Pre Notice: The Summary (for some mystery reason) is eating up words and won't save correctly; I'll have to find a way to fix that later. For now, I'll just place the summary here.

"The flames of war are here: Tristain has been conquered, Germania is under attack, Gallia and Romania are content to sit on their laurels, and Albion threatens to swallow all other whole. But, amidst the turmoil of war, a small Tristain resistance group has picked up an odd stranger... Now the stage is set and the actors in play."

Duke Of War

Prologue - Stage Zero

["Do you fancy yourself a gambler?"]

Under the banner of hope the sword of rebellion is raised.

My personal motto is 'Keep your guard up when sleeping'.

You might never know when one moment you're cozy at home and then next you know your house is on fire and you're being kidnapped by bandits, or you're having a comfy sleep out in the wilderness and then you're suddenly being roasted over an open fire by trolls or something of the sort, or you wake up with two beautiful women in your arms but naught a memory to remember the day before! Really, it's almost impossible to get a good sleep these days!

As I slowly woke up, I pinched the bridge of my nose while grumbling noises escaped my mouth. My eyesight soon cleared up and I found myself in a room that I didn't recognize.

Last I recalled, I was on a ship (most of which I spent sunbathing on the upperdeck) that was sailing further into the ocean to determine some new fishing hot spots. A ferocious but phantom storm had abruptly appeared from nowhere and in my haste to escape I had ended up being thrown overboard by a powerful wave.

I was already pretty sure that it was going to be one of those days.

The room was rather small (smaller than an inn room) and didn't have much furnitures in it, dimly-lit (there were only two lamps in the room) which tinted everything in an orange hue, and had a rather worn-down feel to it (if only because it seemed to have been made entirely of solid earth and stone). It wasn't the worst place I've ever been to, it was actually somewhat homely. I didn't get a good look at my clothing but I was pretty sure that I was wearing clothes that were a bit too baggy for my taste.

I had some questions that I needed answer and luckily there was someone in the room with me.

The low lighting made it a tad difficult to determine some of her features but I am fairly confident in my description of the young lady... Albeit, I've never been confident at describing things to other.

The young lady had short hair (neck-length that framed her face quite nicely) of a paling gold color. The shape of her eyes were sharp but their expression was one of weariness (if the eyes where the windows to someone's soul then it was obvious to me that she had a scar on her) that only enhanced the appropriateness of her having steel-blue colored eyes. A red-ribbon was used to braid a single tail that barely hung over her shoulder and light freckles dotted over her cheeks. Dressed in a simple white blouse, black pants, and brown boots, she was definitely an attractive young lady.

Obviously my awakening hadn't gone unnoticed by her.

Her eyes moved from the book that she was reading on hand and what counted as a cross between a sneer and a smile (almost wry but not quite) appeared on her face.

"O, nunoct experiser tul, eis?"

Lords And Heavens forbid that the world made things easy for me...

I admit that her voice was not unpleasant to listen to (although it had that 'look at what the cat dragged back in!' kind of tone) but whatever language she had spoken had left me rather high and dry.

My confusion had apparently shown on my face because the young lady snapped her book shut and then spoke (from what I could tell due to the change in her accent) in an entirely different language than before.

"Vo etens pas decil, et vos?"

I could only lamely respond back, "Sorry but I have no idea what you're saying."

She seemed to catch my drift as a barely audible sigh left her lips. She shouted something at the door ("Nlam, eut Louise Francoise, huce!") and I could only guess at what she was saying. Though I suspected that she was calling someone over, possibly someone who could solve our language barrier problem.

With not much as else to do, I simply waited in bed until something new happened.

It didn't take very long for my ears to pick up several sets of footsteps coming my way.

The door opened up with a creak and shambling moan as a young lady (with the pinkest hair I have ever seen to date - it was tied up into a long pony-tail by the way) walked in. She was dressed in a similar manner as the other female (white blouse, black pants, brown boots) but with quite a few pieces of armor on her (including a belt for a weapon) plus a tattered-edge cloak as well.

Unlike my golden-haired keeper who looked like a young lady on the cusp of being a young adult, this newcomer was a young lady in that she had the youthful appearance of a teenager.

A quick conversation between the two females began and then soon ended.

