Chapter One: The Summoning
In the heart of the sprawling educational complex for young nobles of the vast empire informally known as the Ordeziyskaya Imperiya [Ordesian Empire] or the Royaume de Beltrum [Kingdom of Beltrum], or more rarely the le Royaume-Uni de Chevron et le Pays des Chevaliers de Lautréamont [the United Kingdom of Chevron and Lautreamont Knight Country], formally known as le Royaume-Uni d'Albion, Tristiania et Galla [the United Kingdom of Albion, Tristiania and Galla], known as the Tristain de l'Académie de Magie [Tristian Academy of Magic], within the borders of the Kingdom of Tristian, where gears whirred and steam hissed, young aristocrats gathered with an air of anticipation.
The clockwork towers loomed overhead, casting intricate shadows over the patchwork grounds—a testament to the clockpunk ingenuity of the age. Beyond, the chimneys of the industrial complex bellowed their dark diesel pledges to the skies. Young Linda Blake, with determination etched onto her delicate features, approached the summoning circle. Her long brown hair, tied into two thin twintails, whipped in the soft breeze that whipped across the academy as her amber eyes gleamed with determination.
Unknown to everyone at the academy, this unassuming cheerful and happy, happy-go-lucky young water mage with a short, slender and petite build was in fact the Empire's corona principis [1], the pink-haired, pinkish-amber-eyed, short and petite but secretly curvy and somewhat buxom Louise Françoise Claire Le Blanc de La Vallière Elstein, who had taken up the alias of Linda in order to attend the Academy as a normal student. What for? You'll soon see soon.
Transcender les limites, voilà mon destin. Her mind churned a mix of German and French thoughts of legacy and power. (Transcending limits, that is my destiny.)
She extended her hands, fingertips gliding over the engraved runes that pulsed with anticipation. With a flicker of focus, she masked the otherness of her void magic, weaving it delicately into the framework of more mundane forces.
"Par le contrat qui lie les mondes, j'invoque mon familier," Linda uttered with a dignified flair. (By the contract binding worlds, I invoke my familiar.)
The magic swirled, a disguised maelstrom of the forbidden; gears turned, steam rose, and an airship-like construct above the ritual circle whirred mechanically, illuminating the ritual below with an ethereal glow peculiar to eldritch mysteries.
Osmond, a by-now aged and wizened scholar of the arcane and mechanical, watched over with keen eyes that missed naught as he stroked his long beard. Il y a quelque chose de caché dans sa magie… du vide ? he noted, with thoughts straddling languages. (There's something hidden in her magic… void?)
As the energies reached their zenith, the barriers between realms thinned, and from the haze of magic, pulled from the Academy's dragon-riding section known as Académie Anne Sullivan, emerged Ash Blake, the brown-haired, amber-eyed, tall and slender currently second-year at the Académie Anne Sullivan and a fourth form student at the high school section of the Tristain de l'Académie de Magie, who was famous among the academy for his skill in swordsmanship and in magic but also for not having a bonded Pal, the dragon partners that all mages throughout Halkeginia and beyond, in the mysterious lands in the East, had as battle partners.
Unbeknownst to the students and even most of the teaching staff of de l'Académie, this eccentric but otherwise unassuming student was in fact, the black-haired, purple-eyed, Lelouch vii Brittania [4], the adopted son of the current Emperor of the Ordesian Empire, Phillip zi Brittania III and his second wife, Beatrice Marianne vii Brittania nee Lamperouge, formerly Ordesian citizen by birth but genetically and genealogically from the Dai Sipang Teikoku [2] Kazehaya-Karusaki Ryū [3], unbeknownst to the Ordesian masses.
Lelouch had entered de l'Académie under the disguise of Ash after returning to the Empire after an involuntary departure from his adopted homeland many years before that, in the wake of a rather uncomfortable situation, that had turned into a road trip across the world as he tried to find himself and also discover his biological family back in Zipangu, which had been a resounding success.
