What I have done up to this is nothing. I am only at the beginning of the course I must run.

-Napoleon I

...

...

"You're still a failure, Louise the Zero!"

"Your success rate is always ZERO!"

Louise blocked her ears up as she walked down the hallways of the academy, as the afternoon sun began to set. Her dress was covered in soot from her latest attempt to transmute brass, and her classmates hadn't stopped in their mockery after they had been once again forced to stay behind and clean up. She did her best to ignore them, but she couldn't ignore the trembling in her heart.

Three days ago, she had summoned an arrogant, loudmouthed familiar that refused to be called that name and insisted it was an Emperor. But as she thought back to her conversation with him in the courtyard the day after he had been summoned, she remained completely confused. She had stated to Bonaparte that she had no way of believing anything he said, and it was still true. She did believe from the haughty way in which he carried him that he was likely a figure of some high authority, but an Emperor? That was utterly ridiculous from her perspective. There were no emperors. Only someone who had conquered the world could truly call himself that, after all.

But he had told her that it was because of his rank that he summoned her. And Louise knew that she couldn't deny such an idea to herself. What he had spouted from the moment they had met was fantastical, incredible, something beyond the beliefs of anyone. But isn't that what she wanted? To be acknowledged, respected by her peers? Did she not want to reach out beyond the stars and achieve something for herself that would live on forever? He represented that it was possible. After she had told Napoleon about her past in the courtyard yesterday, he had talked about his to some degree. He had told her then that he was in fact not born a nobleman. He was from a poor refugee family, and had to work towards his position of Emperor. But if someone like that could become the ruler of the world, what could a scion of the prestigious Valliere family do and become?

However, if everything he said was true, and she really was a fantastic mage, how come she still couldn't cast a single spell?

Her train of thought would have run farther, but Louise saw that while she had been thinking, her feet had automatically taken her to her destination. She looked at herself and brushed a little of the soot that had resulted from the last classroom disaster, and then pushed open the doors of the library.

She wandered through the rows of books, and then finally found him sitting at a table. Or rather, she found an enormous pile of books which surrounded her familiar – no, partner. Napoleon had constantly insisted on that word.

Louise walked up to him from behind, and then gave a short cough.

"Good day, Bonaparte."

Without giving an immediate response, Napoleon closed the book he had been reading. He turned around and gave a small smile upon seeing Louise's return.

"Hello, Louise. How are you doing?"

Louise gave a half-hearted shrug to that statement. She really didn't feel like talking about her class work with him, especially since he had never bothered to attend the classes anyways. From what she knew, he had spent the last two days either in the library or just wandering around the school.

Napoleon arched an eyebrow at her noncommittal response, and then stood up from his chair. Before Louise could move, one of his hands rested on her head, tousling on her head.

"W-what are you doing, s-stupid Bonaparte?"

She gave a quick swipe with her hand, and leapt back. Napoleon's expression became slightly confused.

"You've had a rough day, haven't you, partner? I can tell you're pretty frustrated."

"S-shut up, familiar! I did fine with my spells! I didn't fail at them or cause any explosions or anything like that. I am from the prestigious Valliere family, after all!"

Even as she made those boastful words, Louise inwardly reproached herself. Why did she have to lie like that, both to Napoleon and to herself? Besides, it was clear that since his expression hadn't changed at all, he clearly didn't believe her words. What was the point of this self-deception?

However, it appeared to Louise that Napoleon wasn't interested in pursuing the topic further. He sat back down, his hand on his cheek. Then he spoke up.

"By the way, Louise. I never did thank you for teaching me your alphabet."

"W-well, of course! I'm just showing the generosity of a noble, and you should be grateful, Bonaparte! Though I'll admit, you've learned it incredibly fast. How could someone like you learn a written system in a mere two days?"

"It's very similar to the writing system in my world. Almost identical, in fact. It really wasn't that hard."

Louise nodded at those words.

