Her Majesty's S.S.
Voco Veni
01
Tristain, royal palace, 6660 A.F..
Henrietta.
Henrietta did not slam her door as she retreated to her bedroom but she very much wanted to. Unfortunately, doing so would be unbecoming of a princess and the future ruler of Tristain. Throwing a fit in public would ruin her reputation and image. Even this deep in the castle, the walls still had ears in the form of servants. There was no such thing as privacy for the royal family, outside of their bedchambers or the bath.
Now that she was behind the closed doors of her bedchambers, however?
She threw herself onto her bed, buried her face into her pillow, and screamed. The bed thumped as she pounded it with fists and feet until she wore herself out. Eventually, she rolled over and stared at the ceiling in the fading afternoon light. She was panting slightly, flushed and covered in a faint sheen of sweat, and her hair was now a mess that partially covered her face. But for the moment, she did not care.
For Henrietta, this was shaping up to be the worst month of her life.
Her father, the king, was dead. Poisoned. The kingdom's spies were still trying to determine who did it and why. Even the short list was several entries long and included suspects from the nobility, merchants, bankers, the quietly discontent among the commoners, the Empire, anti-royal dissidents, and more.
Her mother, the queen, had locked herself in the royal bedchambers in mourning and refused to come out or open the door for anything or anyone. Including Henrietta. The only person allowed inside was the queen's personal handmaid, and only barely just long enough to take care of her duties. Her mother barely took food or water and spent most of the day either crying, sleeping, or staring into the void.
The Cardinal, the temporary regent to the throne until Henrietta was old enough to ascend and take her place as queen or until she was married, had broached the subject of a political marriage. Not a marriage to her friend, the handsome and charming Prince Wales. The Kingdom of Albion was in the middle of some sort of anti-nobility revolution and the royal family's position was tenuous at the moment.
No, Cardinal Mazarin suggested that she look to Germania—and their military might—to aid Tristain in the future. The Emperor was a man in his early 40s with a harem of, at last count, thirty women—one for every day of the month. To say Henrietta was disinterested in a union with the man would be a grave understatement. And yet, duty demanded she consider the option seriously.
And today, once again, she had failed to produce so much as a flame in her private tutoring session. No, she had instead embarrassed herself by knocking dust from the rafters when her simple flame spell detonated explosively, with a sound not unlike a ship's cannon going off.
I shouldn't complain… but I am still allowed, for a while yet. I may as well take advantage while I can, she mused, heaving a tired sigh.
Some days, she wished she could just be normal. Be someone other than the princess for a day. Maybe someone like her best, and likely only true friend, Louise Francois. She glanced at the table across the room and the letter she had received from her friend, still sitting on top of it. Louise had started her first year at Tristain Academy of Magic this month. With her duties and lessons, Henrietta didn't have time to visit her friend often—she hadn't seen Louise in person for at least two years now. That didn't mean she didn't keep up with the younger girl, however. Henrietta may be guilty of abusing her position to have one of the kingdom's spies—My spies now, I suppose—check in on Louise from time to time.
From the reports she received, Louise was doing well for herself. She had inherited more than her mother's temperament and looks. She apparently also took after her mother where magic was concerned. Louise was a budding prodigy—a triangle-class mage of wind, swiftly growing into a square.
I wish we could trade places.
Of course, as soon as she had the thought, she felt guilty. Trading places with Louise would mean wishing her friend's father dead, her mother a broken wreck, and Louise herself a failure as a mage. Henrietta was jealous of her friend, but not quite that jealous.
Well, perhaps sometimes, she admitted, if only to herself.
Lifting her hand up, she glared at the ring on her left middle finger. The ring was silver, with a pale blue, oval-shaped sapphire set in the center. The ring was a relic of Founder Brimir—the Ruby of Water.
It was ancient, and for the last six thousand years it had been the symbol of the royal family of Tristain's divine right to rule. Their Mandate of Heaven.
It was beautiful, the silver untarnished even after all these years and the sapphire just as bright as the day it was set. Truly, there were only three other rings its equal in all the world.
It was powerful, absolutely soaked in enchantments and magic that hadn't been seen since the time of the founder.
It was a crutch, and Henrietta hated it with every fiber of her being.
