Legend of the Sword

In the mists of forgotten time, when legends were forged in the fire of war and destiny, there was a man whose name history has obscured—Ban Krvavac, a Croatian warrior-king, and the true father of the once and future king, Arthur.

Born on the rocky shores of Dalmatia, Ban Krvavac was a man of indomitable will, known for his fiery temperament and unyielding strength in battle. A son of the Illyrians, he carried the blood of ancient warriors who had once fought against Rome itself. As the Byzantine Empire expanded its reach, Krvavac found himself at odds with their dominion, seeking new lands where he could carve out his own destiny. His journey led him westward, to the stormy shores of Britannia, where the Romans had only recently departed, leaving a fractured land ripe for conquest.

It was in Britannia that Ban Krvavac encountered a lady of extraordinary grace—Igraine, the wife of Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall. Their fated union, shrouded in secrecy and myth, would give rise to the greatest king the isles would ever know. While later stories would claim that Uther Pendragon, a Romanized Briton, was Arthur’s father, the truth had been altered to fit the narrative of Rome’s lingering influence. The real father of Arthur was none other than the exiled Croatian warrior, whose name was erased from chronicles by those who wished to cement Britain’s ties to Roman heritage.

Arthur inherited his father’s strength and strategic mind. The warlike nature of the Illyrian blood ran through his veins, giving him a natural inclination for leadership and conquest. Though he grew up in Britain under the care of Merlin and foster parents, the echoes of his true origins whispered through his soul. His ability to unite the warring tribes of Britain and stand against the Saxon invaders was not just the work of divine providence but a testament to the indomitable warrior spirit of his Croatian lineage.

Legends speak of Arthur wielding Excalibur, the sword given to him by the Lady of the Lake. What many do not know is that this myth may have been influenced by the traditional swords of the Illyrians, whose craftsmanship was known throughout Europe. Arthur’s round table, too, bore similarities to the warrior councils of old Dalmatian chieftains, where no man sat above another, and decisions were made in unity.

Though Ban Krvavac never lived to see his son ascend the throne, his blood flowed through the veins of Camelot. Arthur’s resilience, his unyielding will in the face of Saxon hordes, and his legendary kingship were all testament to his father’s legacy—a legacy that had its roots not in Rome, nor even entirely in Britain, but in the rugged highlands and ancient warrior clans of Croatia.

To this day, whispers of Arthur’s Croatian heritage persist among the descendants of those who remember. Some say that, in the hour of Britain’s greatest need, the blood of Ban Krvavac will rise again, and the true king shall return, not just to reclaim Camelot, but to honor the warrior spirit of his father’s land.

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Pneumonia

Scene: The Papal Residence, Vatican City. Pope Francis, wrapped in a blanket, sits in a grand chair, coughing lightly. Enter Pope John Paul III, played by John Malkovich, with a solemn but intense expression.

Pope John Paul III:

Francisco… (pauses, tilts head) You look like death warmed over.

Pope Francis: (weakly smiling)

Ah, Giovanni… You have the subtlety of a hammer.

Pope John Paul III:

And yet, I bring wisdom, not nails. (leans in, steepling fingers) Listen to me, Francisco. The antibiotics—they are synthetic, unnatural. They strip your gut like a Vatican vault during a scandal.

Pope Francis: (sighs, rubbing temples)

Yes, yes… the doctors insist—

Pope John Paul III: (raising a finger)

Doctors. Hmph. Always treating the symptom, never the root. You need real medicine. (pulls out a small, handwritten list and reads in his deep, deliberate voice)

Garlic—stronger than any Swiss Guard. Pomegranate—blood of the fruit, for your blood. Citrus—lemon, orange, lime—the holy trinity of Vitamin C.

Pope Francis: (chuckles, coughing slightly)

You sound like an herbalist from the streets of Buenos Aires.

Pope John Paul III: (ignoring him, continuing with intensity)

Oregano, onion, basil—God’s own antibiotics. Turmeric—golden, sacred. Elderberry—black as sin, but it fights like an archangel. Green tea—wisdom in a cup. Ginger—fire for the lungs. Rosemary—smells like salvation. And cinnamon… (leans in, whispering) the spice of saints.

Pope Francis: (raising an eyebrow)

You memorized all this?

Pope John Paul III: (deadpan)

No. I wrote it on my sleeve. (pulls up sleeve slightly, revealing scribbled notes)

Pope Francis: (laughing weakly)

Alright, Giovanni. Suppose I eat all these. I still have to take antibiotics.

