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Chapter 4: A Whisper


"Talking normally," said Louise.

'Thinking to myself,' thought Louise.

"Check out my teeth!" Exclaimed the Black Spirit.


"Thank you, Lord Gramont, for the update on the Albion situation," stated the Princess, seated with her sole advisor standing by her side, her eyes closed in contemplation, and nodding to one of the most decorated and trusted Generals in her kingdom's meager army.

"Of course, your Highness. I will keep the Crown informed of any developments," saluted the man, a rather handsome, middle-aged blond man, his face set in a mask of professionalism, his mustache bristling.

"We see, and once again we thank you for your continued service to Tristain and the Crown, General. You are dismissed," continued the Princess, her voice cold and serious, more akin to an experienced ruler's than to a not-yet coronated Princess. Her face, despite possessing a beauty that had countless men of all ages fawning over her looks, was set in a neutral expression, showing none of her emotions.

The blonde General saluted once more, turned around and left the courtroom. The doors slammed shut, and the magenta-haired princess slumped back into her throne, letting out a heavy sigh laced with anxiety.

'My throne', she bitterly thought, tightening her grip on the ornate wooden armrest. The throne was the last thing she wanted, but alas, she knew she couldn't simply abdicate. It would be spiting in the face of all that her parents had taught her, and while she loathed her position, she knew that another would not necessarily have the same concern for her people, as most nobles cared little for those who couldn't use magic.

"My Queen?" Her elderly advisor, Cardinal Mazarin, spoke in a faint voice, knowing just how much recent events wore heavily on the young girl he had cared for and watched over since birth.

"I am not the Queen yet," sharply retorted magenta-haired girl, but winced when she realized how unsightly her response was. All these proceedings, foreign dignitaries hoping to curry favor, and economic proposals were exhausting on the young woman. Not to mention the situation in Albion that seem to be worsening every passing day.

She was deathly worried, not for herself, but for the people of Tristain who seemed to be suffering now more than ever, for her mother who could not even muster the will to raise from bed, for W-….

"My apologies Princess," the old advisor bowed as he continued, "but as you are acting in your mother's stead while she mourns, you are the Queen in the eyes of many, including much of the nobility," soothed the man, making a gesture of appeasement.

He knew full well that the Princess did not want the throne, did not want to be forced to reign instead of her mother, and yet did so out of obligation and concern for her people. She was aware that Mazarin did his best to lessen her workload and work, but he was but one man and was best suited to give advice, not filling up paperwork.

"I understand," sighed the young woman. "All this… everything just happened so quickly."

The advisor's eyebrows creased, and a look of concern appeared on his wrinkled face, like a grandfather would about his granddaughter. In many ways, he fit that role. While not related by blood, he had helped raise the Princess since birth, had seen her grow from a child to a young woman, had seen her highs and lows, and such closeness came with bonds often seen between grandparents and their grandchildren.

His gazed closely scrutinized Henrietta, almost as if he was half-expecting the girl to shatter like glass under the pressure she was forced to face.

"Yes…" He blankly said, almost as if he had to gather his thoughts, "Everything did happen much too quickly and unexpectedly, but know there are many of us that wish to see you succeed and reign for many long years. Do not forget you are not alone in that endeavor," Assured the elderly advisor. It was little support, both of them knew it, but even when alone together there was protocol to be respected, lest other nobles start using their closeness to remove the man and replace him with someone who would give advice closer to what they wanted.

The young lady sat there in silence, digesting in Mazarin's words.

"I see, I will ponder on your words…"

Mentally, she knew that she had many allies in her court. Emotionally, however, was another story. It was more like the court had been so eager for the young Princess to replace her father on the throne that no one except her mother had even the time to mourn for the now-deceased monarch. And the worrying news coming out of Albion only caused the upper nobility to band together and push for her arranged marriage to Germania to solidify an alliance against the inevitable wave of Reconquista.

"Is there any remaining business scheduled for today?"

The old man hummed in response as he looked at the schedule in his hands, before looking up and giving the Princess a faint smile, gesturing towards the throne room's massive doors.