The newcomer faced me with a questioning frown and her amber-pink eyes (that glittered somewhat golden, which was probably a trick of the lighting) looked at me with a less than amused expression.

Well, sorry for not being up to your standard, whatever they are...

The youth pulled out some kind of short sword from her belt and began chanting a spell. I honestly did not like the fact that she had it pointed at me but I reigned in my impulse to run away; if they had wanted to zap me dead then could have done it anytime before I woke up. With a final flourish of her sword, there was suddenly a slight lump in my throat that was all too easily gone after a few simple coughs. Objectively, that was true and all that did happen... but since it was happening to me, I may have exaggeratedly hacked and wheezed a few times more than needed.

Naturally, I complained. "...By Oth's All-Seeing Eye, were you trying to suffocate me?!"

"No. That was a translation spell and I see it's working perfectly," the spell-caster replied flatly.

I noted that her bell-like voice (with a hint of authority in them) fitted her young appearance rather perfectly, though that only meant that she was the kind who appeared cuter if she simply kept quiet.

I took a deep breath to calm myself down and then cupped a part of my face with a hand, "It's also a tad uncomfortable, if I may add."

"Noted," she said kindly, "but I suggest you man up and get over it," and then quickly stated in dismissal.

I could already tell that this youth was going to quite the handful in dealing with.

Ignoring me at the moment, the youth addressed the other occupant in the room. "Montmorency, I can handle things from here."

The golden-haired young lady seemed to have expected that sort of order, giving a small nod as she wordlessly left the two of us alone. The pink-haired newcomer was swift to take over the now open chair with an arm resting over the nearby table and her legs crossed.

I noticed that she didn't actually sheath her sword either, as it remained in her free hand that idly hung by her side.

I couldn't tell if that was because she didn't trust me or if because it was just a force of habit. Admittedly, I wasn't bothered with it all too much (I've been through at least three other similar occasions like this). Though I awfully wished that I had my sword on me too since I felt rather defenseless in my current state.

Ahem, anyways, the youth quickly settled into her seat (in return, I sat at the edge of the bed to properly face her) and she immediately spoke in an authoritative tone, "Who are you?"

Of course, I wasn't exactly in the best of moods to play along. "Where I come from it's considered rude to ask for someone's name without telling yours first."

Obviously, she didn't like my attitude (her previous neutral face of distaste became that of a small frown) but she kept her cool. With a hmphed, she introduced herself. "I am Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere."

"That's a very long name," I thought aloud before answering with my own. "I'm Siegeinherd - people call me Sigrd for short," I casually leaned back as I stared up at the ceiling, "As for who I am, well, I'm a Tactician."

"A tactician? So you're a strategist of some sort?" She questioned me in that 'I don't believe that' tone.

"That's certainly one name we're known as but the formal title these days is Tactician."

The youth (ah, I should start calling her Louise) seemed like she either wanted to fold her arms or let her head rest on her hand. "I have never heard of such a profession."

Normally I would have been quite shocked if somebody didn't know what a Tactician was (everybody knew!) but I had long figured that I wasn't exactly in familiar territory. It was pretty much all confirmed when she didn't react to my name at all (not to gloat or anything, but I'm pretty famous back home).

I nodded at her. "I'm not surprised, it's rather rare even from where I come from."

"And where exactly do you come from?"

"Well, that would depend; you found me shipwrecked or perhaps washed ashore, didn't you?" She didn't give me an answer but I continued anyways. "So I suppose that would mean that I come from somewhere far away across the vast oceans. That reminds me, whatever happened to my clothes and sword?"

She raised a brow, "I thought you were a tactician; why would you need a sword?"

"I like to travel, you know, and encountering bandits - sadly - is a rather common occurrence. So learning how to fight with a sword was a necessity if I wanted to defend myself."

Louise merely hmphed at me again, "We'll see about returning your sword to you but - as for your clothes - they're by the corner over there."

Following her finger, it didn't take long for me to spot the neatly folded (how nice of them) pile that were my clothes. I got off the bed and inspected them: they were ragged but still serviceable for my needs. "Well... could I get some privacy?"

For a moment there, I thought that she was just going to keep staring at me but she sighed and then adjusted her seat to face the other way. I guess that's the best I can get for now.