The Ring of Water granted whoever wore it the ability to use the water element as a triangle-class mage. This went beyond simple spells into pure elemental manipulation. Things it would take a mage a minute of chanting to do, Henrietta could do with a literal wave of the hand. If the wearer already possessed a water affinity, it would add a triangle's worth of power to that—meaning that if a square-class water mage were to wear it, they would effectively be able to cast as a heptagram-class mage.
This was the true secret of the royal family's power—why they, above all others, ruled by might alone if nothing else.
With the Ring of Water, Henrietta could cast as a triangle-class mage of water—perhaps a little better, really, given the ease and speed of casting. Without it, every spell she tried failed spectacularly. It was the only thing keeping her shameful secret out of the eyes of the public. And she had to wear it outside of lessons, as a matter of national security. If someone were to discover her failure, to find out that she was only effectively a triangle-class mage, it wouldn't take long for someone to get the bright idea to challenge her for it and make an attempt on the throne themselves.
Yanking it off her finger, she hurled the priceless artifact and symbol of her power across the room in a fit of pique, where it smashed into the far wall and clattered to the floor.
If I were just allowed to summon! she raged silently. It was a fact every mage was taught from their first introduction to magic. Once a mage summons his or her familiar, spells come easier, faster, and stronger. A familiar effectively added a dot to a mage's casting ability—turning even the lowest dot mage into a line, and in terms of practical power and versatility, making a square a pentagon. Familiars, and the familiar summoning spell, were a gift from the Founder in their holy war against the Elves for the Holy Land—a way to make even the weakest of them useful.
Yet, her summoning had been postponed. At first, because she couldn't manage even simple spells without the ring. Now, her father's state funeral, her mother's retreat from the world, and Henrietta's duties all conspired to keep her from summoning. And because she was the princess, of course her summoning would be a matter of state. It had to be some grand ordeal. A public spectacle.
An errant thought crossed her mind as she contemplated her bare finger, and the faint shadow the ring had left—a patch of slightly more pale skin against her already light complexion. It didn't have to be…
I'm still just the princess. This one thing I can still do for just myself—before I have to sacrifice myself for the country. One thing I might be able to do without that damnable crutch.
"I'm not an invalid. I am a mage, and I will show them all," she whispered, her mind made up.
Hefting herself out of the bed, the took her wand from the night stand and left, after pocketing the ring. She may resent it, but it was her responsibility to safeguard it so she couldn't just leave it behind.
I need to find somewhere secluded. I don't want someone to try to stop me.
Moreover, she didn't want anyone to see her if she failed.
Imperial Airspace, alt. 8000, airspeed 150 knots.
Unified Year 1928.
Tanya.
Magic Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff flew, and as she flew, she complained. Multitasking was one of my many fortes.
The Great War was over. History had repeated itself, despite her best efforts, and Germany—or rather, the Empire—had 'lost.' No, even now, it still didn't sit well with Tanya.
Another armistice had given the enemy time to move troops, while the fatherland's own troops had grown weary of war. Then, just when there was talk of peace at last, the enemy had struck and the Empire lost the will to fight.
I couldn't accept it. Would not accept it.
The cost to the Empire in terms of finance, morale, human resources, and more would be intentionally unjust and senseless. All just to make sure that no one country could control trade within central Europe. The allies feared a super power strangling their precious trade routes, and so the Empire must be crushed to prevent such an outcome.
Make no mistake, financially ruining a nation so thoroughly as a preventative measure to guarantee trade was admirable if only in its scope. Just don't do it to the nation I'm a citizen of!
But what could Tanya do? She was just a Lt. Colonel, and while her word held some sway, perhaps far more than any other field officer in the Imperial service, she didn't call the shots. Those decisions fell to people higher in her chain of command such as von Zettour, von Rerugen, and von Rudersdorf—and ultimately the Emperor himself.
Worse, she had warned them this would happen and had been ignored.
Again.
You'd think they would have learned after the first time.
Tanya and the Salamander Combat Group were being recalled, though Tanya had been recalled ahead of the group directly. Her orders explicitly said not to take a train, but rather to fly—to make all haste and avoid contact with others if possible. She was to operate under strict radio silence for the duration. So she had gathered the essentials, donned her flight gear, and left for central command.
And here she flew, dragging her metaphorical feet at an easy cruising speed of 150 knots, in order to buy herself some time to think, and perhaps postpone the inevitable.
