Hey guys! Sorry this took a while to upload, but I've been doing "research" on renaissance-era events and behaviors by using very reliable sources such as the Assassins Creed series and watching The Borgias. I know, very historically accurate :p Anyway, the first thing I'd like to acknowledge are the comments in the reviews.
Fair warning: LONG Author's note ahead, so skip if you're not interested.
First of all, about the end of chapter 1. Many of you made comments that the ending makes no sense and that they were too quick to dismiss it as fault. Well, if you have that reaction, then I consider it mission fucking accomplished :D. It's supposed to look idiotic from a contemporary point of view, mostly because, in my personal opinion, most of the nobles are lazy, entitled, brats who refuse to see something for what they truly are. Studying from Renaissance attitudes, most of them would either label it as a fake or as a sign from God - though in this case it'd be the Founder Brimir. Now tell me; why would they think Louise, who they think up to this point is nothing but a worthless mage, be good enough to make a sign from their almighty when the obvious explanation - money and bribery - is present? Professor Colbert and some of the more experienced students like Kirche and Tabitha never make comments that they think its false, only those who've been spoon-fed their entire lives.
You also have to remember that they saw something completely alien for the first time. Fire burns, as Kirche knows, and it kills people. No one should be able to walk around while covered in a wreath of flames and looking like their entire body got stripped of its skin. Even in the land of Halgakenia, bringing back the dead is impossible. The Chosen Undead comes from a land so filled with misery that dying is bliss for most and a minor inconvenience when it does happen. In the academy death is distant, never touching save for news about how some far-off noble died with honor. Seeing death for the first time would of course catch a lot of denial.
And honestly, what would you think if you saw a burning corpse move, collapse, and then come back to life? Human beings are currently, by nature, very rational beings. If I see a werewolf across a dark alley turn into a human being, would I suddenly believe in the supernatural or would I try to rationalize it so my beliefs and status quo remain intact? Same gist here, since I'm assuming the Halgakenian's are humans and not just weirdly similar looking aliens. They saw something they didn't like, and they're trying to explain it away because they don't want to face the unknown. Hence why most of the nobles think war's an honorable affair and not just brutes fighting one another till the other stops moving entirely.
To all those who gave me criticism and Hellion: I appreciate the thought Hellion, but please know that I, like many amateur authors, actually LIKE criticism. As long as it's polite and not just a bunch of "you sucks" stringed together then I actually like it. So I say; keep criticism coming, but PLEASE stay polite and criticize the story only if you point out something wrong or amiss. If you don't like the story simply because you don't like it, then I'm not forcing you to read. An author has to be criticized for him to get better, not endlessly patted on the back like we're made of glass. I'm not going to stop writing simply because I did something wrong.
Now that that's done, I'd like to discuss the questions asked about the Chosen Undead and story changes.
1. Does the Chosen Undead have all his stuff? Yes, the Chosen Undead has all the weapons and stuff from the previous game. Does he have access to them? Mostly no, because currently his stuff is either unusable due to stats, melted off, or ditched back in the Kiln of the First flame. Don't fret; the rare stuff like the Queelag furysword and Moonlight greatsword are intact and he'll get them later. He just can't use them yet. I'll explain why in a bit.
2. What class was he? Honestly, does it really matter? The game is based on stats alone and there's nothing to stop a pyromancer from tanking with a broadsword. If you really want a definitive class then he's a mix between warrior and knight.
3. Everybody keeps going on about Abyss magic. Now honestly, what is Abyss magic? I've played the game and there are three magic's I know of: Miracles, Sorcery, and Pyromancy. Pyromancy requires no stats but it's the most easily accessible to any class and build, provided you have the money for it. Pyromancy is also nothing special since the world of Halgakenia has way more impressive fire magic. Miracles are also nothing unique since spells like healing, chameleon, or torchlight can be copied to well enough effect with existing magic's. Now the only thing even close to Abyss magic is Sorcery, especially with the Abyssal Soulmass spell and the fact that the element is untraceable. But other than that, it's really nothing special. Most of the spells here are plain on their own, but they have unique effects when combined. I'll show that as the story goes on.
4. Romance...is something I'm not sure about. One thing's for sure; not Louise. The relationship between her and the Chosen Undead will get closer, but not to the degree of romantic relations. They'll actually act like Master/Servant, Brother/Sister, or close friends depending on your point of view, but never romance. If there is romance at all, I'm not sure who to pick, so we leave that for now.
