Copyright Disclaimer.
Zero No Tsukaima belong's to it's respective owner/owners. The Union Loyalist and the Confederate Rebel are my OC's.
Now, on wards into the story.
It was a bright morning over the Tristain Academy of Magic, the sun making its way slowly across the mostly cloudless sky, indifferent to the mages and commoners bustling about below. Likewise, those in the academy were too engrossed with their business to care about something as mundane as a clear sunny day, save maybe for some words of discomfort from those who were susceptible to the heat or were a little conscious of their skin complexion. Among the former was a group of second year students gathered in one of the courtyards, for they felt nothing but excitement thanks to the cherished and sacred rite known as the Springtime Familiar Summoning.
Well, all of them save one.
A pink-haired girl fidgeted as she watched her classmates summon their familiars one after the other, becoming increasingly pensive at each success. Her stomach churned as she found herself backing away farther and farther, dimly aware that she was now practically hiding behind the crowd of her classmates. At this rate, she would be the last one called upon to perform the ritual, which both gave her sense of relief and worsened her anxiety at the same time. One the one hand, she wanted to get this over and done with. On the other . . . well, there were only two ways this could possibly end: success or failure. By now she was intimately acquainted with the latter, and the all-too-likely prospect of it happening for this particularly important ritual terrified her to no end.
Involuntarily she started to grind her teeth, recalling her previous attempts at performing magic. No matter what she tried and how much she had studied, all of her spells always ended in disappointment. As if the shame of that wasn't enough, they had to be spectacular disappointments as well. Regardless of the spell, the element, or the willpower she put behind it, all she ever got were explosions with the only variety being how large and how loud the explosions were.
She desperately wanted to succeed at actually summoning something—anything—to prove that she was worthy of the nobility she had been born into, especially provided her illustrious lineage. She was Louise Françoise le Blanc de La Vallière, third daughter of the House of La Vallière, one of the most powerful and influential noble houses in all of Tristain. It had seemed a cruel and spiteful joke at her expense for one such as her to be so terrible at magic.
And you would know of cruel, spiteful jokes, wouldn't you, Louise the Zero? After all, what else does a so-called noble who can't perform even the simplest magic deserve other than scorn and contempt? a traitorous voice in her head jeered.
"You've summoned an impressive familiar, Ms. Zerbst," said Professor Colbert, snapping her out of her rumination. "I don't believe I've ever seen such a fine fire salamander."
"Expect nothing less from a Zerbst, Mr. Colbert," a buxom dark-skinned redhead preened, showing off her new familiar to the appreciation of the students around her.
Of course, Louise mentally spat, her face setting into a grimace as she regarded one of her longtime tormentors. It would have to be Kirche that would come right before me, and she just had to summon a fire salamander.
She drew back into the crowd of her classmates. Maybe if she was quiet and lucky Professor Colbert and everyone else would forget all about—
"Well, is that everyone?" Mr. Colbert asked, raising his voice over the din of the crowd.
Louise hissed a most unladylike curse under her breath.
"No, Mr. Colbert," Kirche said loudly, mischief in her voice. "There's still dear little Ms. Vallière."
The emphasis on the little didn't go over Louise's head.
Damn you, Zerbst, she thought as she threw a baleful look at the tall Germanian girl. Damn you and your oversized height and your oversized breasts and your oversized lizard!
As one, her classmates turned to stare at her as she trudged slowly toward Mr. Colbert. After all, there was nothing like a potential spectacle to draw in a crowd. Her lips thinned into a line.
"It's Louise the Zero," someone whispered not-quite-loudly.
"Wonder what she's going to end up summoning," someone else voiced out.
"There's no way she'll summon anything. An explosion, that's all we'll get to see. That's all we ever get to see," a third voice, a female one this time, added helpfully.
The line of her lips thinned even more as everyone else began to shuffle backward, the memory of her explosive fiascos clear in their minds.
