Louise Summons a Jedi Master
Chapter 2: Where the Fun Begins…
It was early morning. The sunlight had barely crept through the shutters, just enough to stir Professor Colbert from slumber.
"Mmmmmmmrrrrrraaaaaghhhh."
Groggily he rose, exhausted from a dreamless sleep. The couch's hard cushions were unkind to his stiff bones, years of his youthful exploits coming back to bite him. At least the blanket and pillows are soft, he thought.
Any intention of returning to sleep had been banished. There was much to do and so little time. He had exciting research to conduct.
Bringing his legs out, his feet roughly landed on polished, wooden flooring. He stood, stretching aching muscles as rough fists dug into his eyes. The air had a warm touch, a caress against aged skin that allowed himself to spread out, stretching freely and without care.
On a nearby side table, the man reached for his glasses and placed them gingerly on him. He had gone to sleep in his formal robes, a wrinkled mess of lapis dyed linen which needed to be ironed out. More unfortunate was that his skin had an oily look to it.
Jean took in a deep whiff, the air flowing quickly.
…
That's unpleasant… I'll shower later, he thought.
Surveying his surroundings, Jean took in the familiar sight of his office, an assembly of chaotically organized books and papers on top and within cabinets, odd contraptions built under an experimental desire, and a very clean looking desk. All his achievements at the academy were held here, and he felt more proud of these than of his past.
Casually the professor strolled to his desk, forgetting his staff which had been casually laid against the furniture piece. He clumsily tripped on it, the thing falling wayside.
*clankclunk*
The staff took with it a stack of notes, the pages scattering and floating gently to the ground.
"What a ruckus."
Jean shambled to the scattered papers and staff, collecting the documents in his empty hands. He picked up one particular page, on its surface a sketch of particular runes catching his attention. They were the same runes which Lousie's familiar… ahm… Yuo-dah (or Yuu-duh?) had branded on his right hand. The symbols were of interest to the professor for he almost recognized them.
The green creature had also proved to be a curiosity himself.
"Yoda."
The small creature stated solemnly as he finished stew, moving on the long piece of bread.
"Yuoo-dah…" Jean played with the name. "Yuo-dah… but, what exactly are you?"
He took a generous bite of the pastry, letting the taste sit in his mouth before shaking his head in disapproval. He again met Jean's eyes. "Think that knowing my kind will solve a great mystery, do you?"
The little creature sat on a sizable stack of books perched on top of a chair, high enough so that he could make use of the desk as its dining area. Jean sat opposite of him, leaning forward over a sketch of its runes, his graphite utensil still in hand. It was kind enough to hold its right hand steady as the Professor took care to capture each character.
The professor nodded, "It would put… many of us at ease." It surprised him that Yuo-dah spoke and acted intelligently of a creature his size. To his knowledge, there is no known midget race that can compare. A 'goblin' vaguely fits the description, though Jean knew so little of them. They are nothing more than fictional things in the vaguest lore that predates the Founder.
The little goblin ignored the request, making its own. "Of how many beings, do you know of, that live alongside us? Spoken terribly of 'elves,' you have."
Jean blinked, taken aback by what should be a self-evident answer. "Are you not aware of all the races that exist?"
"Answer mine, if you will," it insisted.
He thought for a moment before stating, "Of those only notable… besides us, the elves–" Jean paused, pulling a book in front of him, turning several pages to an old–a very old–sketch of a male and female elf in an array of poses, "–and vampires… orcs and ogres have little if any intelligence that makes them less worthwhile of a consideration."
"So sure to discount a race based on its wisdom? Even the 'lowly' pets which you would choose to adopt and care for as your own?"
"You mean sapience?" Jean was again caught off by its musing, not by the point by its ability to make it.
The goblin shook its head. "Anything which may live that is capable of thought is capable of wisdom. Anything which may feel pain as we do is not so different from us."
Choosing not to argue the point–though he believed all creatures are worthy of respect, it has been proven (and by the teachings of Brimir himself) that not all creatures are bestowed the same intelligence and responsibilities which come with such a trait–, he instead pressed his curiosity, "Do you recognize them?" pointing to the image on the book.
The green being took another glance. "Of one of millions, do they appear to be."
"Millions?" he echoed in sudden, distressed fascination.