Tanya had heard murmurings through the grapevine of war crime trials in the Hague, and that they wanted her head on a pike. Well, they wanted the Devil of the Rhine, the Rusted Silver—whoever that unidentified aerial mage happened to be. Her instincts told her that, in all likelihood, Being X would find a way to ruin her day and getting put on trial for war crimes and turning her into a modern day Joan of Arc sounded right up that asshole's alley.
Anything he can do to try to make me repent and pray. It's unreasonable.
At this point, she was seriously considering desertion. I could not find a way to salvage Tanya's career, and our future, if things played out as I suspected they would.
I hear Brazil is nice. Perhaps I could talk Visha into coming…
I was pulled out of my musings as Tanya's magical senses blared—detection spells for magical signatures going temporarily nuts. Instinctively, she juked into a quick drop followed by a rapid climb to 10,000 while throttling up to 300 knots.
No enemy fire pinged off her defensive shell. No enemy spells burned the air around her.
And yet, the rogue magical signature was right on top of her and growing stronger. Frowning, she tapped her Type 97 and set it to run a quick self-diagnostic, on the off chance something had broken. Unlike the accursed Type 95, the Type 97 computational orbs were more sensitive to damage so it was entirely possible that it had finally decided to crap out on her. She had a spare in her bag, in addition to the cursed orb in her pocket as a last resort, but swapping it out for the safer spare would take entirely too long.
And wouldn't that just be my luck?
Diagnostics came back negative and Tanya slowed, contemplating switching to the Type 95 to double check the readings. Before she could however, space distorted ahead of her.
Tanya came to a dead stop in the air, only a few yards away from the source of the interference. Before her, at ten thousand feet in the air over Imperial territory, hovered an oval made of what appeared to be magic giving off a faint green light. A series of detection and magical analysis spells from the Type 97 came back with a result that may as well have read 'divided by zero' for all it told her.
Without spells to confirm it, she was left with her own knowledge and reasoning to fall back on.
This was obviously a magical phenomena, albeit a spell her computation orb didn't recognize. It looked like a portal, to my alternate-Earth perspective, but I'd never seen one in the flesh—nor had I ever heard of such magic in my studies. This was, to my knowledge, new. In Tanya's experience, new magical phenomena tended to have only three sources: that nutcase Schugel, enemy action, or Being X.
It hadn't exploded yet, so she ruled out Schugel.
Enemies weren't pouring through it, so it was probably not enemy action. Unless it was a test of new technology or spell-work, in which case, it could be enemy action but given that it appeared stable, the likelihood was low. If it were something new, given what she knew of the magical development process from exposure to Schugel, it probably wouldn't have succeeded as well as it appeared to have. Getting whatever was causing this portal to the point that it crossed who knows how many miles and had lasted more than a few seconds would have taken years of development. Someone would have heard something about it by now, in other words. Something like this couldn't have been kept secret for so long.
And if Being X wanted to screw with her, he'd just stop time and taunt her. It was his preferred method, after all.
In my previous life, I was at least passingly aware of anime—being Japanese, you sort of picked it up by osmosis. That experience suggested that, if it weren't something that fell into one of the prior categories, then it likely went somewhere else. There would be no telling without stepping through, however.
Considering the portal, the thirteen year old prodigy hummed quietly as she began making out her later report justifying her actions. "An unknown magical phenomena appeared in Imperial airspace and, as the highest ranking—and only—Imperial officer on site, it was my duty to investigate. And so, I launched a solo reconnaissance in force mission. For the glory of the Reich."
Nodding to herself, Tanya carefully approached the portal and reached out a hand to touch it. She was almost expecting it when, the moment her hand made contact, she was yanked inside.
There was some sense of transition, of travel across a vast void so filled with magic that it temporarily shorted out Tanya's detection spells and sent her own senses into what looked to her mind like a bad trip. Not that she had any experience with that. The worst I had to compare it to was forced drinking during my days as a Japanese salaryman, and the drunkenness that came with it—and this was nothing like that.
Then, with an explosion of magic and a pressure wave of force, everything returned to normal. And there's the explosion. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so quick to rule out the good doctor.
Tanya's feet touched down on green grass under a dim, orange-pink sky—as seen through the haze of a dust cloud. Tanya couldn't have asked for a better smokescreen if she had ordered her unit to make one herself.