Reflecting on my current situation as I shuffled around and changed clothes... I was stranded and basically on my own (again). Though it wasn't anything new that I haven't faced before, the situation still made my stomach squirmed as though I had a squid inside of it (ugh). I suppose I don't have much else to do but to figure out where exactly do I stand in all of this mess.

"So, hey, Louise," I started, "Mind explaining to me what's going on around here?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Call it a hunch. If I said 'Oh, thanks for nursing me to health, I'll be on my way out now!' I don't think you would just let me up and leave, now would you? I can tell you have a problem. Who knows, maybe you'll feel better after talking about it?"

There was a silent pause before she spoke, a distant yet palpable tension in her voice, "...A little more than two years ago, the nation of Tristain was a beautiful and peaceful place. But it's sister nation of Albion could not claim the same. For several years Albion had been in a civil war between the Loyalists and the Rebels: the Rebels won," she summarized. Since there was no problem with me looking at her (and I don't think she noticed either), I managed to catch a glimpse of her hands clenching tight as her voice hardened. "Renaming themselves as the Holy Republic Of Albion, those rebels curs soon invaded Tristain during a time of great upheaval."

"And Tristain fell," I filled in.

She turned round and icily glared at me, "Yes." It didn't matter that I was in a half-dressed state, the two of us immediately locked eyes and began to size the other up - searching for the scars of war in each other's soul.

"How?" I asked.

She faced the other way again, "...Back then, while the rebellion was still ongoing in Albion, the Princess Of Tristain was to marry the King Of Germania and cement an alliance between our two nation." Louise breathed in deeply and forced herself to recount a painful tale. "There was a scandal two months before the wedding. In the room of the deceased Prince Of Albion, the rebels had found a love letter: the Princess and the Prince were lovers."

She paused, allowing the information to sink - whether it was for my benefit or her own, I couldn't tell. "But they were not ordinary lovers, no, the two of them had sworn an Oath Of Eternal Love to the Water Spirit Of The Ragdorian Lake and that oath had become a crystal which recorded the precious event for them. The Rebels had found that very crystal with the letter and then gifted both to Germania."

Louise lowered her head, "To even try and break an oath made to an Elemental Spirit is considered sacrilege... Germania's response was to parade this information around and soon the Princess' social and political standing had plummeted to ruins. The marriage was immediately canceled and Germania cut ties with Tristain; those damn barbarians claimed that they wanted nothing to do with a nation ruled by such a heretical princess."

"Tristain became divided into two groups: those who couldn't trust her anymore and those who still had the will to support her. But, one day amongst the turmoil, the Princess simply vanished. Rumors claimed that the ghost of the Prince had spirited her away but - whatever the case - the fact remained that princess was now gone." She twisted her head slightly, looking at me only with the corner of her eyes. "Shortly after - in trying to keep itself together - the nation was simply torn apart... then Albion invaded."

I adjusted the collar of my shirt and cloak. "So I would be more or less correct in my assumption that you're essentially a Tristain Resistance Group of some kind, right?"

Louise apparently didn't see any reason to face the other way another more (I was almost completely covered anyways) and shifted her chair. Her voice regained the neutral tone from before. "Correct."

"I see..." I finished fitting my gloves and wiggled my fingers (perfect fit). "I have to say you're being awfully amicable. There's a possibility that I could be a spy, you know?"

She smirked, raised her short sword at me, and dismissed my conjecture, "Are you?"

I weakly threw up my arms, "Nope; I'm just a simple Tactician."

At that moment my stomach growled and I could only smile and laugh wryly.

Louise then got off her seat and simply told me to follow after her.

[...]

I would have to amend my previous statement that the room gave a worn-down feel. Everywhere gave that impression and it wasn't just the looks but also because of the gloomy atmosphere. This hidden base of the Resistance (which could probably hold less than two hundred people at a time) was definitely underground and also rather cramp to maneuver in. It didn't seem to be a previously established bunker but nor did it seem to be a temporary shelter, I could only guess if the Resistance had miraculously found it or if they had somehow created it with their enemies none the wiser.

As I followed Louise, it was almost impossible to avoid meeting another person and the details of their weary or on-guard faces were so easily etched into my mind as I lightly struggled to pass by them.

Arriving at an open but small circular room (with two guards posted outside and two guards posted inside), I could immediately spot the table that sat at the center of the room with a large pot atop of it and a person (dressed like a maid) simply stood nearby.

