Zero no Tsukaima:Volume3 Chapter1 - MTL

This text is a machine translation (MTL). Be warned that the degree of translation error may be higher than usual. This page was created before the updated (July 19, 2015) MTL guidelines and has not been reviewed. For details, see the machine translation guidelines.

Chapter One: Lineage of Zero

Tristain's Royal Palace was situated at the end of Bourdonne Street. In front of the Palace gates, members of the Mage Guards patrolled the area from atop their magical steeds. Rumors that war was looming had begun to spread throughout the town a few days ago. It was said that “Reconquista,” the aristocrat faction which had conquered Albion, was poised to invade Tristain.

Accordingly, the soldiers guarding the surrounding area had grown tense. In the skies above the Royal Palace, magical beasts and ships alike had been banned from flying; people passing through the gates were thoroughly checked. Even tailors, confectioners, and traders were stopped and examined. All to prevent mages disguised with illusion magic, or people controlled by charms from getting through.

Due to these circumstances, the garrison of Mage Guards was alarmed when a wind dragon appeared in the sky above the Royal Palace.

The Mage Guards was composed of three corps. Each guarded the Royal Palace, but only one at a time; while one was on duty, the other two either rested or trained. Today, the Manticore Corps was on duty. Riding their manticores, the nobles flew up towards the wind dragon above the Palace. Astride the dragon's back were five figures; between its teeth was a huge mole.

The Mage Guards warned the figures that this was a prohibited flight zone. Yet the wind dragon ignored the warning, and landed in the palace courtyards.

Atop the dragon was a beautiful girl with blondish pink hair, a tall lady with burning red hair, a blond boy, a petite blue-haired girl wearing glasses, and a black-haired boy. The boy with black hair had a long sword slung over his shoulder.

The manticore guardsmen quickly surrounded the dragon, drew their rapier-shaped wands, and assumed a stance with spells at the ready. Their Commander, a powerfully-built man with a rough mustache, bellowed at the suspicious intruders:

“Drop your wands!”

The expressions of said intruders grew instantly hostile, but the short blue-haired girl amongst them shook her head.

“Royal Palace.”

The party nodded reluctantly and, as ordered, threw their wands to the ground.

“Flying above the Royal Palace is currently prohibited. Didn’t you know that?”

The girl with blondish pink hair lightly jumped off the dragon, and introduced herself in a firm voice:

“I am the Duke of La Vallière’s third daughter, Louise Françoise, and not anyone suspicious. I request an audience with her Highness, the princess.”

The Commander twirled his mustache as he watched the girl intently. He knew about the Vallière Duchy; after all, they were a very renowned noble family.

The Commander lowered his wand.

“You are the Duke of La Vallière’s third daughter?”

“Indeed.”

Louise raised herself and stared straight into the Commander’s eyes.

“I see… you have your mother’s eyes. Well, what is your purpose here?”

“I’m afraid I cannot tell you. It’s a secret.”

“Then I’ll have to deny your request,” the Commander worriedly replied. “I cannot grant you an audience with her Highness without knowing your purpose. I could lose my head over something like that!”

“It's not like we can reveal our secret either!” yelled Saito as he too jumped off the wind dragon.

As Saito interjected, the Commander glanced over at him. He had a young face. Clothes the Commander had never seen before. A low nose. Yellow skin. A large sword draped over his shoulders.

Though it wasn’t clear what country he was from, one thing was certain – he wasn’t a noble.

“What a rude commoner. That’s not how a servant should speak to a noble. Stay silent.”

Saito narrowed his eyes. It was too much for him. True, he wasn’t even a servant. In fact, he was just a familiar. But the Commander's disdainful tone infuriated him. Gripping Derf's handle over his shoulder, Saito turned to Louise and asked,

“Hey, Louise. Can I take care of this guy?”

“Quit boasting. Just because you beat Wardes doesn’t mean you can act so arrogantly.”

Overhearing their conversation, the Commander’s eyes widened.

Wardes? Wardes, as in Viscount Wardes, commander of the Griffin Corps? Defeated? What's the meaning of this?　