Henrietta replied with a smile of her own and rose from the throne, walking atop the long, lavish carpet that led to the doors. The doors swung open as she reached them, revealing her bodyguard, Agnes, captain of the Royal Musketeers.

She held the deepest respect for Agnes and her fellow women under the Knightess's and her own direct command. Despite being commoners with no inkling of magic, they had achieved much under their own prowess and character, even if some of the more pretentious nobles sneered at them behind their backs. If they had been born in Germania, for sure they would have been nobility with their aspiration and drive.

Although, the leader of the Musketeers, Agnes, could do with loosening up a bit, as straight-laced as the older woman was. But, ever since her father died, the loyal musketeer had been quite overzealous in her efforts to protect her royal charge. Even to the point that Agnes sampled every meal before she consumed it or before it came into the faintest of scents. It had gotten so bad, that Henrietta had to order the Knightess for even a hint of privacy more often than not, since she was always insisting on not being more than a few paces away from the Princess at any given time.

Although, the pedestaled Princess would occasionally catch the Musketeer captain gazing at her with a strange look on her face, but confrontation only led to denial of any such action.

"Princess," greeted the blonde Knightess as she positioned herself and strode alongside Henrietta, sweeping her eyes over shadows, open windows, and passing by servants for any possible threats to her Princess's safety. Their walk down the corridor was done in an awkward silence, the young sovereign in all but name unsure of how to breach the silence, while the older woman tensed at every shadow, her hand on her sword.

"Agnes, how are your musketeers coming along?" Asked Henrietta, hoping to make some small talk with the woman who was only a few years her elder.

"They are dutiful in their training," Succinctly stated the Captain, and the two fell back into an uneasy silence that seemed to only affect the anxious Princess. Time slowly crawled by, almost as fast as the pace they set, the young woman's dress not letting her walk any quicker over fear of tripping over herself.

After what seemed to be a quiet eternity, only broken by the clacking of Agnes's greaves and taps of Henrietta's heels, they finally reached her quarters, with her steadfast Knightess positioning herself directly in front of the door. She bid Agnes a pleasant night, not before the blonde knight swept through the room in search of any potential threats, and softly shut the door behind her, leaving the Princess alone in the expansive room that felt more like a cell than a true bedroom, at least to the young woman.

Making her way to her dresser, she began to strip away her cloak and white dress, silently falling to the floor in a crumpled heap, and, standing in her undergarments, gazed at the reflection in the mirror.

The image of a scared, lonely girl stared back.

She took a long, deep breath and looked back at the pane of glass. Twisting her body around to get a better look at herself, she noted an odd shading of murky purple on her neck and lower back. Perhaps sitting in that stuffy, uncomfortable chair for so long wasn't so good. Her posture was going to suffer, and it wouldn't do to have a hunchbacked Princess. Touching the murky bruise, she winced and recoiled at the tender flesh.

Maybe she could pad it with some cushions? She quietly snorted at the thought, imagining herself flopping onto the throne with her bedroom pillows with her legs hung over the armrests like some uncouth tyrant would, while glaring at some dignitary with a confused look on their face. She could even have a servant feed her grapes while doing so, like a Germanian noble would. The mere thought of it elicited giggles from the self-amused girl, and it certainly would stir old man Maz into quite the fit.

The lone figure in the mirror stared back at her and its smiling face quickly fell flat. Founder above, she was so lonely. When had it come down to this? To have to amuse herself like this, alone in her bedroom?

The young Princess needed some form of respite, someone who could be trusted to confide in with her worries that wasn't some old man, advisor, or someone directly under her command. A friend. There were no others around her age in the castle, except some of the servants, but they were out of the question. Mazarin was much a stickler for being proper and probably would not appreciate "girl-talk" since he was much too old and well… a man.

Oh, how Henrietta longed to just walk down the streets without a care, eating at cafes with her friends like a regular girl would gossiping about dashing young men or something of similar nature. At least, that is what she imagined what commoners did in their free time with their close friends.

She had friends… right? Her mind blanked for a moment, until she remembered a young girl with vibrant eyes and hair of fuchsia.