Also, don't forget that the Chosen Undead is alien to the concept of friendship, let alone romance. Considering he comes from a land where everybody's as likely to stab you as help you, and almost no one is completely honest about their intentions, a romantic relationship (which relies in complete trust in one another) will be very difficult for him.
On a side note, that means Julio's crush on Louise is unimpeded XD
6. Skills. No, he doesn't have access to the Sunlight Spear on account of not getting chance to offer the soul to Solaire's monument- woohps, I meant the Firstborn son of Gwyn's monument. He did have the Dragon head stone, but it's currently not available to him right now on account of it getting lost when he linked the fire. His fighting style generally involves slashing with a broadsword or longsword while using any spell that's available. Pyromancy and Mircacles are used way more than Sorcery.
5. And we're finally getting to it: Stats. The question everybody's asking. Now let's get this out of the way; is the Chosen Undead powerful? Yes. The Chosen Undead ended his particular story with 100 levels, the entire Artorias Knight Set, the Abyss Greatsword and Shield of Artorias, all spells in all categories, and many unused souls. Is he as strong as that now? Absolutely not. You have to understand that burning for eternity leads to some stat drops and equipment losses. By this point in the story he's been burning for at least 10 years minimum and he's been losing both skill and power to keep himself sane. In gameplay terms he's back to about Level 10 - 15 and most of his equipment is now burning slag. Will he stay this way? God no, the story would be fucking boring if that was the case. He'll get even stronger than his previous levels by later on, but he has to earn those skills back. So no insta-pawning Guiche like he's the fandom bitch like everyone else does, but the blond fop will still lose, just not instantly.
It's similar to starting a game sequel with the same character; he may lose most of his stats now, but he'll get even better stuff and powers by about mid-way or more. It's also one of the reasons I chose the 'Link the fire' ending rather than the 'Dark Lord' ending. Because honestly, why would someone who was crowned Lord of the world play servant boy to a spoiled noble? You either have to be an incredible tool or an incredibly self sacrificing individual to choose to link the fire, both of which make more sense for this fic's purposes.
Also, the world of Halgakenia will be darker than shown in canon, as the massive texts of info dump here show. I'll also be adding expanded and original events, though the core arcs and events will remain the same. Am I the only one who saw Foquet's attack as really improbable? A single show would not be enough to distract from the GIANT STONE GOLEM smashing up the school.
Lastly, some of you may disagree with how Louise is shown acting here. And I reply: Please don't forget how she treated Saito in both the Anime/Manga and Novel. She displays outright sociopathic behavior in refusing to treat Saito like a human being, despite numerous evidence to the contrary. At later points she even goes as far as to whip him for an entire night and then put a restraining collar on him; behavior that would never fly if their genders were reversed.
The thing is, and this is what I'm going to show right here, but this was close to how people acted in that time period or similar. Master's would beat their servants and the servant was advised to take it with a smile. Nobility literally believed that their life and very being were worth a hundred times more than that of a commoner or a servant. So if Louise acts like a jerk or a demanding brat, then that's because she's supposed to be shown as one.
So with all that done, let's start the story
The clinic was a comfortable place to be. With a warm atmosphere (both mentally and physically, kind nurses that never raised a voice, and solitude that couldn't be found anywhere else in the academy, it was a popular place to do some quick thinking or, for certain blond immature playboy and red headed seductress, a quick place to steal quite a few firsts from quite a few people.
Architecture-wise it was exquisite, like most of the academy's rooms: Multiple beds lined both the left and right side, separated by thin curtains of varying colors of white. The roof was dotted with various open holes, most likely placed there to let the open sun seep into the wide room and make sure that the patients didn't die from lack of exposure. Various other things of import also dotted the room, such as torches and some paintings placed there for a calming effect. Any patient would count himself/herself lucky if they found themselves here.
Right now it was being used for its intended purpose; which is to say, for treating injured people. Usually the room would be animated with life in the rare cases someone got injured to the point that they had to be sent here, but the entire room was oddly desolate at the moment. Since injuries had to be severe in order to be sent here, the chanting of water magic usually echoed throughout the confines for hours on end, followed by the frantic scrambling of nurses as they tried to help in bandaging the wounds.
But now there was only silence. No nurse ran to and fro the different beds and no incantation graced the air around the sanctuary for healing. There was only one being, one man, one monster that stayed there, and none wanted or dared to go near him. They had no idea how to cure him, and so they did the best they could.