Shaking away his concern, the Commander once again raised his magic wand.

“Who the hell are you people?” The Commander spoke in a stern tone. “Regardless, I cannot allow you to see Her Highness.”

The situation was quickly getting out of hand. Louise glared at Saito.

“W-what?”

“It's because of you and your blabbering that they think we're suspicious!”

“It’s all because of that bearded man and his damn attitude!”

“Shut up. You should have just kept your mouth shut!”

As he watched the strange scene unfold before him, the Commander seized the opportunity to take control of the situation. The Mage Guards surrounding the party quickly raised their wands.

“Arrest them!”

With that order, the guardsmen were about to begin their incantations when suddenly…

A person clad in a purple mantle emerged from the palace gates. Noticing Louise surrounded by the Mage Guards, she frantically ran over.

“Louise!”

Seeing the figure of Henrietta rushing over, Louise’s face shone like a rose.

“Princess!”

Under the gazes of the Mage guards, the two embraced one another.

“Aah, you came back safely. I’m glad. Louise, Louise Françoise…”

“Princess…”

Louise’s eyes began watering with tears.

“The letter… it is safe.”

Reaching into her breast pocket, Louise gently pulled out the letter. Henrietta nodded and firmly grasped Louise’s hands.

“You really are my best friend.”

“Your words are too kind, Princess.”

However, upon noticing Wales' absence from the party, Henrietta’s expression grew somber.

“As I thought… Prince Wales sacrificed himself for his kingdom.”

Louise closed her eyes and nodded quietly.

“…But what about Viscount Wardes? I don’t see him, did he take another route? Or did he… perhaps… fall by the hands of the enemy? But if it was the Viscount, shouldn’t…”

Louise's face turned grim. Speaking with difficulty, Saito explained to Henrietta:

“Wardes was a traitor, Princess.”

“Traitor?”

A shadow crept over Henrietta’s face. Then, noticing the stares of the Mage Guards around them, she declared,

“These are my guests, Commander.”

“I see.”

Hearing this, the Commander (somewhat unwillingly) withdrew his wand, and told his troops to do the same.

Henrietta turned back to Louise.

“What exactly happened on your trip? …Anyway, let’s withdraw to my room before we continue. The rest of you, please recuperate in the other rooms.”

Leaving Kirche, Tabitha, and Guiche in the waiting room, Henrietta brought Saito and Louise to her own room. Henrietta sat on a small and delicate chair, her elbows placed upon a desk.

Louise described the entire journey to Henrietta.

How Kirche and the others joined them en route.

How they took a ship to Albion, and were subsequently attacked by pirates.

How they found out that the pirate leader was Crown Prince Wales.

How Prince Wales refused to escape, even when given the chance.

How they missed the ship because of the wedding with Wardes.

How Wardes suddenly showed his true colors in the middle of the wedding… killed Prince Wales… and snatched the letter from Louise’s hands, which was swiftly regained.

…And how the ‘Reconquista’ had vast ambitions… from uniting all of Halkeginia, to the grand goal of liberating the Holy Lands from the Elves.

However... even with the alliance between Tristain and Germania now secure, Henrietta still mourned.

“The Viscount was a traitor… How could that be? To have had a traitor in the midst of the Mage Guard…”

Gazing at the letter she herself had written to Wales, Henrietta's tears built up, then streamed down her cheeks.

“Princess…”

Louise silently held Henrietta’s hands.

“It was I who took away Prince Wales' life. No matter how you look at it, it was I who chose that traitor to be the messenger…”

Saito shook his head.

“The Prince had already planned on staying in his kingdom. It was not Your Highness’s fault.”

“Louise, did he, at the very least, read my letter?”

Louise nodded.

“Yes, princess. Prince Wales read Your Highness's letter.”

“Then, Prince Wales didn‘t love me.”

Henrietta sorrowfully shook her head.

“Then... even after you urged the Prince to escape?”

Henrietta nodded whilst gazing at the letter in sorrow.

Louise recalled Wales' words. He kept stubbornly telling her that “Henrietta didn’t tell me to escape”. It was just as Louise had thought - a lie.