Upon subsequently returning to Ordesia many years after his initial fight for a personal mission he had been spotted by a solider who had known him when he had been living in the Academy's dorms as a young boy before his flight and subsequently brought back into the imperial fold, although he found it embarrassing that it had taken his adoptive father strongarming the entire imperial court to get the case against him lifted.
Doko ni iru no? Naze watashi wa koko ni iru? he thought, grappling with his arrival. (Where am I? Why am I here?)
He tried to make sense of the situation as his hands reflexively grasped at the air, feeling the residual magic tingling against his skin. "Ich verstehe nicht… я не понимаю… Εγώ δεν καταλαβαίνω… Не разбирам," he murmured, the blend of the Empire's various languages echoing oddly in the grand hall. (I don't understand… I don't understand… I don't understand… I don't understand.)
From the corner came the clanking of a mechanical scribe, inscribing the events into the history of an empire where the sun never sets, while the spires of the magic academy pierced the morning fog like monoliths hailing from eras both long past and yet to be.
Louise, under the guise of Linda, watched Ash with an intensity that betrayed her stoic façade. The summoned stood, shrouded in a mixture of school uniform and the unplaceable—a traveler between worlds now bound to her.
The scene unfolded like a theatre play influenced by a tapestry of cultural riches, with the precision of cybernetic oracles. It was a glimpse into an age of discovery and secrecy, an era where the Industrial Revolution had married the power of steam and diesel to the occult arts of the arcane.
Silence settled heavily as Ash and Linda looked upon each other. Her void magic had called to his spirit, tying their destinies together in a knot that could only be unraveled by the passage of time and the unfolding of epics written in both blood and the scripts of souls.
Thus, began the tale of unexpected bonds, forged in the fires of hidden magics, set against the tapestry of a world where the new age of clockwork sang its songs with the voice of dragons, and the hushed whispers of spirits took flight on diesel fumes under the watchful gaze of crimson-eyed watchmakers, unseen architects of what was to become.
—
Linda stood in silent anticipation through the haze of dissipating steam, the gravity of her actions coiling tightly around her heart like the springs of a clockwork serpent. Ash, bewildered manifestation of her will, faced her—equally bound by confusion and the ties of an unrequested summons.
Un baiser pour sceller le destin, she thought, her mind a turmoil of Germanic rationality and French passion. (A kiss to seal destiny.)
He was not just a familiar; he was a piece of her grander scheme, unwittingly cast into her role by the void's caprice. As she stepped forward, the edges of reality seemed to thin around her, the imperceptible caress of the void flickering in and out of existence.
"Par le lien qui nous unit, je te réclame comme miens," Linda pronounced with ceremonial precision, her lips meeting Ash's in a ritualistic gesture that was also partially fueled by her deep love for him. (By the bond that unites us, I claim you as mine.)
With the contact, a flash of energy surged, visible only to those attuned to the undercurrents of magic. Suspended in time, the Master-Familiar bond cemented, crossing the threshold between realms, locking into place with a kiss that whispered of eternity.
Osmond watched with concealed concern, his educated instinct catching the whisper of power that sailed beyond the mundane. Une si puissante magie… de telles conséquences imprévisibles. (Such powerful magic… such unpredictable consequences.)
Amidst the gathering crowd, a callous voice pierced the silence, beckoning forth skepticism and mockery.
"Est-ce vraiment ton frère ou est-ce un tour de ta magie?" jested the schoolmate, eyeing the scene with intrusive brashness. (Is that really your brother or is it a trick of your magic?)
Linda's cheeks flushed not with embarrassment but with resolve, fueled by her feline contracted spirit's Scarlet's [5] fiery essence. Flame-kissed cat ears flickered into being above her head, a fiery tail lashing behind her as the silhouette of a large white dragon loomed large enough to cast a shadow over the hearts of those who dared challenge her legitimacy.
"Oui, il est mon frère, et un jour, il sera mon époux!" she declared unabashedly, reaffirming her claim before the gathered throngs. (Yes, he is my brother, and one day, he will be my husband!)
As Ash stumbled through the linguistic chaos of his thoughts, his mind traced the lines of his past existence in silent reflection. For you see, the seemingly unassuming young man wasn't just a foreigner turned prince by adoption. He also had a deeper secret than that.