Basic treatment, and even the best healing magic's, but none of it made a difference. His skin was as white as snow but the burns stayed on his body, the light red patches scarring his skin and turning it into a grotesque puzzle of even the most seasoned veteran's would raise an eyebrow at. They had to make do with covering the injured parts with bandages and praying to the Founder that it would heal on its own. For there was certainly nothing they could do.
And this was where he stayed, alone but certainly not forgotten.
"...Where..."
For the first time in hours, movement blessed the still body. Pale eyelids were forced open to expose golden irises the color of flame. The young man said nothing, only staring in slight surprise at the unfamiliar surroundings and how, for the first time in years, he was not burning.
"What...are these...?" He looked up at his hands, staring oddly at the white pieces of comfortable cloth that were wrapped around them, "...Clothes?" He touched them warily, before recoiling back as if shocked. He could feel the injuries beneath them, remnants of his time in the Kiln. They still hurt, but not to the degree of before and certainly not as continuous. A small smile graced his lips at the fact.
It wasn't surprising that the Undead didn't know what bandages were. In a fight, he either took each and every injury till he reached the next bonfire or he drank an Estus flask while praying to every God that he knew wouldn't get off their lazy asses to help him that the enemy didn't suddenly decide to skewer him in the middle of it.
In the bonfire, injuries healed and fatigue disappeared. Sleep was unnecessary and resting was done solely when he wanted a break from the constant fighting...and dying. He gave a small, wry smile at that. Of course there was dying, but it was never for long. Every death was quick and he would find himself back in the nearest bonfire before he realized fully what had happened. Burning in the Kiln was an eternal torment.
Speaking of which, how did he get out? He remembered a voice calling out and a green gateway opening, but not much after that. Everything after that became a blur of pain and frustration. But that voice...something opened the way for him, and he had a pretty good bet that voice was involved. Now all he had to do was decide to seek her - he was pretty sure it was a female - out or get as far away as possible.
"Why can't I see him!?"
The Undead's head quickly snapped to the door at the end of the room. Behind it he could hear the frustrated voice of someone familiar, "He's my familiar, so I should be able to see him!" A stamping of feet accentuated the statement, "And even if he isn't then I need to decide that. But to do that, I need to see him for myself!"
Well...that didn't sound good. The voice was undoubtedly the one who saved him, but she didn't sound very...friendly. Frankly he would've settled for non-hostile, but that was obviously not an option. He was injured (odd in and of itself)and he was unarmed to boot (which he wished he at least still had). Even waking up in the Undead Asylum wasn't this bad, as he at least had a suit of armor to tide him over. Here he was naked save for a pair of loose dark pants that was obviously ill suited for fighting.
"Please, Miss Valliere! Please stop!" The rapid steps stopped, likely in following the command, "The...young man is injured right now and won't be awake for a few more hours. We couldn't heal all his injuries completely," More like couldn't heal any of them at all, but she wasn't going to tell her that.
He needed to get out of here. Straining his body as far as he could take it, he pushed himself off the bed. Already he could feel the weakness spread across his entire body, urging him to stay down. Off to the side of the bed he could see a loose cotton shirt draped across a small wooden chair. Grabbing it quickly, he wore it loosely over his upper body, making sure not to agitate the bandages too much.
"...What the...?" He stared in shock at his arms. He could ignore the paleness and even the weird looking pieces of cloth, but this...this was irregular. His arms were thin, way too thin. He hadn't noticed it earlier due to his lack of clothing, but it was all the more noticeable now. While he wasn't what one would call very muscled - that was Siegemeyer's department - he also had a fairly athletic build for fighting. Now he looked like a corpse...well, more than usual, at least.
This was no time to be wondering. With a slight shake of his head, he focused back on the task at hand.
Beside the chair were also a pair of boots, dusty from being out of use. Looking around the room for any other clothing - particularly of the more protective kind - he sighed and placed the boots against his feet, ignoring the irritation that spread immediately after doing so. Beggars couldn't be choosers, and he was worse off than one considering all his reserve souls were gone.
"Miss Valliere!"
Now to get out.
The young man blinked wearily, a searing headache punctuating his already weak body. All around him the bright lights winked in and out in rapid succession, and he was sure most of them weren't even real. Most likely they were just figments of his headache induced hallucinations and a coping mechanism to force him to stay down.