"Well, if you are grateful, then there is something I need you to do for me. In three days will be the Day of the Void. I want you to come with me to main city of Tristania and get a sword."

"A sword?" Napoleon repeated.

"Yes. A sword. Even if you are an Emperor, you still may have to protect me. And you'll need a sword to do that, since you don't possess any magic. I'll also need to get you some additional clothes like you asked for a couple days ago."

Napoleon sat back and thought for a bit. Then he nodded.

"Very well, Louise. But there's someplace in your city I would like to stop by after we're done with shopping. Will that be acceptable?"

…

Napoleon grimaced as the two entered the dingy weapon shop. Her partner was a strange person. She knew that he was not a wizard, yet Louise had insisted that he wear clothes befitting of one. The cloak was as bad as the uniform he had worn to his coronation in restricting movement, and the high collared shirt was also frustrating to wear, as it lacked the splendor of a proper military uniform. He really needed to look at what the Tristain soldiers wore and co-opt their equipment.

The shopkeeper openly grimaced on seeing a noble, which left a poor taste on Napoleon's tongue. However, this feeling of pity was quickly counteracted by the fact that the shopkeeper's appearance, with his rat-like teeth and large nose, gave off the air of someone whom could not be trusted to remain honest. Napoleon remembered the old merchants who had wholly ripped off the Armies of the Republic with their inferior equipment. He had sent the profit-seekers off to jail if they were lucky, and to hard labor if their crimes were particularly egregious. Still, Louise had likely dealt with this type of man before. She should know what to do.

"I don't know much about swords or anything, so just pick something appropriate."

Louise was quickly distracted after her statement towards the shopkeeper by a slamming noise. She turned around, only to watch her familiar's head against a wall.

"Is something wrong?"

The fact that he gave no answer made her decide to take that as a 'yes'.

The shopkeeper ducked in the back, and then brought a gleaming sword. Louise's eyes gleamed, and even Napoleon raised an eyebrow. The shopkeeper gave a rattish grin, showing off what was left of his yellow teeth.

"My finest beauty. I truly do not want to part with it, but for one as beautiful as you, miss, I'd make an exception."

Louise gave a soft giggle at those words. She was about to ask the price when Napoleon roughly grabbed the sword. Without saying a word, he extended a finger and pressed the blade against it.

"What are you doing?"

Both the shopkeeper and the Louise cried out at Napoleon's action. But without even glancing at them, he brought the sword down. And the other two gasped as a small amount of blood trickled down his finger.

"N-napoleon?"

"I'll be fine."

With a contemptuous voice, he carelessly tossed the sword down on the counter.

"With the amount of force I used, a proper sword would have sliced my finger off, not drawn a small sliver of blood. You are selling trash, merchant."

The merchant was clearly shocked, both by the gesture and the disdainful words Napoleon had used. He opened his mouth to argue, but then Napoleon stared him dead in the eye. The merchant dropped to the floor and forgot his argument as Napoleon's gaze would have made a cobra blink.

"How about you go to the back and get us something useful? And be careful this time."

With those words, the merchant picked himself up and once again scuttled into the shop. Louise couldn't help but grumble at him.

"There was no need to treat him like that."

Napoleon shrugged at those words.

"He's selling trash. I would have thrown him in jail right there when I was a ruler."

She sighed at those words, though she took note of them as further evidence of him being a ruler. Then they both heard a voice.

"You, soldier! It appears that you know a good chunk of steel, unlike your lady friend over there."

The pair turned around, only to watch a sword somehow bounce up and down in its scabbard by itself. Napoleon moved towards the sword, while Louise stared at it.

"Napoleon, is the sword talking?"

The soft words that came from the girl's mouth made the sword jump up and down more vigorously.

"What's the matter, pal, you never seen a talking sword before? I had figured someone like this guy here would have seen something else just as amazing."