Kirche smiled at her, giving a theatrical pat to her salamander. "Given the impressive reputation of the La Vallière, I'm sure we can expect a most impressive familiar. Right, Louise?"
"Of course," Louise snorted, puffing her cheeks defiantly.
Her grip on her wand tightened. Please. Oh, Dear Founder, please . . .
"To my servant, wherever you may be . . ." she began, to the incredulity of her classmates
"Just what kind of spell is that? Is she . . . personalizing it?" a girl with her long blond hair done in curls demanded, her eye twitching.
"Now, now, at least it has some originality," said a flamboyantly attired blond boy beside her.
"To my sacred, beautiful, and above all, powerful familiar," Louise continued, pointedly ignoring everyone else, "I appeal to you from the bottom of my heart, heed my guidance and answer my call!"
Some of her classmates were already ducking as she waved her wand overhead. A blue-haired girl quietly peeked over the top of the book she had been reading before bringing it up over her face again, this time as an impromptu shield. Many of them hit the deck, hands protectively over their ears or clutching their familiars, as Louise brought down her wand.
The world exploded.
Coltrane looked out across the battlefield. Small fires dotted the landscape along with ruined tanks and other armored vehicles, but the actual body count was beyond belief. Six hundred and fifty-eight thousand Union soldiers had been slain in this battle, and it would not go unforgotten. The Battle of Bryant Hill would go down as one of the bloodiest battles ever fought on US soil. As Coltrane strode across the field, a small glimmer over the large hill caught his attention. He drew his Vindicator, which was a supposed "holy sword", given as a gift from Lee for his service as the Confederate Rebel. The rune on his left hand lit up, and his one good eye turned it'self back to the rebel flag. Coltrane looked upon the crest of the hill, and saw it.
The Union Loyalist.
Not only was the loyalist someone he despised with all he had, but the loyalist was also the rebel's sworn enemy. Lee had explained to Coltrane that whichever country, the USA or the CSA, thrived, depended on whoever dominated the field in this rivalry. The loyalist ran down the hill, stopping short of Coltrane, to which Coltrane took notice of the somewhat-lethal looking sword. Lee spoke up unexpectedly.
Oh shit. I've seen that sword before. You better be careful Coltrane, because even with your immortality, that sword will still kill you. I can tell that just by looking at it. Coltrane pondered on the thought. So what do I do? 'Cause I know the loyalist can be killed cause he ain't got the immortality I got, but this dude does have some speed and agility to him. Lee could not think of what to tell Coltrane.
On one hand, should Coltrane score a lucky hit, and manage to stumble the loyalist, he would be able to simply finish him off and destroy the sword while he still had a chance. On the other hand, the loyalist was faster and more agile than Coltrane ever was. One swift movement and it could spell the end for Coltrane at the loyalist's hands. Overall, it was a balancing act, and Lee could not figure out how to balance it to save his self.
His thoughts were interrupted by the clashing of steel, and gunshots. The Rebel and the Loyalist were going into their battle once again. Swords clashed, the sound of clanging steel rang through the air. Fists struck their targets, and kicks were delivered. Overall, it was a pretty intense fight for both of the warriors, with sparks, and bursts of their powers' flying off of them. Eventually, Coltrane stumbled, and was hit on the head by the loyalist. That is when the loyalist got the idea of taunting Coltrane about his past; About what happened to his father, how his little sister vanished, and even went as far as to bring up the failed 'relationship' with the woman that Coltrane killed in his own rage.
Before he even knew what was happening, a powerful kick was delivered unto him to his jaw, causing to him to fall, disoriented. When the loyalist was back up again, he was met with an unnerving sight. Coltrane stood, angrier than he had ever seen; M60 in his left hand, and curved dual-edged axe in his right gauntlet. There was a very dark aura surrounding Coltrane. This caused the loyalist to hesitate slightly, but he charged forward nevertheless.