He refused to. His instincts had kicked into overdrive and he pushed himself to move forward, to get away from this unfamiliar place, no matter how safe it looked. Living in Lordran certainly taught him not to judge by appearances, no matter how majestic and safe an area seemed to be. The halls of the God's palace were undoubtedly more dangerous than the beat-down and ruined Firelink Shrine.
He looked around at his surroundings warily, slowly raising an injured hand to touch his right eye. It was covered by the same exact cloth that dotted both his arms and legs. He would have been tempted to remove it if not for the risk of further injury to himself. He would have to make do with one eye for seeing.
"I won't wake him up! I just need to see...if he's still alive." The voice echoed again from the door, though noticeably calmer this time around compared to before. Still, the Undead wasn't going to take a chance when he couldn't defend himself. Always offer one hand only when the other is armed, as he had learned from experience in dealing with Lautrec.
Across the side of the room he saw it: A window. Large enough to fit one person, and more than large enough to carry someone of his current stature. Taking a few pained steps, it didn't take him long to reach the plain window and pry it open by a few short inches. The sight of the sun caused him to flinch back slightly before he steeled himself and moved forward.
He wouldn't die here, not again.
"Miss Valliere, please wait for a moment." Professor Colbert sighed wearily and grabbed the raging pinkette, gently moving her away from the scared nurse, "Please
"Mu..." Louise could only look down and scowl when she felt Professor Colbert grab her arm gently and move her back to the seat. She didn't want to disrespect him, especially since he was the only one in this entire Academy to treat her with any respect as a mage and not just a problem child. That and the fact that he was the first to come to her rescue - however unnecessary as it was - when she cried out in panic.
The kindly professor gave a small smile before turning back to the middle aged nurse, "Please forgive Miss. Valliere. She is simply worried about the state of our...unique guest."
"I'm not-!" Louise bit back her retort. She wasn't worried, more-so...curious. Though she sounded sure earlier, there was doubt now; doubt that she had actually summoned a familiar. Summoning a human might have been odd, degrading even, but she could live with it if it proved her as a mage.
But no, apparently she'd summoned some kind of monster. She heard them earlier, heard their panic as his wounds refused to close and continued to fester like a corpse that refused to die.
"Get me more bandages now!"
"Miss. Margaret, close up that wound!"
"I can't! The wound continues to burn even now!"
"Water! Give me water!"
And behind that panic, she could hear their tone: Disgust, Fear, Uncertainty. All these things. Was her familiar so alien, so monstrous that they could do nothing? That the healing magic of water could nothing?
"Ahem, as I was saying," He turned back to the nurse, "Would you kindly check on our friend while I explain to miss Valliere here?" Explain what? Both of them wanted to ask, though neither voiced that question at loud, "If he proves well enough then it should be no problem for the young miss to visit hum, so long as she doesn't disturb him."
'Disturb him? He's not the one who's being disturbed!' Louise was tempted to blurt that out loud, but restrained herself at the last moment. She already lost too much of her already too little reputation today and she wasn't about to have even the servants talking about her today.
And oh, her dear classmates. She saw their eyes as his so called familiar was dragged to the clinic. Their mouths laughed, their lips turned up in smiles, and their fingers pointed both at her and the unmoving corpse as jeers and insults sprung forth from their tongues, 'Hypocrites...' And yet she saw them. Their eyes said it all; they were afraid. They didn't want to admit to what they saw, to cope with the fact that they had seen something completely alien. Nobility was nothing if mired in tradition, and change was the fear of all who followed.
But she wished she could join them. She too would have accepted the insults, if only to get the sights she'd seen and the memories she'd gained erased from her mind. Maybe it was pathetic of her to wish for this, but she didn't care. If she couldn't be a noble in magic, then she would be a noble in everything else and make her family proud of her - proud that she was a Valliere. Too long did her family suffer insults and jeers for her sake, even when they tried to hide it.
And now she was masking everything with anger. Demanding to enter the room, glaring at anything or anyone that was unlucky enough to pass her way. It was her way of dealing with things, which she found easier than crying or writing to Big Sis Cattleya about every serious problem that came to his mind. It was her way of coping, and it was easier for both her and everyone else since her pillow was usually the only source of frustration.
"Miss. Valliere...I imagine this must be...difficult for you," The voice of Professor Colbert jogged her out of her thoughts, "I must admit that this situation is quite...unique," Louise gave a wry smile at the word, and so did the old teacher, "Though I believe that everything will work out if we let it run its course."