Napoleon stared in surprise at the sword. Then he walked towards it and pulled it out of the sheath. This sword was a mess, he thought. It clearly needed a good polishing, but he had not cleaned a sword in quite a long time even after years of war. Still, it was of a good proportion and had a nice grip. It was an actual weapon of war unlike the trash which he had been shown earlier.

"Valliere, I believe this is a common thing in your world, to have swords which talk?"

"This is a sentient sword! I've never seen anything like it! But ugh, it's rusty and stained."

"Oi, oi, I'm the legendary blade Derflinger, you know!"

Napoleon tilted his head at the proclamation. Obviously, he knew nothing about this Derflinger, and as he looked at the quizzical expression on Louise's face, neither did she. But he could tell the sword wasn't lying, and somehow it had known he was a 'soldier'. Either it was mistaken, delusional, or…..

"We'll buy this one."

Louise bristled slightly at his declaration.

"Don't go making decisions for me! Look at it! It is in terrible condition!"

"It can be fixed. Besides, I have never seen a talking sword before. It's an interesting thing to have."

Louise sighed as she looked at it, but said nothing more. But Derflinger jumped back in its scabbard and then bobbed up and down in gratitude.

"I'm free at last! Thanks a lot, user! Now, get that lazy shopkeeper out here and buy me!"

Napoleon's eyebrows rose at what the sword had just proclaimed.

"User? That's a bit of a strange word to use to describe me, Derflinger. Call me the Emperor Napoleon instead."

The sword didn't react to that statement for a moment, before it spoke up again with a quieter tone.

"You call yourself an Emperor, huh? But you don't even know your true powers?"

…

The two had finished getting a sword as well as clothes for the Emperor, but they remained within Tristania. Napoleon had been highly insistent on finding further books on the history of Helgekinia, and so after leaving the quarters reserved for commoners, they had entered what was the oldest library in Helgekinia, a proud and towering building which was as large as a palace. The two had quickly split up after entering. Napoleon grabbed three volumes concerning the founder Brimir and settled on a dusty chair. He flipped through them, at first with amusement, but then with greater and greater irritation.

All three of them were useless. Apparently, Brimir was some sort of ancient powerful magician, but these legends said nothing about him which was clearly true. Whether he really did slay a mythical dragon was something which really did not concern the Emperor. He just wanted to know how important Brimir was to the world he was in, but discovering the truth in the layers of legends upon legends which had to exist about this figure was gigantic. Still, it was something he needed to do if he wanted to understand Brimir's importance to this land.

"So, why are you even reading these books, pal?"

Napoleon had brought Derflinger along with him, and the sword was evidently bored given the silence in the library. But the Emperor did not even look at the sword as he responded.

"Derflinger, I'm not from this world. I'm from one, which is incredibly similar to Helgekinia, but also very different. For example, we possess no magic whatsoever."

"WHAT? No magic- ow."

Still not looking at the sword, Napoleon reached out his right hand, partially pulled the sword out, and then violently slammed it back into his scabbard.

"This is an institute of learning, Derflinger. Don't you know to be quiet?"

"Fine, fine, fine. But what about your world?"

"My world does not possess magic. I ruled the entire world back home, but now I need to learn all I can from this world if I am to survive in it. If you have no knowledge, you'll never win any battles. A sword should know that."

Derflinger remained silent for a bit before it spoke up, its voice a bit calmer.

"Very well, partner, but there's a few things you should note. First I'm over six thousand years old. Given that age, I can tell when people are lying, or at minimum not giving me the whole truth. It doesn't matter to me what you did in a completely different world, but we should be honest with one another."

Napoleon gave no outer reaction to Derflinger's statement, which took the silence as an indication to continue.

"Secondly, I can understand why you want to read to learn things, but why about Brimir? You can just ask me."

"You knew Brimir?"

The sword rattled up and down in response to the inquiry.

"So neither you nor your friend recognized me? Well, I started to remember given what you've been reading about. Like I said, I'm over six thousand years old; I've done a lot of things! But I am the legendary blade Derflinger, who was wielded by Sasha, the familiar of Brimir!"