She had disheveled chest-length black hair and dark bags hovered under her dark-blue eyes. Upon sighting us, she straightened herself up and smiled (one that was all too bright and all too forced to have even been remotely genuine) as she greeted us. "Hello, Miss Valliere. What can I do for you?"

Louise gestured to me, "Our guest is awake and he's hungry. Give him a bowl."

"Right away!" the maid chirped as she bowed (the fake cheer in voice made me cringe inwardly). With practiced ease, she scooped out some sort of soup from the large pot and poured it into a small bowl.

I took the bowl, giving a small thank to the maid, and had a look at my meal.

It was a yellowish brown soup with a very watery texture along with some other minor ingredients mixed in (probably herbs and spices for taste). There wasn't any steam rising out or any warmth coming into my fingers, so it was most likely cold.

I took a sip and, well, it was barely above bland in taste but combine that with the questionable liquid texture and it was like drinking dirty water. It wasn't entirely too difficult for me to bear with it though; during my early days of travelling I had often made crap like this and so I could stomach a variety of exotic meals. Gulping it all down in a more normal pace, I finished the small bowl fairly quickly like one would with a glass of water or a mug of beer.

"Thank you for the meal, Miss...?"

"Ah, my name is Siesta. And, no, it was my pleasure; I'm here to serve."

"Thank you nonetheless. My name is Siegeinherd but people just call me Sigrd."

I spared a moment of my time to have a small chat with Siesta and it was very insightful (about her and the world). It was also very uncomfortable due to her outward upbeat demeanor which hid a much darker attitude below. I found myself, more often than not, impolitely scratching the back of my head whilst we conversed.

Truthfully, I had long realized that trouble followed me wherever I go and that misfortune stuck onto me like a hard-to-wash stain. The moment I had awaken in a strange room, I already knew that I was going to be involved in something big again, whether I wanted to or not.

Seeing the people here, it seems that I couldn't turn a blind-eye to them... A certain someone always did call me too much of a softie at heart.

"Hey, Louise, is there somewhere private we can talk?"

[...]

Louise and I returned to the previous room from before.

I couldn't help but make a small quip, "This room again, huh?"

"Yes, it's my room," she unexpectedly answered back.

I blinked, "...Oh, sorry for messing up your bed."

The two of us entered the room and elected to stand up rather than take a seat. Her leaning besides the door with folded arms, while I took the meager corner once more.

"So, what is it that you wanted to talk privately about?"

"Oh, you know, just wanted some privacy to confess to a cute girl is all."

She didn't take all too kindly to my joke and glared at me. I suppose there wasn't any helping it (I wanted to lighten the mood and ease into the conversation); guess I'll just have to head straight into business then.

I returned her glare and responded seriously, "Tell me honestly, Louise, do you believe that the Tristain Resistance has what it takes to challenge the Holy Republic Of Albion?"

She narrowed her eyes and a small amount of anger entered her voice, "Of course. I am a Valliere - my loyalty is to the Crown and Tristain. Until my dying breath, I will fight against those Albion mongrels and make them regret ever setting foot on our soil."

"That's not what I asked."

There was silence as a shadow befell her face. "...Since the very beginning the Resistance has always been a body without a head and the limbs scattered all around. Unable to bring our forces together, unable to properly coordinate and assist, constantly diminishing supplies and numbers. As it stands, the Resistance is..." Louise bit her lips.

"That seems unlikely; it's only been two years," I quickly pointed out, "Even if Albion had managed to make the first move with complete surprise, the Tristain military shouldn't have been broken into shambles like this so easily. What happened?"

She took in a bitter breath. "We were betrayed," she spat out with disdain. "A large number of our fellow countrymen had allied themselves with Albion and we were cut down left and right without knowing friend from foe. By the time we could properly regroup, we were hardly a challenge to our traitorous counterparts - let alone the invaders themselves," she clicked her tongue, "It did not even take them half-a-year to send the Resistance into hiding."

I scratched my head, "And they're still trying to smoke you all out, I assume..." and then crossed my arms, "Well, other than that, is Albion doing anything else?"

"What do you mean by that?"

I hummed as I pointlessly gestured with my arms, "Is Albion consolidating its forces or things like that."