Yuo-dah laughed, "as primitive your kind is, perhaps not ready for such knowledge, you are. In the vast darkness above, there is much to see."
"The… heavens?"
"If that is what you call it."
The memory of last night passed briefly. Their conversation had answered a lot and raised even more questions.
Jean thought deeply, 'Millions' of animals or sapients? As he understood, Halkeginia has shown to host thousands of different living creatures, and it's not a stretch to assume that the wider world shelters an even greater number. But then why mention the heavens? What could a thing such as it know anything about the heavens, much less the known world?
Thinking about that implication caused a slight burn in his head. There were too many thoughts to be had on that subject, and he'd rather not dwell on them further (at least for now).
His mind trailed back to the last bit of conversation he had with the goblin.
"Are you certain?"
Yuo-dah shook his head. "Many languages I have seen. This–" he lifted his branded hand, "I do not know. Tell me, what does it tell?"
The professor wished he had a better answer, one more deserving. "It tells that you are a familiar."
Yuo-dah cocked his head. "A familiar?"
"It… means that you are bound to a mage."
"Chained I am to this girl?"
Jean had briefly mentioned Louise before, only in Marteau's cookery. For it to have made this connection showed that it had acute intelligence.
"By rights of the ceremony, yes. It is as per tradition set by the Founder. To your or her death, it is your responsibility to serve her."
The green creature started laughing, somehow finding great entertainment from the news. In a somewhat mocking tone it stated, "To have a new master, wonderful it is! Much there is to learn from her, do you think!? All powerful she is to bind me, to summon me!?"
"The spell we use is rather simple," he corrected. Though simple it is, it proved to be a turning point for Louise, or so he hoped.
After a near minute of uncontrolled mirth, he had calmed. "Hmmmmm… yes… we shall see," he said, ignoring Jean's comment. "Think that she may keep me in the place, do you? A choice in this, does Yoda have?"
"I'm… afraid there's little choice," he said with some guilt. "The contract–your runes–have set this in stone. Whether you are willing to serve or not, your position is final."
"But choose to walk among these walls, seek my own food, speak with you, decide these things she did? So controlled that even the minds are not free, are all familiars?" The green goblin's voice suddenly carried sarcasm. "Yes, enslaved Yoda is. No hope there is for freedom. His fate sealed, forever more and always."
Even with his attention fully taken by the little creature, Jean failed to stifle a yawn. It seemed as though the hour had grown late.
Yuo-dah took note of this. "Perhaps time, it is, to continue this talk later?"
The professor stood stretching somewhat. There were still so many questions to ask, but alas, sleep calls. "Yes… I should guide you back to her room."
"Certain, I am, that I'll find my way back," it insisted.
"I don't think so." After its comments of 'enslavement'–crude as his description may be–, he doubted the little creature would so willingly return to Louise. Most familiars, after being branded, typically showed loyalty to a near unquestioning degree. For Yuo-dah to not show such a trait is an anomaly.
"But where would Yoda go, hmm? No memory of this place, I have. To explore, I only want."
The professor still wasn't taking a chance, "You may explore the academy with her permission. I must see you to her quarters. It would be unbecoming of my station." He had, after all, borrowed the creature for his own curiosity.
There was a shift in its three-digit hand, so subtle that Jean failed to notice. "But sleep, you must have."
He again yawned, finding himself agreeing, "Yes… I am… very tired."
Yuo-dah again waved its hand, "Smart enough to know that I will not run away, you must be."
"I suppose so." Jean found himself moving to a nearby couch.
His memory had grown murky after that moment. He hadn't remembered procuring the pillow and blanket. Those he kept in a nearby box for whenever he found himself up late at night, and when he didn't feel like traveling back to his room.
Realization dawned on him, and he frantically looked around for Yuo-dah. At the far end of the office, he noted that his door had been left slightly open. It became apparent that it had left last night, under his watch.
Jean felt the color drain from him. "Oh, by Founder's burnt brows."
Louise had the strangest dream. It was so vivid that she could make out the colors and smells as though she were there herself. The place was a cold metallic corridor, the very heavens themselves beyond narrow viewports. Stars hung lazily in the dark backdrop, clouds of purple illuminated and rising high (or stretching long?) as giant storms. She felt as though she had been on a voyage. Like most dreams, it had ended suddenly.
