesitated, then answered carefully, "I… respect your father a great deal. He has grown tremendously since he arrived at Beacon."

Mia's pout deepened. "Then why can't you be my new mommy? You'd be a super cool mom!"

Glynda looked down at the small, earnest face staring up at her. For just a moment, her usual stern mask cracked, and something soft and almost wistful flickered in her eyes.

She gently brushed a stray curl behind Mia's ear.

"Thank you, Mia," she said quietly. "That's very sweet of you to say."

Mia grinned triumphantly, clearly believing she was winning the argument.

Glynda, however, simply picked up her pen again, though the corners of her mouth were still faintly turned upward.

"Now, finish your drawings, little one. And perhaps we can keep the 'new mommy' discussion between us for today."

Mia giggled and nodded, already reaching for a bright pink crayon.

"Yes, Miss Glynda!"

Glynda allowed herself one small, secret smile as she returned to her paperwork, the weight of a certain four-year-old still warm and comfortable in her lap.

Some battles, she decided, were better left gracefully unresolved.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The scroll's hologram flickered to life in the JNPR dorm common room, casting Mordred Pendragon's grinning face in sharp relief against the late-night shadows. She was lounging in some tavern somewhere—probably Mistral, judging by the rowdy singing in the background—tankard in one hand, the other waving enthusiastically.

Jaune sat cross-legged on the floor, scroll propped on his knees, looking equal parts flustered and hopeful. The rest of the room was suspiciously empty. His teammates had mysteriously vanished the moment he'd said, "I need to call Auntie Mordred for advice."

"Auntie Mordred?" Jaune said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I... I have girls fighting to become my girlfriend. What do I do?"

Mordred's laugh boomed out of the speakers loud enough to rattle the windows. "What are you, a pussy? TAKE THEM ALL! Only a coward would let them fight over you! That way, everyone wins!"

Jaune blinked. "Well... if you say so, Auntie!"

"Damn right! Strong warriors deserve strong partners—plural! Build yourself a proper war band!"

She leaned closer to the camera, peering past Jaune. Blake had been trying (and failing) to sneak past with a book, but Mordred's sharp eyes caught her instantly.

"Oi! What about this one?" Mordred jabbed a thumb toward Blake. "Cat ears, sneaky vibe—solid choice!"

Blake froze mid-step, ears flattening.

Jaune waved his hands frantically. "Oh, no—no! She's my rival's ex. It just wouldn't be right."

Mordred's eyebrows shot up. "Rival?"

"Yeah!" Jaune's face lit up like a kid talking about his favorite action figure. "We don't know each other well enough to be proper nemeses yet, but we're working on it!"

Mordred slammed her tankard down so hard the hologram glitched. "What kind of rival?"

Jaune leaned forward eagerly. "Adam Taurus."

Mordred went very still. "Wait wait wait... That cool edgy terrorist guy? Wants to rule over humanity and take revenge for Faunuskind's mistreatment?"

"Y-Yeah..." Jaune said, suddenly a little nervous. "I mean, he's my first rival and all, but he's actually pretty cool! He thinks all battles should have awesome soundtracks and awesome attacks and explosions! And he has a sword that's also a shotgun!"

Mordred's grin returned full force, wider than ever. "Well! That's good, Jaune! I'm very proud you found such a fantastic rival for your first!"

Jaune beamed. "Thanks! I'm pretty excited too!"

"Did he quote any classic literature?" she asked, leaning in conspiratorially.

Jaune nodded vigorously. "He actually quoted parts of Moby Dick—not even the Space Quest movies version!"

Mordred slapped the table again, roaring with laughter. "Oh, he's a keeper for sure! Proper dramatic flair, tragic backstory, stylish weapon— you've landed yourself a quality arch-nemesis, boy!"

Blake finally recovered enough to speak, stepping fully into frame with her arms crossed. "He's a terrorist."

Mordred waved a dismissive hand. "Details, details! Every good hero needs a worthy villain. And from what Jaune's saying, this Adam fellow's got standards!"

Jaune nodded solemnly. "We're planning our first proper showdown. Sunset thunderstorm backdrop. Epic finishers. The works."

Blake stared at him. "You're both insane."

Mordred cackled. "That's the spirit! Insanity's just passion with better marketing!"

She raised her tankard in a toast. "To Jaune Arc—may your battles be legendary, your women fierce, and your rival the most dramatic son of a bitch on Remnant!"

Jaune raised an imaginary glass. "To epic rivalries!"

Blake pinched the bridge of her nose. "I need new friends."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The afternoon sun filtered softly through the tall windows of the meeting lounge, one of multiple such elegant rooms at Beacon. It cast a gentle glow over the delicate tea set laid out on the table. Winter Schnee sat with perfect posture, her white uniform crisp as always, while Weiss poured them both another cup of tea.

"How has your assignment been going?" Weiss asked, stirring a small spoon of sugar into her cup.