Kazehaya-Karusaki Ryū wasn't just the first prince of the Ordesian Empire by adoption. He was also the reincarnation of a young man from an alternate dimension, more specifically an alternate version of Zipangu known as Nihon, a black-haired, dark-brown grayish-eyed noble heir, swordsman/martial artist in training and future corporate tycoon before his unfortunate death named Amakawa Haruto.
Haruto had been a piece of work before his death and his soul's subsequent absorption by a then five-year-old Ryū, then living in the slums of Angers as a street child after the horrific murder of his mother a few months before that. Although he was outwardly calm, pleasant, and collected on the outside and an honor student all throught, he secretly harbored a deep love for his childhood friend and fiancee, the black-haired, purple-eyed, tall, slender, and buxom, good-hearted and kind Ayase Miharu, who had mysteriously disappeared the day of their high school entrance ceremony and had not been seen since.
Haruto's love for Ayase had remained strong even when the bus he was traveling in had a car accident and he lay dying, with his last thoughts before his soul left Earth and bypassed the boundaries of worlds being her kind smile.
Ayase no koto, itsumo omotte iru… Doko ni iru no? Kanojo wa kono sekai ni mo irunoka? His memories sailed across the oceanic expanse back to a life where his affections had remained unanswered. (I always think of Ayase… Where is she? Is she in this world too?)
The flashback shimmered into view, a vignette of stark contrasts, highlighting the brightness of youthful hope and the shadows of a love lost. Haruto's days unfolded in a sequence of sepia-tinged memories, wrapped in the unconditional affection for Ayase, and the void left by her disappearance—a tale mirroring the smoke and steel of the world he now found himself within.
In the now, Linda's poise wavered under the weight of her proclamation, the flicker of a dragon's heart burning bright within her human frame.
The machinations of the world turned, the interplay of diesel and steam, clockwork and ethereal power, blending the enchanted with the technological, crafting a society as resplendent as it was fractured—a world balanced upon the blade of modernity and tradition.
The gathered students whispered amongst themselves, theories and rumors threading through the crowd like sparks in an engine room, igniting a different kind of magic—one of human curiosity and the need to comprehend the incomprehensible.
Ash, grappling with the gravity of his unexpected entanglement with Linda, sought escape from the public eye. He called upon the Onmyōdō teachings of his past life—ancient arts once employed by Japanese diviners. Muttering a swift incantation, his form became akin to mist, allowing him to slip unseen from the boisterous field, with the hum of aetheric machines providing a clandestine symphony to his departure.
Onmyōdō no chikara, taiyo no omosa o kakushimasu. (The power of Onmyōdō, conceal the weight of the sun.)
Through corridors of cog-laden stone and beneath towering smokestacks, he maneuvered with a feline's grace—his presence as fleeting as a forgotten thought. Ahead lay a noble, draped in arrogance, sneering imperiously at passersby. Ash's patience worn thin, he moved with the silence of a hidden blade, delivering a swift and potent strike to the noble's gut.
"Halte deine Zunge, sonst bereust du es," Ash uttered with cold precision before blending back into the shadows. (Hold your tongue, or you'll regret it.)
No other dared cross his path.
His classroom loomed ahead, an amalgam of old-world academia and modern engineering—a place where tradition fought for relevance in the dawning age of dieselpunk and burgeoning cyberpunk.
The tall, slender, somewhat curvy and somewhat flat-chested, pale-skinned, shy and reserved, dark-green-haired and indigo-eyed but also immensely brilliant and academically gifted Nina Einstein, who was in fact none other than Heinrettia Francesca Christina ci Brittania, the purple-haired, blue-eyed, tall and slender, curvy and buxom first princess of the Empire and its current de-facto Queen, which of course, was unbeknownst to most of the students at the school, gazed at him with a mixture of concern and affection.
"Alles in Ordnung, Ash? Du siehst aus, als hättest du Geister gesehen," she asked gently. (Is everything alright, Ash? You look like you've seen ghosts.)
