Daybreak on Hyperion (Original Fantasy)

Daybreak on Hyperion
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An aspiring cultural historian wakes up in a realm where magic is technology, institutions mirror reality, and the world is on the cusp of geopolitical upheaval and historic societal change.

But first she must find her footing and establish a new sense of identity... in the wrong body.
Author's Foreword
Story Synopsis:

Born into prestige and gifted with talent, Pascal was a promising officer cadet whose deeds caught even the King's gaze. At the mere age of twenty, he had everything a young, ambitious man could need to begin a promising career.

Except his habitual arrogance had destroyed every opportunity of a close friendship outside his political marriage.

Seeking a companion who meets his protracted list of requirements, Pascal decided to craft the 'perfect spell' for the upcoming familiar ceremony. If those around him were not fit to accompany his genius, then he would summon a best friend through his own hands -- one that was mature, intelligent, knowledgeable, bright, and cute as well.

He received far more than he bargained for... and in turn, so did the shifting geopolitical power balance of his world.



-----



Author's Foreword

Daybreak on Hyperion was first published on Baka-Tsuki starting late 2013 as a satirical short story -- which is why the early chapters in particular feels reminiscent of a Japanese light novel.

The story went on hiatus in 2018 due to my dissatisfaction with its structure as well as some personal issues in life. In 2020 I realized there was a way for me to fix my problems with the story and started a full rewrite. For anyone who has encountered the original, this is the Redux version.

Daybreak was written initially as a satirical reflection on power dynamics -- particularly the abuse of power by protagonists placed in a position of privilege -- which we often see in modern pop literature. Since then, the story has become a means for me to reflect upon real-world issues, particularly those of societal, psychological, and philosophical natures, all while having fun with interactions between characters of different values and viewpoints.

If you're bothered by protagonists who lack agency in early story or having to endure harsh circumstances, then this fiction is probably not for you. Similarly, if you're the type who is easily bothered by discussion of real-life topics or are aggressively tribal about your politics, then the contents may also bother you. The protagonist is written as a cultural historian and comparisons to real world issues come often.

In other words, Daybreak is written as an intellectual exploration (so discussions welcomed!) to delve topics in a multi-faceted and entertaining manner, such as:
  • Power dynamics between different social classes.
  • Societal expectations surrounding gender roles.
  • Personality conflicts and the effects of cognitive biases.
  • Clashes of interest between states and power factions.
  • Social contracts between government and people.
If you're interested in a character-driven narrative that explores a society in conflict and isn't afraid of having fun from time to time, then this is probably the story for you. However, if you're bothered by fantasy fiction that likes to brush elbows with reality, then this isn't it.
 
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Volume 1 Chapter 1 – The Curse of Prodigy
Volume 1 Chapter 1 – The Curse of Prodigy

"She is coming back today, right?" Perceval asked as he continued to lean against the column in the academy's entrance courtyard. His voice carried a hint of anxiety as he watched his best friend pace in circles around him.

"Of course! Since when has Ariadne ever joked about something like this?" Reynaud swayed as he continued to goose-step in a circle. His arms were extended in a tee, while his head shifted from side-to-side.

It was as though the short-statured young man was practicing for a contest in exotic dancing… or just plain silly walks.

"I'm not saying… Oh would you please stop?" Perceval breathed out. "You're making me nervous!"

The short young man spun about and grinned with a teasing voice:

"Sheesh, she's only been gone for a month and you're already like this. Talk about having it bad!"

"She was on campaign, and it's been almost two months," Perceval specified. "What if she'd been wounded? What if she lost an arm? What if her King wouldn't let her come back?"

"I think she'd tell you if any of those happened." Reynaud reassured. "Besides, you're courting a Weichsen Hussar…"

"Knight Phantom," Perceval corrected his friend.

"Which the rest of the continent call Hussars. They're air cavalry," Reynaud shrugged. "Tip of the spear in every major battle. You should at least try to get used to it."

"I know, I know," Perceval exhaled a deep sigh. "It's just… I don't want her to suffer what befell my parents. The battlefield is as unpredictable as it is dangerous. And she did say that the battle had been vicious, so much that her mount had been killed under her." He finished before looking up and seeing a familiar figure in the distance.

"Heyyyy!" A girl with flowing pink hair yelled. "Perceval! Reynaud!"

"There she–"

Reynaud barely even began before his friend ran past him.

"Aria!" Perceval ran right up to her before stopping just an arm's length away. Then, after a brief pause, he stepped forward and gave her an all-encompassing embrace that picked her off the ground.

"Thank the Holy Father. You're alright." His tone finally relaxed.

"I told you I was fine, didn't I?" Ariadne replied in a reassuring voice. "You worry too much. Our campaign against Västergötlander raiders was a complete victory."

"Awww, he's just trying to show you love," Reynaud caught up and leaned forward with a grin, before a slightly blushing Ariadne shooed him away with her hand.

"I'm sorry I was late," Ariadne added in apology as Perceval finally pulled away. The three of them then began to stroll at a leisurely pace along a corridor. "The Wayfarers were scheduled to bring that self-centered prick back along with me. He was late to the rendezvous so we had to wait for him. It delayed the Wayfarers' timetables across the entire trip."

Perceval frowned while Reynaud sighed.

"The Princeling thinks he's the center of the universe. What else is new?" The short-statured young man gave a mocking shrug with his palms raised. "Though… is it true what the rumors have been claiming? That the King of Weichsel personally promoted him to Captain?"

Reynaud didn't notice as Ariadne intertwined her delicate fingers with Perceval's. She reassured the other with a light squeeze before answering:

"Yes. One of my friends' fiancée works on the Marshal's staff. She said that Pascal was serving his father as an adjutant–"

Ariadne felt her beloved's fingers tighten. She squeezed back in support while trying to hide her pained wince.

"–When the situation changed during the Battle of Parchim. Pascal modified the orders he was sending to the Noble Reiters to bombard a weak spot he noticed in the enemy's line. It threw the entire Northmen army off-balance just before our charge struck their flank. His father, the Marshal, gave him due credit of course, but also publicly reprimanded him for overriding command orders. Yet when the King heard about it… he personally promoted and knighted that prick."

Both of the men groaned.

"Great, leave it to your King to undo the Marshal's work. That arrogant twit of a princeling needs to be taken down a notch and even his father knows it…" Reynaud's mood plummeted straight to grumpy, where not even his admiration for the renowned Field Marshal of Weichsel was enough to rescue it. Then, as the trio turned the corner into another courtyard: "speak of the devil, our Runelord's new celebrity status is already taking effect."

It didn't take familiarity to spot Pascal. Even with his eyes shut and arms crossed, he still sat in a regal poise that made the marble bench look like a throne. Framed by soft golden curls just long enough to cover his ears, his broad yet lean build gave his polished military uniform the best look a propaganda poster could seek.

But that wasn't what made him the center of attention. Sitting alone in the middle of the courtyard gardens, he was surrounded by noble girls who kept their distance. They all stood at least twenty paces away, whispering among themselves even as they kept him in their gaze. Meanwhile, most of the men who strolled by, and many of the ladies as well, looked towards him with scowling faces.

It was an understatement to say that Pascal Kay Lennart von Moltewitz, the only heir of Weichsel's Marshal and Landgrave of Nordkreuz, stood far above the crowd. But regardless of how assured he looked as he gathered the light of mana into a gemstone in his hands, no one could doubt the ill repercussions that too often followed any young prodigy:

Amongst a courtyard of chattering peers, he sat silent and alone.



—– * * * —–



"Captain and Knight's Cross recipient at just twenty…"

"He graduated from the Königsfeld Military Academy in just three years!"

"Even the King of Weichsel said that he would make a great general one day."

"He's also the heir to the Landgraviate of Nordkreuz, the most prosperous trading hub in the north!"

"It's such a shame he's already betrothed to our Crown Princess."

"Didn't she leave the capital a week ago to personally congratulate him in Weichsel?"

The noble daughters that surrounded him whispered in hush voices, but Pascal's trained ears caught the words nonetheless. He did not enjoy such gossip, but no properly raised nobleman, bred for political intrigues of the court, could subconsciously dismiss what others spoke of him.

Day after day I'm surrounded by insignificant fools, each with no greater role in the world than a mere name, barely altering the statistics of census records and enrollment sheets.

Pascal couldn't help but wish that one of those rumors was actually true, that Crown Princess Sylviane really did pay him a visit. She was one of the few girls he knew worthy of her nobility, who not only had the beauty to match her prestige but also the farsighted intellect of an aspiring ruler. Unfortunately, proper empresses-in-training also lacked time, and it was all she could spare to congratulate him a week ago through a Farspeak communication spell.

Of course, not everyone spoke of his accomplishments with admiration. That included a number of young lords within this room. Contempt filled their voices as though ridiculing others somehow rescued their wounded pride.

"His father is just pulling another publicity stunt. Marshal Moltewitz is already famous enough. Why not claim it was his son's doing and gift the amateur some credit?"

"Must be nice being awarded just for having papa as the commander…"

Pascal wasn't agitated by those who could only mock his back from afar. No, he only cared enough to track those who foolishly marked themselves a foe. Their actual complaints were beneath him, unfit for extended consideration by even a single train of thought. It was the fact that he had to waste time near such lowlifes that really bothered him.

Whining cowards and pining damsels, with the sheep-like idiocy of peasantry. At least in Weichsel, the nobles of the Königsfeld Academy had the valor to follow our aristocratic military heritage to war.

The Kingdom of Weichsel prided itself on the competence of its military aristocracy. The curriculum for its noble's education followed that tradition. The Königsfeld Academy of Magic was renowned throughout the continent for its military schooling. And, as an early graduate of its tactical command track, Pascal had expected to be given an independent command in Weichsel's military.

Instead, he had been sent to the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie as one of Professor Albert von Marienfeld's assistants — a post-grad 'exchange student' to promote goodwill and share cultural and military expertise with their allies. The Alisia Academy of Magic where he lived now wasn't even specific to military education. Instead, it was a generalist institution full of undisciplined young nobles, many of whom wasted the exorbitant sums their parents paid to send them.

Pascal could understand the need for diplomacy. After all, he was the Empire's future Crown Prince Consort. But…

Why send me to a school of all places? What's the point of forcing me to stay in the classroom!? I'm wasting my time here!

Worse yet, as he glanced sideways towards his left, he saw her sitting on the other side of the podium. The girl named Ariadne had been his nemesis back in Königsfeld Academy. Yet, for some demented reason that he could not understand, they sent her along with him as the professor's other assistant!

Why must I work with her of all people!? All she does is make me look awful!

Pascal knew perfectly well that he had a long way to climb before emerging from the shadows of his father's renown. He needed to start his career early, to take advantage of every opportunity, not be saddled down with additional baggage. Furthermore, for an aspiring officer who had already felt the power of responsibility on the battlefield, a return to the classroom was like being told to go back to the sandbox.

"Settle down, everyone." The balding professor Albert von Marienfeld announced, exactly one minute late as usual to his lectures on 'Military Command, Control, and Communications'.

"I realize that the return of my assistants from the front lines brings exciting news. It's precisely why I sent them, so our class could discuss and analyze their first-hand experiences!"

His announcement gathered most of the class' attention in an instant.

Even Pascal glanced back with a hint of admiration for the adaptability shown by his advisor. It was only a year ago when the Professor insisted Pascal follow his father's wishes: to extend his education under Albert in Rhin-Lotharingie, on the grounds that it was somehow 'good for him'.

"But first things first, I'm to remind everyone that all third year's classes will be canceled this Friday for familiar-summoning ceremonies. All students who wish to participate are free to do so."

Eager chatter broke loose across the classroom again at this announcement.

The Professor turned to prepare the classroom's illusion projectors. He whistled a short tune as he patiently waited for the students to empty their minds of burning curiosities so they may receive fresh wisdom.

The only other person who wasn't excited was Pascal himself.

…As if I need the presence of more dumb animals around me.

Familiar summoning had been an elective program back in Königsfeld, where they were taught how to prepare a personalized summoning ritual. But while Pascal found the sorcery lessons interesting, he had no interest in attaining a pet as the final outcome.

Silently, he scrolled back through his memories, thinking of every mage's familiar he had come across during his years. Many of them made for trusted mounts on the battlefield. Some of them served as eyes and ears for their master. A few even trained as servants in simple households. But not a single one — not even the phoenix familiars of the Oriflamme Paladins — ever showed more intelligence and creativity than one could expect from a beast.

But then, a thought came to him, why must I be limited to mere beasts?

Pascal drew a scroll of parchment and copied down the mnemonic incantations of every Summon Familiar spell variant he knew from memory. Within a minute, he had them broken down into a tree graph of individual spellcraft components which defined every effect — scan, calling, summon, transport, binding, connect, sharing…

He didn't need a servant. A traditional, obedient familiar was no better than a yes-man. Loyal, but nevertheless a tool of limited use.

Paying no heed to the conversations around him, he tapped the syllables that represented the 'animal calling' aspect of the spell on his parchment.

What I need is a person near my level and age, a companion who will always be with me to share my thoughts…

Images came of a twin who shared his outlook, and the mere prospect of mirrored words made his mind recoil. Pascal didn't want some voice of agreement and approval. His fondest memories of intellectual exploration were filled with heated debates.

…Someone with a completely different outlook upon the world. A dissimilar foundation of knowledge and wisdom, yet diverse enough to rival my own.

Moving into the future, he thought of his impending career on the battlefields of war and diplomacy, where only a balance of words and swords guaranteed survival.

…Must be capable enough to serve as my second. An advisor and analyst, but also able to fend for herself with the powers I bestow through our bond.

A brief flashback brought his thoughts back to his childhood, when he and Princess Sylviane could spend hours lounging on the shores of the Cross Lake near the Moltewitz estate. Their conversations naturally flowed from one worldly topic to another with no regard to time, when he had all day to admire the focus and intellect that lay behind her wisteria gaze, or the vast understanding that hid under that dark-purple hair.

…And she needs to be cute too, he decided, with the perfect image coming to mind. Vivi is Sylv's favorite, after all. He thought of the girl who often accompanied the Crown Princess. Can't object to another girl as cute.

The professor clapped twice, drawing the room's attention back to the fore where an illusory, three-dimensional overhead projection of the Parchim battlefield lay.

"Captain Sir Pascal Kay Lennart von Moltewitz, as you are our honored 'hero' of the campaign, it is only fair that we begin today's lecture with your… irregular contribution to the war."

Muffled snickering drifted forth from the back of the room, but Pascal ignored them as though he heard only buzzing flies.

"Yes Sir."

Rolling up his parchment as he stood, Pascal's determination revealed not the slightest sign of offense or hesitance. Albert's choice of words made it obvious that the professor agreed with his father. Pascal understood the reason behind the Marshal's reprimand — rules were rules after all, and no army would be able to operate if junior officers could freely change the orders they received.

He just thought it was unfair that rules of the average should apply to him.

It would be many hours of late night studies before Pascal could finish the work he began. But even at its end, even after triple-checking his modifications with satisfaction, Pascal would never notice his one critical error due to sheer inexperience:

Beasts were simple-minded. It was easy to find a physically and mentally healthy critter to call forth as a familiar.

Humans were another matter entirely, and the divination scanning component he wrote into the spell was nowhere powerful enough to search through the multiverse for a precise match to his exact specifications.

Magical energy naturally drifted towards the easiest path: twiddling the first subject that met most criteria instead of seeking a perfect match. Of course, shaping minds was a difficult and dangerous business. But molding forms through sorcery was easily achieved.
 
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Volume 1 Chapter 2 – By the Runelord’s Will
Volume 1 Chapter 2 – By the Runelord's Will

"Excellent, Dame Ariadne! It's remarkable how consistent your summoning is." Professor Albert von Marienfeld's words mirrored his gleaming-onyx eyes as they examined the beautiful wings of Ariadne's flawless white pegasus.

It wasn't her first pegasus either. Her previous steed had accompanied her since childhood, only to be killed under her during the Battle of Parchim. Her bravery in combat had earned her a Knight's Cross. This not only qualified her to join the prestigious Knights Phantom — the elite air cavalry corp of Weichsel — at merely twenty years of age, but also exacerbated her rivalry with Pascal.

"Thank you, Professor Sir," Ariadne returned a courteous reply as she stood up and brushed back her silken pink cascade. Pleased with her own summoning, she finally let go of the breath she'd been unconsciously holding. With a step forward in the magic circle inscribed using crushed sapphire dust — her birthstone — mixed with holy water and her own blood, she placed a delicate kiss on the forehead of her new pegasus familiar to seal the bond.

"Remember, class, that a familiar is a mage's companion for life." The instructor commented as Ariadne's demonstration finished. "Therefore, your spell should always demonstrate and describe yourself as an individual, much like a wedding oath. When completing the ceremony you should treat your familiar with respect and care, the same as you would treat your future bride or groom at the Holy Father's altar."

Professor Albert, as nobles of illustrious houses were often addressed by their first names to avoid confusion between members, looked around to survey his students. Dozens of anxious faces stared back, ready to attempt their own hand at summoning. However, Ariadne was not his only assistant, as Pascal was the next to provide an example. This brought signs of worry to his countenance, as he had no idea what the young man was planning.

"Sir Pascal. You're next."

"Of course, Professor Sir," Pascal remarked with nonchalance as he strode to the clearing within the Cancellation Field that opened a gap in the castle's Lockdown anti-teleportation ward. "Please stand back. Unlike Dame Ariadne, this is my first time. I do not wish to cause an accident from my ritual."