“Ahh, with your death, there is no longer any hope. What about me, my lost love?”

Henrietta, in a daze, muttered softly,

“Was honor more important than I?”

But Saito had come to a different conclusion. Wales remained, not to protect his honor, but rather so as not to burden Henrietta… and to show the traitors that Halkeginia's royal families were certainly not to be trifled with.

“It isn’t as you think, Princess. It was because he did not wish to give Tristain any trouble, that he remained in that country. That is how I see it.”

Henrietta looked up at Saito blankly.

“To not give me any trouble?”

“His escape, as the Prince said, would only have given the traitors the perfect excuse to invade.”

“Even though Prince Wales didn’t flee, they will still invade here given the chance. But, without a reason to invade, peace can be kept. At the cost of his life, he prevented the rise of war.”

“…Even then, he still didn’t want to give trouble. Surely…”

Henrietta, sighing deeply, looked outwards from the window.

Saito slowly repeated the words which he had remembered;

“To fight with bravery, to die with courage. That… was what Wales asked me to say.”

Henrietta replied with a cheerless smile. When the princess, as beautiful as a delicate rose, became like this, even the air itself grew heavy. Saito’s heart ached at the sight.

Henrietta rested her elbows beside a beautifully engraved marble statue on the table, then sadly questioned,

“To fight with bravery, to die with courage. That’s your privilege as men. But what of those who are left behind? What are they supposed to do?”

Saito was struck silent. He had nothing to say. He lowered his head, and awkwardly nudged the couch with his shoe.

“Princess…” muttered Louise. “If only I had tried harder to convince Prince Wales…”

Henrietta stood up and clasped Louise's hand.

“It’s all right, Louise. You were splendid. You retrieved the letter and accomplished your mission. You must not worry about this; after all, I didn’t ask you to tell him to escape.”

Henrietta smiled and laughed,

“With the obstacle that could have broken the marriage now removed, our country will be able to step safely into an alliance with Germania. In this situation, Albion will be unable to easily invade. The crisis has passed, Louise Françoise.”

Henrietta spoke as cheerfully as possible.

Louise removed from her pocket the Water Ruby which Henrietta had given her.

“Princess, here. I return this to you.”

Henrietta shook her head.

“Please hold on to it. It’s the least I can do to express my gratitude.”

“I cannot dare to accept such a treasure.”

“For such loyalty, an appropriate reward should be bestowed. It is all right, put it on.”

Louise nodded, and put it on her finger.

Seeing this, Saito remembered the ring he had removed from Prince Wales’ finger. Taking it from the rear pocket of his pants, he placed it into Henrietta’s hands.

“Princess, this is a keepsake from the Prince Wales.”

Accepting the ring, Henrietta gasped in astonishment.

“Isn’t this the Wind Ruby? Did you get it from Prince Wales?”

“Yes. In his dying moments, he passed the ring to me; he said to give it to Your Highness.”

In truth, Wales had already been dead when Saito had pulled it off his finger… but Saito had said the lie anyways. He had said it like that, hoping that it would help heal the ache Henrietta held in her heart, even if only a little.

Henrietta placed the Wind Ruby on her finger. Because it was for Wales, the ring was too large for Henrietta’s fingers… But as Henrietta murmured a ‘decreasing’ spell, it became narrower and narrower, until it soon fit her finger snugly.

Henrietta lovingly stroked the Wind Ruby. Turning towards Saito, she gave a shy smile.

“Thank you, kind familiar.”

A sad smile filled with grief; yet also a smile of gratitude towards Saito. The nobility of the smile was such that Saito was dumbstruck by its beauty, and could only mumble incoherently.

“That man, he died bravely. Is that right?”

Saito nodded.

“Yes. It was so.”

Henrietta, whilst staring at the shining Wind Ruby, declared softly.

“Then I… I will live bravely as well.”

On the flight from the Royal Palace to the Academy of Magic, Louise remained silent. No matter how much Kirche asked Louise and Saito about the contents of Wales' letter, their lips were sealed.