Of course, there is Louise, her childhood playmate! If she correctly recalled, Louise was currently attending the Tristain Academy of Magic and was in her second year. The scheming woman hummed to herself, lost in thought. If she remembered well, the Familiar Exhibition was supposed to happen in a few days…

'Perhaps….'

The beginning of a plan began to form in her head. After all, it was only proper to interact the future nobility of her Kingdom and their wonderful familiars. Maybe even make a show of it! Something to stave the dreary stray thoughts and look forward to something for once, namely reuniting with her childhood playmate after many years of separation. And so, while ironing out the details in her mind and resolving herself to present it to her family's lifelong advisor, she fell asleep on her bed with a faint smile on her face, dreaming simpler times of playing knights and princesses with a pink-haired girl.


"Thank you for your patronage, Ma'am!" gleefully counting the silver coins in the small brown leather sack Louise had handed him.

The Mage walked over to the hay-filled stables that reeked of animals and their feces, and quickly threw a glance over her shoulder at the stablemaster, absorbed in counting the clinking coins.

"Which horse was it again?" asked the Mage.

"For you? Pick any horse you'd like," chortled the man, in a way that belonged to a young boy rather than to the grown man he was. Although, even if the amount spent on the horse far outvalued the actual cost of the mount, the need for anonymity still held a place of concern in the back of her mind, and for that much coin anyone would break out into a fit of giggles.

With the impression that Tristain was giving her regarding unscrupulous individuals, perhaps the kingdom wasn't in such as an acceptable position as she once thought. Then again, back then she had been a naïve, sheltered child, unaware of the truth beyond the walls of nobility, which had been trying enough on their own without her wanting to know more about the people.

Confirming the man's attention was elsewhere, she stepped into the stables for a horse suitable to her standards. Yet, as soon as her foot met the hard dirt underneath her boot, all the horses suddenly began to panic as they neighed and stirred loudly, thrashing back and forth in their stables.

"Whoa there!" Rushed in the surprised stablemaster upon hearing the sudden panicked cries of his horses, "Easy there! Sorry about this ma'am, don't know what spooked them! Maybe a snake or something snuck on in."

Yet as his efforts to calm the horses were in vain, he yelled over the hysteria the horses exhibited.

"Easy there!"

'Zero…' called out the Mage into the depths of her mind, placing a gentle grasp on the hilt of her petal-hilted blade.

Answering the call, the Spirit's presence lessened as it was smothered over with her own energies, and the beasts calmed. Yet, the Mage had her eye fixed on a horse in the very most remote back corner of the darkened stables.

A horse whose coat was the color of midnight, and whose weary black orbs met her gaze with cautious curiosity. This horse had not panicked when the rest of its peers did so, not even to avert its eyes even as it sensed whatever lurked within her. Scars ran alongside its body, old battle wounds. An old war horse, a veteran like herself that had seen far too much. One that had survived despite all the odds and knew how to stay calm even amid combat.

Perfect.

Not saying much else, the pink-haired mage grabbed a girdle and placed it on the horse. Taking the elderly horse's reins, she swiftly mounted the creature, not bothering to saddle it, and took off down the moonlit cobblestone path, departing the hay and horse-filled stables.

"There we go! All calm now, now ma'am which horse would you…." trailed off the stablemaster, finding no indication that the woman who paid him quite the sum of money was present.

Down the cobblestone path, not a single soul was in sight, except for those who had no place to call home as they loitered on the street corners and dark alleyways, watching the lone woman and her newly acquired horse like birds of prey as they trotted down the dark streets.

Her eyes closed to focus on their presences.

Each lit up like a dimmed wick in the pitched room that encompassed the dark expanse of her mindscape, all centered around a vibrant, pink core. Like the planets in orbit around a celestial star. Yet this planet had two moons, a blue and pink one, instead of the single gray moon she had long been accustomed to.

Reopening her moonlit-eyes, she ran her fingers through the horse's raven-colored mane and patted the beast's neck, feeling her thighs press against the horse's back.

"Alright old boy, let's get you back up to speed," Softly whispered Louise to the horse, who neighed softly in answer.