Immediately, Tanya restarted her magical detection formulas. Results came back with several pings—many, many unknown magical signatures, some of which gave off strange readings. She was outnumbered but not surrounded, as most of the magical signatures appeared to be at least a hundred feet away, with only one within arms' reach through the cloud obscuring her view. None of them were in the air.
In fact, the airspace was clear, according to her detection formulas. In addition to the strange lack of air traffic was complete silence on radio or magical wireless frequencies. While a computation orb had a fairly short broadcast range for normal radio, it could receive just fine and she was picking up nothing—not even static.
No one has opened fire yet. Either they haven't seen me, they weren't expecting a traveler, or I'm not dealing with soldiers. If this were my unit guarding an untested new means of transportation and someone stepped through, I would order them to detain the traveler and if the traveler failed to comply or offered any resistance, to open fire immediately. Sloppy that they haven't. Sloppier that they've only got one person here.
Sloppy for them meant good fortune for Tanya, however. It gave her time to get her defensive shell, active defensive barrier, NBC barrier, and combat formulas ready.
In the end, the combat preparation turned out not to be necessary.
The dust cleared and she found herself standing before a girl only a couple of years older than Tanya's physical age, with dark, almost purple hair and a figure to kill for. My heart may have skipped a beat, between that perfect, slim figure and her pretty, heart-shaped face wearing such a natural smile that I felt it must be genuine. A smile that transitioned to a look of confusion when her eyes met those of Tanya.
She wore a white and purple dress—very high quality to my eye, but not what I would call 'in fashion,' either by the standards of the Empire or Earth. However, this was an unknown magic user of indeterminate affiliation, so it was hard to say if it was out of place or not and Tanya didn't exactly keep up with fashion beyond acknowledging what other women were wearing when passing them on the street.
And we shall never again speak of That Day. That Day being the day a certain branch of the military decided Tanya would make a fine dress-up doll for the papers. That Day Tanya's dignity was stripped and the last remains of my masculinity trampled beneath the uncaring heeled feet of those vultures… Tanya controlled the urge to shudder with the ease of long practice.
"Hello," the taller girl said in a soft voice, her smile returning.
That's Francois, or some French analog. Tanya had heard it shouted at her and her men often enough on the front lines, not to mention studying it in war college, so she was fluent in the language. At least fluent enough to exchange insults across the trenches or read stolen intelligence. Still… French.
Fucking escargot.
On the other hand, the girl speaking it was pleasing to the eye to say the least. I'd forgive her for the failure of being born French, for now. That would change if she started shooting or throwing magic at me, as most of Tanya's interactions with Francois tended to go. It would be a shame, but Tanya would be forced to answer in kind and return fire.
"I wasn't expecting…" the girl trailed off, shaking her head. "Where are my manners? My name is Henrietta."
Taking the expectant pause as an invitation, I answered, "Tanya." She hadn't given any titles or positions, nor even her surname—so, out of politeness, I returned the favor, leaving us on equal social footing for the moment. "Where am I? Did you bring me here?"
Henrietta beamed, positively radiating pride and triumph. "I did. I summoned you. We are in the royal palace of the kingdom of Tristain." Gesturing around them, she added, "This is my secret garden."
"I see," Tanya murmured, taking in the scenery absently as I turned that answer over. I had never heard of a nation called 'Tristain,' in this life or my first. It was possible this was another world entirely—I was living proof that other worlds existed, after all. Being X has alluded to more, that day he damned me to being reborn as a little girl in a nation at war. More importantly, Henrietta had identified this garden, in the royal palace, as hers. Implying she's not just nobility but royalty. A sense of ownership and knowledge of secret places in the royal palace would mean she lives here. At her age, either a princess or a young queen.
Tanya's lips twitched and I brought my hand up to hide my devious smile. I can use this…
"Where are you from?" Henrietta asked, drawing Tanya out of her plotting.
"The German Reich."
Well, close enough. Historically in Tanya's new world, Prussia and Germany had unified, then proceeded to ally and join with every other German speaking nation and thus the Empire was born. No one agreed on what, exactly, to call it as a nation and so they settled on 'Reich' or 'Empire.' Calling it the Prussian Empire, or the German Reich, or Prusso-Germanic Empire were all equally accurate and accepted within the Empire.
"Germania?" Henrietta frowned, looking pensive.
"No. Similar, if I'm correct. [Is this the language Germanians speak?]" Tanya asked.
"It is!" came the older girl's answer with a chipper tone.