Somehow, his drawling, aristocratic intonation managed to make even humble words sound arrogant.

"Show-off," a few people muttered from the crowd.

"Well, let's see what your future brings."

Professor Albert took care to suppress his eager curiosity. He still didn't understand why Pascal had switched stances on the topic of familiars, but he was also interested to see what his most gifted student was capable of. Nevertheless, a part of him remained worried at what would come next, even with the promise he extracted from Pascal to take the summoning ritual seriously this time.

After all, the previous occasion Pascal participated in a summoning ceremony back in Königsfeld, he had filled the castle with swarms of brightly glowing pink flamingos. Even worse were the rainbows found in every hallway that refused to dissipate, which he had to go around dispelling one at a time.

It was only afterwards when Albert found out that the young noble never had any intention of summoning a familiar. He had treated the whole ceremony as an opportunity to experiment and show off. Had Pascal not been the Marshal's son, not to mention a cadet with great promise, the professor would have expelled him on the spot.

Albert now stood over Pascal with the examining gaze of a retired general. He watched the young lord retrieve one rune-engraved stone after another from an extra-dimensional belt pouch. After carefully positioning sixteen of them, Pascal connected the rocks with a series of tiny malachite gems to form a perfect circle. Three larger runic stones followed, this time linked by lapis lazuli gems to draw the smallest equilateral triangle that would contain the ring.

"Amazing…" came a feminine murmur as others nodded in consent.

"I believe you and Professor Kirchner are the only two experts of ancient Runic Rituals on campus, and I'm certainly not a specialist on gem magic," Professor Albert commented. "Would you please explain your setup to everyone?"

"Of course." Pascal relished the opportunity. "As you know, Runic Magic was created by the Northmen to reduce the casting time of their battle magic. The runic glyphs on these granite stones replace the mnemonic incantations of the ritual and substitute for our personalized verses. Each symbol is carved deep and inscribed with blood appropriate for bonding magic. Each gemstone is infused with my mana to supply additional magical power. The outer triangle, laid with the gems of truth and wisdom, will enhance the seek and search for the appropriate familiar. Meanwhile the inner ring of malachite, also known as 'the mirror of the soul', will serve as the primary focus of the ritual itself."

"I see you've put plenty of thought into preparing this," the Professor commented. "Very well, you may begin."

"With the runes handling everything, the ritual itself is quite simple and leaves no chance for errors," Pascal began with assured confidence as he gently cut his right index finger with a dagger. With careful aim, he dripped a drop of fresh blood into the top rune of the inner ring. Like water flowing across routed channels, the stones and gems lit up one after another. They bathed the shadowy room with a combination of crimson, forest, and indigo light. Magic strong enough to be felt pulsed outwards as each glyph lit up, releasing a dense mist that soon enshrouded the entire dance hall.

Minutes passed as everyone stood within the concealing mist. They couldn't see. But they were also not willing to disrupt a magical ceremony in fear of the often deadly consequences.

"The ritual is complete," Pascal announced as he quietly called a wind spell to clear away the mist.

The focus stones and precious gems had been reduced to a ring of worthless gray dust. However what drew gasps from everyone was the short girl that now lay unconscious within it, naked except for Pascal's jacket covering her thin body.

"Sir Pascal, please explain yourself."

Professor Albert kept his cool, but he was willing to bet his life that Pascal had intentionally created this unnatural conclusion to a sacred rite of magecraft. It seemed even with a promise the young man could not control himself.

Pascal did not answer his professor. His eyes were transfixed upon the unconscious girl. His body barely contained the boiling excitement as he whispered in simultaneous astonishment and triumph:

"It worked perfectly! Oh heavenly Father has granted me an angel!"

The unconscious girl at his feet was petite and thin. She appeared to be around sixteen, though her small build and short stature gave off a fragile, almost doll-like appearance. Her figure lay concealed beneath his jacket which looked far too big to fit. However the small hands and cute face revealed the flawless white skin that shone like fine porcelain. An adorably tiny nose and thinly curled lashes further decorated her image, while her snowy-white hair ran straight all the way down to thigh-length.

"Did he… just summon a Samaran girl for a familiar?" A spectating student asked.

"With that white hair? Probably."

"But why a Samaran? They're nonbelieving heathens!"

Meanwhile, Pascal knelt down in a dramatic one-kneed pose before taking the unconscious girl's right hand and kissing its back, thereby completing the familiar bonding ceremony.

"Sir Pascal, you have some explaining to do!"

The retired general was not used to being ignored, not even by his upstart pupil.

"It is exactly what it looks like, Professor Sir," Pascal replied while picking up the unconscious girl in a cradling carry, his arms supporting her back and underneath her knees. "I promised that I would perform a proper summoning ceremony," he added with a smug grin. "I never said that I would summon a traditional familiar. I chose to summon an intelligent person as my companion. Now the ritual has been completed."

He left the words 'and there is nothing more you can do about it' unsaid as he strode out the dance hall, leaving behind a roomful of bewildered eyes, gawking expressions, and one incensed advisor.



By the time Pascal reached his dorm room, the adrenaline from his excitement was beginning to wear off. The girl within his arms was as light as she looked. However his late working nights were finally catching up to him. Not to mention the summoning ceremony and its preparation had drained his magic dry and left him completely exhausted.

With a swift gesture, his Unlock cantrip was recognized by the door's magical enhancement. He carried the still-unconscious girl across the threshold into his room. It was officially a 'dormitory', one he shared with the cadets who attended the academy's military courses. However in an academy built for nobles, the spacious bedroom was larger and better-furnished than most tavern guest rooms.

After gently laying the girl across his bed, Pascal went through his drawers to find some more appropriate clothes. The preparations he had been making all week included picking out apparel to match his tastes through mail order. The exact fit wasn't even a concern, since he had learned of a garment adjusting spell for precisely this occasion.

Then, just as Pascal was getting into it, the door slammed open.

"Sir Pascal! You still owe–"

Professor Albert's words trailed off into oblivion as he froze mid-step. Pascal was bent over the summoned girl, now naked on his four-poster bed with the jacket that once covered her tossed aside on the floor. Meanwhile, the young man's hands were in the midst of pulling silky stockings up her thighs.

Pascal blinked at him, then raised a single eyebrow:

"Would you like to watch, Sir?"

The professor couldn't have teleported out of the room faster. He slammed the door again as he left, and avoided Pascal for several days after that.



—– * * * —–



Kaede had never felt this tired after waking up from a nap. His entire body felt sore and extraordinarily weak. It took exertion just to push against the bedcovers, with barely a sliver of his usual strength.

Wait a sec… when did I fall asleep?

It had been a tiring week. Kaede was a member of his high school's spring festival planning committee, and this year the timing overlapped with an archery tournament that he would be attending. He had been staying late every day to make sure that his previous years of committee experience would be passed down to his successor. At the same time he had to train at the Kyūdō Archery Club as one of its senior members. Combined with the schoolwork that a 12th-grader still had to finish, it left Kaede with many late nights where he could squeeze in six hours of sleep at best.

It didn't help that his sister's family had fallen ill, prompting his Japanese mother to fly to Vladivostok last night to care for them. His father — like most Russian men of his generation — was useless at housework. Therefore Kaede had to wake up early this morning to prepare breakfast.

Kaede could remember laying on the couch as he waited for the clock to strike 6AM. He was struggling to stay awake until it was time to meet the others and leave for the archery tournament.

Trash. I wasn't supposed to–!

The fear that he had overslept lit up his mind in a flash. His eyes sprang open. His arm reached out by force of habit to grasp his smartphone, only to promptly freeze as another memory came.

No, wait. I *did* board the bus. I fell asleep as soon as I took a seat.

But his surrounding now certainly wasn't that of a long distance bus. Kaede looked around as he tried to work his brain into making sense.

Where the heck am I?

He didn't recognize the old-fashioned four-poster bed he lay in, or the redwood furniture that lined the walls, and certainly not the dimly-lit room itself.

He felt his pulse quickening as uncertainty washed over him. Being both too young to drink and uninterested in alcohol, or any kind of drugs for that matter, it was improbable that he had blacked out from some kind of wild club party and screwed up his memory.

Sitting up on the bed to get a better view, he suddenly realized that his back and shoulders were bare and chilly. By contrast, his chest was covered by a fabric smoother than anything he was used to.

Wait… something's not right…

He looked down, first noticing that his arms were one: far thinner than they should be, and two: adorned in silky white gloves… long gloves reaching up his triceps… while sleeping…

What kind of a weird prank is…

His eyes traced downwards and then saw 'his' chest. His mind promptly blanked out as every thought came to a crashing halt. His senses and mental capacities had to be rebooted one by one as a result.

Realization #1: He, or perhaps she was a better descriptor of this body, had small mounds of outward bulging flesh on the chest that could only be described as breasts. Petite but so very soft and sensitive, if his… her fingers' touch was correct.

Realization #2: She was wearing a pure white halter top of… charmeuse? Some kind of glossy satin-weave, with a crest of some kind laid onto her chest, bosom, in delicate white gold, and not a stitch covering her back.

Realization #3: Shifting the thighs found nothing in between except more smooth fabric, therefore identifying, once again, that this was a she.

Realization #4: WHAT THE HELL!



All right, deep breaths… calm down and think.

Kaede had no clue how long had passed since he, she — whatever one should refer to themselves in such outrageous circumstances — completely blanked out.

Unfortunately, after several mental shocks and still no ray of enlightenment, Kaede concluded that this was probably not just a weird dream… which meant that the situation was truly nightmarish.

Some pervert with access to incomprehensible mad science had turned him into a her. The perpetrator then left her in a fancy room with an extravagant bed dressed in dubious undergarments.

Kaede wasn't used to rape alarms going off in his head.

Is the universe playing a cruel joke on me or something? Kaede couldn't help wonder. Is it because I complained too many times about all the unfair expectations placed on me just because I was born male?

Sure, Kaede had always been called a 'sensitive boy'. He never really fit in with what society saw as 'masculine culture'. However this was definitely NOT what he had asked for!

Nevertheless, Kaede's fears did wonders in concentrating the mind. Her hyperactive thoughts soon realized exactly what should be done:

Objective #1: Find something weapon-like and get out of this room.

Objective #2: Figure out how to return to normal, probably by beating the pervert responsible for this unconscious and then forcing it out of him.

As Kaede pulled her legs out of the bed, she noticed that the charmeuse halter top descended down to form a single-piece garment that tightly hugged her torso. It was almost like a leotard, except with more buttons. Furthermore, it had a short skirt of muslin and lace attached, as well as two garter straps which held up thigh-high stocks, or more like solid white stockings.

What is this, bridal night lingerie?

A terrifying chill sent shivers down her spine which made her skin crawl. At least the undergarment was completely opaque which left all the female parts fully covered.

With her feet on the carpet, she tried to stand up, only to sway once before collapsing back into the bed. She still seemed to lack the proper motor control to handle her new body. She then repeated the simple action, this time pacing herself with focused concentration.

So much effort just to stand and walk… this is beyond ridiculous.

Taking each step with care, Kaede gradually made her way over to a chair where a black jacket draped over it. On the nearby wall she also noticed a Welsh-style longbow, which she mentally filed away for later. After covering herself with the too-large outerwear, she found her best option for self-defense in the form of a fireplace poker. It had been in a stand next to an unattended, still-burning hearth.

Kaede was self-taught in both eastern and western swordsmanship, so he could effectively use any stick of reasonable length. But she, with her thin arms and reduced motor skills, found the 'heavy' poker about as agile as an oversized baseball bat. Her first warm-up swing almost sent her crashing into a long dressing table. Her right hand managed to grab the edge just in time, but not before the metal rod plunged straight into the giant mirror behind the drawers.

The loud, shattering noise was a dead giveaway.

Hearing faint but rushed footsteps beyond the door, Kaede rushed to take cover behind a corner wall near the doorway. With her pervert-beating stick raised and ready, she could feel every heartbeat as the door opened and soft steps made its way in. The door was slow to close. However in the meantime the silhouette cast by the bright hallway lamps marked the intruder's exact position.

Kaede went into action the moment the door closed. Stepping out from behind the corner, she swung the iron poker with a two-handed grip. She made sure its metal spike was facing forward. With her weak arms, she knew that maximizing damage on the initial hit was her only chance of winning.

Carrying a tray filled with sandwiches and a bowl of steaming hot soup, the intruder reflexively lurched the tray forward to use as a shield. Its contents hurled straight towards Kaede, especially the scorching-hot soup which passed right through the middle of her open jacket and onto her thin undergarment top.

Her painful yell muffled the young man's clenched grunt. The metal rod bounced off the silver tray with a resounding 'clang', but not before its iron spike slashed into his exposed left fist and broke his index and middle fingers.

Tossing the tray towards his left, he used its edge to catch the spike and disarmed her of the poker. Ignoring his broken digits, the man pressed her shaking body down onto the floor and pinned her arms back in one fluid motion. With a twist from his wrist and two lightning-fast words, a linked pair of iron shackles appeared out of thin air, binding her hands behind her.

"OwwOwwOwwOwwOwwww!" Kaede continued to thrash about on the floor as her chest burned under the scalding soup.

With a deep sigh, the young man waved his hand again and the searing liquid disappeared. The mess left on the floor soon followed with a few more gestures and words. All that remained was the lingering pain and recent burns on her sensitive flesh.

"Sheesh, I leave to get you some food and this is the thanks I get?"

You're the one who turned me into a girl and you expect thanks!?

Still breathing hard, Kaede rolled onto her back. She glared at her foe through tear-stained eyes even as her thoughts slowly returned. Fluent in three languages and versed in another two, she only recognized his words as similar to Old High German, which she had no business understanding. Yet somehow, she did.

The young man would tower over her even if she stood, with broad shoulders accentuated by a stiff crimson-on-black uniform. He turned to sit down on the four-poster bed while keeping her in his gaze. With a glance at his bloodied hand, he took out a small pebble and pressed it into his left palm. He then covered his left fist with his right, while a large, turquoise-set platinum ring began to glow from the exposed ring finger.

His eyes, as crystal clear as the aqua gemstone, held onto hers with a piercing gaze.

"Please do not attempt anything so stupid again. I am an experienced soldier and I really do not want to be forced to hurt you. Now… if I release your hands, will you be good and let us talk this out like rational people?"

Rational people don't kidnap boys and turn them into girls!

Still glaring with angry eyes, Kaede took a brief moment before nodding in consent. With her basic understanding of martial arts, she could tell from his movements that the man's prowess were several magnitudes above hers… even before her body change.

He turned the ring towards her again. With a simple "dismiss," her bonds vanished as swiftly as they came. Kaede quickly brought her hands forward. She rubbed her chest just above the breasts in an attempt to ease the lingering pain. Surprisingly, there was no longer a single spot or stain on the pure white fabric.

"Here, Invigorate," he reached forward with the glowing ring, hovering just beyond her chest without touching. A soothing cool soon spread over Kaede's inflamed skin. The feeling remained even after he pulled his fingers back.

"Surface wounds are easy. Just sleep on it and you will not even notice it by morning."

"…Thanks," her reply was weaker than a whisper.

"On to introductions: my name is Pascal Kay Lennart von Moltewitz, son of Marshal Karl August von Moltewitz of Weichsel, heir to the Landgrave of Nordkreuz. What is yours?"

Landgrave? That's a German title of nobility. Didn't the Weimar Republic abolish them all?

Kaede didn't have a clue on what was going on, and only begrudgingly forced out a basic answer in her new wispy voice: "Kaede Nikita Konstantinovich Suvorsky."

"Are you a Samaran? Your family name sure sounds like it," he went on while the turquoise gem continued to glow.

"My surname is Russian! I'm half-Russian and half-Japanese!" She countered while sitting back up into a formal Japanese kneel, before shifting uncomfortably as she felt her cold, satin-covered heels press against her bottom. "Where's Samaran referring to, anyway?"

For some reason, the words that rolled off her tongue seemed to be of the same language he used.

"They are a group of people from the Grand Republic of Samara in the continent's northeast. They have pale skin with silver-blue to light-blond hair. Their country is a Mercantile Oligarchic Republic and they believe in spiritual reincarnation." Pascal explained in an irritatingly aristocratic, drawling accent. Then, with a confused look that he wasn't used to: "I have never heard of Russian or Japanese before."

Even Kaede was stumped now.

"Uhhh, where are we now, then? What part of the world?"

"We are in the Alisia Academy of Magic, roughly a hundred kilopaces northeast of Alis Avern, Capital of the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie. The Kingdom of Weichsel, my home country, lays to our east. The Grand Republic of Samara is further east and borders Weichsel. Meanwhile to our south is the Holy Imperium of the Inner Sea, the premier power in Western Hyperion, as well as one of the two superpowers in our world." He explained. "Surely you must have heard of at least one of them?"

Well… crap.

Kaede only knew 'Samara' as a Russian city and region, situated at the Samara Bend of the Volga River. The other names she didn't recognize, except the continent 'Hyperion' which matched Greek mythology, as well as 'Alisia' which… she couldn't remember off-hand. Nevertheless, it didn't take a linguist to realize all those foreign nation-state names, not to mention the keywords Academy of Magic, meant only one thing:

"This isn't Earth." Her words left in a dazed whisper.

"Of course not. The ground is three levels below." His left eyebrow arced upwards in curiosity. "What kind of weird place did you come from?"

Her mind was still reeling. She barely even heard his remark.

"Why… what… this is just… how did this even happen?"