"Another horse?" Spoke the Black Spirit with what almost sounded like an audible groan in its voice. It never did like pacifying creatures, always bringing up something about the boot being the wrong size.

The horse under her shuddered visibly as Zero's presence regained its foothold around her, but did little else.

"Yup," nonchalantly stated the pink-haired mage, looking quite pleased with herself as she sat atop the saddle-less horse. Although her thighs began to chafe from the movement of the horse's muscular back, so she pulled on the reigns to a nearby alleyway between two buildings.

Dismounting the horse as she slipped into the alleyway and out of sight of any that could have been watching, she patted the horse once more on its long neck, eliciting another snort of stifling air in her face. There wasn't much room to maneuver with the midnight-coated mount taking up most of the narrow alleyway's space to maneuver, yet Louise managed to squeeze by the horse coming to its rear.

She focused her senses once more and poked her pink-haired head out of the narrow path, finding no one in their immediate vicinity that wasn't on the other side of a brick wall.

"I'm surprised you've elected to acquire one so soon."

"Well, I prefer to ride horseback instead of going stir-crazy inside some wooden box on four wheels and the only reason I took one in the first place was because of Siesta," Mumbled Louise, shaking her head.

Besides there was no feeling better than to just ride at horse at full speed! The feeling of the rush of wind on her face elicited such a feeling of elevation that was to die for. Sadly, she couldn't bring her original horse with her on the journey "back home" since it was a one-man affair, not counting the spirit that possessed her body.

But if everything went according to plan, they would be reunited soon enough.

"Anyways, if you would." said Louise, twirling her hand in the horse's direction and feeling the Black Spirit materialize itself behind her. The horse's eyes widened in panic as it felt the brunt of the wraith's presence and neighed in fear as it began to thrash about. Yet before it could harm itself, Zero surged forward, over the mage, and reached out from underneath its black cloak with a long, bony hand.

The frightened horse visually calmed down as the black-coated hand entered the horse's skull, phasing through skin and bone like it wasn't even an obstacle to begin with. The panicked neighs lessened, and its breathing settled to a steady rhythm.

Suddenly, the phantom pulled its hand from out of the horse's skull, shuddering and letting out a guttural groan as its form quivered in disgust. It's gleaming red eyes glared at Louise, almost asking her to never request that ever again. But she knew the indebted Black Spirit would never voice it. After all, it's life was in her hands.

Feeling the spirits impassive glare after recovering, she waved her hand dismissively and from thin-air a brown-leathery saddle and stirrups materialized in her arms. Quietly thanking her partner, she saddled her horse in the close confines provided by the mortar-bricked walls on both sides. Hopping back onto her now-saddled horse, she pulled on the reins to backtrack out of the narrow alleyway and continued down the path back towards to the city gates.

Her eyes fell upon the moon still rising in the starry sky, and she pulled on the reigns a tad harder, causing the horse to quicken its trot.


Back at the Charming Fairy, Siesta had long retired to her cousin's room where she was going to spend the night. Having changed into plain sleeping clothes borrowed from Jessica, she sat alone in her cousin's room— Jessica having some last-minute duties to attend to—idly looking around the plain room with splashes of blue haphazardly placed on the walls. Her cousin never did have much sense for interior decorating.

Her gaze fell upon the recently acquired item, the "Talking-Sword", Sir Derflinger. Recalling Louise's words of wisdom when she had been gifted the weapon, she stood up and grabbed the weapon. Yet no response came from the blade who had been so animatedly chattery before they arrived at the inn.

"Sir Derflinger?" Her voice anxiously came out, almost as if she had reservations that everything that had happened today had been but a lucid dream. Yet, no response came from the magic sword. The maid repeated her inquiry, this time a bit louder, yet still below her usual volume, in fear of disturbing the other people in the inn.

"Wha?" Slurred the sword as its hilt bounced up and down to mimic a mouth, startling the raven-haired maid as she pulled her hand back, "Sorry 'bout that Missy, I fell asleep when we arrived."

"Oh!" Exclaimed the surprised maid with stars in her eyes, reaffirming herself that the events did indeed occur and that she was the owner of a talking, magic sword! Her parents and siblings were never going to believe this! Did this technically make her a noble? Probably not, but she cast away those thoughts for now.