"Acceptable," Winter replied, taking a measured sip. "I've been working with the Vale soldiers from Fort Celliwig. Most of them are competent enough. Far less annoying than Qrow, at least."

Weiss let out a small huff of amusement. "That's high praise coming from you."

Winter's lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. "Your classes seem to be progressing well. I've heard good reports."

Weiss was about to reply when the door to the lounge burst open.

Mia came running in, face streaked with tears, ears flat against her head, and her little fists rubbing at her eyes.

"Auntie Weissssss!" she wailed, making a beeline straight for her.

Weiss was on her feet in an instant, kneeling down and pulling the little girl into a tight hug. "Mia! What happened, sweetheart?"

"I-I got lost!" Mia sobbed, burying her face in Weiss's chest. "I didn't mean to! I tried to stay with my group when we went to the playground but I got lossst! I'm sorryyyyy!"

"Shh, it's okay," Weiss soothed, rubbing gentle circles on Mia's back. "You're safe now. Everything's alright."

Her scroll began to ring. Weiss answered it one-handed, still holding Mia close.

"Weiss?!" Jaune's voice came through, frantic and breathless. "Have you seen Mia—?!"

"I have her," Weiss said quickly, keeping her voice calm. "She's okay. She just got separated when the daycare class went out to the courtyard to play. She's fine, Jaune. I've got her."

"Oh thank God. Thank you, Weiss. Thank you." The relief in his voice was palpable.

"She's okay. I'll watch her until you get here."

"Thank you," Jaune repeated. "I'll be there soon."

Mia sniffled loudly. "I'm sorryyyy…!"

Jaune's voice softened. "I forgive you, Mia… But we need to talk about not wandering off from your group from now on, okay?"

Mia hiccuped, still sniffling. "Okay…"

"Okay. I love you, kitten. We'll be there soon."

"Love you, Papa…"

Weiss ended the call and carried Mia over to the table, settling the little girl on her lap. She could feel Winter's steady gaze on her and felt her cheeks flush slightly.

"This is Mia Arc," Weiss explained, "the daughter of a friend of mine. Mia, this is my older sister, Winter."

Mia peeked shyly from Weiss's chest, ears still drooping. "H-Hello…"

Winter's usually stern expression melted into something warm and gentle. She rose gracefully, walked around the table, and knelt so she was closer to Mia's eye level.

"It's nice to meet you, Mia," she said softly, offering a small smile.

Weiss gently stroked Mia's hair. "Winter is a Specialist in Atlas's military."

Mia blinked. "What's that?"

"She's a Huntress who works for the military," Weiss explained proudly. "And she's one of the best."

Winter's smile grew just a fraction. "I am very good."

Mia's eyes widened in awe. "Like… like a superhero?"

"Not quite that good," Winter replied modestly, though there was clear fondness in her tone, "but I do my best."

She unsheathed her custom rapier just enough for Mia to see the elegant blade. Mia reached out with one small hand and gently touched the flat of it, eyes sparkling.

"Wow…"

Winter carefully pulled the weapon back and sheathed it. "Would you like some snacks, Mia?"

"Chocolate?" Mia asked hopefully.

Weiss giggled. "Yes, lots of chocolate sweets."

"Yay!"

A few minutes later, the door opened again and Jaune stepped in, still looking slightly panicked. The moment he saw Mia safe in Weiss's lap (face now covered in chocolate) the tension drained from his shoulders.

"Papa!" Mia cheered, waving a sticky hand.

Jaune crossed the room quickly and pulled her into a tight hug, not caring about the mess. "There's my girl…"

"You're quite messy, little one," Winter gently admonished, and used a clean cloth to wipe Mia's face. Mia pouted but tolerated it.

Weiss stood and made the proper introduction. "Jaune, this is my sister, Specialist Winter Schnee. Winter, Jaune Arc."

Jaune shook Winter's hand firmly. "It's an honor to meet you, Specialist Schnee."

Winter nodded. "Likewise. Has Mia run off before?"

"Well," Jaune winced, as did Weiss. Jaune explained briefly what had happened a few weeks ago: Mia had accidentally wandered beyond the academy's defensive walls during playtime and encountered a Grimm. Yang and Ruby had taken care of it quickly, but everyone had been shaken.

Mia sniffled again and buried her face in Jaune's chest. "I'm sorry, Papa…"

Winter watched the interaction with a quiet, approving gaze.

"It's good to see a father who cares so deeply for his daughter."

Jaune nodded, still holding Mia close. "I do."

Winter gestured to the table. "If you have nowhere pressing to be, please join us."

Weiss beamed.

"Yes, please!"

They sat together, chatting lightly while Mia happily ate more sweets. Eventually Jaune had to cut her off.

"Alright, kitten. That's enough chocolate or you'll spoil your dinner."

Mia whined softly but eventually gave in with a dramatic pout.

Jaune stood, still holding Mia. "Thank you both. Really."

Winter gave a small nod. "I was glad to meet you both." She offered Mia a little wave. "Goodbye, Mia."