"I summoned you to be my familiar. And either you're some stupid, backwater peasant–"

Kaede stood back up in a flash of anger and almost fell over again. Her rose-quartz eyes narrowed back into a furious glare:

HE did this?

"–Or… I guess asking for someone with a 'whole different world outlook' bought me more than I bargained for."

Somehow, the man was looking more smug by the second and increasingly proud of himself.

"Why the heck did you summon me?" Her arms flailed dramatically. "And why the hell did you turn me into a girl?"

"The spell picked you, not me… wait a second, you are a man?"

"Male and seventeen, before I woke up here!" Her otherwise wispy voice had risen to a soft yell.

With his brows furrowed, Pascal looked split between confusion and disbelief.

"No such procedure was added to the spell."

"Well, whatever you did, fix it!"

"I cannot."

"Just send me back however you brought me here then!"

"I cannot."

"What do you mean you can't!"

His ring finally stopped glowing, and he stretched out his left hand. His fingers were whole again without a single scratch. As his eyes examined the healed result, he answered with a tone of uncaring nonchalance:

"I meant what I said. Familiar contracts are not meant to be broken and are only severed upon death. Familiars also rarely live long after the master's demise. So even if I can sever it, you are likely to die in the process."

His penetrating gaze then locked onto her widening eyes.

"And if the summoning spell really did transform your physical body, that means it also materialized, or better said, naturalized you to our world. That means I cannot simply banish you back to wherever you came from. For all purposes, you are now a denizen of this world."

"…As a familiar?" Kaede could only shake her head slowly, her eyes quivering in denial of the words coming from her mouth.

"As my familiar, yes."

This time, it was irritation and anger that dragged Kaede back into reality: a growing desire to tear that smile off his handsome face.

"The only way you'll get me to call you 'master' is by animating my cold, dead body!"

"There is no need for such tasteless measures," he simply shrugged. "I am not one of those nobles who needs their ego constantly stroked."

That is clearly. Not. The point!

"I believe this is quite a fair deal," Pascal stated. "Be my companion, and I will make certain you are well taken care of and live a comfortable life."

"I had a perfectly good life back there!"

"–And you will have just as good of a life here. I promise."

"You can kiss my ass!"

"–And a cute ass it is. I would not really mind." Pascal chuckled as he eyed the skirt poking out from underneath the jacket that she appropriated.

Kaede quickly pulled the bottom hem of the oversized jacket down. Several shades of embarrassment worked into her pale face while it grew red with frustrated anger:

"What part of 'I'm a guy' are you not understanding?"

"The fact that you are an adorable young lady."

With an amused grin and a glance at the wall clock, Pascal decided to wrap this conversation up:

"We can continue discussing this tomorrow. Although… it appears I forgot to prepare you a new bed. Just sleep in mine for tonight. I will have that fixed as soon as I can."

He pulled back the bed cover before starting to undress, clearly intending to sleep in it himself.

I am NOT sleeping next to a man who put me in bridal lingerie! Kaede's mind shouted. And I'm certainly not sleeping like this next to a guy I don't even know!

"You can't seriously be expecting me to… and like… wearing… this!"

"Do not worry. A proper nobleman like myself would never do anything without consent, especially not to a sleeping lady." His reassurance proved anything but reassuring as he finished unbuttoning his undershirt, revealing the chiseled muscles beneath.

"B-but you dressed me up while I was asleep!"

"Of course," he remarked as though it was only natural. "You arrived as naked as a newly born babe."

"That's not the point! Do… DON'T YOU HAVE ANY COMMON SENSE!!"

He turned back around and his handsome, noble-bred features lit up with the perfect smile:

"Plenty, just my own!"
 
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Volume 1 Chapter 3 – Master and Familiar
Volume 1 Chapter 3 – Master and Familiar

[Author's Foreword: From this point on all narration of Kaede uses 'she' as the pronoun, with exception to flashbacks. This is done for grammatical reasons because it becomes incredibly confusing to swap back-and-forth based on whether the narration is coming from Kaede's perspective or not.]


True to his word, Pascal kept his hands to himself that night. Kaede had taken his spare bedding and insisted on sleeping on the floor, though she knew that would never have stopped him if he tried anything.

Yet despite her precarious situation, a far greater concern kept her thoughts occupied: his words kept replaying in her mind, forcing her to accept the grim new reality.

On the first night of Kaede's new life, she silently cried herself to sleep… yet even that merciful unconsciousness lasted only three hours.

By the time the first rays of light cracked through the curtains, she was tired of lying about. Taking care not to wake Pascal up, she pulled on the jacket from last night. She tried on one of his spare pants as well, but found no good way of holding it up around her much thinner waist. She then grabbed the longbow on his wall and the quiver in the corner with its blunt arrows. Then, after she quietly slipped out of the room, she made her way towards the rooftop.

I need some fresh air to get my thoughts in order, she decided.

The Academy's 'dormitory' turned out to be more of an opulently furnished keep. Intricate rugs of rich wool lined the stone hallways, while bright crystal chandeliers lit every intersection. Gold-framed portraits and ornate medieval weapons decorated the spiraling tower staircase. Even the heating and insulation of its stone construction proved superior to Earth equivalents, as Kaede opened the thick wooden door to the roof and was promptly chilled to the bone by the cold air of a late autumn morning.

The wind on top of the roof wasn't much, barely a breeze by most standards. However the biting cold kept her keenly aware that she wore nothing more than a flimsy skirt and satin stockings underneath the oversized wool-and-cashmere jacket.

Yet even that discomfort was momentarily forgotten as Kaede took her first sight of the new world.

The red sun was still pulling itself onto the eastern sky, but it looked small compared to the gigantic moon. No, the indigo 'moon' that floated beyond the horizon and took up a third of the sky was more likely a gas giant. A third celestial body, a tiny, silver orb, could barely be seen on the giant's periphery. Meanwhile the cotton clouds, even bathed by the orange light of daybreak, betrayed a tinge of blue.

It really is a whole different world.

Surveying the surroundings, Kaede realized that the dormitory was but one of many stone keeps in a massive castle complex. The fortress even had a curtain wall and was built upon a hill. The walls were steeply slanted, similar to Japanese castle bulwarks but with European-styled battlements. They held raised courtyards like a fortified agricultural terrace, which included a stone circle that looked like a smaller version of Stonehenge.

The entire complex stood amidst a vast, flat countryside dominated by deciduous forests and grassy knolls. Several villages of clustered homes were within sight, each surrounded by tracks of plowed land. To the north was a huge lake that stretched into the horizon. Soldiers in scale mail guarded the outer wall towers, while a stone-paved road leading out from the gatehouse stood as the only highway in sight.

Kaede raised the longbow she had taken with both hands and examined it. The bow was about two meters long and notably taller than her new body. The design definitely reminded her of the Welsh longbow she once saw in a museum, with a single long piece of wood pulled into an arc by a drawstring. It was significantly different from the Japanese yumi she had used in archery practice.

Japanese archery, known as Kyudo, sought moral and spiritual enhancement alongside marksmanship improvement. With the motto of 'correct shooting is correct hitting', its practice emphasized form, purpose, and clarity of mind. For Kaede's often-bloated thoughts, it was a hobby that brought her inner peace and serenity.

Both of which she desperately needed.

Kaede took an arrow from the quiver and raised the unfamiliar bow into the air. Her right hand then notched the arrow and pulled. Her weak arms shook as she strained her meager strength to retract the bowstring. She could barely pull any tension onto the wooden limbs, yet her eyes never left a block of stone that she chose from the far-side crenellations as her target. The familiar motions helped to clear her thoughts, transfix her focus on the target, and transform her mind into the arrow…

Or at least… that was what she attempted.

Her fingers loosened. However her arrow's flight was pitiful. It didn't even make it halfway to the target.

Again, her thoughts rang out, struggling to suppress her rising disappointment alongside waves of other anxieties. She tried to clear her mind once more, to allow the familiar motions to draw her into a meditative trance, just as she had done so many times before.

But it was easier said than done.

Will I ever see my friends and family again?

The third shot skidded off the floor with resounding denial.

What about college? After working so hard and finally getting accepted to the University of Tokyo.

The fifth arrow veered off to the side like she wasn't even trying.

How will I survive in this world, without even a line of work?

The seventh proved to be her worst, as it plunged to the ground almost immediately after leaving her fingers.

Ever since she learned it years ago, Kaede had relied on meditation to help regulate her thoughts, her 'mental hygiene' as many called it. Yet now, it wasn't working. She couldn't enter the mindset, couldn't detach herself from her negative emotions. She tried to actively focus on her movements or using the 'box breathing' technique. However that only served to remind her that this body wasn't the same as before. None of the usual methods were working, as her maelstrom of concern and anxiety would not abate and would not let go.

Then, as an eighth arrow skidded off the ground, Kaede almost threw the bow down to the ground in frustration. Her small hands clenched into fists as she struggled to keep a grip on her emotional state. And that was when she heard the sound of soft footsteps approaching from behind.

"How did you know I was here?" Kaede asked in her wispy voice.

"You are my familiar, remember?" Pascal's voice was revitalized and clear. "I can see what you see just by focusing."

Her stomach tightened as she felt the illusion she called 'privacy' shatter into a million pieces.

"And just what else does our bond include?"

"Well, shared sensory perception for starters," he began. "I can tap your senses — visual, audio, and empathic. Then there is the…"

"Wait," Kaede finally turned to face him. "You can feel my emotions!?"

"Not yet. That one is a passive link. It takes longer to connect."

Standing proudly in his immaculate crimson-on-black military uniform, Pascal wore his black Knight's Cross medal under the stiff folded collars that held his silver insignias. His perfectly groomed soft golden curls hung just long enough to drape over both ears, framing lean cheeks colored a healthy pink by the cold air. His clear aqua-blue gaze shone with admiring intrigue above a thoughtful smile, before they quickly changed into one of concerned examination.

"You look terrible," he noted her pale countenance while taking a step forward to touch her cheek with warm fingers.

"Gee, thanks. I wonder whose fault it is," she retorted.

He didn't show the slightest hint of guilt.

"No need to worry. I have a spell for this. It's half-cosmetic and half-healing."

With a few muttered words, Pascal slowly waved his right hand across Kaede's face. His turquoise ring glowed with brilliance, and she felt a soothing warmth spread across her.

"I mostly use this in the field," he explained in rather stiff words. "Officers must always look awake and confident, even if they only caught three hours of sleep. Perhaps I should check you in the mornings. We nobles do have an image to maintain."

"Yes, of course." Kaede was feeling unusually sarcastic this morning. "Can't let your mistress play-toy look ashen-faced with bloodshot eyes, can we?"

"While I recognize that many nobles have a taste for that, I have no such need. You are my familiar companion," Pascal warned with complete seriousness. "Please do not sully that bond."

Then how do you explain my appearance now…?

Sighing, Kaede decided to let the matter go, for now.

"As I was saying, a familiar also serves as an eldritch proxy for the master. The arcane conduit between us allows me to cast spells on you, as well as through you, as long as you are within a kilopace of me, give or take depending on the ether saturation of the region. Being supplied by my mana also grants you some of the basic resistance mages have against foreign mana — so any alchemy or enchantment, spells that shape either the physical or the mind — as long as they do not come from me."

"Terrific, so I'm a water hose now," her response was deadpan. Then more seriously: "Does that at least mean I can learn to cast spells using your ether… mana… whatever?"

Pascal smiled at her question:

"Ether is freely available spiritual power, scattered into the environment by all living beings. Mana is ether after being absorbed and transferred by magically conductive nerves, then refined by the soul. Spells are crafted from mana by using one's magical nerve conduits to form internalized spell arrays, which are drilled into muscle memory through thousands of repetitions and then called upon by mnemonic incantations. The exact words are merely a matter of common choice. Unfortunately, it does not look like you have the magic conduits to learn spellcraft. However, you should be able to power and activate magical equipment using my mana."

Well, at least I get *something* for all this inconvenience…

"The familiar bond also includes a telepathic channel that functions even better than the spell, which…"

Pascal suddenly stopped. His eyes refocused on Kaede with its piercing turquoise gaze. His voice suddenly began to resound from within her own mind:

"<Is this working yet?>"

Her bulging eyes gave an obvious response.

"<You can use this also. Just concentrate.>"

Kaede closed her eyes and imaged a microphone: "<You're an idiot.>"

"And so are you, if you do not see the value in such a reliable form of private communications."

"You're not going to read my mind through this, are you?" she asked, worried.

"No. Only the thoughts you will to others are sent through the channel," he spoke with utmost sincerity. "Of course, there is a mind-reading spell. However, since being caught performing thought voyeurism may lead to espionage charges and other serious consequences, it is considered below proper nobility to use such magic. The same goes to charms, compulsions, and other mind-altering enchantments. Usage of them may constitute crimes ranging from larceny and extortion to rape if one is found casting them without consent."

"You haven't actually said that you don't use them yet," her eyes narrowed.

After a split-second sneer, Pascal continued his serious approach:

"As I have said, it is below proper nobility."

"Then, how do you enforce the loyalty of familiars?"

"While the summoning compels the familiar to go through the ceremony, familiar bonds do not rely on compulsion magic. Instead, it links two beings through the arcane conduit. Obedience is achieved through a contest of will. It is why familiars are usually a good measure of the master's strength of character and mind."

"Okay," Kaede relaxed, suppressing the urge to poke out those increasingly downcast eyes. "What else?"

"The last function of a normal familiar bond is auto-translation magic for both the master and familiar, so they may understand each other."

"So that's how I can understand you. But why am I speaking your language?"

"Because I inserted two additional functions into the bond." Pascal took the credit with majestic pride, his irritatingly aristocrat drawl returning. "The auto-translation magic I gave you functions both ways. They modify both your understanding and your speech by tapping into my linguistics knowledge. It is a good thing too, because otherwise you would only be able to talk to me."

Despite his attitude, for the first time Kaede felt glad about something Pascal did. The alternative was just too horrifying.

"And the other?"

"I am getting there… Since I am born of high nobility, we can never know if there may be treachery underfoot. So I thought ahead and specified the contract to give you a magic reservoir, in the form of a permanent set of spell-storing glyphs on your forearms."

Kaede set the longbow down in a rush. She quickly stripped the white satin glove off her right arm. It was just as he said. There were now eight runes etched in a row on the underside of her forearm. Each rune shed a faint, turquoise-blue glow, and together they gave off a subtle warmth, which spread evenly in her still-gloved left arm.

"I'm not a battery!" She stared back at him with incensed eyes. Never a fan of tattoos to begin with, she couldn't believe he already had her permanently marked.

"Of course not. I would never ask you to serve in the artillery," he replied with slight confusion.

"No, I meant… a battery is a device for storing electricity, lightning-power, from my world."

"Indeed," he nodded with interest. "Well, being a user of both gem and runic magic, reserve capacity is not one of my problems. Those glyphs are capable of storing pre-crafted spells. I transfered over two full arrays of defensive spells before you woke up yesterday, which you can activate just by pressing down on the runes. I also hope that, since your body is not a network of magic conduits like mine, you may be able to absorb foreign spells using those… we will have to experiment with that one."

By now, her shoulders were starting to tremble…

Excuse me!? Experiment!? Haven't you toyed enough with my body?

After suppressing all her irritation, frustration, and anger for so long, Kaede's taut emotional strings finally snapped. She stabbed two of her fingers into the runes and activated the entire set on her right arm. Eight glyphs pulsed with magical power, their brilliance and warmth intensifying with a prickling sensation until another pulse discharged their spells less than a second later.

…I'd like to show you some 'treachery underfoot' right now!

Although there was no visual cue, Kaede could feel her skin hardening. Her body felt feather light, while her bones grew as sturdy as steel. Best of all, her strength not only returned to that of her former self, but multiplied yet further.

Translucent magical barriers then encased her body like gleaming armor. In addition, five kite shields of shimmering turquoise energy conjured into existence, rotating protectively around her.

"Well, since you insist on trying it now, what do you think?" Pascal grinned with anticipation.

"Perfect."

Her smile concealed a gleaming dagger as she bridged the gap between them in one stride. She lowered her center of mass into a fighting stance and sent her right fist straight into his stomach. His wool-and-cashmere uniform proved a poor defense against the stone-like consistency of her knuckles. His feet left the ground for a brief moment as her low hook punched the air out from his lungs.

"First: no spells!"

Coughing blood into the air, Pascal reached out with both hands, fingers extended. Four pebble-sized runes appeared out of thin air in between the fingers of each glove. But before he could activate them, Kaede lashed out with a kick that sent them flying.

"Second: no tricks!"

With her initial surprise and momentum wearing off, Pascal soon began to block her attacks and even occasionally attempt to counter. But even though both his skills and his reaction speed exceeded hers, his unpreparedness and the injuries he already suffered left a gap too wide to fill. His fleshy limbs matched poorly against the granite-strength of her attacks, while his few counters were painfully blocked by the barriers and shields protecting her.

"Third: take your medicine like a man!"

The one-sided beatdown lasted just over a minute, and Kaede only halted after Pascal stopped struggling. By that point, he was sprawled out on the ground. Both of his cheeks were swollen black and blue. And his left hand was cradling broken ribs on his right side. Pain lit up every part of his body, except at critical places like the neck, eyes, and head.

Despite obviously knowing the basics and having an overwhelming advantage, Kaede had avoided hitting any of the most vulnerable areas.

Alternating between wheezing and hacking, bloody coughs, Pascal managed to gurgle out:

"Wha'… wahe 'at… fo?"