"How so?" She asked back glumly.
"The Founder always finds a way," He shrugged back nonchalantly with a smile, "He is the source of all magic and the one who allowed us to be as we are now. I'm sure that whatever this is," He waved a hand through the air, "will pass over and things will go back to normal."
"Hmm."
The Professor sighed. Clearly his attempt to cheer up the young Valliere wasn't working, though he had little thought it would succeed in the first place. She was always the one who never smiled, unless it was a fake one that was required of her. He couldn't blame the girl for it, considering all she'd been through in the past year alone, but it saddened him nonetheless.
"If nothing else," He started up again, "You have to admit that this event is interesting and could prove to be invaluable."
"Professor, I fail to see anything interesting about the situation," Louise bit back sharply, "With either outcome I lose something. If he's not my Familiar then I have to repeat the ritual, a stroke of failure that has never happened before and probably never will," She laughed bitterly, "And if he is my Familiar, then what? Do I explain to my parent's that I'm such a failure that I failed to summon even a decent familiar, something even the weakest mage should be capable of?" She gripped her wand tightly, almost as if she planned to snap it in half, "Or that I summoned some kind of monstrous corpse that can't even heal itself? Oh yes, my family will be so proud of me!"
Colbert was hardly surprised at the outburst. He didn't fail to see how excited the girl got when she asked him about the Familiar Summoning Ritual months ago. This was her one chance to prove she could be a decent mage, and she summoned something so alien that he was hesitant to call it successful even with the theories he already had.
"Miss Valliere-"
The sounds of the wooden doors of the clinic being flung open interrupted whatever he was about to say. Both teacher and student looked up to see the panicked form of the old nurse looking out of breath and hyperventilating.
"Professor Colbert, Ms. Valliere! He's gone! The window's been pried open and he's gone!"
That...was not good.
Siesta considered herself a practical girl. Her current goal right now was to work in order to send money back to her family, and her long term goal was to find a good husband, settle down, and have a big happy family. Sure she might have entertained thoughts of fancy; wished she was spirited away by a charming prince or to serve and fall in love with a kind, handsome noble straight out of a fairy tale (or romance novel, as her case may be).
Things like these happening were obviously impossible, but it didn't stop her from indulging in fantasies at least for a while. The life of a servant was ever so dull and exciting events ranged from rare to near impossible. Many of the servants in the castle, not just her, wished for something exciting to spice up their lives and break the monotony of cooking, cleaning, serving, and mental/physical abuse that was expected of them to take.
Well, Siesta certainly regretted wishing for excitement right now.
When she thought of excitement she meant something harmless but energizing. Many nobles - mostly males who wanted to regale young maiden's off their feet - boasted danger was something that they were used to dealing with, and Head-chef Marteu called them 'Annoying brats that wouldn't know danger if it bit them right in the ass' in response.
In front of her was a sight most surprising: A figure, covered in loose clothing and bandages in many parts of his body. Siesta wondered if it was a decoration or a corpse before she saw movement. He was breathing, but just barely. Every breath came out as forced and grew weaker with every passing breath that passed through his parted lips.
She certainly felt like this was dangerous.
Swallowing her nervousness, she stepped forward slowly. The hallway she was in was completely abandoned, save for the occasional flicker of the torch. The figure contrasted greatly with the brown wood and dark stone, with both his white hair and skin making him similar to a ghost. Personally, Siesta wondered if he was one and was half-tempted to run away in fright. No matter how much she wished, she couldn't. Her identity as a person would be compromised if she allowed someone to die simply because of her own fright.
"Um...hello?" No response. Taking another breath, she kneeled down slowly and shook his exposed shoulder slowly, "Excuse me...please wake up."
Slowly, figure's head turned to look towards her. Siesta's eyes widened slightly as she saw the color of his eyes; bright yellow, like the center of a flame. Despite the metaphor, however, she couldn't see any intensity in them. All she could see was exhaustion, a want to close and never re-open again.
He looked to be about the same age as her, though whether he was older or younger by a year was too hard to see. The loose clothing certainly didn't help in this regard, and neither did the bandages that covered a a majority of his body. The only exposed parts of his body she could see were parts of his arms, his upper left chest, and his entire face sans his right eye and forehead, which were covered in a thick bandage as well.
"Who...are-" He didn't get to finish. His eyelids drooped down and the tightly closed lips parted slightly, making a soft breath and interrupting his words, "Where's..." He paused, looking down and closing his eyes again. Siesta waited a few moments, but he didn't make another comment.