“Oi, c’mon, won’t you at least tell me what the mission was? And the fact that the Viscount was a traitor, it’s all so shocking.”

Kirche glanced at Saito feverishly.

“But darling fought him, right?”

Saito, having glimpsed Louise's face, nodded.

“Y-yes. But he escaped…"

“Still, that’s quite an achievement! Hey, what exactly was your mission?”

Saito lowered his head. Louise was even more silent. Neither spoke.

Kirche scrunched up her brows and turned to Guiche.

“Hey, Guiche!”

“What?”

An artificial rose in his mouth, Guiche (who had been spacing out) turned around.

“Do you know what was in the letter Princess Henrietta sent us to retrieve?”

Guiche closed his eyes, saying:

“I do not know well. Only Louise knows.”

“Louise the Zero! Why don’t you tell me?! Hey, Tabitha! What do you think? Well, I think that I am being treated like an idiot!”

Kirche shook Tabitha, who was reading a book. As she was being shaken, her head followed suit and shook as well.

Because of all of Kirche's shaking, the wind dragon lost its balance and suddenly slowed down. Guiche, who was sitting on its back, lost his balance and slipped off.

“Gyaaaaaa!”

He screamed as he fell, but since it was Guiche, no one noticed. Mid-way down, he pulled out his wand, and using “Levitation,” floated down slowly, only narrowly avoiding death.

Louise had lost her balance as well, but Saito softly reached out and held her waist with his hand, supporting her body. Seeing the hand on her waist, Louise blushed.

This morning, when fleeing Albion, Saito kissed me. I was pretending to be asleep at the time.

But why? Why was I pretending to be asleep?

It might be love… However, I do not want to admit this feeling, because Saito is my familiar; moreover, he is not a noble.

Loving a person who was not a noble was hard to even imagine. “Nobles and commoners are different kinds of people” …Since Louise had grown up with that belief, her uneasiness turned into puzzlement. Anyway, whether these feelings were true or not was not a matter of importance right then.

Feeling Saito's hand move around her waist, Louise ended up shouting in an angry voice:

“T-to be so bold, I’m going to get angry!”

“You looked like you were going to fall over. Like Guiche.” Saito replied, his face blushing as well.

“It’s all right, even if Guiche falls - it's just Guiche.” stated Louise, still bewildered from before.

“T-that’s, even if he falls he will be all right. It would be troublesome if you fell though, since you can't use magic.”

“You're just a familiar and you dare insult your master?”

Louise drew a sharp breath and quickly averted her gaze. However, she didn’t seem angry.

“You are being too daring. Hmph.”

Though Louise grumbled and complained, she didn‘t try to shake off Saito's hand. On the contrary, she leaned closer, and snuggled against him. Yet, her face remained averted. Saito stole a quick glance at Louise‘s face.

Her white cheeks were faintly dyed with pink, and she was slightly biting her lower lip. As beautiful as Henrietta was… Louise was also incredibly cute, thought Saito. The hand on her waist pulled her closer. And he felt how her waist and thighs pressed further into his body.

It was just when this was happening that Kirche spun around and muttered,

“Since when did you two become like this?”

Louise, suddenly realizing how things looked, blushed a furious red and sent the daydreaming Saito flying with a shove.

“Nothing happened! You idiot!”

Saito's scream trailed behind as he fell, but before he smashed into the ground, Tabitha (still reading a book) swung her hand listlessly, placing a 'Levitation' spell on Saito.

Saito landed gently, and saw that Guiche, having fallen before, was walking along the road through the grassy plain with a bitter face.

Guiche stopped and addressed Saito in his usual snobbish manner.

“You fell too, right?”

Saito answered in a tired voice.

“I was pushed off.”

“T-they're not coming back, are they?”

Saito looked up; in the blue sky, the wind dragon quickly disappeared over the horizon.

“…It doesn't look like it.”

“Well, let’s walk then. Sigh, it’ll take half a day on foot.”

With a depressed look on his face, Guiche started to walk. Saito was not sure why, but somehow, he felt more impressed by Guiche.