Only then did he notice that the girl who stood over him, arms hanging in dejection, was also crying.

"You!… You!… You pulled me out of a perfectly good life, forced me to abandon my family and friends, cut short all my effort and dreams, took away everything I know, dragged me into this fucking world, turned me into a girl out of your selfish, deluded fantasies, destroyed any hopes of me ever going back, treated my entire existence like property, and, and, AND YOU DON'T EVEN THINK YOU DESERVE A BEATING!!!?"

Having drained her of what little energy she had, Kaede's violent outburst had opened up the floodgates. All of her doubts, fears, worries, anger, frustrations, and anxieties which had escalated over the past twelve life-changing hours poured out like a deluge. She then fell to the ground as though her strings were cut, slamming her knees into the stone roof before toppling over to one side. Lying parallel to him and on her side, she curled up her legs and began to wail and sob uncontrollably.

It took many minutes before she quieted back down. Even more time passed before either of them found the strength to say anything.

"I fink 'ou brog 'wo 'oohe," he managed to gurgle out from his bloody mouth. "An' 'hree rihs"

"Well good! And I hope you learned a lesson, you asshat!" She yelled back.

Turning to his other side, Pascal finally spat out the remaining bloody mess in his mouth. Pointing his left arm toward the sky, he called out a single word in an even weirder language, which Kaede's auto-translation magic recognized as 'Sanctuary'.

Rune-engraved stones flew out of a belt pouch too small to hold them all and formed a large ring around them. A crystal-blue, hemispherical barrier of translucent magic soon slammed into position above them, while the very air inside glowed with a turquoise hue.

"What're you doing?" She sat up, alarmed.

"Area dehence and healing rune sed." Pascal mumbled through his swollen mouth with his eyes closed.

Only then did she realize that the pain in her knees was fading away.

Silence fell between the two of them once more.

Too tired to worry or even contemplate for once, Kaede simply sat there, dazed. Realization began to seep in that she had completely lost control of her emotions.

Kaede had always considered herself a levelheaded person, who used communication to solve problems rather than forceful action. After all, even professional crisis negotiators, who dealt with hostage-taking terrorists — the least reasonable people possible — still found that showing empathy and sincerity results in a five times higher rate of success as the application of brute force. Diplomacy was almost always the best option, while violence was the last resort of the incompetent.

Yet, what she had just done was the exact opposite of 'being diplomatic'.

It was even worse than that, as now that her adrenaline rush was over, her emotions were being replaced by uncertainty and fear. An unfeeling conviction passed through her head as she realized:

I'm dead.

She didn't know what the penalty was for assaulting a noble. If Earth history was any indication, they would surely lock her up for this?

Pascal was the son of a high noble and an important official of the state too. Even if he didn't, his father definitely owned at least one castle, and the dungeons that came with it, and the thumbscrews and branding irons and all those other instruments of torture inside that could only be described as 'medieval'.

And even if that wasn't the case, even if Pascal simply kicked her out over this, it would still be awful for her immediate prospects. Kaede had no money, no property, not even a trade that could be practiced in this completely foreign world. With the arrival of winter just around the corner…

I'll freeze or starve to death as a homeless girl!

Plus, even if Kaede could find shelter, what then? She was a girl now, and one of weak build at that. Even on modern Earth there were plenty of people who preyed on girls like her. If she wasn't careful, she'd find herself being trafficked and sold off to a brothel!

Kaede lost any sense of time as she sat there, dreading what would happen to her. However her stomach eventually broke the silence with a growl of anger.

"No meals for you today," Pascal answered, more irritated than angry, before glancing at Kaede and eyeing her cross-legged sitting posture. "And can't you sit more like a lady?"

As he was still heavily bruised, Kaede satisfied herself by shooting back a glare instead. Nevertheless her anger faded away quickly this time, replaced by an overflowing sense of relief. Sure, starving through the day would just increase her misery. But as much as Kaede hated the thought, she didn't want to be charged with a crime or abandoned to starve outside.

I really can't afford to get in any more trouble than this, Kaede reprimanded herself.

Engulfed by their own problems, neither of them noticed the pristine white pegasus that had been flying around the castle perimeter for the past hour, nor the beautiful rider who sat upon it.



—– * * * —–



By the time the two of them returned to the dorms, it was almost midday.

The air between them remained silent and awkward. Pascal seemed to be in a particularly foul mood. The healing left him fully functional. However his movements were sluggish, which meant his body was likely sore and aching all over. His glamor spells, however, fully concealed the lingering bruises on his face. Meanwhile the bloodstains on his uniform seemed to have magically evaporated.

On the outside, it looked like nothing had ever happened.

Part of Kaede felt relieved. Most of her thought it was a shame.

But what really bothered Kaede was why Pascal kept everything bottled, instead of lashing out at her. For a moment on the roof she thought he was going to just ignore her and leave. However he ended up waiting at the door, with neither a word nor a glance, until she grabbed the bow and arrows and caught up to him.

Now, as he looked through the drawers and pulled out a fresh uniform, she felt like she had to say… something. In hindsight, beating him to an inch of his life really was too extreme. Certainly, he was responsible for turning her life upside down, but it wasn't like he had planned it with malicious intent. The summoning just sort of happened that way, and the result was mostly a side effect of the old saying 'be careful what you wish for'.

It didn't mean she hated it any less, or blamed him any less for it. But accidents caused by selfishness weren't inherently immoral. Violence and murder were.

"I'm sorry."

Her voice was mostly nervous, partly regretful, and more than a hint begrudging. Nevertheless, Pascal froze on the spot.

"I shouldn't have hurt you that badly."

That was the most she was willing to concede. He still deserved some beating, after all. But at the same time, her pragmatic half knew that mauling him all she wanted wouldn't fix the problem. It didn't even make her feel any better. All it did was saddle her with more worries about her future.

After another half minute of silence, Pascal finished changing and expelled a deep sigh: "Just get ready to leave. I have not even had breakfast yet."

Well, at least he's still willing to talk to me. That's a good sign, right?

Kaede put away the longbow and quiver where she found them. Then, as she stared down at what she wore: a black jacket and nothing else except bridal-white lingerie undergarments…

"Can I get something more proper to wear? Please?"

Wordlessly, Pascal strode over to a large wardrobe. From the side, Kaede could only see a collection of long dresses. Then, with an ominous chuckle, he pulled out an outfit and handed it towards her:

"Here, this is perfect."

It was a modest, white-on-black dress clearly made to resemble a traditional maid uniform. Though this one had far more frills, laces, layers of petticoats, and a huge ribbon in the back.

"I can't wear this!" She objected almost on reflex.

"Why not?" His lips formed a smile for the first time since they were on the roof.

"I'm… I'm…"

It was difficult to claim that she was a young man when she didn't look anything like one.

"You are a girl now, and an adorably cute girl at that," Pascal insisted as humor returned to dance in his eyes. "Therefore you ought to dress like one according to societal standards. And this garment is perfectly respectable for female propriety."

"Then can't you give me something at least a little less… frilly?" Kaede retorted as she stared at the dress in her hands with apprehension.

As she looked up and met his eyes, Pascal raised his eyebrows with an expectant gaze.

"Do you want me to forgive you for what happened earlier?"

He's purposefully treating me like I'm some dress-up doll!

For a moment Kaede wrestled with the urge to give him another broken rib. A jerk like Pascal might find this funny but to her it was utterly demeaning!



—– * * * —–



For obvious reasons, Kaede was not used to wearing heels, not even low, chunky heels with ankle straps. The smooth satin stockings also did not offer the same grip as the socks she was used to. Trying to keep up with Pascal's full stride as he crossed the grounds towards the dining hall only made both worse.

She was also keenly aware that almost every person they came across was staring at her.

The dining hall was located on the first floor of a massive central keep. It was large enough to fit a small church and they certainly weren't frugal on furnishing. Lit by chandeliers and massive stained-glass windows, it was lined with long, intricately-carved dining tables. Over a hundred students and teachers filled the individual chairs, gathered mostly in small clusters. Meanwhile servants in maid and butler outfits traversed up and down the aisles, taking orders and delivering food to the upper-class students.

"Hey Runelord," a jeering call came from the far side as a short boy with flaming-red hair stood up. "I heard your familiar gave you a thrashing on the roof this morning! How does it feel to take yet another first — the first to receive a beatdown from a loyal familiar? Honestly, was your performance in bed that abysmal last night?"

About a third of the hall either chuckled or laughed as the boy sat back down.

Kaede felt her face growing crimson as she lowered her eyes to stare at Pascal's heels.

This is humiliating!

She was never a fan of the sexual jokes that went around in male circles. But it was far worse now that she was 'the girl' used in their crude humor.

"<Just ignore them. Mere blithering idiots unworthy of our time.>" Pascal's stiff voice resounded within her head.

Like you're any better? She retorted in the safety of her mind.

Walking ahead, Pascal never turned back towards her once. Kaede had a sneaking suspicion that the emotional link he mentioned earlier was starting to work — possibly a result of her recent outburst. Heat rushed up her cheeks as her realization enhanced her embarrassment, which in turn magnified both her annoyance and her discontentment.

She followed Pascal to a relatively isolated part of the hall and took a seat next to him. A nearby maid, petite with short brown hair and no older than he was, rushed over to take his order.

However Pascal didn't even look at the servant, or acknowledge her existence in any way, before he commanded: "Fresh bread and scrambled eggs, triple servings, and small assortments of cheese and sausages."

"Yes Sir." the maid gave a faint reply before hesitantly meeting Kaede's eyes, uncertain.

"Nothing for her," Pascal declared.

Kaede's stomach grumbled in protest, and the maid sent her a look of sympathy before rushing off.

It took a moment before Kaede realized that Pascal was speaking a different language than when they were alone. The linguistics felt similar to what that boy had yelled earlier. Though thanks to Pascal's improvements to the familiar bond, she had no problem understanding it.

He did say he was from another country. She thought as she looked at him. Pascal was also the only one wearing a black-and-crimson military uniform, while the other nobles dressed in an assortment of varied, brightly-colored clothing. Is that why he sits alone in a room with so many?

For the first time, Kaede almost felt a bit sympathetic. She certainly had a similar experience, when her parents moved from Russia to Japan while she was in middle school. Trying to fit in as a hafu wasn't exactly easy in Japan.

Pascal then relented as he met her curious eyes with a satisfied smirk:

"You can have dinner."

"Gee, thanks. How generous of you, Sir!"

His attitude made any sense of prior sympathy evaporate. It left her with only biting sarcasm.

"I understand that you are having a tough time, given all the tremendous changes in your life. Therefore I will not hold this morning against you past this."

He actually sounded a bit sincere about it, except…

"That's not much of an apology."

"Who said anything about apologizing?" He glanced away. Then, with a distant gaze: "I do take full responsibility for bringing you into this world, and I promise I will take care of you. Just please, the next time you feel overwhelmed, speak to me with words instead of with your fists. I assure you that next time I will not be caught so unprepared by barbaric violence."

Kaede looked back down as a sense of relief washed over her. However in its wake came a sense of shame — that she had to rely on someone else, that she had to be taken care of in this new world.

All she managed to respond with was a faint "thanks".

When she looked up again, she found Pascal scowling. Tracing his gaze, she noticed a noblewoman who drew the attention of everybody in the vicinity, carrying a silver tray of food and heading unerringly towards them.

The lady held a breathtaking beauty that radiated confidence and refinement. She was of average height, maybe a hint taller, and had clear, bright-cyan eyes which seemed to sparkle above her sweet and gentle smile. Her waist-length cascades of floral-pink hair was held back by a flowery bun behind her head. Her slender body was athletic yet wrapped by enticing curves. Even her movements were elegant as she strode forth with soft steps.

Her figure-hugging military uniform was black-bordered and burning red. Accentuated with artistic strokes of orange and yellow, her outfit almost seemed like it was alight with flames. Beneath her stiff, folded collar dangled what looked like a German Iron Cross. It was the same as the one that Pascal wore over his throat.

The hall seemed to hush as the lady walked up to a stop directly behind Pascal. She ignored him entirely, just as he turned his back to her. However the lady then locked gazes with Kaede as she gave a short but smiling nod:

"Good afternoon, Miss Familiar. My name is Ariadne Charlotte von Zimmer-Manteuffel, daughter to the Margrave of Saale-Holzland of Weichsel. I apologize for the impropriety, but the last time we met, you were still unconscious."

Kaede felt stunned by the presence of true nobility and grace before her eyes. However, she did not miss the fact that even though Ariadne came from the same country as Pascal, the two of them clearly weren't on speaking terms.

With an awkward, twisted bow from her sitting position, Kaede just barely managed to force out:

"I'm Kaede Nikita Konstantinovich Suvorsky. I'm honored to meet you, uh, milady."

If Ariadne took even the slightest offense to Kaede's bumbling sense of etiquette, she gave no sign of it.

"I apologize for being direct, but hearsay has already circulated the school. I would prefer to ask the person in question. Are you, perchance, from the Grand Republic of Samara?"

"No. Not at all. Uh… it would be accurate to say that I'm not of this world at all, and none of the countries I know exist here."

Even with her shocked expression, Ariadne's gentle smile did not falter. But her hesitant tone did betray the strand of disbelief that tugged at her sincerity.

"Wow. That… must be really hard on you. I can't even begin to imagine… If you need help with anything, please do not hesitate to ask me. My beloved and friends are all very generous people."

"Thank you," Kaede gave her most grateful smile.

"I must admit that I saw you two on the roof this morning during my ride. Please, allow me to be the first one to thank you for giving this self-centered prick a much-needed lesson. Knowing him, I thought you might appreciate something to eat today." Ariadne finished by offering Kaede the tray she carried.

It was loaded with slices of bread and cheeses, plus an assortment of fruits and sliced meat.

As if on cue, her stomach chimed in with another growl. Kaede then glanced at Pascal, her eyes almost challenging. However he continued to face forward. His eyes stared at the thin air with a clearly disgruntled look.

"Do what you want," he forced out in monotone.

Kaede grinned back at Ariadne and took her offered plate:

"Thank you so much!"

Kaede held back from saying anything else. After all, she was still on thin ice after what happened on the roof and shouldn't disturb the peace too much.

"Not at all. Well then, good luck, have a pleasant day, and I will see you around!"

Ariadne turned back around and strode off, while the hall seemed to burst back into chatter. As the lady crossed paths with the maid returning to deliver Pascal's meal, she also gave the petite girl a smiling nod as she went along.

Pascal however, didn't even acknowledge the maid as she served him his food. Feeling improper, Kaede told the girl "thank you, miss", and received a surprised, almost gaping nod in return.

As Kaede bit into a sumptuous slice of pork, she decided to prod Pascal's moodiness a bit to annoy him. She might have gone a little overboard back on the roof. But that didn't mean there wasn't other ways to get back at him.

"So, what's your problem with her? She's from your country… Weichsel… isn't she?"

Kaede could tell from the language she used to speak. And even though they were both outsiders in a foreign land, Pascal sat alone while Ariadne was surrounded by friends. With this fact in mind, Kaede harbored no doubts who would be at fault for any conflicts between them.

"Finish swallowing your food before you speak," Pascal sent her a glance. "And close your legs when you sit."

"Why does it matter how I sit? Afraid I might hurt your image?"

"If you want to come off as a cheap, one-mark whore desperate for men, be my guest."

Kaede shut her legs instantly. Her face glowed with part-anger and part-humiliation. She couldn't believe that she had just been called a 'cheap whore' even though she was, technically, a young man. If she didn't have another forked slice of pork in hand, she might have hit him on reflex.

You are such a scumbag! She settled for cursing in her thoughts instead.

Perhaps noticing her glare, Pascal tried to shift the topic:

"And yes, Ariadne is from Weichsel, just like me. I am surprised you noticed."

"I'm multilingual in my world." Kaede noted. "Even with the translation magic I can tell the differences in speech."

Pascal nodded. There was even a hint of approval in his gaze.

"My mother tongue is Imperial, which is what we're speaking right now. However the language most used by people here is Lotharin, one of the four official languages of Rhin-Lotharingie."

"Interesting. But that's not what I really asked," Kaede added as she suppressed her urge to smirk. Don't change the subject, prick.

Though she really was curious how any country could function with not one, not two, but four official languages. At least, unless they had a hyper-efficient bureaucracy like the city-state of Singapore.

Meanwhile Pascal scowled. He clearly didn't want to reopen the wound.

"With Ariadne… well, I would be lying to myself if I just shrugged her off as another idiot. She has far too much competence, awareness, and purpose for that."

"So, once again, what's your problem with her?" She poked further.

However Pascal only grew silent again.

Kaede had almost given up on an answer before he sighed deeply and began with a faraway gaze:

"I courted Ariadne once, back in Weichsel when we both attended the Königsfeld Academy. It lasted little more than a week. She couldn't stop complaining about every little detail about her performance that bothered her back then. I ran out of patience quickly and broke off the relationship. She has barely talked to me and only referred to me as a 'self-centered prick' ever since."

"Well… you are–"

"Eat your food," Pascal ordered.

Which she did, silently, for no more than a minute.

"You regret it, don't you?"

Kaede realized that at least part of her motives lay from a desire to hear him finally concede: that he was once an inconsiderate bastard to someone else as well, someone who clearly deserved respect from him. Maybe then, Pascal might realize that he was making the same mistakes yet again.

But no words left him at all. Pascal kept on eating as if she had never said anything.