"My apologies Sir Derflinger, I wasn't aware that living swords required sleep," she apologized. After all, if her sword was sentient, then she was better off being nice to it, who knew what Derflinger could do? Certainly not her, and she didn't want to risk irritating him? It?

"Hmm," hummed the sword in thought, its hilt quivering at the action, "Not so much that I need sleep, but more like what else would I do but be sheathed all the time? Polish and oil myself when I got no arms?"

"I see," mumbled Siesta, the thought of not being able to do anything for lengthy periods of time being quite foreign in her young mind since there was always duties and labors to be performed and little time for self-indulgence. Being the daughter of a farmer meant all hands had to be in the field or somehow preparing for the cold winters, and eventually a maid at an academy full of students that required food and cleaning certainly kept her busy for a meager pay. Although, that life was behind her now, being only responsible for any duties her Mistress asked of her. So long as she performed them adequately, and she had every intention of doing so.

"Something wrong, Missy?" Clacked the sword, "went quiet there."

Her eyes snapped back to the sword's eyes, or at least where she imagined them to be if Sir Derflinger had ones. Right above the hilt, like small balls of cotton.

"No, nothing is wrong. Just lost in thought," assured the surprised maid, waving her free hand back and forth.

"Haha!" Chuckled Derf, "For being the new owner of the most awe-inspiring blade in existence, of course you are!"

"Right…" Nervously giggled the off-put maid, who while patient, was starting to tire of the sword's impressive ego. Though she had endured far worse from the students of the Academy, and so strived to not let her irritation show.

"Worried about wielding me?" Asked Derf, his voice surprisingly low and serious.

"It's just…." her timid voice trailed for a moment, unsure whether to share her concerns with him, but decided to anyways since she did technically own Sir Derflinger now. Well, as much as one could "own" a sentient being, even if said being was a sword.

"It's just that I am unsure about owning a sword… for a commoner to wield a sword outside of being enlisted or serving directly under a noble is almost tantamount to rebelling against the nobility," Said Siesta, her voice carrying hints of trepidation, "And the fact I am wielding Sir Derflinger under the name of Miss Valliere makes me worry that I'll make a mistake that will shine unfavorably on her."

The sword hummed in thought, droning and quivering its moving hilt for quite a while.

"Eh… you'll be fine Missy," grunted the blade, "I doubt the Lass… err, your Mistress is even worried about that since you seem to be quite an honest and hardworking girl."

"From all my previous wielders, you certainly are the weakest of them all..." started the word, making Siesta lower her eyes in shame.

"But, I think you just need a confidence boost," finished magical blade.

"You think so?" asked the young woman, who, while still clearly uneasy, seemed to be soaking up the sword's encouragement like a sponge.

"Of course!" "Nodded" the sword, its voice serious. "In fact, just pull me out of my sheath and I'll show you a magic technique for conjuring confidence and spirit!"

"Really!? Magic!?" gasped Siesta, the maid looking at the sword in awe. She couldn't believe that there was a way for a commoner like her to use magic! Perhaps it functioned similarly to a enchanted tool?

"Yup! Now hurry up and wield me," ordered Derflinger, and she obeyed, her long hours of work in the fields and at the Academy giving her the muscles necessary to lift the heavy blade from its sheathe.

"Now, look at the mirror, and take a stance, as if you were going to fight someone. Be sure to stare at your reflection with a fierce look in your eyes!"

"Yes, Sir Derflinger!" Enthusiastically stated the eager maid, quickly following its instructions. Her eyes snapped to her reflection in the mirror, with the image of a young, plain-dressed black-haired girl comically wielding a rusted and, dare she say it, a not very impressive sword. She bent her knees and positioned the living blade like she pictured a brave knight would when facing down an approaching enemy. Her vivid mental image soon overwrote the reflection in the mirror and she imagined an older version of herself clad in steel armor, with a much more presentable version of Sir Derflinger in her hand.

"Now, follow my next instructions very carefully," the magical blade continued in a serious tone, "for this must be done with the upmost care."

"Close your eyes and take a deep breath."