"What?"

Napoleon jerked his head up in surprise at that statement.

"Sasha was Brimir's familiar? Was she an animal or a human?"

"Well, she was an elf, but that's clearly closer to a human. But she even married with Brimir, the Founder himself, you know! I see you still have a lot more reading to do!"

Napoleon thought back and mused on that statement. He had thought that from what he had seen in the Academy that he was a unique case of a human being summoned as a familiar. It appeared that he was wrong, that there had been at least one case of a humanoid summoning. And he also had learned that this Brimir character was a mage of the Void specialization, which was an ancient magic that had been lost for years.

It appeared that a possible reason for the magical failures of his master had been discovered.

"Derflinger, what does it look like when Void magic fails?"

...

After hearing what Brimir had to say, Napoleon had begun to search for books about magic. His search had proved to be fruitless, but there were other texts on various aspects of Helgekinia. Napoleon had continued to read on the countries of Helgekinia, their people and their geography, only to stop when he realized that the sun was beginning to set. This was surprising – he had honestly expected Louise to have been berating him for being late or something like that by now. So he picked up Derflinger and began to search the library for her.

He eventually found her. Napoleon had been looking through thick volumes of history, but Louise was standing by some shelves, looking at one thin volume. He noted that every few seconds, she would stop reading and glance to her left and right. It didn't stop him from sneaking up on her from behind.

"Louise?"

He had taken to speak softly, but she jumped at the noise, and stuffed the book quickly into the shelves, with her back guarding the row. Her face was incredibly red for some reason. Napoleon looked past her and could make out… something about a country maid? Oh well, it wasn't important.

"The sun's almost set. It's probably too late to return."

She gasped at his observation.

"Oh no, what do we do? We can't go back in the night. There are bandits and other things out in the wood we went through that'll make it too dangerous."

"Well, find an inn. We'll get back tomorrow."

"But I don't have that much money left!"

"We'll find a place. Don't worry."

She stammered in acknowledgement and he grinned. It would be all right; they would find a place and head back to the Academy in the morning. He would continue his research there. Things would work out.

...

So of course, things went terribly, terribly wrong.

He had made the assumption that she knew the where things were in this city. He was quickly relieved of that error, and then Derflinger had jumped in to provide his advice with directions, which his partner had been foolish enough to accept over his protests. The result was they had wandered across what appeared to be half of the city without finding an inn, and even Napoleon's military legs began to tire. Eventually, they found a place called the Charming Fairie Inn which they had happily entered, but then Napoleon stopped dead upon crossing the threshold. Even the horrors of watching his army melt away in the Russian winter was nothing compared to what was in front of the eyes of the Emperor.

It – yes, it – had the body of a muscular trained man, of with the build and height of one who was worthy to serve in the Imperial Guard. But the high boots, the strange shirt, the gigantic lips, the ridiculous flexing poses, all served to create something which appeared to be human, but which was clearly not. For possibly the first time in his life, Napoleon panicked and he had attempted to drag Louise out of this trap which would send them plunging into the bowels of Hell. However, Louise had had enough of walking, and insisted that they stay the night here. Fortunately, she had enough coins to make sure that they could both stay for the night, and Louise quickly crawled to her bed and fell promptly asleep.

Napoleon, on the other hand, left Derflinger in the room and went downstairs where the wine and the people were. He was interested in talking, with the people about nobles and commoners and how they viewed their lives. He ignored the owner – there was nothing to be gained in talking to such a hideous thing. But as he sat down at the bar, he noticed someone sitting to his right. There was nothing overly striking about him - he appeared to be an average well-built man in his 50s, with a lock of white hair and a tired face. But someone like that, whom had clearly seen some of the worse parts of life, was all the better to talk to.

"How has business been treating you?"

The man ignored Napoleon at first, and then slowly dragged himself out of his pitcher of ale. He had mean, tired eyes, filled with resentment towards the entire world.