"U-Um, please don't talk!" The frantic maid grabbed him by the shoulders yet again and shook him softly, trying to rouse him from his impromptu slumber, "Do you need help? Um, how about food or, or -Oh, I don't know how to deal with this!"
She wasn't prepared for situations like this! She was a scullery maid! She was meant to serve food or clean up annoying corners of the campus. Treating injuries or dealing with people who appeared to be on the verge of death was NOT in the job description. But what could she do? She wasn't about to leave someone who could die if there was something she could do. Her family and experiences taught her to be better than that.
"FAMILIAR!"
Oh no, this was it! The figure in front of her most likely died while she was so busy panicking and now she was being punished for letting someone die when it was in her power to help! 'Oh please, forgive me Founder Brimir!' She'd heard the tales from her mother when she was younger. Of the demons from the void who came after those who stared death in the eyes and did nothing to prevent it. And now she was going to be dragged into the void as punishment!
Barely preventing herself from fainting, she turned to the source of the loud voice...and felt all the terror leave her at the sight of the small pinkette stomping over to the prone figure.
"Familiar, what are you doing here!?" The small pinkette all but ignored her and stomped over to the prone form of the unconscious teen(?), "We've been looking everywhere for you!" She continued to rant and yell at the white haired Undead, completely ignoring the fact that he wasn't answering and likely didn't hear a word she said.
'This is the demon of legends?' Siesta wondered silently to herself. She expected monsters clad in black armor that sucked the souls of people to drag them into the darkness of the void to offer to the giant snake demon. Not a short, pink haired girl that looked like she could barely carry a pack of clothes, let alone the souls of people she was going to damn to eternal punishment.
The young maid could only watch in bemusement as tiny pinkette pulled the pale young man's arm and attempted to force him from his sitting position; an effort which was met with no success considering her lack of upper body strength and, presumably, being unused to physical hardship and labor.
"You, maid!" Louise turned to the staring maid and pointed, "Take this," She pointed to the prone Undead, "and bring him to my room at the top of the west(?) tower. And be quick about it!" She all but demanded.
Siesta might have commented on the fact that she was mistreating someone who looked to be at death's door, or maybe that carrying someone to a room while they're injured wasn't such a good idea, but she kept her mouth shut. As much as it pained her to put someone at risk simply because a noble asked her to, this was the way of the world, and she was simply a part of it.
The first thing the Chosen Undead felt when waking up was the feeling of cold stone pressing against his face. While normal people might have found this worrying or irritating, he found it to be the complete opposite.
Too long had he wished to feel the cool stone and mucky ground on his skin again. The only respite from his supposed great quest was when he was able to find a bonfire and feel the wounds leave his body and fatigue melt away. Firelink shrine, the bonfire he had most visited, had neither warm beds nor comforting sights. And yet he had found himself loving it all the same.
Feeling more of his energy come back to him, he stood up with purposeful slowness, making sure to once again check the area for traps or blades coming out of walls ala Sen's fortress.
The area he was in was small, or at least small in comparison to the previous area's he was previously. He was obviously in a bedroom of some sort, though normal sized since the decorated bed, while large, looked to be made for someone of his height and stature. The small table that was stationed off to the side helped support this claim.
The walls that surrounded him were covered in marble and various decorations, and he could see a gilded window off to the side that led to a spectacular view of the evening sun. Unlit torches dotted some parts of the wall, so the only source of light he could glean off the small area were from the outside.
To be perfectly honest, it reminded him of the many rooms he had traversed through when passing by Anor Londo, only smaller and less gold-tinted. The recognition brought with it two things: The first was caution, and the second was relief.
Caution because it probably meant he was back in the station's of the God's. Smaller or not, the similarity in design couldn't have been pure coincidence and it probably meant something. And relief because, for whatever the God's may have had in store for him, he had escaped. Escaped the Kiln and escaped his torment of eternal flames.
When he woke up at that previous area he was unsure. Maybe he was simply hallucinating and he had truly gone insane. But no, he had his faculties and, for good or ill, he was back in familiar ground.
The creaking of the wooden door across from his position signaled to him that he wasn't alone. He saw her immediately when she poked her head in, '...Young girl?' He couldn't help but be surprised. Undead cared not for age, seeing as they were all the same in Unlife, so it wasn't odd for him to make friends with the mid-20's Laurentius or the late 40's Siegmeyer. Still, it was his first time seeing someone so...young.