Within her chest, a tapestry of emotions wove together—memories of Haruto and Ayase dancing like stars across her mind. For Nina was not just the Empire's crown Princess in disguise, she was also Ayase's reincarnation as well, knowing full well her love had also come to this world with her from the moment she set eyes on him, although he of course didn't know this. In his presence, dormant feelings returned with newfound urgency; her desire to be his, not just in this life but beyond, grew more potent with each breath.
Watashi no suki, anata ni kesshite denwa o shinai… omae no koto ga daisuki da, Ash. (My dear, I would never hang up on you… I adore you, Ash.)
After the lecture, as dusk nestled upon the academy, their walk to the dormitories was filled with silent understanding, the unspoken thoughts as loud as a crescendo of steam whistles. Nina brushed a hand against his arm—a gesture as soft as cherry blossoms yet as heavy as destiny.
"Wenn wir dieses Treiben hinter uns lassen… können wir unser Leben neu beginnen, zusammen," she whispered, her eyes delicate pools of hope. (Once we leave this turmoil behind… we can start anew, together.)
Ash walked beside her, a fresh chapter of life unfurling in the shadow of his previous existence. The air hung heavy with promises and secrets, and amidst the cogent politics and magical intrigue, a simple human connection began to flower—one of love and dreams, of shared futures and unwritten tales.
Their steps echoed on cobblestone, merging seamlessly into the clockwork rhythm of an empire where dragons soared, spirits mingled with mortals, and the heartbeats of passionate souls symphonized with the era's pulse.
Nina (Fianna): "Gemeinsam, Ash, wir haben eine Chance auf ein glückliches Ende." (Together, Ash, we have a chance at a happy ending.)
He knew not the depth of her conviction nor the lineage of their souls intertwined across time, but in her company, Ash felt the veil of confusion lifting, replaced by the stirrings of possibility—the chance for a life where love, both past and awaiting, could be reclaimed beneath the churning skies of a world reborn in steam and shadow.
—
A chime of distant clockwork heralded the dawn, the faint whistle of steam accompanying the muffled bustle of the academy stirring to life outside the lavish bedroom sanctuary. Sunlight filtered through the stained glass, casting a kaleidoscope dance upon the four-poster bed where Ash awoke with a jolt of confusion.
His gaze flitted around the opulent chamber—a stark contrast to the spartan room he had grown accustomed to while at the academy's dorms.
With a shuffle, it clicked: He was in the quarters of Silvia Tiffania li Brittania, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, short, slender, somewhat buxom and curvy fourth princess of the empire mostly called by her nickname Flora among the imperial household, who was also yet another of his adoptive younger sisters. Silvia, like Fianna and Louise, was attending the school under an alias, her own alias being Rinslet Laurenfrost.
A sharp clench of worry seized him until a soft exhale drew his attention sideways.
Beside him lay the short, petite and slender, white-haired, childlike form of his second contracted spirit, the legendary holy sword Terminus Est, currently manifested in her human form, her embrace around him intimate and tranquil as her now exposed rather large bosom pressed up against his arm. "Quies est," she murmured in her sleep, her words flowing like an incantation. (It is peaceful.)
Verdammt, she must've snuck in after that ordeal yesterday, Ash inwardly cursed, the confusion of tongues finding order in his mixed heritage. (Damn.)
But the respite shattered as the door creaked open, revealing Silvia and her personal bodyguard disguised as a maid, the black-grayish haired, grayish-green-eyed, tall, curvaceous, and buxom Carol Nastassha, who still possessed the hawk-eyed perspicacity from her days as an agent of the Empire's de-facto foreign intelligence agency, the Office of Special Intelligence.
Silvia's inner thoughts teetered on the edge of curiosity and assertiveness as her eyes searched Ash. Quel est ce secret qu'il cache… il ne devrait pas avoir honte. (What is the secret he hides… he should not be ashamed.)
"Es ist Zeit aufzustehen, Ash. Schnell, mach dich fertig," she urged him while drawing back her opulent blond tresses, the room's grandeur reflecting in her crisp blue eyes. (It's time to get up, Ash. Hurry, get ready.)