The fight continued, even more devastating than before, as the loyalist summoned a machine pistol and ended up shooting Coltrane multiple times. And soon, it ended after Coltrane was thrown down onto the ground on his back. The loyalist stood victorious over Coltrane, who now had wounds all over, and was slowly starting to pass.
"Well, I finally got you where I want you, you miserable piece of shit" the loyalist said. "I have spent many years training to kill you, and now I finally have my chance to do so." The loyalist tossed the sword up, and caught it like a dagger. "I'll see you in hell, Coltrane", he said as he raised the sword. Not as soon as he said that, an eerie green glow surrounded them. The loyalist became distracted by it, and turned around to see a green portal hovering behind him. But be decided it was not a threat, and by the time he had turned to finish Coltrane, it was too late for him.
"I'll send you back to the void from whence you came MOTHERFUCKER!" Coltrane had gotten back up on his feet, and managed to spartan kick the loyalist into the portal, making him and the portal disappear. Coltrane sighed in relief, and then fell backwards, onto the ground, with unconsciousness overtaking him. And soon, another green portal opened up, puling the passed-out Coltrane down into the portal, and it disappeared as well.
Louise heard several students hacking and coughing at the smoke from her attempt at summoning. She put her own hands over her mouth, desperately trying not to cough herself from the dirty clouds that had been raised by her explosion. She opened her eyes slowly, pointedly ignoring the several cries of "I knew it, I knew this would happen!"
Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and rage as the expected mockery and jeering started among her classmates even before the others had stopped coughing. In the backdrop of the laughter and insults, she heard Kirche's distinctive "ohohohoh," causing Louise to bite her lower lip.
"Well, I have to admit, Vallière, that was amazing."
Louise felt herself growing even angrier. She rounded on Kirche to deliver an angry retort only to have even more of the lingering dust assault her throat, reducing her into a hacking mess. Her face grew bright red from the shame, anger, and lack of oxygen even as the laughter and name-calling intensified around her.
"Way to go, Louise the Zero!" said a voice in mock congratulations. "I bet that was your biggest explosion yet!"
"They must have heard that all the way in Albion!" cried another amid the delighted cackling.
"Enough!" Professor Colbert's voice cut sternly through the air. "This heckling is no way for noble students to act."
"Oh dear Founder!" a female voice suddenly gasped, interrupting the teacher in the middle of his reprimand. "Vallière k-killed somebody! The Zero finally went and killed somebody!"
At that exclamation Louise's head snapped around in near unison with everyone else's toward the center of the summoning field. Through the lasts wisps of smoke and dust, she could see a small crater, but that wasn't what caught her eye: in the middle was the dark-haired figure of a man, about 32, lying on his back unmoving. On his clothes and armor were dark stains.
Blood.
"V-Vallière . . ." she distantly heard Kirche mutter in shock as her own blood ran cold, "what have you done?"
Gasps of surprise and cries of accusation erupted all around Louise, but she was no longer paying attention to them. She stared transfixed at what she had apparently summoned, mind numb and mouth hanging open in shock, even as Mr. Colbert bolted toward the fallen figure, turning to the nearest two students.
"Guiche, Montmorency," he said urgently to the boy-and-girl pair, "go and call the academy healers. Hurry!"
The two students nodded quickly and, with an exchange of uncertain looks between them, levitated away hurriedly. The rest of the students milled around uncertainly, hovering over the scene in a disorganized semicircle.
'I . . . I did that?' Louise's mentally uttered in sheer disbelief as she continued to stare, noting dimly that her teacher had begun to try and remove the steel armor of the fallen figure to expose the wounds, but to no avail. He quickly started administering one healing spell after another. 'But . . . how? He wasn't . . . I didn't . . . Did he walk into . . . But, no. No! There had been no one . . . But he's . . . Oh, oh Founder. Oh, Dear Founder . . .'
Tears began to stream down her cheeks as her knees buckled, causing her to topple forward and land painfully on her elbows. She continued to stare at what had happ—no, what she had made happen. A groan escaped her lips and quickly degenerated into sobs.