"What does it matter to you?"

"I'm out of town, haven't been in for a while. I'd like to hear how things have been going."

"Huh."

The man idly swirled his pitcher, then turned back on Napoleon, his air of resentment not abating in the slightest.

"Goddamn nobles." He snarled. "Stealing my pamphlets, leaving me with nothing. Honest printers can't get a day's work these days."

"You're a printer then?"

The man straightened up in response to the inquiry.

"Damn straight! Heh, nice to meet you, mate. Name's Andre Giono. Used to be one of the best printers in all of Tristan, wrote all about all sorts of things and helped people know what was going on. Then I decide to print some pamphlets on how that noble Chillan was a corrupt bastard who overtaxed everyone, and he threw me out of business and into jail for a while! I'm a printer without a job, whom no one wants to work with. How pathetic is that?"

The printer took another swig of the nasty ale while Napoleon watched.

"You don't like Chilan?"

Giono's eyes perked up with rage.

"Hell no! Chilan can die and all the nobles can go to hell!"

"Couldn't you get in trouble for saying something like that?"

"Why do you care? Hell, why does anyone care for each other these days?"

As the printer grumbled, Napoleon motioned to the bartender of a cup of their finest ale, and then slid it over to the printer whose face was currently planted on the bar.

"There's no reason why commoners can't help each other out. Here's something to show that."

"Thanks, you….."

"Bonaparte. Name's Napoleon Bonaparte. I'm just a soldier."

"Bonaparte? Ugh, your name's too long, I'll call you Boney. Yeah, that's funny."

The printer laughed without any trace of humor, and while Napoleon inwardly seethed with rage at someone mentioning that name, he kept calm. Giono chugged down the expensive ale, only pausing to wipe his lips. He eventually set down the pitcher with a sigh of satisfaction before clapping Bonaparte on the shoulder.

"Anyway, thanks for the drink. You're a good person, Boney. Stop by my business sometime, I guess I can help you out."

Giono gave a sarcastic laugh as he lurched off his seat and out of the bar. After watching him leave, Napoleon got up and began to talk with the other patrons about certain ideas. Some of them listened with fascination about the idea of liberty and equality; others pooh-poohed it as a hopeless fantasy. But the fact that there was conversation was enough. As he strode off back into the room where his partner lay sleeping, he grinned to himself.

"This is just the beginning."

…

"Dammit"

The legendary thief Fouquet ground her teeth as she looked at the castle walls. She had been "commissioned" to steal a legendary artifact known as the Staff of Destruction, and had learned by charming Professor Colbert that the Academy's treasury could be broken down with enough physical force. While that was something which her golems could do easily, that then created the problem of getting her magical constructs through the castle walls.

"Pitiful spells won't do against this thing. It needs stronger magic or force to be broken through. But I don't think I have anything like that."

She muttered those words to herself as a way of keeping herself calm as she analyzed the situation. She knew that she couldn't stay out here too long. Every second she remained here as the legendary thief and not as the hypercompetent secretary Miss Longueville was one where she risked capture. But as far as she could see, there was no direct way into the treasury. The walls were simply too thick for someone of her ability. It would take powerful magic, an incredible stroke of luck, or possibly both in order for one mage to break this wall down.

She couldn't stop thinking. If she stopped thinking, it would mean she lost. Losing would mean that her superiors would strike. They wouldn't destroy her, no. They would just destroy the orphanage and her half-sister, the only things in the world she truly valued. And she couldn't accept that. She'd still steal anything to save them. She'd kill anything to preserve that place's happiness for just another day.

Wait a second.

Fouquet's grim and determined expression slowly crept into a smile. It was a vicious smile which did not have a place on such a lovely face, but it remained anyways. She realized that there was a way to get the Staff out of the vault after all. This stratagem was fairly dangerous, but given the stakes she was playing with? She really was someone whom had nothing to lose.

And those people were always the most dangerous of all.