Mia waved back eagerly. "Bye-bye, Miss Winter!"

Jaune smiled at Weiss. "I'll see you at dinner?"

Weiss returned the smile, a touch softer than usual. "I look forward to it."

Once Jaune and Mia had left, the sisters sat back down to the table. Winter took another sip of tea, then spoke calmly.

"Jaune seems like a very nice young man."

Weiss's expression turned fond. "He is."

Winter paused, then added with the faintest blush coloring her cheeks, "Is he single?"

Weiss nearly dropped her teacup.

"What?!"

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Jaune returned from daycare with Mia perched happily on his shoulders, the afternoon sun warming the Beacon Campus. Mia was chattering away about her day when they rounded the corner and nearly bumped into a tall, broad-shouldered man with messy blond hair and a warm, easy-going smile.

Taiyang Xiao-Long stopped, blinking in surprise before his grin widened.

"Well hey there," he said, offering a hand. "You must be Jaune Arc. I've heard a lot about you. I'm Tai, Yang and Ruby's dad."

Jaune shifted Mia carefully and shook Tai's hand firmly with a smile. "Yes, sir. It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Xiao-Long."

"Tai is fine," he chuckled. "And who's this little adventurer?"

Mia leaned forward, ears perked with curiosity. "Are you my other grandpa?"

Tai laughed, warm and genuine. "Not quite, kiddo. But I was good friends with your papa's parents back when we were all at Beacon. Team STRQ and Team AARN ran into each other a lot."

Jaune's eyes lit up. "Wait, really? You knew my mom and dad?"

"Yep. Come on, let's head inside. I've got some time before I meet the girls. I'll tell you a couple stories."

They settled into the JNPR common room. Tai sat on the couch while Jaune made tea and brought out a plate of cookies. Mia sat nearby on the floor, happily playing with her stuffed rabbit.

Tai took a sip of tea and leaned back. "So, one time in Vacuo, we ran into this bandit warlord who called himself 'The Puppet Master.' And I mean that literally. The guy had these Aura strings he'd created himself. He could control puppets — people, Grimm, you name it — like they were marionettes."

Jaune leaned forward, fascinated. "That sounds insane."

"Oh, it was. Summer and your mom, Isabel, cornered the guy after the fight and asked him why he didn't just sell puppets or do puppet shows for a living. Make people happy, make money, the whole deal."

Tai grinned, clearly enjoying the memory.

"And the warlord just looks at them dead serious and goes, 'I don't want to do puppet shows. I want to be a warlord!'"

Jaune burst out laughing. "HAHAHAHA! What a weirdo!"

Tai chuckled along with him, then glanced over at Mia, who was making her rabbit "dance" across the carpet.

"So… how about you?" Tai asked gently. "What's the story with this little one?"

Jaune's smile softened. He watched Mia play for a moment before answering.

"I fell in love with a girl named Katy back in Radian. She was a cat Faunus… amazing, funny, kind. We were young. She got pregnant with Mia, but there were complications after the birth. Katy didn't make it." His voice grew quieter. "Before she passed, she made me promise I'd still come to Beacon. That I'd become a Huntsman for both of them."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "So I brought Mia here with me. Sometimes I wonder if I'm being selfish… dragging her into all of this instead of staying somewhere safer."

Tai nodded slowly, his expression understanding. "Being a father is tough. There's a lot of guilt that comes with it. A lot of mistakes. But from what I've seen, you're doing right by her. She'll understand one day. Kids always do."

He sighed softly.

Jaune smiled gratefully. "Thank you. Your daughters have been incredible too. They've all been so good with Mia. They really love her."

Tai's eyebrows rose with interest and a hint of amusement. "Oh? They do, do they?"

Before Jaune could respond, the door opened and RWBY walked in, fresh from their own afternoon training.

Yang's face lit up immediately. "Dad!"

Ruby practically tackled him in a hug. "You're here!"

Tai laughed, wrapping both his girls in a big bear hug while still holding Mia in his lap. "There are my troublemakers! Missed you two."

Weiss and Blake offered polite greetings, which Tai returned warmly.

"I'm here to steal Yang and Ruby for dinner," Tai said. "Figured we could catch up properly."

Jaune stood, nodding. "Of course. Have a great time."

Blake smiled. "Enjoy your evening."

Weiss gave a small nod. "It was nice meeting you, Mister Xiao-Long."

Mia hopped off Tai's lap and ran over, hugging Ruby and Yang tightly. "Bye-bye! Have fun with Other Grandpa!"

Tai chuckled. "Other Grandpa, huh? I like the sound of that."

As the three of them headed out, Tai slung an arm around each of his daughters' shoulders and said casually, "You know… I'm perfectly fine with either
of you marrying Jaune."

Both Ruby and Yang turned bright red.

"Dad!" they yelped in unison.

Tai's grin only widened. "Or both of you. I'm not picky."

"DAD!!!"

Tai laughed loudly as he walked them down the hall, clearly enjoying their embarrassment far too much.