Similar to yesterday, sunlight gently tickled at her eyes. Cold air licked at her face, and she shivered awake.
Pushing herself against the bed's headboard, she lifted herself up right, brushing aside her hair and squeezing tiny fists into her eyes.
"Awake, you are?"
The strange voice caused the Valliere to jump in surprise. She tried to make out its owner but was met with a bleary sight. Barely visible was a tiny figure on the table.
She finished rubbing her eyes. Looking again, it was her familiar sitting cross legged with an unassuming expression on its face.
Quickly, she jumped out the bed, sheets thrown astray as she dashed to it. She intended to closely examine it but stopped herself. Its strange characteristics, especially the pointed ears, still took her.
It cocked its head to the side, showing curiosity.
Brushing aside her fear, she cupped her hands around the underside of its head. The little not-elf(?) resisted attempts at twisting itself.
"Loosen your head!" She tried ordering.
It did not obey.
She stepped back in a huff, instead circling around in observation.
She and the maid had tended to the unconscious creature last night. Despite the servant's assurances that it had no signs of injury, despite their best efforts at tending to it, and despite the pillow she provided for its rest, Louise was still worried. Her familiar, the only sign that she wasn't a failure of a mage, had been blasted in the face (or so she thought). She had injured it (or so she thought). How could she not worry?
She stood in front of it, staring directly at the creature. "Are you hurt?"
It again cocked its head, not answering.
"I know you can speak," she said. "Are. You. Hurt?"
Even when she first laid eyes on the creature, deep down she suspected that it had intelligence, greater than that of an animal's. The humanoid-like appearance and humble robes convinced her as much. She was not in the least bit surprised, but more so delighted that it had talked. At least it had that over the cow's salamander.
It chuckled, like an old grandfather patronizing a grandchild. "Certain I am, of my good health. You need not worry."
"That doesn't tell me anything."
"See you do, not my cuts and bruises? If not, then perhaps exist they do not."
"Why are you being difficult!?"
"Because speak the truth, I do."
"Stop talking like that!" Louise ordered.
The creature laughed, "Strange is Yoda's speech?"
"Stop asking questions!" She threw her arms in the air. Why is my familiar being so difficult? Can't it see that I'm trying to help it!? she thought.
Louise had shut her eyes briefly, banishing the frustration, then glaring at it. She decided to focus on its head. "Do you feel a headache? Any blurry vision?" A head injury would be the most likely case, she figured. It already had the sign of difficult speech.
"Only the headaches of last night. Blurry vision, I do not suffer."
The Valliere felt her skin go cold. "Any confusion? Memory problems? Fatigue? Nausea!?" Her voice grew panicked.
It gave some consideration. "… Very confused, I am. This place… no memory I have," the not-elf solemnly said.
"... Stay there."
Louise quickly moved to her wardrobe, tripping before catching herself. She glared down at a chair which had dared to lay in her path, knocked over… and missing a leg.
It didn't take long for the girl to find it casually laying against the other chair. Looking back at the creature, Louise thought she saw it give a wry smile, and she felt her anger spike.
Not now, not now, she told herself. The pinkette would find a suitable punishment later.
She quickly dressed herself in the academy's uniform, then taking her familiar somewhere she should have gone to sooner.
Yoda's prior exploration of the academy grounds had left him satisfied. Similar to forts of most pre-space faring civilizations, this bastion seemed built to deter raiders, the pentagon-shaped perimeter and stone material a testament to that. Under blaster fire and well placed explosives it would crumble, but for spears and bows it is more than capable.
Unknown to the master, the academy is not known for its renowned medicine or healing arts. Of the five towers, the Water Tower served as its medical center, with both the staff and students serving as healers. It also happened to be a place where, like the other five towers, where teachers and their students practiced the arts of water magic. They were not skilled or precise enough for life-saving surgeries, but when it came to serious injuries–including severed limbs–they were more than capable.
Beside a bed which Yoda rested in, one junior–a recent graduate of the academy–stood beside him. He held a solid board with paper clipped to it, a welcome sight from the countless data pads the wider galaxy, and even the old Jedi order, had grown addicted to.