Then, as he bit into his last piece of bread, she heard an uncharacteristically melancholic voice from him in her mind:

"<The courtship I do not care so much about. But… Ariadne has matured considerably during the last few years. She turned out to be a beautiful and caring girl, an excellent mage, and a fine example of nobility. She would have made a great friend, if not at least an excellent political ally. I know what I did impacted her significantly, but… I only wish she did not hate me so much.>"

Contemplative, Kaede thought back to some of the less-than-stellar people choices she made during her own years. Shortsighted, hasty, and hurtful decision-making often came as a rite of adolescence. The important part was that Pascal had awareness of it.

Perhaps he's not completely hopeless after all, the girl thought.

It certainly could have been far worse. At least Pascal seemed to have some integrity in upholding his personal values. If nothing else, Kaede rather doubted that most nobles in Earth's middle ages –no matter how much 'in the wrong' they were– would let her off so easily after she broke several of their ribs.

Maybe he might at least treat me better, not to mention help me get back, if he simply acknowledged how badly he screwed up my life.

"You know…" Kaede advised, partly in sincerity and partly because she wanted one herself: "While it's not always enough, it's never too late to apologize."

He munched through his last slice of bread in record time.

"I did not summon a mother."

With his meal finished, Pascal carefully wiped his mouth with the napkin. He then pulled out his chair and stood up. "Come on, we are going to the library next. You can learn more about this world and help me with my research work there."

Sighing, Kaede looked longingly down at her half-finished plate of fine, upper-class food.

Nope, still just a prick.
 
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It's Mecha! Just stopping in to welcome yah to SV, very glad to finally see this story on here and SB, which I will celebrate by re-reading the first volume as you post it :D
 
I love Daybreak on Hyperion and I'm glad to see it here it needs more exposure.
Thank you for the encouragement and support =)
I was actually told years ago about sites like SpaceBattles/SufficientVelocity, but I've always been like "is a scifi forum the right place for my story though?"
Only recently some readers convinced me it is.
 
Volume 1 Chapter 4 – Regressions of Time
Volume 1 Chapter 4 – Regressions of Time

Dusk had fallen by the time they left the library.

Kaede followed behind Pascal as she balanced four massive tomes in her small hands. The thickest of them was a general history of Rhin-Lotharingie, the country that she was currently in. She had found over a dozen copies of it in the library. Their presence was an easy indication that Hyperion already had access to the printing press or its magical equivalent. Otherwise, there was no way such thick books could easily be replicated.

— Though that didn't stop the librarian from giving Kaede several suspicious stares as Pascal checked them out.

With her concentration focused on her heels to prevent any missteps, she couldn't help but start to fall behind as her thin arms held up what felt like a boulder's weight.

Her body was also bothering her with another pressure… and it was becoming harder to ignore by the second.

"W-wait!" she called out, her breaths already starting to fall short. These books might be heavy but they should have been manageable. This body is such a pain!

Ten paces ahead of her, Pascal sent a backwards glance. He sighed audibly and swiveled around, marched right up to her, and pulled all four tomes out of her hands.

Wow, the prick is voluntarily helping!

Kaede never thought she could be amazed by something so minor. It truly showed just how low her expectations for him had sunk.

"Come on." He started walking towards the dormitories again. His pace slowed with books in hand. "You really had to check out all these old history tomes? Not something more substantial like a book on geography or magical treatise? How is a collection of past events, dates, and dead people going to help you?"

"Don't look down on history," she snapped back. "History is the foundation of cultural values and geopolitical relations. It's so much more than just a timeline of events and people. It illustrates how entire societies think, act, and relate to each other.

"Seriously, it's annoying how most schools treat something so important as just a bunch of dates, names, and all those useless details. It makes people lose respect for history." Kaede launched straight into an impromptu rant. "The 'what' is only worth a third of the attention given to any event. Instead of focusing on useless details, they should spend more time discussing why it happened and how it affected the flow of civilization, exploring what could have happened had a different choice been made, et cetera. Here is a record of people succeeding and failing, with world-altering implications, for thousands of years! From how policies affected social trends to how arsenals decided battles! And instead of analyzing and referencing it for their own use, most people just shrug it off as useless! Seriously!"

Now really short of breath, Kaede finally noticed that Pascal was examining her with an odd expression. He had a lopsided smile and a single raised eyebrow. Amusement danced across his eyes as he asked: "Professor or scholar?"

"I wanted to be." She replied in a low, somber whisper filled with nostalgia. "Not teach in the traditional sense, but to write books and become the historical advisor to a media studio. Only scholars delve deep into academic books. Spreading the wisdom of history would require the use of games, serializations, movies, all that and more."

Though there was also another reason Kaede took all these books, one she was less keen to admit. After over twenty hours and still no sign of waking up, it was clear to her that she was trapped in this world and body. History was not only her gateway to understanding a foreign society like this one, it was also her favorite pastime where she could seek shelter from the stress of life. Kaede might not have her own private room here. However she could at least still take refuge in the comforts of her own mind.

Meanwhile, Pascal was looking more and more intrigued as he turned into one of the dormitory keep's spiraling tower staircases. "How is a game supposed to teach history? And what is a movie?"

"In my world we have tools capable of running a display screen — kind of similar to those illusion projectors in the library. Games running on those tools can be made to simulate a variety of circumstances, from managing a business to fighting a battle to even leading an entire country. Of course, it's far simpler than the real thing and made to entertain by stimulating people's need for an intellectual challenge. Movies are similar, except instead of being a simulation, it merely shows a recording of actors portraying a scripted story."

"Sounds like commoners in your world are considerably more intelligent than those of this realm." His wistful comment came out more like a complaint.

"It's called 'standardized education' — when society provides a free basic education to every child as they grow up," Kaede explained with pride. "It doesn't mean every individual will be wise enough to seek knowledge. However it encourages people to, and it ensures that those who do, know how to find it."

"It sounds like an impressive system, and your world must be quite wealthy to afford it." Pascal thoughtfully commented. "Education is expensive, and in this world only the nobles and the wealthy upper-middle class can afford to send their children to comprehensive schooling. My homeland of Weichsel certainly does not have sufficient state funding to offer a 'standardized education' for every child. And the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie where we are now is even more lacking in resources."

His words really made Kaede realize just how much the society she comes from takes for granted.

"What about scholarships?" Kaede asked. "Free education opportunities for those who are both gifted and passionate?"

"There is a patronage system, but it is very limited." Pascal concluded with a sigh. "It is difficult to look for talent when most peasants and even some yeomen are illiterate and cannot even read a notice board, let alone a book. Nevertheless…" he turned towards her with a smile. "Remind me to bring up this topic again when you meet my father. He has been thinking of ways to expand Weichsel's talent pool for as long as I remember. We may be able to learn something from the institutions of your world."

The two of them soon reached his dormitory room. Pascal waved his hand and spoke a term for Unlock, and the door clicked open.

Kaede stared at the lock as they walked inside.

"Can anyone open it with just a spell like that?"

"No. There is a mana identifier installed on the lock." He said before placing the tomes onto a nearby table. Another wave, wordlessly this time, and the crystal orb mounted on the ceiling filled the room with bright light.

"Every mage has a unique mana signature, and this lock recognizes mine. I will make you a ring with the Unlock cantrip later tonight. Then you should be able to use my mana to open the door. But come now, we are late for dinner."

"W-wait!" she called out as he started to leave.

She really didn't want to publicly raise a fuss over this, but the pressure below her waist was beginning to push her limits. She had hoped she would have found one by now…

"W-where do I find a bathroom or toilet room or whatever-you-call-it around here?"

"Bath-room? Why do you want a bath before dinner? And what is a toilet?" Pascal stared back.

Kaede's eyes widened as she felt horrified by what he was implying.

"Come on, we are already running late." He turned his back towards her again.

"I, I…"

Pascal stopped again as looked quizzically at the stuttering Kaede with growing impatience.

"Just say it already."

"I need to pee!" Kaede felt her cheeks glowing like charcoals as she finally said it out loud.

It was already troublesome enough imagining herself working with a different set of private parts than she was used to. Kaede didn't need to feel judged by him at the same time!

"Oh." Pascal closed the door again. He moved to a corner and pulled open a small closet, then took out something large, heavy, and porcelain before setting it down on the carpet.

You must be joking!

But Pascal looked completely casual as he looked back at her:

"There is no public latrine in this building. So just use that. The servants will empty it later."

What sat on the ground could only be described as a tall, fancy chamber pot, complete with a wide rim for sitting on and heavy lid over it.

It's weird enough doing it in this body! Stop making things even more needlessly complicated!

"Please hurry up. We really are running late."

"Then get out," she stared at him with an annoyed look.

"Excuse me?" Pascal narrowed his gaze, as though in disbelief over what he just heard.

"Get. Out!" She repeated herself by escalating her wispy voice into a half-yell.

"This is my room, you know…"

"Fine. Would you please leave the room?" Kaede added in an exasperated voice. At the same time, she stepped over the porcelain pot and began fumbling with her long and overly-fancy 'maid dress' at the same time. Without much luck in shedding its frills and petticoats, she simply pulled the entire skirt up and reached in for her underwear.

"Or are you that anxious to watch a girl take a piss?" She added, hoping he'd realize the obvious at last.

Pascal's eyes widened as he finally seemed to understand. He spun around and rushed to the door. "I'll wait outside," he muttered before shutting it.

Was this prick born tone-deaf or something? The familiar couldn't help complain as she sat down at last.



—– * * * —–



"Oh Holy Father, we thank you for your blessings in this wonderful meal and the bountiful harvest this year. We praise you for your grace in maintaining the peace that reigns across our lands. May your light of guidance continue to show us the path of the devoted, the faithful, and the righteous. In your heavenly name, noblesse oblige."

"Noblesse oblige," repeated the entire dining hall, before the Lotharin-speaking professor who led the prayers sat back down.

The nightly feast then began with the clattering of utensils and plates.

Once again, Kaede found herself sitting next to Pascal near a corner of the dining hall, isolated from everyone else. The grand hall had more than enough capacity, and the nearest people were five seats down — a clique of gossiping girls that sent a steady stream of glances their way.

Based on the words that drifted through the air, Kaede had the distinct feeling that at least some of these were Pascal's admiring 'fans'. Unfortunately, many of them were also taking some verbal jabs at her:

"…Who does she think she is, sitting at the same table as us nobles?"

"Does it matter? She's still just a commoner, and a domestic servant as that."

"You know what young lords tend to do with servants that are a little cute…."

The 'fan group' started snickering.

Pascal and Kaede had arrived just in time for prayers. However their dinner, which the chefs prepared based on the day's theme and each student's known preferences, had yet to be delivered. With nothing to do and already becoming a target for 'female politics', Kaede's discomfort was steadily growing into annoyance again.

"<Ignore those idiots too.>" Pascal sent over the telepathic channel while he sat with eyes closed and arms folded, as though in deep contemplation.

"<Aren't those girls your admirers?>"

They actually reminded Kaede of overdressed French peacocks from Versailles, always gossiping about others from behind their lace fans.

"<They are vultures who console themselves with the failure of others. If they have a problem with you sitting here, they can take it up with me.>"

On one hand, Kaede felt assured by his words. On the other, she wasn't about to forget that this was all his fault, in multiple ways.

She was also beginning to question if Pascal had any friends at all, or even acquaintances. Perhaps his selfish, egotistical behavior simply drove everyone else away?

"<What about the ones who did approach you?>" she asked, curious if her hypothesis was right.

"<I told most of them that I was not interested. As for the rest,>" his voice turned almost ominous, "<They did not end up working out.>"

"<Pascal the lady-killer, court him one week and he'll give you his everlasting gift… of death>."

"<That is really not funny.>"

Pascal was sounding wistful again, and Kaede wondered just how many others suffered a fate similar to Ariadne.

No wonder why everyone is keeping their distance. She thought. Actually, it's surprising there are still girls who remain interested.

Kaede doubted she would ever understand the 'bad boy appeal'… or in this case, arrogant prick appeal.

"<By the way… you did not actually pray to the Holy Father, did you?>"

Pascal's interrogation hit her spot on just as two servants brought in their meals. Again, he gave no awareness to their presence, and Kaede hurriedly returned a nod of gratitude.

"<No…?>"

Kaede had pretended to pray to show respect. However, reciting words that she didn't believe in seemed… wrong.

"<How could you not pray to the Holy Father?>"

Having spent a dozen years in Central Russia, Kaede did attend several Eastern Orthodox services out of interest. However Kaede's Russian father, despite his many superstitions, was an atheist. Meanwhile Kaede's Japanese mother was an agnostic-deist. Kaede's own study of foreign cultures and history led her to explore many faiths, but she never did settle on one of them.

It wasn't because she did not believe in a higher power. But rather…

How do you settle on a single religion when they all have tenets worthy of devotion and praise? Kaede had thought.

Over the years she had discussed theology with many people. However, if there was one type of person that instantly annoyed her, it was those who insisted that their religion — even the 'religion' of atheism — was the 'one true faith'.

"<Hey, I already follow the Flying Spaghetti God, so please respect my faith.>" Kaede retorted on impulse. "<Besides, you told me the Samarans don't worship the Holy Father anyway!>"

"<And the Samarans are seen as heathens! Do you wish to be singled out by the Church Inquisition!?>"

Kaede immediately shut up, as she remembered the agonizing deaths people used to give nonbelievers as 'treatment' to 'save their soul'.

Please don't burn me at the stake…

"<Honestly, I do not care what deity you worship. Who knows if your world even lies within the same divine jurisdiction. But since you are here, you will pray to the Holy Father. With all the religious unrest across the continent these days, the Papal Inquisition has escaped its reins and grown into an independent threat. I will not have Father caught up in some heresy investigation. Is that clear?>"

His voice was as adamant as polished steel as it resounded deep into her mind. For the first time Kaede felt herself shiver under the cold pressure of his words.

"<Crystal.>"

She did not notice until later that for once, Pascal protectively raised the well-being of another above his own self.

"<Good. Now let us eat.>"

He then dug into his dinner, laden with several steaming slices of fresh pork roast as the main meal. This was surrounded by sides of boiled asparagus, potato salad, gourmet bread, and a thick, cheesy broth that smelled faintly of beer.

Perhaps not surprisingly, Kaede found herself looking at half-sized portions of the same dinner, minus the alcoholic soup.

She wasn't complaining. The meal was not exactly modern, but it still tasted like bliss.

Pascal spent most of dinner asking Kaede about her limited martial arts background, her archery practice in the morning, and the role they played in her home world. He was deeply intrigued when Kaede mentioned that archery had been reduced to a mere sport on Earth:

"<Then what replaced bows in the military?>"

"<Guns.>" Kaede explained. "<Steel tubes that propel a slug using explosive powder. Sulfur and saltpeter, if I remember right.>"

"<Blast powder? They would employ such a weapon for massed infantry?>" Pascal voiced as though it was utter lunacy.

"<What's wrong with that?> Kaede asked.

"<Blast powder is extremely volatile.>" He stressed. "<The Great Khanate once tried to employ it during the Great Northern War around five centuries ago. Their enemies then realized that all they needed to do was to Fireball the blast-powder-equipped troops to turn the soldiers into living fireworks!>"

Kaede's eyes widened as she realized what this meant:

Magic didn't just replace aspects of technology then. It may have completely altered the advancement of civilization itself!

For the first time since her arrival, Kaede found her interest in the new world growing. This was a topic that she would love to research, even if she had to do it as a girl.

"<So you don't use gunpowder, blast powder, at all?>"

"<No. We use it mostly for mining, hence the name.>" Pascal clarified. "<But in strict military applications, its use is limited by its unreliability. We have some weapons that utilize it. But nothing as quantitatively employed as massed archery.>"

"<Then do mages also practice archery? Or is that just a commoner thing?>" Kaede asked.

She remembered that archers were considered a 'peasant' occupation during Earth's middle ages. In fact, many nobles of the time thought that using a bow in battle was 'beneath their dignity'.

"<It depends on the country. I grew up in Weichsel, where we nobles pride ourselves in our arcane heritage, even in battle. Projectile weapons are the domain of commoners and yeomen, who either cannot use or lacked expertise in proper battle magic.>" He declared with a voice even more haughty than usual. "<However here in Rhin-Lotharingie, most nobles are expected to learn the longbow, apart from those in the south who prefer slings instead. They hold more shooting competitions here than they do in dueling or jousting.>"

As he finished with a rather peevish look, Kaede immediately realized:

He's terrible at archery.

For the rest of dinner their conversations continued unabated. Kaede hated to admit it, but she actually had fun talking to Pascal about his world. It was apparent that he was well-versed in a broad range of topics, perhaps even more so than herself.

It wasn't until they were leaving that Kaede remembered to ask:

"<Do you want me to convert to the Holy Father's grace?>"

"<Of course!>" Pascal answered. "<Not that I have to try, with you being a scholar of history. The Holy Father's works may be mysterious at times, but with millenniums of timeline in retrospect, his influence becomes as clear as day and night. I am certain you will come around in due time and embrace the one true faith of this world…>"

Why can't you interact like a normal person for one hour? Just one! Kaede thought with a frustrated sigh. Any interest she had on a theological discussion had instantly evaporated.

"<Although, does your world really pray to airborne pasta?>"

Pascal's single raised eyebrow betrayed a hint of bewilderment on a totally-serious face.