“By the way, you… that… well… There’s something I wanted to ask you. Please tell me.”

Guiche mumbled to Saito and fiddled with his artificial rose.

“Huh?”

“Did Her Highness… well… have anything to say about me? Is it true that she’ll reward me after the mission, with the letter where the promised secret date is?”

For a moment, Saito felt pity for Guiche. Henrietta hadn’t even mentioned the letter “G” from Guiche’s name in their conversation.

“Let’s go.”

Saito, pretending he hadn’t heard anything, quickened his pace. Guiche chased after him from behind.

“Well, is the rumor true?”

“Come on, walk. It’s good for your health.”

“Wha-at, y-you, Her Highness, I…”

Under the warmth of the sun, the two continued walking towards the Academy of Magic.

Once known as a great stronghold, the Fortress of Newcastle was now a tragic ruin. Having withstood the Rebel onslaught, it had become a disastrous scene.

The castle walls had been repeatedly attacked by spells and cannon fire, and were turned into a pile of rubble. Corpses burnt beyond recognition littered the ground.

Although the siege had been short, the revolutionaries - no, since Albion had lost its king, 'Reconquista' was the new government in Albion - had suffered unimaginable damage. To vanquish the three hundred Royalist soldiers, two thousand rebels had been killed. Additionally, four thousand had been wounded. With such lopsided figures, it was hard to call the battle a victory.

Because the fortress was located on the very edge of the floating continent, it was only possible to attack it from one direction. Before the 'Reconquista' forces could manage to pass the guards, they were repeatedly blasted with magic and cannon fire; the casualties received were enormous.

However, in the end, they won through sheer force of numbers. Once the rebels were behind the castle walls, the King's defense proved fragile; only his Army Mages were left to guard against the invading soldiers. But the mages' numbers were incomparable to the 'Reconquista' forces; they were gradually killed off, one by one, until all had fallen.

Though the enemy losses were great… the cost was the annihilation of the King's army. Literally annihilation, because the royalists had fought to the last soldier.

In other words, that final, decisive battle of Albion's civil war: the siege of Newcastle’s fortress, where the royalists were outnumbered 100 to 1, but inflicted damage worthy of ten such armies… had become a legend.

Two days after the civil war had ended: under the blazing sun, between the corpses and debris; a tall aristocrat inspected the old battlefield in Albion. His hat he wore at a rakish angle, and he was dressed in unusual attire: the uniform of Tristain’s Royal Mage Guard.　

It was Wardes.

A female mage, a hood over her eyes, stood next to him.

It was Fouquet, the Crumbling Dirt: she had escaped to Albion onboard the ship from La Rochelle. Last night, she had joined Wardes at a bar in Londinium, the capital of Albion; now she had followed him to Newcastle’s battlefield.

Around them, 'Reconquista' soldiers were diligently scouring for plunder. A loud cheer came from the nearby treasury: it seemed a band had found some gold coins. A mercenary holding a pike over his shoulder was turning over the corpses; every time he found a magic wand, he cried out in joy. He then pushed the bodies into a pile near some rubbish, as a decoration for the garden.

Fouquet watched the scene disapprovingly, and clicked her tongue in disgust.

Noticing Fouquet's expression, Wardes gave a cold laugh.

“What’s wrong, Fouquet the Crumbling Dirt? Aren’t these men hunting for loot your colleagues? Robbing the nobility of their treasure was your job, wasn't it?”

“Do not compare me with them. I have no interest in the riches of the dead.”

“A thief with a thief’s ethics.”

Wardes laughed.

“I’m not interested in that. I only steal valuables because I love to see the nobles' frantic expressions. But these guys…”

From the corner of her eye, Fouquet looked at the corpse of a royalist mage guard.

“All right, all right, don’t be mad.”

“I guess all of Albion’s royal nobles are your enemy. Even though your name was of royal lineage, didn't you disgrace your own family?”

Hearing Wardes' exaggerated words, Fouquet regained her composure, then said coldly, with a nod,

“Oh well. Accidents happen.”