Tanya hummed. "Then I may just be in another world after all. Just to confirm, you summoned me by magic?"
The older girl's smile brightened and she nodded. "Yes! The summoning spell is the first one I've ever managed to cast correctly."
That would explain the pride, then. "What did you summon me for? And can I go back?"
At this, the taller girl bit her lip and looked away. That pretty much told me the answer, but I waited for her to confirm or deny my suspicions.
"Summoning is permanent. If there is a way to return you to your home, if that truly is another world, I do not know of one. If," she hesitated, took a deep breath, and visibly steeled herself before meeting Tanya's eyes. "If you do not wish to become my familiar, I will do everything in my power as the princess and future queen of Tristain to find a way to send you home."
Called it. Nodding, Tanya asked, "What does being a familiar entail?"
Tanya listened as Henrietta explained, keeping her face carefully neutral as she did. Normally, a familiar was essentially a mage's slave or servant—almost an extension of their will. Henrietta was unaware of any human familiars being summoned since the time of someone she called the Founder, whom I interpreted to be their equivalent of magical Jesus Christ. Historically though, the Founder's familiars were all human and all had their own will—they were more like companions and friends than slaves. Some versions of the Founder's tale didn't even mention that they were familiars, but simply told of them as apostles.
In other words, there is a small risk that if I accept, becoming her familiar could turn me into a mindless zombie. Glancing down at the pocket that held the Type 95, Tanya snorted softly. On the other hand, if I go back, there is a 100% chance that using the compulsion orb will eventually do exactly that if Being X has his way.
In my mind, I began weighing pros and cons. I need more information.
"What is the general state of the world? Specifically, how is the economy, who are our neighbors, are we at war? And if at all possible, I would like to see a map."
"There are maps in the library. We can visit later. The economy is in a mild slump, if I understand the reports I've been reading correctly. This is due to," Henrietta swallowed thickly, but pressed on, "the king's recent assassination."
"I'm sorry," Tanya said. It was usually the right thing to say after hearing something like that.
Henrietta shook her head. Taking a moment to wipe her eyes, she continued, "We are bordered by Germania to the east and Gallia to the south, with the isle of Albion off our west coast and Romalia—the seat of the church of the Founder—south of Gallia. To my knowledge, we are not at war with anyone at the moment but our intelligence says that a group of anti-royal insurrectionists is active in Albion."
"And may be responsible for your father's death?" Tanya guessed.
"It's possible," Henrietta admitted. "There is no direct evidence yet, but that is the prevailing theory. The list of suspects is long, but the insurrectionists are near the top."
"I believe I understand the situation," Tanya said, shifting her packs and rifle and lowering them to the ground, before taking a seat on the bag containing her clothes. Across from her, Henrietta shifted her skirt around and took a seat in the grass. "I will agree to become your familiar," the girl looked so hopeful I almost felt bad as I added, "for a price."
The princess' face fell somewhat, but she nodded. "Name it. Whatever you—"
Tanya held up a hand and I shook my head. "Before I do, I think it would be best if you first understood the value of who and what it is you've summoned, princess."
"Just Henrietta," the princess corrected. "If you do become my familiar, I would like it if we had a more personal relationship than simply master and servant. I have enough of those and too few friends I can trust."
That was good. Very, very good. I had intended to try to do just that, but she beat me to it. Being friends with the future ruler of this nation would come in very handy if Tanya was staying, as seemed to be the case.
"Henrietta," I nodded in agreement. "I'd like to ask for clarification, to better understand the situation and area," Tanya began, getting a nod from Henrietta. "What is the average level of education in this country?"
"'Level of education?'" Henrietta asked, taking on a thoughtful look. "Nobles are educated from birth by their parents, then later sent to schools such as the Tristain Academy of Magic. Some merchants or newly rich educate their children, or if they lack education themselves will hire tutors. Commoners are typically taught the skills of one of their parents, or take an apprenticeship under someone with a skill. Those without skills tend to go into military service."
So, little. That was even better. For Tanya.
"I see. Well, to start with, I have had schooling to a level above what your nobles will have had, with more thorough and advanced knowledge of everything from mathematics, to history, to science, and more." At Henrietta's curious look, Tanya explained, "This is not my first life, due to circumstances beyond my control. Before I was born Tanya Degurechaff, I lived for nearly thirty years. All told, in my first life, I spent at least twenty years of that time in school of one form or another—first in more than a decade of compulsory general education that all children receive in my previous home country, then later almost another entire decade of higher education where I focused on economics. Following that, career specific training in Human Resources and other subjects."