"<Only when the polar ice caps are melting due to a lack of pirate caretakers.>"



—– * * * —–



Pascal leaned back against the plush chair in front of his table as he casually juggled multiple sorceries at once. Between his hands hovered a turquoise gem that he was cutting and affixing onto a platinum ring using the Fabricate spell. At the same time he was imbuing it with the Lock/Unlock and Sigil cantrips. The result would be a spell-activation focus that Kaede could use to open doors and sign for academy resources using his mana signature.

It was a task most apprentice artificers divided into multiple parts and required full concentration on each. Yet Pascal treated it like a side-job while mentally chatting with someone over a thousand kilopaces away — his fiancée, Crown Princess Sylviane Etiennette de Gaetane of the Rhin-Lotharingie Empire — through an ongoing Farspeak spell.

"<…And that is how she came to be. I cannot wait to show her to you over the holidays, Sylv. Not only is she a walking encyclopedia filled with interesting details of her fantastic otherworld — it is a miracle they even managed to function, with neither the convenience of sorcery nor the establishment of noblesse oblige graced upon us by the Holy Father. But she also looks absolutely adorable: a dainty figure caped by silky, snowy-white hair, not to mention the rose-quartz eyes that I have never even heard of.>"

"<Sounds like you've conjured quite the fantasy there.>"

Enraptured by his own enthusiasm, Pascal missed the trace of sarcasm and, as a result, completely misinterpreted her humored tone.

All he remembered were past scenes where his fiancée would hug and drape herself over cute girls with ecstatic delight, rubbing her cheeks against their long hair in a display that violated all noble protocol.

"<Well I did use your favorite Vivi as a 'reference' of sorts.>" He added, hoping for her approval.

"<You know, Pascal, when I allowed you to have dalliances during your academy years, I do not remember giving you the permission to bind another girl with a contract of 'till death do us part'. Our betrothal may be political, but it is still a committed one.>"

Until then, Pascal hadn't even considered that Sylviane might disapprove of his choice in familiars. Stunned by the explosive landmine he had just stepped on, his mind quickly backtracked for help.

However Sylviane never even gave him the chance:

"<The next few weeks will be really busy for me. The 'Ducal Alliance' under that schemer Fitzgerald is on the brink of open revolt against King Alistair's rule. Father can spare neither the troops nor the time with the tensions rising near the Cataliyan border. It falls to me to show the Emperor's flag in the north and help King Alistair pacify his nobles. Therefore I doubt I'll return to Alis Avern before the holidays.>"

She hung up without a second's wait.

"Crap," Pascal uttered an uncharacteristic curse. He finally realized the severity of the trouble he had landed himself in.

He had been so caught up telling Sylviane his story that he hadn't even thought to ask about her problems.

Alistair Mackay-Martel was the King of Gleann Mòr, one of the four autonomous kingdoms under the banner of the Rhin-Lotharingie Empire. However the man was also a royal bastard who spent many years traveling abroad as an adventurer and mercenary. Needless to say, his ascension to the throne less than a decade ago was not universally welcomed by his nobles. His unusual style of ruling and his insistence that all nobles return the money they owe the crown's treasury has only further aggravated them.

Many of these noble houses have since banded together to plot behind his back, as they sought to pressure the King to sign a 'Charter of Liberties'. Pascal had read that charter. He thought it was horse manure and told the princess so during their chat a week ago. The nobles claimed they wanted 'freedom' and 'justice'. What they truly asked for was an expansion of their aristocratic privileges.

For Pascal, these chats he had with Sylviane were not just a way to maintain their relationship. They were an opportunity for him to act as her confidant, to discuss courtly intrigues and help shoulder her burdens. She would often use him as a sounding board for her own ideas, as well as seeking his suggestions and even his sympathy.

But today, she hung up without even giving him a hint, and then called for a temporary break to their weekly chats.

She really is angry. Royally angry, literally…

Pascal hoped this would not cause any issues. Neither Sylviane nor her father Geoffroi the Great had any tendency to start diplomatic squabbles over personal grudges. However if Sylviane found her royal honor insulted, she might break tradition.

Oh dear Holy Father, have mercy…

Putting aside the mostly finished ring, Pascal prayed, fast and hard, that he did not open any personal rifts with Sylviane. She had been his closest friend ever since those days spent idling beside the Cross Lake of the Nordkreuz estate. And after Ariadne pulled Cecylia away from him, Sylviane was also his last remaining friend.

Pascal wasn't sure if he could handle losing her as well.

He turned to look at Kaede, who sat in his bed with her stockinged legs tucked in. Her small hands propped open a massive leather-bound book. Meanwhile her fatigued, half-open eyes stared blankly at him, with faint perplexity bubbling over their familiar bond.

Her breakdown this morning was still fresh on his mind. Her wailing image was forever burnt into his memory. That didn't even include the crushing despair and sorrow that followed, as a tidal wave of emotional distress breached the last barrier and opened their empathic tunnel.

He spent much of the morning being annoyed at himself as a result. But after mostly enjoying himself in the afternoon, Pascal had recovered too quickly.

Sylviane's shortened call only restarted the hammering on the last nail.

…More like all the nails, at once, with one great big resounding mallet.

After making the biggest, most idiotic, ill-conceived, poorly planned, carelessly rushed, and altogether feebleminded mistake of his entire life, Pascal felt like a moron who just stupidly certified himself by taking a pilgrimage to the apex of moronia.

"So… when am I getting my bed?" Kaede chimed in, finally breaking the silence.

"I would have ordered lumber from the quartermaster this morning," he spouted back, disgruntled.

Annoyance was bubbling across the bond again.

I need some fresh air, Pascal decided as he strode towards the door.

"Go to sleep," he ordered, before dimming the ceiling light to a faint glow with a wave of his hand. After swinging open the door, he looked back to Kaede and felt her glaring at him from the shadows.

At least he had managed to convince her to use his large bed instead of huddling on the cold floor. That was a good sign, right?

"Please," he sighed, before closing the door behind him.

Discontent over the empathic link returned to her earlier perplexity, which now came with a side of irritation.

"Why does magic not have a fix-everything spell?" the genius grumbled.
 
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Daybreak on Hyperion was first published on Baka-Tsuki starting late 2013 as a satirical short story -- which is why the early chapters in particular feels reminiscent of a Japanese light novel.
It's a brave move to put Kaede in such a position of terrible vulnerability and disempowerment. Not exactly a recipe for popularity.

It's depressing to think this was satirical of what was popular then, as things have only gotten worse in the decade between now and then.
"Oh Holy Father, we thank you for your blessings in this wonderful meal and the bountiful harvest this year. We praise you for your grace in maintaining the peace that reigns across our lands. May your light of guidance continue to show us the path of the devoted, the faithful, and the righteous. In your heavenly name, noblesse oblige."
I have to say, this one detail - saying Grace before a meal - struck me more than anything else particularly because it's so alien to Japanese media which will, at most, will stick an even more jarring 'itdakimasu' in.
 
It's a brave move to put Kaede in such a position of terrible vulnerability and disempowerment. Not exactly a recipe for popularity.

It's depressing to think this was satirical of what was popular then, as things have only gotten worse in the decade between now and then.

I have to say, this one detail - saying Grace before a meal - struck me more than anything else particularly because it's so alien to Japanese media which will, at most, will stick an even more jarring 'itdakimasu' in.

Thank you for saying so. When I first wrote Daybreak and posted it back on Baka-Tsuki in 2013/2014, a lot of people rather appreciated the fact I created a de-powering narrative on purpose to show the problems that come with protagonist bias (because Pascal is the "typical protagonist" you'd see, and in many ways he is still the main protagonist of Daybreak). But when I rewrote this work and posted it to RoyalRoad in 2021, I was attacked by a whole lot of toxic commenters, with some going as far as to deride that this story was a "slave fantasy".

It's the reason I've been putting up an Author's Preword since.

One thing you'll find in this story is that I take exploration of religious topics very seriously. For starters, I'm a Buddhist, which means "reincarnation" isn't just a gimmick to me. Topics like "faith" and "karma" will be important themes in this story.
 
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When I first wrote Daybreak and posted it back on Baka-Tsuki in 2013/2014, a lot of people rather appreciated the fact I created a de-powering narrative on purpose to show the problems that come with protagonist bias. But when I rewrote this work and posted it to RoyalRoad in 2021, I was attacked by a whole lot of toxic commenters, with some going as far as to deride that this story was a "slave fantasy".
Good grief! :o

Now admittedly, to my understanding, Royal Road is something of a...self-selecting audience. The people there know what they want. Even so, that's a bitter pill to swallow as someone on a moral crusade against the sludge that oozes from syoetsu and xianxia forums.
One thing you'll find in this story is that I take exploration of religious topics very seriously. For starters, I'm a Buddhist, which means "reincarnation" isn't just a gimmick to me. Topics like "faith" and "karma" will be important themes in this story.
I look forward to it! Fantasy really suffers from incongruous absence of the lived experience of faith.
 
Good grief! :o

Now admittedly, to my understanding, Royal Road is something of a...self-selecting audience. The people there know what they want. Even so, that's a bitter pill to swallow as someone on a moral crusade against the sludge that oozes from syoetsu and xianxia forums.
I look forward to it! Fantasy really suffers from incongruous absence of the lived experience of faith.

Thanks for sharing that article :) Gave me a lot of food for thought.
At the end of the day, people will certainly read what they like. I've always liked the Three Laws of Fandom.
But if one should try to objectively critique other works, I expect them to have read more genres than just power trips, and RR unfortunately does indeed echo quite a bit.
 
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Please accept this as the compliment I intend:

This premise is a horrifying trainwreck. It'd be a little kinder, a little easier to swallow, if it were more childish. "I'm going to summon a best friend!" declares the ten-year-old or anime protagonist, and something of suspension of disbelief grinds away the rough edges.

But no. "I summoned some stranger's soul into lifelong slavery inhabiting a body I find attractive," is dropped on the table with a menacing thud, like someone beating a pair of Jacks by playing a Smith and Wesson. "I wonder why all the women in my life are angry with me?"

I simply cannot wait for awful things to happen to Pascal.
 
Please accept this as the compliment I intend:

This premise is a horrifying trainwreck. It'd be a little kinder, a little easier to swallow, if it were more childish. "I'm going to summon a best friend!" declares the ten-year-old or anime protagonist, and something of suspension of disbelief grinds away the rough edges.

But no. "I summoned some stranger's soul into lifelong slavery inhabiting a body I find attractive," is dropped on the table with a menacing thud, like someone beating a pair of Jacks by playing a Smith and Wesson. "I wonder why all the women in my life are angry with me?"

I simply cannot wait for awful things to happen to Pascal.

Haha well yes, that's entirely intentional, hence why it was written as a satire :D
The entire premise is predicated on a really terrible idea that only sounds good to people stuck in their own fantasies (which a lot of lightnovel/webnovel premises are, once you take an objective lense to them). And as a result everyone around Pascal is judging him for it. Except since he's not the main viewpoint character, he doesn't get a chance of distorting every reader's viewpoint to his bias.
 
Volume 1 Chapter 5 – Status of Life
Even on a Sunday, Ariadne's morning began at 6AM. In early winter, that was before daybreak.

She always started with an hour of studying, to take advantage of her fresh mind. On a Sunday, this meant a quick read through next week's teaching materials, so that she might fulfill her duty as a professor's assistant.

After that came a full set of warm-ups, from squats to sit-ups, while she watched the dawning light permeate the horizon in grapefruit red. It was followed by an hour of sword practice, slashing away at illusory opponents provided by the academy's drill hall.

The Manteuffel clan used a signature weapon that was a variant of the Weichsel swordstaff. It featured a blade the length of one's forearm, attached to the tip of a quarterstaff. A second, shorter blade was concealed in the shaft's bottom, and could be ejected from the rear end. The weapon could be interchangeably used as a sword, a polearm, or even a double-tipped spear. Furthermore, it could magically grow into a heavy lance over six paces long, tipped by a frightful blade.

These swords symbolized the family's customs and pride: adaptive to circumstance, creative in its use, mastered only through diligence, and deadly beyond all doubt in combat.

Ariadne was the fourth child of a branch family, the only daughter behind three older brothers. In a life where everyone expected her every step to be overshadowed by more prestigious clansmen, she managed to come out with her head held high and her name near the top.

With her morning routine finished and an off-day ahead, Ariadne indulged her impeccable horsemanship by taking her pegasus familiar Edelweiss out on a joy ride. Soaring across the castle perimeter from ten stories up, she noticed another girl practicing early in the morning.

It was Pascal's familiar, shooting arrows across the roof again with a longbow. Her archery style was odd, to say the least. Her ability to pull the bow also clearly relied on magic, as there was no way a small, thin girl like her could exert the arm strength.

"Good morning, Miss Suvorsky!" Ariadne called out as she guided Edelweiss into a flawless landing atop the dormitory keep. Having only spoken to the familiar girl once before, Ariadne had to tap her memory necklace — which she used as a diary — for a reminder on the other girl's name.

"Good morning, uh, milady." The same could not be said for the other girl as she stood uncertain.

"Ariadne is fine." The noblewoman radiated an ever-gentle smile as she walked up.

The smaller girl finally pulled out of her loading stance. Her long, snowy-white hair swayed in the rooftop breeze.

"In that case, please call me Kaede as well."

"I take it that you practiced archery back in your world?" Ariadne tested the waters, still not entirely believing the 'otherworld' story. But Kaede dispelled Ariadne's lingering suspicions in an instant as her pensive mood cast a gloom over her entire figure.

"Yes… I practiced on most mornings back in my world, though my bow is very different from this one. Still, the activity is meditative for me, and keeping up the routine helps when everything else has changed so much."

"So how are you managing? Has that self-centered prick been treating you alright?"

Kaede shrugged.

"I have a sturdy roof to live under, hearty food to enjoy, and a comfy bed to sleep in. Other than my lack of purpose here, and the unusual… changes, I guess I really should be grateful. It certainly could've been far worse. Pascal isn't really a bad person. The summoning is his fault, sure, but I can't do anything about what's already done. I just wish he stopped treating me like his property."

Not a bad person? He's a walking insult to everyone around him!

Ariadne still remembered the night when he shattered their relationship by listing everything she did that he resented.

Nobody treats me like that and walks away with it!

"The prick does that with everyone. He acts like he's the crown prince, that anyone who isn't a superior must come under his unrelenting judgment and degradation. He's so condescending that he doesn't even respect most nobles as people, and he outright ignores commoners."

It might amaze others that such bitter words could emerge from a sunny smile. But Kaede's surprised, raised brows soon transformed into a sympathetic grin of her own.

"Well, if he gives you any trouble, please feel free to confide in me about it." Ariadne left the other half of her thoughts unsaid: I'll give him a real scandal — one that will send enough evil glares his way that even he'll flinch.

For a moment, Kaede seemed eager to take up the offer as her lips parted to speak. However the Samaran girl soon stopped as a cautious look filled her gaze. It felt as though she had prior experience in the politics of nobles and was therefore hesitant to become involved. As a result, all that eventually came out was: "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

Ariadne shrugged off her rising disappointment. Don't be greedy, she silently scolded herself. It takes time to build trust.

If there was one thing Ariadne enjoyed more than riding, and wanted more than a renowned career in the Knights Phantom, it was the trust, recognition, and admiration of everyone around her. This went doubly so for the closest person to one of her few enemies — that self-centered prick who had dared to scorn her. And based on how the younger girl's gaze had been rooted on her this entire time, she held no doubts that Kaede's trust and respect were steadily growing.

Her beloved Perceval once joked, amicably of course, that 'vanity' should have been her middle name. Her response was to ask him: "What's wrong with that?"

"So what's your impression of our world?"

"Fantastic, decadent, and beautifully unclaimed." Kaede shrugged again: "I haven't left the castle though, so I can't really say."

"To nobility, decadence is an expression of prestige." Ariadne smiled as though it was just one of those facts of reality that one had to accept. "I'm not sure what you mean by 'unclaimed' though."

Kaede's face lit up in a broad smile as she spread her arms towards the lake in the distance.

"Every morning I can come out and see forests and rolling hills, most of it untouched for as far as the eye can see." She enjoyed the scenery before taking a deep, relaxing breath. "The air is so pure, completely free of pollution. I haven't lived in a place like this since my early childhood in the Russian countryside. There are simply too many people in my world."

"Rhin-Lotharingie is indeed a beautiful country," Ariadne beamed in return. "Though I wouldn't praise the Lotharins about their low population density. They have a bit of a sore spot over it."

"How come?" Kaede pivoted back around with a puzzled face.

"The Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie was formed from a coalition of tribes that spent several centuries fighting the Inner Sea Imperium," Ariadne explained. "Their persistence is… incredible. But they also paid for it in blood."

For a second Kaede's expression grew sympathetic yet nostalgic. It was as though she could tell the same tale about her homeland.

"I take it the Lotharins don't get along with the Imperium?" The familiar asked next, even though she clearly knew the answer. "Probably quite difficult when the Inner Sea Imperium is the premier superpower of the west?"

"Yes, on both accounts," Ariadne replied, feeling quite impressed by how quickly the girl was learning about their world. "The Inner Sea Imperium may be in decline, but they still dominate the politics of Western Hyperion. Thanks to their influence, most people see Rhin-Lotharingie as little more than a huge frontier full of half-civilized barbarians. I certainly did before I came here," she admitted.

Kaede sighed as she bore that expression again. It was as though she understood exactly what it meant to belong to a group constantly being vilified by a hegemonic imperial state.

"Just like Russians and America," the familiar girl muttered in a barely audible voice.

"Sorry?"

"Nevermind. Sorry. Just thinking about comparisons from this world to mine," Kaede finished with a somewhat wry smile under her chilled rosy cheeks. "It really reminds me that history loves to rhyme."