Wardes turned, revealing his left arm; the lower part had been severed off. The uniform’s sleeve fluttered loosely in the wind.

“It looks like it was a harsh battle for you too."

Wardes replied in a monotone:

“An arm in exchange for Wales' life, I think, is a rather cheap trade.”

“He must be something, that ‘Gandálfr’, to be able to so swiftly cut off the arm of a Square-Class Wind mage such as yourself.”

“I just got careless because he is a commoner.”

“Don’t put it like that. He even destroyed my golem. However, nothing within this castle could have survived.”

When Fouquet said so, Wardes smiled coldly.

“He is Gandálfr after all. The corps that attacked the castle didn’t report fighting against such a person. Perhaps, during our fight, he expended all his energy, and was mistaken for a commoner. If so, the soldier who killed Gandálfr probably didn’t even notice that he was the legendary familiar.”

Fouquet, unconvinced, snorted. An image of Saito, a strange looking boy, floated in her mind. Could he really die so easily?

“And where is that letter?”

“Somewhere around here.”

Wardes pointed to the ground with his cane. Two days ago, this ground had been the chapel where Wardes and Louise tried to hold the wedding; this place was where Wales lost his life.

Now, though, it was just a pile of rubble.

“Hmm, that La Vallière lass… your former fiancé, the letter was in her pocket?

“Correct.”

“You let her die? You didn’t love her?”

“Loved, loved not, I’ve already cast aside such sentiments.” dismissed Wardes his voice neutral.

He drew his cane and chanted a spell; a small tornado appeared and scattered the rubble.

Gradually, the floor of the chapel was unveiled.

Between a portrait of Founder Brimir and a chair lay the corpse of Prince Wales. Surprisingly, it looked unharmed.

“Look, isn’t it the dear Prince Wales?” Fouquet said, surprised. As a former member of Albion’s nobility, she remembered Wales' face.

Wardes didn’t cast even a single glance at the remains of the man he had personally murdered; instead, he searched intently for Louise and Saito’s bodies.

However… they were nowhere to be found.

“Are we certain they died here?”

Muttering, Wardes began to search the surroundings carefully.

“Hmm… Look, isn’t that George de la Tur’s ‘Founder Brimir's Visit’?”

Fouquet reached for the painting on the floor.

“I think it is a reproduction. Mmm, come to think of it, Newcastle’s chapel must have been built to worship him… Hmm?”

Fouquet, having picked up the painting from the floor, had discovered a wide, gaping hole underneath; she called out,

“Hey, Wardes. What is this hole?”

Wardes, eyebrows raised, squatted down and peered into the hole. He realized that it must have been dug by Guiche’s familiar, that huge mole. Emanating from the hole, Wardes could feel a cold draft on his cheeks.

“Could it be that both Vallière’s youngest daughter and Gandálfr escaped through this hole?” Fouquet remarked. Wardes' face contorted in rage; it could only be the truth.

“Should we pursue them?”

“That would be useless,” Wardes replied exasperatedly. “If there’s wind, it must mean it was dug clean through.”

Seeing him like that, Fouquet grinned.

“It seems you are capable of expression. And here I thought that you were a man without emotion… like a gargoyle… Why, oh why do such emotions appear on your face?” she mocked.

Hearing this, Wardes stood up.

In the distance, a person had appeared while they were talking. It was a man in his mid-thirties. He wore a a green mantle, and a round hat; his curly blond hair peeked out from its edges. From first sight, one could tell that he was a clergyman; however, with his long aquiline nose and intelligent blue eyes, he also slightly resembled a soldier. His voice rang out to them, cheerful and limpid:

“Viscount! Wardes! Have you found the letter yet? That… what was it… ah, love letter that Henrietta gave to Wales. The savior that would prevent the union of Germania and Tristain. Have you found it?”

Shaking his head, Wardes answered the man:

“Your Excellency, it seems the letter slipped through this hole. It is my mistake.” Wardes kneeled down and bowed his head. “I am deeply regretful for my error. Please, mete out whatever punishment you deem necessary.”

The man addressed as ‘Excellency’ approached Wardes with a friendly smile on his face, and tapped his shoulder.