It was over. She hadn't just failed, but her failure had hurt somebody . . . had possibly killed somebody. It didn't matter what had happened or how it had happened, the result was clear for all to see. Louise Françoise, shame of the House of La Vallière, had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was less than a noble—less than even a commoner. She was nothing but scum and—
She felt a had land lightly on her right shoulder, and she flinched violently. Looking up fearfully, Louise was surprised to see the familiar face of a certain blue-haired classmate. "T-Tabitha?"
"Not dead. Also not your fault," Tabitha stated in her usual taciturn monotone, and Louise could've sworn that it was a bit gentler than her usually cold demeanor. Or she would have had her mind not been trying to make sense of the Gallian girl's words.
"W-wha . . .?" the pink-haired girl managed to choke out.
"Shot," Tabitha pronounced as she pointed, and Louise found her eyes following the girl's finger, "not exploded."
Wiping her eyes, Louise took a closer look at her summon, and she couldn't quite suppress a nauseated churn in her stomach now that she was seeing the man's injuries without the haze of shock and tears. Professor Colbert, looking far more serious than Louise had ever seen him before, was still attending to the wounds and was currently using a water spell to drain blood from a large sucking hole just under the unconscious man's left breast. And unconscious he was; Louise could see the bloodied chest move ever so slightly.
"She's right, Ms. Vallière," the balding bespectacled teacher reassured her even as he cast another spell to arrest the bleeding. "These are clearly injuries sustained from some sort of musket-like weapon, perhaps some sort of flintlock rifle, just before you apparently summoned him here. The armor is nothing like I've seen before. The..uh..things etched into the metal; I'm assuming they're some kind of flag for a country; a uniform of some sort, and I suspect this man is military."
He turned to look at her, and the uncharacteristically serious expression on his face softened. "You must have summoned him just before he was about to be killed."
"I-I did?" Louise gasped, not daring to believe but hoping nonetheless.
"Yes, you might have just saved his life," Colbert added kindly, face showing just the tiny hints of effort at the rapid string of healing spells he had just performed. Then his face hardened again as he began looking around. "I've managed to stem the bleeding and prevent the blood from drowning his punctured lung. The injuries themselves are quite severe, but he appears stable enough and the healers should be arriving soon."
Louise stood up slowly, her spirits finally lifting. "Oh, thank the Founder . . . Thank the gods . . ." she whispered under her breath. She hadn't killed anybody. She hadn't killed anybody!
She felt Tabitha removing the hand on her shoulder, and she found herself suddenly facing the blue-haired girl awkwardly, having just realized what she'd done. They'd never been friends—in fact, Louise usually counted her among her enemies, if only because the Gallian girl was friends with one of her most persistent tormentors, Kirche. On one hand, she'd never seen Tabitha actively joining in the taunting as the quiet girl usually preferred to hang back silently. On the other hand, she also never really seemed to oppose the sometimes utterly vicious teasing, and Louise couldn't quite shake the feeling that the girl was judging her in silence.
Louise opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again. She bit her lip and her eyes darted from side to side as Tabitha regarded her impassively. She just had no idea what to say to her given their history. She forced herself to open her mouth and look at Tabitha steadily, but at that point the blue-haired mage had already made the decision for her and was now looking at the unconscious form before them.
"A soldier, hm?" Kirche's singsong voice suddenly cut in. "Silly Little Louise, it's the dashing young warrior who saves the hapless noblewoman, not the other way around. Ah, even such a simple thing you apparently can't grasp? Tisk, tisk . . ."