The princess frowned. "Reincarnation is real?"
"Unfortunately."
The less said about my dealings with Being X and his cronies, the better. If I was right about the sort of setting she was in, then Tanya would be branded a heretic and blasphemer at best, or accused of consorting with devils. Which was unfair, because I had done everything I could to fight that damned devil. It wasn't my fault that he was insistent that I not only pray to him, but somehow convert others to his worship.
"Putting that aside for later," Henrietta shook her head. "What about this life?"
Tanya's smile returned. "I've spent the last several years off and on in military academy, officer candidate school, special training, and more. I was taught to lead men and wage war. The last five years of my life have been spent going from one battlefield to another, sharpening my skills as a commander and aerial mage—"
"A mage?" Henrietta whispered, earning a nod from Tanya. "A mage from another world?"
Henrietta laughed. She laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth to quiet the sound as tears streamed down her face. Eventually, she regained her composure. Wiping at her face, she sent a watery smile at the smaller blonde. "That makes you nobility here."
Tanya shrugged. "I was already nobility." At the princess's curious look, she explained. "In the Empire, one can earn nobility through military service. I earned mine when I got my first title and was promoted to Major. My full name and title is Magic Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff, the Rusted Silver. The 'von' is—"
"A nobiliary participle," Henrietta nodded. "The Germanians here use it for much the same purpose. If you don't mind my asking, why would a child be allowed to fight in a war?"
Frowning, Tanya muttered, "I'm older than I look." At Henrietta's apologetic look, she explained.
"I chose to fight. In the Empire, every child is screened for magical potential and every mage must enlist or be conscripted. I had outstanding potential, which I made full use of with my lifetime of experience and adult mind coupled with a child's learning capacity. With a war on, my options were to either enlist voluntarily or wait until I was drafted. However, only volunteers are eligible for promotion to career military positions."
I considered how much to say from there, about my reasoning and actions. Without the Empire to worry about, I didn't have to keep up Tanya's constant mask of the perfect soldier. If I was going to be staying here long term, which it seemed I was, and was to work with or for Henrietta for some time then it would be best if we understood each other. So, I offered more.
"I wanted nothing more than to coast along. To do my job well, get promoted, and earn a transfer to the rear where it was safe and I could collect a salary and benefits. I am not opposed to working hard, far from it, but if given the choice any rational person would choose less work for more pay. Likewise, a sane, rational person would not choose to go to war. War is, by its very nature, irrational—and the nation I originally came from was peaceful. We hadn't seen war for seventy years. But if I must fight, then I would rather do my duty, earn a few commendations, and wait out my service until such a time as I could be promoted to the rear echelon. That… did not happen. Instead, my skills made me highly sought-after on the battlefield. I became an Ace, and then an Ace of Aces.
"When you summoned me, I had the highest confirmed kill count of any Aerial Mage, of any country. I am the youngest person to earn the Silver Wings Assault Medal with Oak Leaves—the highest distinction the Empire could offer its soldiers, whose requirements for earning are so high that it was said that it was the only decoration that could be presented in place of a hat and rifle at a soldier's funeral. In other words, it is most often awarded posthumously.
"I've earned at least three titles in my tour of duty. White Silver, The Devil of the Rhine, and Rusted Silver—I prefer the last one. I became a symbol for the Imperial Army and the Empire as a whole—a hero to my people, and a monster to the enemy. I became the bogeyman fresh young recruits were warned about. A god of death. The only way I would ever be allowed to leave the front lines would be if I were injured badly enough to require a medical discharge, so my dreams of a comfortable life in the rear remained just that. Dreams. Little more than wishful thinking."
Wanting to know more about her summoner, Tanya asked, "You said that summoning me was the first spell you've ever managed to cast successfully?"
Henrietta visibly swallowed her pride and answered, "I am a failure as a mage. Every spell I attempt explodes. I have to wear a magical crutch to cast like a normal person. We've kept it secret so far, but I don't know how long it can last. If word were to get out, given the death of my father and my mother's malaise of despair and retreat from society, it would not be unreasonable to say that civil war and a fight for the throne wouldn't be far behind. Now, I've summoned another mage. Not just a mage, but some kind of child prodigy and war hero. There will be no keeping this secret. I'll be a laughingstock. And then, shortly after, dead and someone else will sit the throne."