Ariadne smiled. She wasn't entirely sure what the familiar meant by that. But…

"I can see that you're very interested in our world."

"Interest is an understatement," the Samaran girl chuckled. "I study history and culture. Your world is absolutely fascinating."

Well that's unexpected, Ariadne thought to herself even as she kept up her charming smile. I never took her for a bookworm.

"I'm glad you can at least enjoy some aspects of your new life." Ariadne continued with the tone of a caring, older sister. "Is there anything you need? Like I mentioned before, don't hesitate to ask. There's no way a man could anticipate everything a girl needs, even if he was the caretaker type."

Ariadne didn't even need to append: which that self-centered prick certainly isn't.

The familiar looked thoughtful for a minute. She then glanced down at her blizzard-blue dress, and pushed against its petticoat layers with her leg, bare except for snow-white stockings.

"Well… Pascal's clothes for me are all dresses that he wants to doll me up in." Her voice came with more than a hint of exasperation. "This is rather improper, but… could you help me get some… trousers?"

"Trousers for women are only worn as a part of military uniforms," Ariadne answered straight. "Outside that, it's considered religious impropriety. Therefore I have to say no. I'm sorry."

"No, no, not at all," Kaede frantically waved her hands. "I'm sorry for asking. I didn't realize there were rules on it in this world."

The Samaran girl eyed Ariadne's hi-low skirt. It had mid-thigh front hem, exposing the tight leggings underneath that hugged her beautiful long legs.

"What about a shorter skirt then?"

The noblewoman in Ariadne felt scandalized. She had to remind herself again: She's from another place. Different norms and customs and all.

"In our society, it's proper modesty for a girl to keep both legs fully covered. Even short skirts like mine which exposes the leggings is rather uncommon outside active military service. Although…" the lady smiled as a thought came to her. "Let me think about this. I might be able to arrange something."

Kaede beamed in response. It was a cute smile that truly lit up her doll-like appearance.

In that moment, Ariadne thought it was kind of a shame: "Do ladies in your world mostly wear trousers?"

She actually felt relieved when the smaller girl shook her head.

The two continued to make comparisons between their worlds for a good hour, until Ariadne saw Perceval on his daily run around the grounds and left to join him. Though even as she left, she still had trouble believing that another realm, one without the aid of magic, could advance to a more technological level of civilization.

Ariadne had heard that the Samarans often claimed to have 'memories of past lives', including from other worlds. It was part of why they had a unique relationship with the Trinitian Church, and were considered 'tolerated heathens' as they were impossible to convert. Official Church scripture declared that the Samarans were undergoing a form of mortal purgatory. However there were many whom believed what the Samarans' memories were tainted by whispers of the devil.

Nevertheless, the Samarans' unique biology not only gave them longevity rivaling the healthiest of mages, but also allowed them to provide a substance that the rest of the world badly needed. Ariadne wasn't sure where exactly the religious differences ended and politics began, but she did know that anything a Samaran claimed about their 'other lives' should be considered with a healthy heaping of salt.



—– * * * —–



It wasn't until near midday when Pascal telepathically called Kaede down to the dining hall for brunch. He then followed it by dragging her off to the library.

"You can read those tomes all you want on your own time," he explained after sitting her down at a table with both ends piled high with books. "But while the sun is still up, you are going to help me research for this."

Facing her from his chair on the other side, Pascal slapped a piece of parchment down on the table.

"Victory through ordered chaos and destruction of organizational, logistical, and political assets to inflict total system paralysis – Pandemonium Doctrine," Kaede read, before quickly scanning through the rest of the research proposal that received a perfect grade.

It called upon unknown military treatises from this world as well as the names of battles from recent wars, and suggested a recompilation of operational guidelines to create a new military doctrine — one which emphasized speed, mobility, and fluidity to guide multiple, simultaneous thrusts deep into enemy territory. The focus was to destroy the enemy's logistical assets, command infrastructure, and lines of communications, instead of fighting their combat forces directly. Its goal was to defeat the enemy not by relying on pitched battle, but through 'total paralysis' which degraded the enemy's fighting potential.

Blitzkrieg…? No, not quite. Blitzkrieg focused on tactical battlefield destruction of opposing forces. This sounds more strategic…

Kaede remembered how his father once proudly explained how 'Soviet Deep Battle' doctrine worked and how it had been used to destroy the mighty Nazi Wehrmacht, even though the German generals refused to admit their failures and whined only of winter and 'endless Russian hordes'. Nevertheless, his lecture was too complicated and her understanding of military tactics was too shallow back then to understand it. She did however attain enough of a basic idea to feel that this was… somewhat similar.

"You're writing a new military doctrine?" She asked, her mind barely grasping the reality of the parchment in her hands. He's only twenty!

"Many of the basic concepts were already employed by my father during the War of Imperial Succession ten years ago, the same war that earned him a hero's fame and the title Landgrave of Nordkreuz." Pascal actually had enough humility for a faint blush for once. "But I need as many field examples as possible. Since you are into reading all those boring history books, finding the right battle records for me to examine will be your task."

"What kind of 'pop culture historian' do you think I am?" Kaede's eyes narrowed as her tone fell. Don't confuse me with one of those social media entertainers whose 'love of history' only extends to military campaigns!

"Pop… culture?" Pascal blinked in confusion before he raised an eyebrow. "Your world has non-academic historians?"

"Yes, unfortunately." The familiar sighed as she deflated a little. "We have many enthusiasts who think only big, flashy events like battles are interesting, then ignore everything else of nuance. And it doesn't help that our media reinforces such oversimplified narratives."

"Kids playing war then." The young lord replied with a haughty sneer. "Most boys have a phase. Some just never grow out of it. Nevertheless, the battles are not my focus, just the best point of entry. Wars are decided by policies, doctrine, and logistics, not fancy waving with a marshal's baton. Ninety percent of every battle is decided before opposing forces even meet. Nevertheless, it is on the battlefield when the propaganda is peeled away and the results proven."

The 'acid test of reality'. Kaede thought as she couldn't help but smile a little in response. It was one of her favorite phrases when discussing politics in the real world.

"Alright, I'll do it." She nodded with newfound determination. "Could you point me to where the library index is though?"

However, that only summoned another bewildered look to Pascal's face.

"What's a 'library index'?"

Kaede almost rammed her face into the nearest pile of books.

"Pleeease tell me you at least have a catalog of all the books in this library somewhere?"

"Sure, there is a catalog." Pascal replied with an uncertain expression. "Though I do not see how a list of books by author is going to help you figure out where to look."

The Samaran girl groaned.

Kaede didn't mind studying. If anything, she enjoyed learning. But, as her gaze swept across the table and saw the dozens of dusty tomes piled up in thick columns, she could feel her eyelids tiring already.

Where is Wikipedia when you need its shorthand summaries to start?



—– * * * —–



With three knocks on the thick mahogany door, Professor Albert opened it and led the two inside.

Kaede first met Professor Albert von Marienfeld five minutes ago. He had balding gray hair above onyx eyes as sharp as an eagle's, and beneath them were an imposing set of well-trimmed long mustaches. His build was lean with just a bit of belly, his thick arms a remnant of wrestling days long passed. One didn't even need to see him in uniform, impeccable and proudly decorated with medals including the Knight's Cross, to recognize that he was no mere scholar.

He also glanced over Kaede with just one look and never bothered to introduce himself. The key words that ensured Pascal's attention were: "The Headmaster has returned and wishes to see you, now."

Those words had brought them all to this room: an oversized office with a massive table backed by huge windows. Several luxurious chairs and couches sat on top of the rich rugs that covered the room's center. The hour was dusk, and the entire office was currently bathed in sunset orange.

Not satisfied with his face being shadowed by the light from the windows, the Headmaster also wore a bucket helmet on top of his gray robes. His outfit exposed not a patch of skin. Even his hands were covered by thick gloves.

Kaede found it a novel experience, to say the least.

"Sir Pascal, welcome."

A raspy voice emerged from behind the steel faceplate. It sounded like the voice of a man with an incurable throat disease.

"First of all, allow me to extend a belated congratulations for your recent promotion and knighthood."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Nevertheless, it distresses me to hear that you have freely altered the sacred familiar summoning ceremony beyond acceptable boundaries and called forth a foreign girl as a familiar."

"There is a first time for everything, Sir." Pascal reported back in military posture: hands back and chest high. "Our ancestors did not pioneer the art of familiars through tradition."

"Right you are. However, I hope you planned to face the same scrutiny and examination that they did."

"What kind of examination, Sir?" Pascal couldn't sound less thrilled.

"We will need to assess the humanity of your familiar, to determine that she brings no health risks or magical dangers from faraway lands. We will also need to tag her for periodic checks to monitor the resulting long-term effects."

"I understand, Sir. But I can do that myself." His tone was on the verge of protesting.

Kaede loved how they were talking about her — not just in third person, but as though an experimental specimen — when she stood within this very room.

"Headmaster, Sir, don't I have rights as a human being for any say in this?"

The helmet leaned forward, and Kaede envisioned a skeletal lich behind it as a voice colder than any human responded:

"No, Miss Familiar. You are neither a citizen of Rhin-Lotharingie nor Weichsel. You are not even a holder of any lawfully issued identification. Furthermore, you were summoned by a mage through his contractual ritual. In the eyes of our national laws, you are a non-entity that is only recognized as part of his responsibility. You are not property, but due to the lack of legal precedence, you are not far above it, either."

Kaede felt like a trap door just opened below her. Her mind stopped all thinking as an impenetrable horror overwhelmed it.

Sitting back, the headmaster continued:

"As for you, Sir Pascal, the answer is no. A third-party validation is required per academic procedure."

Pascal cast a worried glance her way, before turning back to the shadowy grille that hid the headmaster's expression:

"I neither need nor care for academic recognition for this, Sir. In fact, I invoke my rights as a feudal noble to assert that she is my right and responsibility, Sir!"

For a minute, all signs of passing time stopped as the room froze in the wake of his challenge. Then, it was Professor Albert who cleared his throat from a rear corner of the room:

"Sir Pascal, I suggest you reconsider. As you are a member of House Moltewitz, any repercussions for your actions will therefore fall under the responsibility of your father the Landgrave. Furthermore, as we are currently in Rhin-Lotharingie and not Weichsel, any overstepping of authority may escalate into a diplomatic incident."

Pascal visibly flinched as his father was mentioned.

"I understand, Sir. But I must also take responsibility for my ward, to my ward, for what I have done to her." Pascal's unwavering tone snapped Kaede out of her daze, and she began to stare at him with gaping lips. "Having witnessed the procedures allowed on prisoners-of-war, I cannot allow the same to be forced upon her in good conscience!"

After being raised from the depths of despair, Kaede suddenly felt her sight becoming glassy and her emotions stirred. Sure, it was completely his fault that she was stuck in such a situation in the first place. Yet, not only was Pascal backing his promise to the full before her, he was also, in his roundabout way, finally admitting and apologizing for the injustice he committed.

Shock and hopelessness had passed away to reason. She was now too relieved to feel angry, even if that relief was still premature.

Surprisingly, it was Professor Albert who followed up in the contest of will between Pascal and the headmaster:

"With your permission, Sir, I would like to advise Sir Pascal in performing the proper checks to ensure that no disaster befall us. I shall also shoulder any responsibility from his errors under my oversight. I am, after all, his advisor and the leader of this cultural embassy."

Silence fell upon the room again. Kaede could almost feel the shifting air pressure as two invisible forces dueled one another for supremacy. In the end, it was the headmaster who gave in first:

"Very well," he finalized in his raspy voice. "See to it that history does not repeat itself."

Once back in the hallway, Pascal asked his adviser with lingering disbelief still dangling from his words:

"Sir, this is the first time you have supported an independent action of mine in… anything!"

"Well, this is the first time you've shown a willingness to make amends for your own foolishness." Professor Albert sounded a touch surprised himself.

"What does the headmaster mean by history not repeating itself?"

"See, if you had done your research in human-to-human binding, you would have known that there is an unspoken taboo on pact magic between us and the Samarans," began the Professor. "Five hundred years ago, a Prince of the Polisian Federation — the Grand Republic's predecessor state — sealed a binding magical contract with his Samaran love. According to some Inner Sea historians, this was the event that unleashed the Great Plague, which killed a third of the population across Western Hyperion before a Samaran alchemist eventually synthesized a cure."

"But…"

"The origins of the Great Plague has never been proven. All we have is speculation and propaganda, since the Imperium also fell out with Polisia-Samara around that same time." Professor Albert continued after cutting Pascal off. "You know as well as I do that taboo or not, the profit margins of trade would entice merchants to continue seeking reliable business contracts between the western states and the Grand Republic. I don't believe for a moment that no binding magical contracts have been formed since, yet no sweeping plagues have emerged for centuries."

"Then…"

Pascal tried to interject, but the Professor still wasn't finished.

"The headmaster just wants an excuse to force his way into cutting-edge arcane research, which he can easily take credit for. Remember to do your homework thoroughly next time so you don't give someone else the opportunity to interfere."

"Yes Sir. Thank you, Sir." Pascal answered, followed by a still-overwhelmed Kaede mirroring his gratitude.

The professor, however, never so much as looked at her. After a nod of acknowledgment to Pascal, he walked off:

"I expect your preliminary report by tomorrow morning, Sir Pascal. Assume nothing, confirm! And don't forget your next research project milestone!"



—– * * * —–



Dinner included a gourmet shepherd's pie and chicken soup, which Kaede desperately ate to warm her soul back up.

In hindsight, she should have anticipated the news. Even on modern Earth, many illegal immigrants were denied their basic rights due to the fact they fell outside the legal system. Here in Hyperion, Kaede had no history, no identification, not even a hometown where she'd be recognized. It would not be an exaggeration to say that she could be 'vanished' and nobody would even miss her!

— Nobody except Pascal. The same man who had caused all of her misery was also the only person who stood up for her.

How am I supposed to even think about this!? Kaede found herself struggling to untangle it all.

It wasn't until after they returned to his dorms when she regained the energy to breach the topic with him:

"Was that your first time meeting the headmaster?"

"No. I have met him a few times, for… various things." Pascal didn't seem interested in explaining.

"Why does he wear all that in his office?" Kaede shivered as she remembered that cold, raspy voice informing her that she had no more rights than mere property.

"Headmaster Amaury has not shown his face since before I came here. Rumors have it that he caught leprosy from some magical experiment and was forced to seclude himself from the public."

"Still… uh, Pascal?"

"Yes?" He asked without looking at Kaede. His attention continued to rush about the room, either collecting or setting up various pieces of equipment.

"Thank you for what you did. I really mean it… even if the whole thing was your fault to begin with." Kaede spoke out in her wispy voice.

She had decided to thank him after all. Not because she had lost perspective, but because she wanted to make the best of a situation. Professor Albert was right in that good behavior should be encouraged. And it became clear after meeting the Headmaster that as long as Kaede lived in this world, she also needed Pascal.

"Though seriously," she then added in a huff. "What the heck were you thinking, forging a familiar contract with another person without even doing your homework properly?"

"I figured nobody else had ever tried making another person a familiar…"

Kaede was surprised Pascal managed to say that with a straight face. History always offered a precedence, similar in circumstances if not the same.

"Besides, you may wish to hold onto that gratitude until after I run through all the checks, which will involve prodding some private places."

As soon as Kaede realized what he meant, she looked away in embarrassment.

"Don't get full of yourself either. Your help is still a long way from canceling out your misdeeds."

She meant every word, but her complexion still made her look shy about it.

"Yes yes," Pascal smiled slightly as he knelt down on one knee before her. He gently took her left hand and folded back her sleeve, then raised what looked like a small syringe before readying it against her skin. The needle entered her arm with a sting, and he soon began to draw blood from her.

What came out was a crystal clear liquid, tinged only by a shade of pink.

Unlike her, Pascal calmly finished the procedure and pulled out the needle before he froze. Both of them stared at the syringe that held translucent blood the color of cotton candy.

"W-what does this mean?" Kaede heard her own voice from far away.

"It means that you really are Samaran, or at least your body is. Only they have blood like this. The color is supposed to be a light, crystal red. However this is within deviation from the expected spectrum."

"And w-what does that mean?"

After laying the syringe on a bedside table, Pascal leaned forward and clasped Kaede on both shoulders. His turquoise gaze pulled her rose-quartz eyes up, before his blank expression continued with earnest words:

"The Samarans believe in reincarnation, born in this life after their last passed away. I cannot confirm or deny since I am not one of them, but they all claim to retain shards, fragments, images and memories of past lives. Some even claim that those memories are often not of this world."

Her mind stood still even at the green light. It refused to process the implications of his dire words.

"A-and that means…?"

"If what they claim is correct, then Kaede, I did not turn you into a girl. Perhaps instead of transporting, my familiar spell may have created a humanoid form which hijacked a soul departing from another world. Kaede, it is likely that — in that other world, you died."

That can't be… no!

Kaede could only shake her head slowly. Her mind felt overwhelmed by torrents of denial, her eyes pointing but not seeing.

"I am sorry to tell you this, Kaede. But it is a truth that we must face. It would certainly explain why your soul was naturalized anew in our world, rather than coming here in an alien body. Perhaps it was part of the Holy Father's plans all along. Perhaps you were meant to live as a girl."

By that point, her gaping expression had already stilled into a delicate statue.

Pascal figured this was as good a time to begin as any, even as a faint grin tugged at his lips.