Feeling her anger clawing its way free from the ball of feelings that her disastrous summoning had jumbled, Louise whirled on Kirche, ready to hurl abuse at her old rival. The smile on Kirche's face, however, gave her pause. It wasn't her usual mocking smirk but the kind of smile one would give to a friend to show that a disparaging remark had been meant in friendly jest. The anger stumbled and found itself again swimming in a roiling ball of confusion. This . . . this just wasn't right. Kirche of all people trying to lighten the mood with a friendly joke? They had never, ever been close to acting friendly, not since they had first met and figured out that they both belonged to long-opposed noble houses on opposite sides of a national border. In fact, some of the most hurtful insults she'd endured had come from the very same lips now smiling at her.
Just what in the world was the Germanian redhead playing at?
Apparently seeing the turmoil on her face, Kirche just gave her a theatrical shrug. Then, as if purposely changing the subject, she looked down and regarded the still unconscious figure on the ground.
"Hm . . . then those must be his weapons," Kirche declared. Seeing Louise's continued confusion, Kirche smiled. This time, it was a much more familiar mischievous smile. "Oh, I'm not looking at that weapon, Little Louise. That would be in very poor taste."
It took a second for Louise to process that, and when she did . . . "B-bwuh . . . that's not what I was thinking of, you lecherous deviant!"
Looking down in a huff as Kirche just gave her another infuriating smile, Louise noticed what she had missed in her earlier bout of despair. There was indeed something in both of the man's—soldier's?—hands. In his right hand; Well, it wasn't a hand, per se, it was a full arm metal gauntlet. But, in his right hand, a strange weapon. It had a hatchet-like handle, a block of metal, and then a vicious looking curved blade. In his left, an even stranger weapon. On first glance, it appeared very odd. It was box-like in shape, made of some black-painted material—metal?—with a cylinder jutting out of one end. On the bottom, a grip with a trigger in front. On the side, a belt of brass cylinders with lead tips fed into the side from a green box mounted on the bottom of it. However, the grip seemed too thick to hold comfortably, and Louise wondered how one could properly wield such a heavy and clumsy-looking thing.
"A . . . a musket?" Louise said uncertainly. She'd never been too familiar with firearms as she thought them beneath her notice.
"Too big," Professor Colbert said authoritatively. "The dimensions remind me more of a small canon, and the seeming handles appear rather awkwardly placed. I also see no visible indications of a matchlock, flintlock, or wheel lock mechanism, as well as the stock is way too big. . And these things..." Mr. Colbert examined the belt of brass and lead. 'These are unlike anything I've ever seen. And that gauntlet . . .' He looked over it. 'It's design is unlike anything we have here.'
"You seem to know quite a bit about muskets, Professor," Kirche observed, not quite accusingly, "and you seem to know your way around healing spells."
"I have a great interest in many subjects, Ms. Zerbst, and I've learned some useful things," he answered, smiling nonchalantly. "After all, I teach because I love learning."
Kirche quirked an eyebrow up at that, but dropped the matter with a slight shrug.
The teacher, meanwhile, had a thoughtful expression on his face. Then, looking down, he cast what Louise recognized as a Detect Magic spell. Colbert's expression became puzzled. "Um . . . Ok. Well . . . this is . . interesting . . ."
Louise, still confused and starting to get a bit fidgety, said, "What? What is it?"
"There's magic," he answered, expression growing even more and more quizzical, ". . . of a sort. And it's . . ." He trailed off again. ". . . Here. Think of it this way; saying it's powerful would be an extremely severe understatement.
"Magic? So does that mean"—Louise felt her mouth hit the floor—"I summoned a fighting mage, a noble?"
"Maybe," came the reply, "The magic is absolutely nothing like what we have here, but I can't be completely certain as of now."
She felt her feelings plummeting again. She might have summoned a fellow noble to be her familiar. An icy pit formed in her stomach. No, it wasn't as bad as accidentally killing someone with a misfired spell, but it was an undesirable outcome nonetheless. The political ramifications could be bad enough, especially if she had inadvertently summoned a scion of some powerful or influential house. Worse if the unconscious man was a foreign noble. Oh, her mother was going to kill her . . .