“What are you saying? Viscount! You did a remarkable job! You single-handedly defeated the enemy’s brave general! Ah, isn’t that over there our dear Crown Prince Wales? Be proud! You defeated him! Apparently he loathed me deeply… but seeing him like that, I feel a strange sort of kinship to him. Aah, that’s right; once dead, everyone becomes a friend."

Wardes’ cheeks flinched slightly; he had noticed the sarcasm at the end of the speech. He quickly regained his composure, and once again repeated his apology to his superior officer.

“Even so, the mission to obtain Henrietta’s letter which Your Excellency so desired ended in failure. I’m sorry I was not able to meet Your Excellency’s expectations.”

“Do not fret yourself. When compared to obstructing the alliance, the death of Wales was by far more important. A dream is something that has to be obtained steadily, step-by-step.”

Then, the man in the green robe turned to Fouquet.

“Viscount, please introduce this beautiful lady here. Being a priest, it is inconvenient for me to speak with a woman.”

Fouquet watched the stranger; right before her eyes, Wardes had bowed deeply to the man. However, she didn’t like him. A strange atmosphere surrounded him; a sinister aura radiated from the gaps of his robe.

Wardes stood back up and introduced Fouquet to the man.

“Your Excellency, this is Fouquet the Crumbling Dirt, before whom all of Tristain's nobles shudder.”

“Oh! I heard the rumors! I am honored to meet you, Miss Saxe-Gotha.”

Hearing him say the noble name that she had abandoned long ago, Fouquet smiled.

“Did Wardes tell you that name?”

“That's right. He knows everything about Albion nobles. Genealogy, coat of arms, property… it is hard for an aging bishop to remember everything. Oh, let's not delay my introduction.”

The man opened his eyes wide, and placed his hand over his chest…

“'Reconquista' First General Oliver Cromwell at your service. You see, originally, I was just a mere bishop. However, due to the votes of the Baronial Council, I was appointed first general, and I need to give my best. Though I am a clergyman who serves Founder Brimir, it should be fine for me to ‘guide’ us through the dark times, right? If necessary, using faith and power for the better.”

“Your Excellency, you are not a mercenary first general anymore, you are now Albion’s…”

“Emperor, Viscount.”

Cromwell laughed. His eyes, however, did not.

“Certainly, I really wished to prevent Tristain’s and Germania’s alliance, but there are more important things. Do you understand me, Viscount?”

“Your Excellency's thoughts are so deep that an ordinary man like me cannot measure them.”

Cromwell opened his eyes wide. Then, he raised both hands and began talking with exaggerated gestures.

“Unity! Unity of steel! Halkeginia is us, a union of chosen nobles that will take back the Holy Land from those menacing elves! It is a mission given to us by Founder Brimir! ‘Unity’ is our number one duty. Therefore, Viscount, I trust you. There is no blame in such a trifling failure.”

Wardes bowed deeply.

“For this great mission, Founder Brimir blessed us with a special power.”

Fouquet's eyebrow rose.

Power? What kind of power are they talking about?

“What power has Founder Brimir granted to Your Excellency? If it is all right, I would like to know.”

Caught up in his own theatrics, Cromwell continued in a slurred tone,

“Do you know about the four great elements of magic, Miss Saxe-Gotha?”

Fouquet nodded. Even children know of such things. Fire, Wind, Water, and fourth – Earth.

“In addition to the four great elements, there is another magic; the element that Founder Brimir wielded, the element of Zero. Really, it was the first element of all things.”

“Element of Zero… Void?”

Fouquet paled. The lost element. The magic of nothingness that, as dark legends said, vanished. Did this man know something about the element of Zero?

“That is the power that Founder Brimir has granted me. For this reason, the Baronial Council agreed to make me Emperor of Halkeginia.”

Cromwell pointed at Wales' corpse.

“Wardes. I had wanted to make Crown Prince Wales my friend and ally. But alas, in life, he chose to be my greatest adversary; now in death, he will become a great ally. Do you see anything wrong with that?”