As Est beneath the sheet began to stir, animating Ash's lap with her unconscious movements, Carol perceived a morning situation typical for men Ash's age beginning to unfold. Oi vey, der Junge gait eppes natierliches erfragen. (Oi vey, the boy is experiencing something natural.)
"Ne traîne pas, Silvia t'attend," Carol nonchalantly advised in a knowing tone, taking Silvia's arm to guide her out and afford Ash some privacy. ["Do not dally; Silvia awaits you."]
A last glance filled with unrevealed intent, then the duo departed, leaving Ash to his clandestine quandary with Est whose stirring grew more earnest.
"Pardonnez-moi," he whispered, urging her gently awake, conveying in his demeanor a tender respect for her presence despite his desire for discretion.
"Forgive me."
With spirits, dragons, and inadvertently entangled affections swirling around him, Ash faced the day, not just as an academy student or a displaced soul, but also as a bridge between the whispers of political intrigue and the burgeoning chorus of mechanical advancement—one that embraced the cyberpunk undercurrent of a world on the precipice of transformation.
In the privacy of the bedroom, where the early rays of the sun refracted through the prisms of the windows, Ash located a spare uniform from the depths of Silvia's expansive wardrobe, a relic of her younger days perhaps, but a perfect fit for Est. He handed it to her with a modest nod, averting his gaze in a gesture of respect.
"Zieh das an. Es sollte passen," he instructed, his voice a cocktail of diverse languages that somehow felt entirely natural within the walls of the academy. (Put this on. It should fit.)
Est accepted the clothes, her thoughts a melody of ancient tongues. "Hos esti megale, kyrie", she mused in gratitude, clinging tightly to Ash even as she did so. (This is most kind, master.)
After a shared bath, an experience laden with propriety and the unspoken comfort of their connection, Ash retreated behind a paneled screen, allowing Est the space to attire herself discreetly. Their movements were fluid, attuned to one another's presence, yet polite—a dance choreographed by circumstance and mutual respect.
Ash rapidly readied himself for the day, donning his uniform with the precision of one who'd mastered the tension between two worlds—his spirit's history and the cogs of the academy's daily grind. As his boots clicked against the cold floor, Est's eyes fluttered open, an innocent oblivion about her, unaware of the potential chaos she had nearly wrought.
Come morning meal, they descended together toward the grand hall where the aroma of fresh bread and herbal teas intertwined with the steam of awakening minds. At breakfast, Silvia eyed the pair, her thoughts intertwining suspicion and intrigue, like interlocked gears in need of oiling.
Pourquoi est-elle si attachée à lui? Il y a plus qu'on voit ici, she pondered, fork hesitating mid-air. (Why is she so attached to him? There's more than meets the eye here.)
"Warum festhält sie sich so sehr an dich, Ash?" Silvia's query poised on the brink of the inquisitive and the accusative. (Why does she cling so much to you, Ash?)
Carol, ever observant from the background, kept her peace—her Yiddish roots coiling into a guardian's instinct, ready to unfold like the petals of a wary rose.
Ash, amidst the questioning eyes, replied, "Sie ist mehr als nur eine bekannte Geist, sie ist auch eine Familie member." His answer, a testament to his adaptability and diplomatic sense, sought to appease without divulging too much. (She's more than just a familiar spirit; she is also a family member.)
Est, clinging to Ash's side with an attachment that seemed to radiate from her very essence, leaned into his touch as though it was her life's anchor. Her contentedness did not require words, but when she spoke, it was with the conviction of eons past.
"Dōs mou, kyrie, andrá," she intoned, her voice a soft murmur in the cacophony of breakfast conversations. (Give me strength, master, hero.)
Their dialogue continued inconspicuously under the thrum of the dining hall, blending seamlessly with the rising crescendo of clockwork academe—an intricate symphony where each had their part to play.
With Silvia's suspicion sown among the petals of their unfolding narrative and the backdrop of the academy's grandiosity humming with the promise of untold stories, Ash and Est navigated the continuously blurring line between feigned normalcy and the authenticity of their crafted disguise.