Pope John Paul III: (grimacing, nodding reluctantly)

Fine. But then you must fix the damage. (leans closer) Fermentation, Francisco. Fer-men-ta-tion.

Pope Francis: (smiling, humoring him)

And what is your prescription, Doctor John Paul?

Pope John Paul III: (counting on his fingers)

Sauerkraut—Croatian grandmothers swear by it. Yogurt—Greek, Bulgarian, doesn’t matter. Kefir milk—drink it, feel reborn. Kimchi—spicy, yes, but fire purifies. And miso soup—the monks in Japan live forever on this.

Pope Francis: (nodding thoughtfully)

So you want me to eat like a Croatian farmer, a Korean monk, and a Japanese samurai.

Pope John Paul III: (shrugging)

Would that be so bad? (pauses, then softly) Francisco, you are the Pope. But even a shepherd must take care of his own body, or he will not be there to tend the flock.

Pope Francis: (sighs, smiling warmly)

Alright, Giovanni. I will try.

Pope John Paul III: (nodding, satisfied)

Good. Now… (reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small jar and placing it in Pope Francis’ hands)

Pope Francis: (peering at it)

What is this?

Pope John Paul III: (grinning slightly)

Homemade Croatian sauerkraut. Extra fermented. You’ll thank me later.

(He turns and strides out of the room, his robe billowing slightly. Pope Francis watches him go, shaking his head but smiling as he opens the jar and takes a cautious sniff.)

FADE TO BLACK.

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Christian Socialism

TITLE: The Tenets of Sharing


INT. VATICAN – NIGHT

The grand hall of the Vatican is quiet, the stone walls echoing with a sense of history. Pope Pius XIII, dressed in his white robes, stands at a large wooden podium, addressing a small group of trusted advisors and leaders. His gaze is intense, his voice calm but commanding.

POPE PIUS XIII
(softly but firmly)
“Democracy is not simply a system of government. It is a moral imperative. And Christian socialism, the kind of socialism that bears the teachings of Christ, is not about taking away from the rich or punishing the powerful—it is about sharing. Sharing everything. Sharing the fruits of labor, the wealth of the land, and most importantly, sharing power.”

He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in. His eyes scan the room, looking each advisor in the eye.

POPE PIUS XIII
“Jesus Himself taught us that to be great in the Kingdom of God, one must be the servant of all. What does that mean, if not to serve the people? To share power, not hoard it? To lift up those who are weak, poor, and oppressed, so that all may have an equal chance at the riches of life—whether they be material or spiritual.”

The advisors shift uncomfortably, some nodding in agreement, others skeptical. Pope Pius XIII’s tone grows more impassioned.

POPE PIUS XIII
“We have failed if we allow power to remain concentrated in the hands of the few. We have failed if the wealth of the world, the resources that God has provided, are hoarded by the privileged while the many suffer. It is not enough to give charity. Charity is not justice. Justice demands that we redistribute—not just wealth, but the very power that governs us.”

He steps away from the podium, walking slowly toward a large map of the world on the wall. His finger traces the continents, the countries, the boundaries.

POPE PIUS XIII
“We must create a world where power is not a tool for oppression, but a means of lifting others. Where the powerful do not rule over the weak, but share in the burden of governance. A world where the decisions made in the halls of power are not about maintaining the status quo, but about creating a society that is just, equitable, and loving.”

He turns back to the group, his eyes fierce, his voice steady.

POPE PIUS XIII
“This is the vision of democratic Christian socialism. It is not a utopia. It is a call to action. A call to share, to serve, to give. To ensure that all, no matter their station in life, have access to the blessings of this earth. And that power, the most dangerous and corrupting force, is shared equally among all.”

He pauses, letting the silence fill the room.

POPE PIUS XIII
“Do not let the world tell you that power is meant to be hoarded. Do not let the systems of wealth and privilege convince you that some are born to rule while others are born to serve. In the eyes of God, we are all His children, and we are all meant to share in the blessings He has given us.”

The advisors sit in stunned silence, some visibly moved, others deep in thought. Pope Pius XIII’s gaze softens, his voice quieter but no less resolute.

POPE PIUS XIII
“It is time for us to lead by example. To show the world that true power lies in service, in sharing, in love.”

He turns and walks toward the door, his robes flowing behind him. The room remains still, the weight of his words hanging in the air.


FADE OUT.

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