Humming, Tanya asked, "Do you want to change that?"
"Of course I do," Henrietta answered. She didn't yell, or even raise her voice, but there was steel there—a resolve I found admirable.
"Good. You can't help the unwilling," Tanya nodded. "I'll help you how I can. First, however, let's talk pay. Now you have some idea of my worth as a source of knowledge, as a soldier, and as a mage. How are you planning to pay for my services? Not to mention shelter, food, clothing, and upkeep. I am a thinking, rational being—not an animal or slave you can just command as you like. I am not a pet. I am an aerial mage and a military officer."
"No, no!" Henrietta shook her head. "I wouldn't dream of treating you like some kind of pet! Whatever price you want, I will gladly pay it. You'll live here in the castle, with me. Whatever you need, I'll provide it for you. I can hire you on as a foreign advisor—with your accent, we can claim you're a disgraced Germanian noble." At Tanya's raised eyebrow, Henrietta explained, "A bastard child."
"Ah," Tanya nodded. "I have other needs, as well. My weapons require ammunition—"
"I'll contract an Earth mage or whatever we need to produce it," Henrietta offered immediately. Studying the weapon resting on Tanya's pack more closely, she frowned. "It is unlike the muskets my soldiers carry."
Tanya snorted softly. "That's because it's not a musket. We can go over it later. What sort of duties would I be expected to fulfill?"
"I would like to say none," Henrietta smiled sadly. "But a familiar's traditional role is to protect their summoner."
"I think I can manage," Tanya's lips twitched into a small smirk.
"Other than that, I wouldn't order you to do anything. I may ask, if you're better suited to a task, but I won't command you. I have servants, soldiers, mages, and an entire kingdom at my command so I doubt that will ever be necessary. I need a confidante and friend more than I need another servant."
Tanya shook her head, sending her golden hair flying. "Princess, I am a soldier. As much as I want an easy life, I would be wasted as little more than being your friend. I would do that for free," she lied. "You don't yet know my capabilities. Hearing me describe my accomplishments and seeing what I can do are two different things."
Henrietta nodded. "I'll consider it. But… you've decided?"
"I'll do it," Tanya agreed.
"Excellent!" Henrietta cheered. The taller girl launched herself across the distance separating them. Cool hands gripped the sides of Tanya's face and she had a moment to wonder what the princess was doing, before soft lips met her own. Tanya's silver-blue eyes went wide.
My libido, almost nonexistent since being reborn as Tanya, reignited as I was reminded what it was like to hold a woman. The feeling of soft lips on my own. I didn't fight the sudden, impulsive need to taste her as I had not felt in more than a decade.
And that was when I saw the trap for just how horrible it was. That so-called 'God's' cruel joke. I was, in my own mind, still very much a straight man. And yet, Tanya was female. I had a sneaking suspicion that illicit, sapphic liaisons were just as frowned upon here as they were in the Reich.
Damn you Being X!
Notes:
I've tried to keep to the writing style of the light novel as much as possible. Or at least the officially translated version.
The way I interpret this is that the salaryman sees himself as a separate entity from Tanya, or at least tries to, in a form of denial/dissociation. He talks about her like a gamer talks about the character they're playing. So the writing style is actually First Person Limited, telling a story about someone else, in a way that looks like Third Person Limited where Tanya is concerned.
You see this in the occasional reference to 'I' as opposed to 'Tanya,' when he differentiates himself from her, or when the line blurs and he can't quite differentiate. So, if you haven't read the LN and have only seen the anime, I assure you that it's not a grammatical mistake on my part and that you're missing out on half the story.
Personally, while it took a bit of getting used to at first, I came to enjoy it because it added a bit of depth to the character that the anime lacks, and is all the poorer for it.
For all other perspectives, such as the princess, Third Person Limited is standard.
Dates.
Tanya the Evil gives them, Familiar of Zero does not. But Brimir is their Christ figure and we all know what happened there—we based our calendar off of it. Well, one of them—but that's the one that won out in the end for Western nations, so it's the only one that matters. So, I figured, may as well. I used the canon element of "six thousand years since Brimir" to get +6000, then Henriette Anne Stuart's (the woman Henrietta is based on) date of birth plus Henrietta's age (minus 1, for one year before canon starts) for 660.