The great clock of the dining hall, a masterwork of cogs and sprockets, ticked rhythmically, its sound nearly drowned out by the voices of the young nobles conversing over breakfast. Yet, it was Silvia who commanded the room's attention when she spoke next.
"As-tu cru pouvoir le cacher? Je sais ce qui s'est passé hier," Silvia articulated with firm composure, hinting at the knowledge of yesterday's events. (Did you think you could hide it? I know what happened yesterday.)
Ash, caught between the remnants of a clandestine escape and the present company of dignitaries in training, looked upon Silvia with a blend of surprise and anticipation for her next pronouncement.
Silvia's eyes, a mirror to her soul, betrayed a glint of something more profound than mere curiosity. "Ich will deine zweite 'Ehefrau' sein," she declared, the statement hanging in the air with the weight of an oath yet whispered among the embers of a secretly kindled fire. (I want to be your second 'wife.')
Carol's eyes flickered over the table, her thoughts a storm of Russian and Yiddish pragmatism, understanding the layered politics at play. У каждого имперского дракона свои стремления, she mused, the reflective surfaces catching the glint of unspoken machinations. (Every imperial dragon has their own aspirations.)
Est, sensing the increasing tension, tightened her grip on Ash, her actions louder than the murmurs of ancient languages in her heart. Prostasia ei enhergeia, she subconsciously reinforced her devotion to him. (Protection in action.)
"Zu viel Ehr, aber es scheint, wir müssen über diese Sache sprechen," Ash managed to thread the needle of his response delicately, acknowledging the honor but expressing the need for a private discussion. (Too much honor, but it seems we must talk about this matter.)
The room's atmosphere, once lively, now resembled the charged pause between bolts of lightning—a harbinger of the storm to come, reflecting the complexities of a world where the past bleeds into the steam of the future, and the clockwork of the present ticks with the anticipation of a thousand potential outcomes.
As breakfast concluded and the students dispersed, the corridors of the academy braced for the reverberations of the choices made within its walls.
For Ash, each step was a measured one, Est by his side, her presence a balm to the latent chaos unfurling around him. It was the dawn of another cycle in this intricate machine of sorcery and steampunk, where each gear turned in harmony with tradition and innovation, his path now scribed with the indelible ink of destiny's pen.
"A romantic tale for the ages," quipped a voice from the back, trying to pierce the tension with levity.
As Linda caught her breath and Ash grappled with newfound reality, their futures intertwined within the crucible of their circumstance. Bound by magic, history, and uncharted love, they stepped forward into a chronicle already in motion—a saga crafted by the convergence of void and existence, waiting to be written by their hands.
Stepping into the daylight, the morning's events tucked away like an arcane secret, Ash joined the rhythmic pulse of Tristain, the clockwork and steam of the campus breathing a life uniquely their own.
—
[1] Crown Princess
[2] Great Empire of Zipangu, and yes I'm using Monster Girl Encyclopedia and Monster Girl Quest in this. As for why Zipangu [Monster Girl Encyclopedia] is an Empire like the post-Tokugawa and pre-1947 Japanese Empire in this story, to make things simple here: The Toyotomi Hideyoshi equivalent's goal of unifying all, and I mean all of Japan's equivalent was successful before his death, though he was unable to conquer the Great Ming State equivalent ruling over Han China's equivalent during this world's version of the Imjim Wars. Needless to say even though the Tokugawa clan equivalent eventually supplanted the Toyotomi equivalent and became shoguns like in the real world, the Imperial House of Great Yamato, managed to reclaim some power.
[3] I know that the name of the young man who absorbed Haruto's soul in canon Seirei Gensouki is in fact Karusaki Rio, but as there is no equivalent of that name in Japanese I just decided to use the real-life equivalent instead.
[4] Considering what Ryū did both in canon and in this story I have no idea why the king of Beltrum didn't just adopt him into the royal family. And yes, I used that name for a reason.
[5] Yeah, you guessed that right, and it's exactly what you think it is.