If he had to describe her, he would call her petite and childlike, qualities he had never seen on anyone during his time in Lordran. Even the teenage Rhea and the Ambiguously-aged Dusk of Oolacile didn't have anything to her in regards to youth. Furthermore, the strawberry pink hair that adorned her head was a color he had never seen before. Purple and silver maybe, but not pink.
"You're awake!" For a moment, she almost seemed relieved. The surprised smile on her face was quickly replaced by anger, however, "It's about time! The Professor and the nurses thought you had gone off and gotten yourself killed!"
The Undead gave no response, causing Louise's face to turn red, "Hey, answer me!" She stomped over to him and gave her trademark scowl, "What were you thinking, going off like that? The nurses spent an hour trying to find you!"
"...Huh?" He could only mumble and stare blankly at the raging pinkette, tilting his head to the side as a show of confusion. This girl's voice was the one he had heard before...so where were the commands? The trickery? Every person he'd met would either attempt to have him do something or do something for him (which happened very rarely). Considering how familiar she acted when entering the room, she must've been its owner or at least a resident. So that would mean she was the God or entity leading it, right?
"I'm asking you why you left the clinic and started wandering around!" She stamped on the ground again, "Your bandages were just put on and you thought it was a good idea to walk around?"
Whoever she was, she certainly seemed angry for her small size. Human's in Lordran weren't very tall, with the God's towering over them and even the mortals simply blessed with power like the Black Knights or the Knights of Berenique being heads and shoulders taller than even the strongest of his kind. By contrast, the girl was shorter than him, though not extremely so. It was hard to properly compare due to his missing eyesight, but he could hazard a guess that he was less than a head taller than her, maybe about half a head or less.
So it was either she was human like him or the entity's started getting shorter in the year's he had been caged.
"Cli...nic? Ban...da-ges?" He stared down at his hands again. Were these cloth things on his hands called clinics or bandages? It certainly wasn't something he'd seen before. Where were the Estus flasks and healing miracles? These pieces of cloth, while comfortable, didn't seem very sensible considering the other available options.
"...Are you an idiot?" The anger in her voice had disappeared, only to be replaced by disbelief, "Oh Founder, please don't tell me I didn't summon who's mentally challenged!" She lamented quite loudly.
"..." While Louise was busy trying to examine her life, the confused Undead simply continued to stare in wonder at the odd pieces of cloth, "Ban...dage..." These things were alien to him. What were they? A kind of healing talisman? Maybe armor? He couldn't feel any of his statistics increase when wearing them. Even the weird clothing the pinkette wore added slightly to her attunement and intelligence, at least as far as he could see-
"Hey, are you listening to me?"
"...Mm."
Louise sighed, 'Dear Founder, what have I gotten myself into?' One could practically hear her facepalming. This was what she was afraid of? The so called monster that was immune to healing magic? The Burning corpse that caused such a stir? He seemed less of a threat and more of an annoyance. Sure he was covered in bandages, but not to the point that he looked like a Mummy (another monster from her books), and the burns were covered well enough with the white cloth that they couldn't be seen unless she suddenly ripped the bandages off him.
She had put on a brave and demanding front when she saw him because showing fear was the only other option and she'd rather prostate herself before Kirche before any hint of that emotion ever crossed into her face (unless it was because of her mother, in which case it would've been completely justified). But now she felt like an idiot for even bothering, since said 'monster' seemed to be mentally damaged.
He even looked close to her in age, which made said deficiencies even more insulting in hindsight.
"Do you even know why you're here?" Another blank stare followed before he slowly shook his head left and right in reply, "Then I guess I have to explain what's happening...though Familiar's usually don't have to be told this," Then again, Familiar's usually weren't human in appearance, or monster's which looked oddly similar.
And so she explained. The Springtime Familiar Summoning Ritual, the summoning, his appearance (though she made sure to exclude the little detail of her screaming), being taken to the Clinic, and finding him fainted on that hallway.
"...Familiar?" He finally asked after a moment of contemplation. Louise noted that his voice had an airy and tired tinge to it whenever he spoke, like he wasn't used to talking too much.
"Yes, a Familiar," Louise nodded, glad that she was finally getting somewhere, "Every self respecting mage, such as myself-" she added unnecessarily, "requires a familiar in order to prove both their right to magic and as a form of worship to our Founder Brimir. Every Familiar is bonded to the Mage and each of them are supposed to assist their Master in whatever task is given them."