. . . But hadn't Mr. Colbert said that she had saved the boy's life? And she'd yet to complete the contract, so she technically hadn't made a servant of him yet. That had to count to for something, right?
"Powerful? Of a sort?" Tabitha prompted, repeating the words Louise had missed in her panic.
The professor remained silent for a bit, as if considering what to say. He looked at the students around him, all waiting expectantly for an answer. Finally, he opened his mouth, "The spell detected something, but it feels somehow . . . off. Well . . . not really off, but . . . dark. The severity of his injuries and the possible willpower drain couldn't have had something to do with it as the reading seems rather—Ah! Over here, quickly!"
At the abrupt exclamation, the students turned to see a group of academy healers levitating toward them, Guiche and Montmorency in tow. Mr. Colbert and the students backed away to give the healers some room. One laid a stretcher on the ground as another prepared to cast a levitation spell to gently lift the unresponsive and injured form onto it. A third consulted with Mr. Colbert, who quickly filled him in on the healing spells that he had casted. Louise hovered nearby, careful to keep enough of a distance to allow the healers to move unimpeded. Whatever had happened and whoever she'd summoned, he was her responsibility now, so she would stay by his side and wait until she could explain herself to him personally.
Without warning, the one of the healers by the stretcher was thrown back, followed by a strings of loud pops. One of them almost crashed into Louise, causing her to yelp in alarm. Suddenly alert, Mr. Colbert moved, staff at ready, and yelled for everyone to back away. The healer conversing with Mr. Colbert did the same, wand at ready. The healer he had been preparing the spell was dead; multiple bleeding gaps in his body. As for the other healer, well . . . he was impaled by the curved axe, as Mr. Colbert called it. He was being held up in the air by this man which made it look easy. 'What in the name of the dear founder is that?' Mr. Colbert thought. As she backed away, Louise saw Tabitha around the corner of her eyes. The quiet girl's staff was also raised. Beside her was Kirche, grasping her wand with a fearful expression on her face. The man dropped the axe, slowly lifted himself off of the stretcher, grunting a bit and flexing his back and neck, making vicious popping sounds. He pulled his weapon out of the dead healer, turned around, and that is when everyone got a full look at the man, or thing, Louise had summoned.
The figure was tall and brutish looking, and had multiple scars on his face. His long, dark brown-near black hair was tied back, an eye-patch covered his left eye, and he wore a strange looking hat, which appeared like a head wrap with a visor. The beard on his face was thick, and had a dull dark brownish color. The metal gauntlet was connected to a steel chest-plate, which had strange symbols-flags?- etched into the metal. It was strangely colored in a peculiar blackish-blue color and was tightly fitted; in fact, it didn't even seem to have straps, laces or any other type of fastener Louise could see. Under the armor was what appeared to be a white cotton peasant's sleeveless shirt that was sloppily not tucked into a pair of strange and baggy blue cloth pants. Completing the strange garb was a pair of thick, brown leather boots with what looked like metal covering the toe, and chains around the back. What skin she could see appeared to be white, but of a slightly darker shade than anyone else's. Near the top of his left arm, he had something that somewhat resembled some sort of cross: Blue in color, it had strange markings, and in the middle, the same flag that was etched into the metal on the armor. The same flag also covered the entirety of the lower part of the man's left arm.
All in all, Louise would have thought the figure to be some sort of mercenary or assassin in a weird manner of dress, if it wasn't for one particular detail: a large mark burned onto the back of his left hand. It was the very same mark as the etchings on the steel chest-plate, and the tattoo on his left arm. The mark was the same crossed bars and 13 stars. 'Was he someone else's familiar?' Louise wondered. Oh dear Founder, she knew her mother was really going to kill her now. She looked at Colbert, and then her head snapped back to her summoned one when everyone gasped and backed away even more.
The man had hefted the cannon in his left hand up, leveling it out, and it was pointed right at them. And holy hell was he pissed off.
"Let me make this loud and clear so y'all can hear me; What the fuck do you people want from me?"