Wardes shook his head.

“He should have never resisted Your Excellency's decisions.”

Cromwell laughed with a smile.

“Well then, Miss Saxe-Gotha. I will show the element of ‘Void’ to you.”

Fouquet breathlessly watched Cromwell’s movements.

Cromwell pulled out a cane attached to his waist.

A low, soft aria escaped from Cromwell's mouth. He was chanting words that Fouquet had never heard before.

When the song was completed, Cromwell gently lowered the cane and aimed it at Wales' corpse.

Then… all of a sudden, the lifeless body opened its eyes. A chill ran down Fouquet’s spine.

Wales slowly sat up. A once bloodless face suddenly sprang back to the life it had previously held. Like a withered flower absorbing water, Wales’s body gradually imbued itself with life.

“Good morning, Crown Prince.”

Cromwell muttered.

The revived Wales returned Cromwell’s smile.

“It has been a long time, Archbishop.”

“How rude, I am an emperor now, my dear Crown Prince.”

“Is that so? I apologize for that, Your Excellency.”

Wales kneeled, taking the posture of a vassal.

“I think I’ll make you my personal bodyguard, Wales.”

“With pleasure.”

“Then, let’s be friends.”

Cromwell began to walk. Wales, who didn’t look as though he was just dead, walked behind him. Then Cromwell, as if remembering something, halted and turned, saying,

“Wardes, do not worry. Even if the alliance is formed, it is of no matter. In any case, Tristain is helpless. There is no change in plan.”

Wardes bowed.

“There are two ways of diplomacy - the cane and the bread. For the time being, let’s give warm bread to Tristain and Germania.”

“As you wish.”

“Tristain is necessary; its royal family has the Founder's Prayer Book. I need to have it in my hands in order to retrieve the Holy Land.”

After saying this and nodding approvingly, Cromwell left.

　

It was only after Cromwell and Wales were out of sight that Fouquet was able to open her mouth.

“That… was the void…? To revive the dead. That’s impossible.”

“The void element manipulates life…” Wardes muttered. “That’s what His Excellency said, seems like he was right. Even though I too cannot believe it, after witnessing this – how could I not?”

Her voice shaky, Fouquet asked Wardes,

“A while ago you were acting very similar to this, perhaps you were affected by void magic too?”

Wardes laughed.

“Me? I am different. This is a result of a sorrowful life that I have led since birth.”

After that, Wardes looked up at the sky.

“However… many lives were sacrificed for the Founder’s Holy Land… what if they were all revived by the element of ‘Void’?”

Frightened, Fouquet clutched her chest. She felt a light heartbeat. She suddenly felt the need to confirm that she was still alive.

“Don’t look that way. It was only my imagination; you could even call it my fantasy.”

Fouquet sighed, feeling relieved. Then she glared at Wardes.

“It was surprising, that’s all.”

Whilst patting the stump where his left arm had once been, Wardes spoke softly.

“However, I myself also want to know. Is it a mere fantasy? Or reality? The answer lies in the Holy Lands… that’s how I feel.”

Three days after Saito and company had returned to the Academy of Magic, the marriage between Tristainian Princess Henrietta and Germanian Emperor Albrecht III was officially announced. The ceremony would take place the following month, after the commencement of the military alliance.

The alliance was formalized in Germania’s capital Vindobon, where the letter of agreement was signed by Tristain's prime minister, Cardinal Mazarin.

The day after the alliance, a new government was officially established in Albion. In an instant, tensions sparked between the two powers, but Albion’s First Emperor, Cromwell, sent a special envoy to Tristain and Germania at once, in order to sign a non-aggression pact.

As a result, the allies had a conference. Even with the two countries' combined air forces, they could not oppose Albion’s fleet. Though the non-aggression pact felt more like a dagger pointed at the neck, Tristain and Germania didn’t have much of an alternative; this offer was the best they could hope for.

However… the peace established in Halkeginia was only surface deep. Politicians could not sleep day or night. And it wasn’t just the nobility; the commoners tensely awaited each day as well.

Tristain’s Academy of Magic was no exception.

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