"There isn't anything wrong, as far as I can tell," the young being stated.
His 'master' ordered, "Check again."
"There's nothing to check again. In case you aren't aware, Miss Valliere, I am more practiced with the human body, animals less so. But for your familiar–" he gestured to him, "–, I only have the vaguest sense of what to look for given what you told me."
To Yoda, he looked a lot similar to a young Sifo-Dyas, disregarding some differences in the face. He certainly seemed to share some attitudes with the late Jedi Master.
"You mean to tell me that you can't do your job properly?"
"Miss Valierre, I am an apprentice of Mondeville. I know what to look for–"
"Then look again!" Louise interjected.
"–in most creatures. For me to discern what exactly is or isn't wrong would require an autopsy, and I doubt you would appreciate me cutting him open," he finished.
"Then get Mondeville," she asked hautilly, crossing her arms, "because I am not leaving until I have a firm answer."
The Junior looked apprehensive at this, "I'm afraid he's preoccupied until later this afternoon. Some students had several… unfortunate accidents involving their familiars."
The old master took note of how the lips of both his 'master' and that of the man did not quite match their speech. He knew of a few races which had this odd trait, but not humans. He wondered if it was an odd quirk of that… disturbance which Jean Colbert had placed on him. The spell was an odd twist of the Force which still tickled at his mind, like an itch on his back he couldn't reach.
He mused, closing his eyes, The Force… It is more apt to describe it as meiloorun when it should be muja fruit. He didn't know why this is so, only that he could still use it, just as he can still consume meiloorun as he would a bundle of muja.
Muja… He could really go for a basket of the berries. It had been too long since his self-imposed exile to Dagobah. The marsh world had not a single bush to pick from. This world, perhaps it will have? he thought.
A loud growl from the master's stomach signaled his hunger. Both Louise the Junior took notice.
Sighing, the healer said, "Perhaps it would be best that you find food for yourself and your familiar. The best I can do now is to schedule you for a visit."
Without so much of a prompt from the Pinkette, the tridactyl jumped from the bed and began their march, gathering the chair leg as his walking stick.
In a huff, she conceded, "Fine!"
The main dining hall, under the center-most tower of the academy, is as grand as a noble's own palace. Its high ceiling and rows of tables attests to this splendor. Any first year student who gazed upon it for the first time would find themselves enraptured. It certainly was for the young Valliere in her first year.
Louise and her familiar entered not long ago, moving well far away from most other students and their summons so she wouldn't have to suffer their gossip. As its 'grateful' master and given its non-animal appearance, she had allowed the small creature to follow her inside, not commanding it to wait outside like all the other, oversized and wild familiars.
To her amusement, as she walked past some of the students, their shrewd voices became more hushed at the sight of the strange tridactyl. Only a handful remained fearful of its elvish appearance, most now merely confused as to what the thing even is. She could make out a different set of comments:
"What did Zero even summon?"
"Not an elf, perhaps a tiny orc?"
"Don't let it hear you!"
"Perhaps it's a disguised, midget commoner?"
The comments fell to background noise as she sat down on a bench, before an empty table.
Across from her, the tridactyl clambered on top of another bench.
"Familiar's do not sit at the table with their masters," she said with absolute certainty, as though it was the most obvious thing.
The goblin innocently swung his legs, his tiny head barely above the surface of the table. "An empty seat, is this not?"
"That bench is reserved for nobles." She was trying hard to keep her temperament level. The 'ungrateful' thing was already breaking–and had broken–etiquette between familiar and master, even between servant and noble. Louise had to forgive the goblin given its unfamiliarity and (suspected) brain damage. She guessed that it had not been around humans long enough to grow accustomed to how things are.
"Is the master so cruel to deny her apprentice basic comforts?" it asked, the pinkette failing to catch a tone of jesting.
"You are a familiar, not my apprentice. And no, you can choose to sit on the floor beside me, like all the other familiars," the pinkette answered promptly. While she found it flattering to be held in high regard as a teacher, Louise doubted she could teach it anything when she herself could only cast explosions. It was still a matter of question whether or not it could use magic. The elvish appearance (she thought) hints as much.
Still maintaining its mirth, it obliged, pushing itself off the chair. "Very well!"
Hobbling underneath, it sat to her right cross legged.