Louise shook her head, "No. After leaving the Traitors to pick off what remained of the scattered Resistance, the Albians had quickly set off to attack Germania."

"And how's Germania doing against them?"

"...Last I had heard, those barbarians were still holding back the Albians."

Either Albion had a stronger military than I had initially assumed or they were recklessly confident; going from a civil war to one invasion to another within such a short time-span was completely unusual. Since Albion was not (seemingly) spending any real efforts to pacify their homeland and the recently conquered Tristain, they were technically fighting on three fronts and not just their current one against Germania.

"Anything else I should know? For example: are there any other factions who could take advantage of this situation?"

She nodded, disgust was in her voice, "To the west of Tristain is the nation of Gallia and further south-east is Romania. But neither of them have made a move thus far. It's rather unlikely that they even will lift a hand, during the Albion Rebellion they had done nothing more than remain idle."

I hummed some more.

Something seemed strange to me; Albion was moving too quickly and too smoothly. And (while I didn't know much) being a Tactician meant trusting your instincts just as much as you did your knowledge. This wasn't an ordinary war, something bigger was going on behind the scenes...

I almost snorted. A conspiracy, was it? Why couldn't I ever get myself involved in some more ordinary wars?

And so I told her to explain everything to me. The culture, the politics, the style of warfare, and so forth; anything and everything about her world. Louise was kind enough to do so (perhaps because it occupied her otherwise gloomy time and kept her mind off other things), going over events and details as though she was citing off of a textbook despite speaking off the top of her head. I was impressed.

To say the least, I learned plenty about Halkeginia in only a few hours time.

"So, what do you plan to do with all that information?" Louise asked me.

I grinned at her in a bemused manner, "Isn't it obvious? I mean, it should be me wondering for what reason you had told me all that."

Naturally, Louise stopped playing coy with me. "And what exactly do you hope to gain by siding with the Resistance?" Her eyes observed like a predator on the prowl.

"I like to root for the underdogs," I simply replied. But, admittedly, it wasn't because I was a good guy. Tacticians thrived in war, our existence was defined by it. Even if I sympathized with the losing team and understood the pains of war, it didn't mean my blood wouldn't get excited at the prospect of defeating a greater foe with a handicap.

I am a hypocritical, selfish, distorted, and manipulative monster. But that's fine since I have come to terms with that a long time ago. After all, if I couldn't accept my nature, then I would have killed myself ages ago out of self-hatred. "Humor me, but do you fancy yourself a gambler, Louise?"

It took her a moment to figure out what I was asking. "To slowly fade away into obscurity like a coward or to fight until my dying breath with a stranger by my side... There isn't much of a choice is there?"

I shrugged, "Your choices are only limited by how much you're willing to risk."

She chuckled, "I've never been good at waiting around."

"You should have some patience, you'll end up in an early grave otherwise."

"I'll keep that in mind."

If there was a window then I would have gazed out at it, "So, what's your decision?"

She smirked (but it wasn't one of joy or confidence, it was more grim and wry in a nature). She beckoned me forward and then jabbed her short sword at me (its tip prickled my chest).

"Prepare yourself, Sigrd, because I'm going to work you like a dog!"

Really, I had expected no less.

I gently pushed the weapon away, kneeled down on one leg with an arm crossed over my heart, lowered my head, and then closed my eyes.

"As you wish, My Lord."

Author Notes

I always tell myself that I shouldn't have any more than three active stories and that any new ideas should immediately be placed as a one-shot (even if they're not necessarily designed as such)... But sometimes my 'Writing Muse' just doesn't agree with me. Well, I'll figure out eventually if I should label this as a one-shot or continue it.

A bit of Alternate Universe territory since there's no familiars in this story along with some changes to Void.

Anyways, this story is pretty much the setting of The Familiar Of Zero-verse plus the Tactician role from Fire Emblem game and also mixed with some elements from Yggdra Union and (maybe) Advance Wars - it's almost like a crossover but not quite.

The chances that this will become a one-shot is pretty high... in that case, I'll just say that Louise is Triangle-Class and uses Lightning Magic (she's like a dash of Karin [Mom] and Wardes [Fiancé]). I'm not sure if I'll ever get to write such an awesome Louise though...

Thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting, following, and whatever else!