The pale Undead nodded to show that he was listening.
"Familiar's are more than just a common household pet, however," Louise raised her Index finger for emphasis, "They are the Mage's main companion and it is their role to follow the Mage from their summoning up to their Master's death, regardless of circumstances," Another nod came from him, though noticeably more hesitant this time around, "Each Mage has a corresponding element and their familiar is usually connected-"
She stopped. The Undead gave her another tilted head, urging her to continue, but she remained silent. The reason she stopped wasn't due to lack of knowledge, but shame. If each and every familiar connected to a specific element, then what did her summoning him mean? The rational (and hopeful) part of her mind tried to point to him being on fire earlier and that it was proof of her being in the fire element.
But a larger, more cynical part of her told her she had failed again. The person in front of her was certainly not burning and human in appearance. The jeers of her peers echoed back into her mind, "Faker, Pathetic, Pretender," all this and many others were leveled at her earlier by almost the entire audience present.
"Am I...your Familiar?" Louise's eyes widened when she heard the unspoken question uttered so casually.
"W-Well, I suppose so!" She bit back with a slightly red face, "Could there be any other explanation for me summoning you?"
Another long moment of silence erupted between the two of them. Louise wondered to herself if he had slipped into another fainting episode before she saw the tiniest of nods shake his head.
"...Yes," He stood up again and bowed, though it looked comical and forced since his body couldn't bend too much from the amount of bandages covering his body and head, "...I am...your Familiar..." He paused. What was he supposed to call her? "I am...your Familiar...small lady?" He finished lamely.
Wrong choice of words. Already he could see her petite form shaking with rage from hearing the deriding insult, "Call me MASTER!" She stood up and bounded towards him, pulling him by the scruff of his loose shirt (and ignoring his injured state) so they were eye to eye, "You will be called Familiar and I will be called Master! Is that understood?"
The Familiar nodded, though he personally thought her reaction was a bit too overboard simply because she disagreed with a name. Even Siegmeyer's angry charge didn't compare to the anger this girl threw around like fireballs. It boggled him how she could act like this and yet have no intention to harm.
"Good!" With that done, Louise finally felt a load leave her shoulders. She had resolved the situation, though whether taking him/it (she couldn't be sure if he was human or some kind of morphing creature) was a victory or not. Undoubtedly rumors would spread tomorrow when everybody saw her odd familiar follow her around.
She'd have to deal with that tomorrow, "Familiar, prepare for the first task." Another nod followed her statement. Louise sighed in relief with the fact that her new Familiar could, at the very least, comprehend basic orders.
Without missing a beat, Louise made her way to the wardrobe and took out her sleeping wear, stripping out of her school clothes in the presence. Her Familiar said nothing, as stripping clothing even in the middle of a fight was a tactic used by many Undead and modesty was far from his concern at this point. Though he did wonder slightly why she was changing from a statistically superior set of clothing to an even thinner piece of cloth that offered even less protection, he kept it to himself. Far be it for him to question her logic. Maybe there was an effect that would only activate when she wore it? Lautrec did the same with permanent jump enchantment that worked for him alone.
"Here, take these clothes and wash them," She threw her recently removed clothing rather haphazardly onto a basket filled with other clothes, "The servant's must have forgotten to come up here earlier and I don't want to wait for them to come back later.
Again her Familiar nodded, sauntering over to the basket and pulling it up with some slight difficulty. With a last bow to his master, he turned and made his way to the exit.
"Hey wait, I thought your hair was gray?" She called out suddenly.
The Familiar turned back to her with a curious stare, one hand reaching up to grasp a lock of his hair while the other continued to carry the basket, "...Ash and smoke...covered it." He replied.
Louise took that explanation well enough and waved him off. With a deep yawn, she turned to the large bed and plopped down gratefully on top of it. She needed a good days rest before she dealt with the events tomorrow.
Oh, and something unique I found: Dusk of Oolacile has long golden hair and pointed ears in her official artwork, compared to the human like appearance in her in-game model. Now who else do we know has long golden hair and pointed ears with a penchant for magic? I think I can use this :)
Unlike this chapter, I promise the next one will come very soon. Cross my heart and hope to die :D
Anyway, this chapter and the next one are just giant info dumps for the most part. The plot and original elements will pick up right after the next chapter.