Not long after, a maid came to them.
Siesta approached with some apprehension, eyeing the creature from last night. The maid still had quite the impression, though after talking with some of the other staff she is more certain that it wasn't one of the all-powerful elves of the Holy Lands. "Miss Louise, Is there anything you and your familiar would like?" She managed to ask.
Louise placed her book down (the text of some theory on the nature of magic), rattling off one of the typical dishes the kitchen serves for breakfast along with some tea.
"Some food, might I ask?" it said.
The young noble interrupted, much to its disapproval, "That will be all."
The black-haired maid nodded, saying "Yes miss." She eyed the goblin in guilt before hurrying off.
Louise turned to her familiar, "it is improper to speak for me."
Instead of complaining, Yoda simply went into a meditation, and a comfortable silence fell over them.
"Louise~"
A brief, comfortable silence.
"Zerbest," the pinkette growled.
The small tridactyl leaned back, around the bench, to gaze at the person of Lousie's hatred, seeing a tan-skinned, well endowed human of long flowing hair. Next to her is a petite girl with short blue hair, holding a staff and book in either hand.
"Is that your familiar?" the red-head asked curiously.
"Were you blind yesterday?" Louise tried taunting.
Kirche ignored her. "It is! Come on out, mama Kirche won't hurt you~" She bent down, her arms reaching out to embrace it.
Yoda stood, ready to evade its child-like pursuit. "Picked up, I would rather not," it asked.
"And it can talk!" she added excitedly.
The pinkette's fury started to grow, "Leave my familiar alone, harlot!"
She got closer to it. "Do you have a name? You do, don't you?~"
Louise suddenly stood up, standing between her and Yoda. "Go play with your own familiar!"
Unperturbed, the 2nd year stood straight again. "Huff, you're no fun. And here we are wanting to see if you have recovered from yesterday. That explosion you caused had taken a lot from you."
Despite the red head's teasing, the old master sensed she was being genuine. He also saw that there were deep (but fleeting and perverted) passions within.
The blue haired girl had not once spoken, instead concentrating on the book. For her, Yoda recognized a deep sorrow, pain which seeped deep into the child's psyche far more than it should. It seemed to stem from loss, and he didn't need the Force to know this.
Louise did not take the red head's worry to heart. "As if I'd need your concern. Do you have anything worth discussing, or are you here to ruin my meal?"
"So you are better! In that case, maybe we can sit and eat with you? It must be awfully lonely for you to eat here all by yourself. We can talk about our familiars if you want." The last two sentences conveyed some insincerity.
The pinkette stared at Kirche with suspicion. "For what? Neither of us will enjoy each other's company."
"Zero, are you so caught up in our family's history that you wouldn't entertain us?"
"I am NOT here to entertain! Our families have been rivals for good reason. Tabitha can stay, but not you," she finished.
"Kirche," Tabitha suddenly said, tapping her staff on the tall girl's shoulder.
At this point, Siesta returned with a tray of food, a large plate of Syrup and Sugar Toast Muffin Cups with a generous serving of chopped fruit, and a cup of tea with lemon slices. She had observed the arguing, choosing now to intervene, sensing that the timing was right. "Miss Louise, your food?" she asked politely.
The pinkette acknowledged her, "Thank you, please set it down."
The black haired maid did so, eyeing the poor creature below her, clearly seeing that it was hungry. "Miss Louise, if you desire, I can have the chefs prepare a meal for your familiar."
"That won't be necessary," she quickly answered. "I'm withholding food at the moment."
Yoda's ears drooped slightly. Find food again, I must, he thought sourly.
"Tch, now that is cruel of you Zero, starving your cute familiar like that," Kirche teased again.
Tabitha again tapped her on the shoulder. "Very well, Tabby," the endowed girl relented. "We should let our favorite little explosive eat to herself. Toodles~"
The two wandered off to a different section of the hall, toward another vacant table.
"If there is anything else?" Siesta asked hesitantly.
"No, that will be all." She dismissed as she sat back down on the bench, grabbing a pair of utensils.
With a bow, Siesta took her leave, attending to the other students.
Louise carefully cut half of a muffin for the tridactyl… only to find him missing.
She stood up, equal parts panic and frustration gripping her. "Familiar!" she called.