She did so: her chest rose, filled her lungs with air, and exhaled.

"Now I'll be doing most of the work, but I want you to slowly open your eyes and give me your best battle cry you can give me!"

Siesta blinked, a bit confused at the idea of giving a battle cry, especially at night, and in an inn to boot.

"A battle cry? I don't see how…"

"It's all about intent, right? How do you think nobles do magic? I'll do most of the heavy lifting and you be the intent, okay?"

"Right!" The eager maid said in renewed vigor. Her eyes snapped back to the mirror, and gave it her fiercest glare. Like… Like one she would give one of her brothers when they pestered her. Feeling the call of battle rising within her chest, she yelled with as much vigor as possible. Her lungs eventually gave out, having no more air to continue her battle cry, but she could feel her confidence surging from within her bosom.

She had never felt this invigorated before! She felt like she could best an ogre singlehandedly, while bards sung tales of her heroism!

"How was that Sir Derflinger?" Asked an impassioned Siesta, but was met with a sound she wasn't really expecting.

"Bahahaha!"

The sword was prevented from answering when the sound of someone laughing drew the pair's attention, the maid turning to the source of the sound to see her cousin, flushed, holding her stomach and laughing like a hyena.

"S-Siesta, what in the world are you doing!? Hahaha!" Wheezed Jessica, as she keeled over in laughter, pointing a finger at her, "Standing there, going all "AAARRRR," just what in the world!?"

Siesta's face turned a crimson scarlet as she felt her face heat up like a roaring furnace.

"Wait! Jessica this isn't what it looks like! Sir Derflinger was just showing me magic to summon confidence!"

"Sir Derflinger?" hiccupped her cousin, desperately trying to quell her laughter, "who's that supposed to be?"

"This sword!" She almost shouted, raising the sword in her hands and causing her cousin to back away, "Sir Derflinger tell her that I was following your instructions!"

Yet, no word came from the silent blade. The seconds painfully ticked by and left the maid even more panicked and confused.

Holding back her laughter, Jessica placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, shaking her head and giving her a disappointed look.

"I thought that being a personal attendant with your own weapon would go to your head, but not this soon."

She then turned around and slowly left the room, throwing one last look of fake sadness before shaking her head. The sound of laughter broke from the hallway as the dam that held her giggles broke.

"JESSICA! WAIT! I CAN EXPLAIN! SIR DERFLINGER!" Screamed a red-faced Siesta as she chased after her cousin, unware that she still held Derf in her hands.

Needless to say, she awoke the entirety of the inn, staff included.


Beta: Arawn D. Draven [Thanks for beta'ing this chapter!]

Author's Notes

Wow! Such a huge increase in the following for this story! Now sitting at 307+ Followers & 211+ Favs Thank you everyone! My apologies for taking several months to make chapters. On top of a really difficult course-load and starting a new (a real) well paying job, I've been writing out future content for both Black Mage and Remanoir, so future releases should be a bit easier.


Answering Reviews

AnimeA55Kicker & mangalovers521 & ThyPegasusBox & lazysamuria & Others

Thanks for the love I'm getting in this story. I'm working on future chapters part-y-part and detailing a plot outline as I go. I have a clear mid and end goal in sight, but like they say: it's about the journey.

Guest (Rando)

In Black Desert, the Black Spirit does take away your memories despite being initially "powerless" because the player entered a contract with the Black Spirit (that is still unknown what it actually entailed). It happens immediately when you create a new character, so take a look at that. I will admit that I got off at a rocky start mainly because I couldn't think of any other way bring Louise back into Halkeginia without going off the rails. So, I will apologize and acknowledge the beginning of my story isn't up to par and even I am not satisfied with it. I will perhaps return to the chapter in the future and shift some things around to make it more believable. But don't count on it.

Artyom-Dreizehn

Glad you liked the surprise! Don't worry, there will be more of our infamous duo!

iZuikaku

This is going to stay strictly a BDO x Zero crossover. I haven't even played Drakengard (despite my love of Nier, the previous ones leave a lot to love) so I wouldn't even know where to start. Some little elements of from it may come into play, but that is more for artistic choices.