Fifteen minutes and an unknown number of observations and measurements later, Kaede's head finally started cranking again:

"That can't be right! I don't just remember fragments. I have all my prior memories! Besides, you said it was a summoning spell — then why would it create a whole new body!"

Pascal shrugged as he stirred a potion vial that included several strands of her hair.

"Don't jump to a conclusion just because it removes blame from you!" Kaede glared, seething. Being told that she had died was another shock she could have gone without this day.

After piling so much weight in the past few hours onto an already overburdened mind, she found herself already on the verge of yet another stressful outburst.

"I did not say that is what happened. I merely said it was a likely scenario." His focus was still concentrated on the vial. His poker face was impenetrable.

Kaede huffed and collapsed back into the bed:

"Great, now I can't even be sure whether my parents think I'm missing or just dead. Not that there's anything I can do about it outside of useless worrying."

Yet despite her comment, she held no doubt that many sleepless hours would be spent precisely over this 'useless worrying'. It was impossible not to, perhaps even inhuman. That was an odd thought because Kaede wasn't even sure if she was still considered 'human' at this point.

She was now a Samaran without even understanding what 'being a Samaran' meant. How did this affect her body? Or more importantly, her mind? Did Samaran psychology even work the same way as normal humans? She wasn't sure about any of this!

"Do not bother getting too comfortable. I need a urine sample from you soon," Pascal noted, only to receive a groan in response.

Nevertheless, Kaede took her opportunity to do a quick, 'square breathing' exercise. She might not have the time to do proper meditation now, but at least she could chase the evil thoughts away to a corner of her mind. Then, after sitting back up, Kaede pouted towards the corner closet door that held the heavy chamber pot. Leaning against the wall next to it, there was now a pile of treated wood, packed cotton, and velvet fabrics.

"Is that…"

"Materials for fabricating a bed? Yes. I retrieved it from the quartermaster this morning," Pascal commented as he scrutinized the vial's color change. "However, your business has taken all my free time today. Plus I have a busy week ahead, especially with the next project milestone…"

Pascal then looked over with a Cheshire grin:

"I think you should just get used to warming my bed."

If looks could kill, the one Pascal received wouldn't have left even a speck of dust. Instead the only damage he took was from a flying pillow, which splashed the vial's contents across his cheeks, now magically dyed a glowing blue.

Kaede realized that perhaps the greatest struggle of her new life was wrestling with the daily urge to beat the very person whom she depended on senseless.
 
Chiming in to say that while I'm enjoying this story so far and would second Oneiros, I do have one issue with it. That the term 'Magical Realism' may be misused here.

Magical Realism doesn't necessarily mean 'realistic fantasy', 'detailed fantasy' or 'fantasy with consequences'. Rather, it more means stories where everyday life and inexplicable events coexist, My Neighbour Totoro for instance has been called a Magical Realism film. You also have books like One Hundred Years of Solitude, Midnight's Children, Beloved, and Kafka on the Shore, which are all notably set in our world (except a little bit of KotS near the end) and feature little to no explicit explanations for how their magic works, neither of which has been the case here.

Not that I blame you for confusing the term, as I'll admit it's an admittedly vague and unhelpful genre label (I'd personally say 'Magical Everyday' would be a better fit). I'd say this article also does a good job explaining the genre:

lunastationquarterly.com

The Difference Between Magic Realism and Fantasy

If you’re reading about dragons, chances are, you’re reading fantasy. But if you’re reading about women ascending bodily to heaven, you’re probably reading magic realism. Confused? You’re not alone…
 
"What killed him?"
"We have no idea. It's like his soul was just ripped out of his body."
I think autopsy would just label it "Sudden Trauma" xD


Great to see another update, I really enjoy how the worldbuilding reveals are paced. It's a very interesting setting.
Pascal desperately needs to work on those survival instincts though!
I'm a bit surprised to hear that considering I revealed very little about the world as a whole in the first half of v1 xD
This chapter was the last chapter of the original "short story" before I even started out to design a world (which happened starting ch6/7). A bit more detail was added during the rewrite but overall, not much.

Chiming in to say that while I'm enjoying this story so far and would second Oneiros, I do have one issue with it. That the term 'Magical Realism' may be misused here.

Magical Realism doesn't necessarily mean 'realistic fantasy', 'detailed fantasy' or 'fantasy with consequences'. Rather, it more means stories where everyday life and inexplicable events coexist, My Neighbour Totoro for instance has been called a Magical Realism film. You also have books like One Hundred Years of Solitude, Midnight's Children, Beloved, and Kafka on the Shore, which are all notably set in our world (except a little bit of KotS near the end) and feature little to no explicit explanations for how their magic works, neither of which has been the case here.

Thanks for the share. People have always told me Magical Realism best applied to my work best so it kinda stuck in memory. I'm actually not too familiar with the term myself since... I don't actually read much fantasy (bit shocking for people to hear). Almost everything I read, especially in the years since I started writing this, is nonfiction.

Unfortunately, I'm not sure how to remove that descriptor from the thread title. Not sure if that's something a mod can help with.
 
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Thanks for the share. People have always told me Magical Realism best applied to my work best so it kinda stuck in memory. I'm actually not too familiar with the term myself since... I don't actually read much fantasy (bit shocking for people to hear). Almost everything I read, especially in the years since I started writing this, is nonfiction.

Know what you mean, I've actually been reading mostly nonfiction for a while too, though I have slowly gotten back into reading more fiction.
It might shed some light to hear who you mean by people, like teachers, reviewers, people on Baka-Tsuki, etc.

Unfortunately, I'm not sure how to remove that descriptor from the thread title. Not sure if that's something a mod can help with.

And done!
 
Know what you mean, I've actually been reading mostly nonfiction for a while too, though I have slowly gotten back into reading more fiction.
It might shed some light to hear who you mean by people, like teachers, reviewers, people on Baka-Tsuki, etc.
And done!

Thanks :D
By 'people' I meant a few readers who brought the topic up -- since for years I've been trying to find a sub-genre label more precise than "Fantasy" to describe Daybreak, since that label is used for half of everything.
It's based on history but isn't quite "alt-history". It's fantasy based on reality but "realistic fantasy" can be interpreted in a dozen ways. So several readers I've met (from various sources) have suggested "Magical Realism".
 
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Volume 1 Chapter 6 – A Peaceful Day
Volume 1 Chapter 6 – A Peaceful Day

Pascal affixed his shirt's top button, before wrapping the medal around his neck and tightening it into place. He then flipped down his collars and adjusted it carefully. He made sure the gleaming black Knight's Cross outlined in white gold was perfectly centered. Staring back at the dresser mirror, he examined the dashing grin that reflected back before giving it a nod of approval.

He spun on his leather boots' heels before walking around the bed.

Today was the first time that Pascal had seen Kaede's sleeping face. Even inside the warmth of the dormitory keep, the girl snuggled into the thick comforter with only her head exposed. Turned to the side, her snowy hair scattered across her gentle sleeping face. Her expression was serene and peaceful, except for the dark outlines beneath her eyes.

Another stab of guilt sunk into his chest, but Pascal steeled himself and shook her through the bedcovers.

There was no response, so he did it again.

"Come on, wake up already," he called after the fifth time, finally eliciting a response:

"Uhhhhnnnnn?"

"I said wake up!"

Two small hands emerged from the bedcovers to rub her eyes.

"Talk about a heavy sleeper…"

"C-couldn't give me just a few more minutes?" Kaede yawned as her thin arms stretched out while her eyes remained closed. "I couldn't sleep till like three-something…"

"Sleep earlier then. I have already given you leeway today. You need to wake up at the same time as everyone else when I go campaigning."

Her pink eyes finally opened, highlighting the shadows below them as her cherry lips formed a scowl.

Pascal slowly waved his hand over her while he whispered a Refreshen spell. Her countenance instantly grew less pale. The bags under her eyes disappeared while a healthy tinge of pink returned to her cheeks.

Maybe he overdid it a little. Kaede looked like she was sporting a disgruntled blush.

Kind of cute, actually, Pascal smiled.

"Better. Now, dress up and remember your research tasks today. Get up earlier tomorrow if you want breakfast. I cannot wait any longer; have morning practice in fifteen. I will see you at lunch."

With that, Pascal went straight out the door.



—– * * * —–



"…What's that commoner girl doing here? This is a prestigious library!"

"Orders from the Runelord, who else? Must have gotten her special treatment…"

"…She's still blushing about last night? Has she no shame?"

Kaede swore that the familiars' whole 'eyes and ears' concept made her senses more keen than necessary. She couldn't even concentrate with all the whispering that reached her ears.

It was a Monday morning. However a few dozen people occupied the library nonetheless. They all looked like either senior students or research assistants working on a project. Most of these mages completely ignored her, but just a few gossiping mouths were more than enough to irritate.

"Hey, familiar girl," a tall lady with long, golden-blond curls slammed her palms into the desk. "Tell your master to keep you on a shorter leash. You're an eyesore here by yourself. This is a nobles' academic sanctuary, not a whorehouse!"

Kaede flipped another page.

"Are you listening, you ignorant commoner!?"

Kaede finally tilted her head and looked upwards with half-open eyes that barely cared:

"Pascal says you're a blithering idiot and that I should ignore you. I think I agree."

The noblewoman looked like her face was about to spontaneously combust and explode.

Kaede went back to reading, or trying to…

"Listen here you little bitch. I don't care if your master reserved this desk. You get the hell out of here or I'm going to give you the whipping you deserve. Do I make myself clear?"

"<Ah, that is Emilia de Morini.>" Pascal's voice popped into her head. "<Talk about pot calling kettle black. How does that tramp have the brain capacity to attack you when she can barely scrub two cells together for a passing grade?>"

"<You're not helping, Pascal. And would you knock before tapping in like this?>"

"<Tell her that–>"

"<Look, they may be afraid to challenge the Runelord to a duel, but if I keep it up after dropping your name and they don't relent, they're going to challenge me.>"

"<So give them the beatdown you showed me. They will not even see it coming.>" Pascal sounded oddly proud.

What, just like you didn't? Kaede amused herself before sending back:

"<Precisely. Most of them probably believe I'm just a pushover familiar girl who surprised you with a punch, and that the story got exaggerated somehow. Ariadne does harbor a very public grudge against you, after all. I'd prefer it if they kept thinking that way.>

"<Not bad at all.>

Pascal's reply rang with approval. It made Kaede wonder if he was really being impulsive, or if he was just testing her.

Sighing, Kaede stood up from her chair, piled her book plus three others into a small stack, and left without a word.

Whatever, not like I can concentrate here anyway.

Without someone she was friendly with — or at least growing friendly with — Kaede didn't exactly feel comfortable around new people or places. With her books in hand, she ignored the noblewoman's departing screech and headed back to the dormitories.

She felt the disdain of the librarian's glance as she walked past.

Yeah yeah, I'm just a commoner, foreigner at that. Get used to it, you prissy nobles.

Kaede rather missed having Pascal's 'you-are-all-idiots' attitude shield her from the rest of the world. Sure, his disdainful eyes were annoying. But a roomful of nobles hitching their arrogant noses at her made that seem a paradise by comparison.



—– * * * —–



After another lunch in the dining hall with Pascal, Kaede returned to his room to continue her research. She found three interesting historical references, along with two unexpected realizations as she browsed through the military history of the nation she lived in right now — the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie.

First of all, calling Rhin-Lotharingie an 'empire' was giving it far too much credit. The realm of Rhin-Lotharingie included four autonomous kingdoms — Gleann Mòr to the north, Ceredigion to the west, Avorica to the southwest, and Garona to the south. Each of these kingdoms had their own monarch, who in turn swore an oath of allegiance to the Emperor. Sure, there were also many heartland duchies who did not answer to a King before the Emperor. However this layered feudal system which evolved from a tribal confederation left the realm extremely decentralized.

It made Kaede wonder: just how much power did the 'Emperor' really have?

This throne sounds like a pain for whoever inherits it, she concluded.

Perhaps that was the reason whenever the word 'Imperial' was used, it actually referred to the Holy Imperium of the Inner Sea. That emperor, with the sufficiently fancy title of Imperator Augustus, was a true autocrat who could summon legions with a handwave.

Second, it seems that before the various Lotharin cultures banded together to form their 'empire', they were constantly at the mercy of imperial expansion. Just as Ariadne said, the Lotharins had fought wars with the Imperium for centuries, and almost all of the major battles were won by the Imperial side. Yet no matter how much they tried, the Imperium could not stamp out Lotharin resistance, not even in the territories they conquered.

It was as though magic made it more difficult to crush and integrate foreign peoples. This was no doubt aided by the fact that mages, including both their national heroes and the cultural elite, could live for well over a century.

One notable example of this was the historical 'Siege of Alisia', fought over the very ground this academy was built on. Here, the first Imperator of the Inner Sea Imperium besieged the hilltop fortress of an influential Lotharin chieftain. However a Lotharin archmage had activated a stone circle outside to create a gateway, which transported the majority of the tribespeople to an island in the middle of a huge lake. There, they escaped enslavement from the Imperium and founded the city of Alis Avern, which was now the capital of Rhin-Lotharingie.

Wait a minute, Kaede finally noticed. That's why the academy's name sounds familiar! The Battle of Alesia was when Julius Caesar crushed the uprising by the Celtic Gauls!

Yet it seemed that the Romans of this world failed to subjugate the Celtic people, who later banded together to form their own 'empire'.

I wonder what the connection is between this world and mine? Kaede puzzled. This can't just all be a coincidence?

Despite being engrossed in her own questions, Kaede never forgot to loop in Pascal whenever she found something he could use. Each time Pascal would tap her senses directly to read in. The convenience was undeniable. However it was also annoying, not to mention bizarre to turn pages for a pair of eyes that served as someone else's camera.

It was worse when Pascal just dropped into her head without warning, often for no other reason than he felt her curiosity. By the third time, she finally had enough and gave Pascal an earful:

"Would you at least ASK POLITELY before you reach through my eyes and ears!?" She fumed. "Or do you also enter girls' rooms without knocking and barging in while they're dressing like some scumbag pervert!?"

His reply was a defensive "all right, I will ask first in the future, I promise!"

Apart from all the knowledge of a new world, there were also two other, more personal thoughts that kept bouncing to the fore of her mind:

First of all, fantasy realms needed a magical version of the Internet, not to mention magical Google and Wikipedia. They could probably skip Magebook though, given how bad of an influence it was on society at large. Information processing and networking spells couldn't be that hard when Pascal managed to tap into her own biological sensory network this easily.

Secondly, she was rapidly becoming a shut-in, emerging only to retrieve food and books. She was conversing with barely more than one person per day. This was worrisome indeed.

*Knock, knock*

The door then opened without waiting for a response. A petite young maid with short brown hair backed into the room with a large cart in tow. She was the same one who often served Pascal in the dining halls.

She almost dropped the handle when she turned around.

"I'm sorry Miss. I thought Sir Pascal was in a class right now. I d-didn't actually expect anyone here."

Sitting on the bed in an orchid-pink dress, Kaede put down her book and returned a welcoming smile.

"Don't worry about it. My name is Kaede, what's yours?"

"M-marina," she bowed. "I'm one of the maids responsible for the male dorms, Miss Kaede."

"Just Kaede is fine. It's not like I'm one of those noblemen."

"Ah, I've heard… that you were summoned from afar… as a familiar."

"That's right." Kaede tried not to make the maid Marina any more nervous. However all she managed to keep up was a wry smile. "Do you normally only clean when nobody is here?"

"Yes!" Marina nodded a bit too eagerly. "The nobles do not appreciate seeing us servants at work, so we try to be discreet whenever possible."

Thinking back to her dining hall experiences, Kaede remembered that Pascal never even acknowledged, let alone thanked, the servants who brought his food. Nor, for that matter, did most other nobles she saw, except…

"Ariadne seemed friendly with you all though."

Marina's lips finally curled upwards with a hint of joy.

"Dame Ariadne is one of the few nobles who do greet us with friendliness." Then, sighing: "unfortunately, she's a very rare minority. Most of them pretend we don't exist."

"Stupid nobles with their oversized noses and squinty eyes need to learn some respect," Kaede lashed out at the opulent room she stayed in. Her gaze then returned to find Marina smiling back reluctantly, as though she was in agreement wasn't brave enough to express it.

However, the maid's expression soon returned to one of sympathy and worry intermixed with curiosity:

"I also heard you gave Mister… I mean Sir Pascal a beating? Did your master punish you any further than cutting meals? He was in a foul mood even as recently as yesterday morning, yet he seemed all better today."

Kaede's eyebrows disappeared into her bangs for a second.

I swear, how do nobles keep any secrets from these servants?

"Yeah, a surprise kick to the crotch and he couldn't even defend himself, imagine that," Kaede lied with a totally unapologetic grin. "And not really, Pascal has actually respected me more since then. Goes to show that we can't just take things lying down or these nobles will just see us as useless. We have to push back whenever we get the chance!"

For a brief second, Kaede thought Marina's eyes glittered in amazement. Within minutes, they were chatting like friends, bonding through the power of complaints.

Grumbling to others wasn't something Kaede used to do much. In fact, she hadn't even realized that since becoming a girl, she had become far whinier, albeit for good reasons. Nevertheless, it quickly bridged the distance before Marina was comfortable enough to ask her first personal question:

"Kaede, do you miss your home back in Samara? I mean, I'm guessing by your appearance that you are Samaran?"

Kaede's grin froze as a torrent of nostalgic images flooded in: her best friend's congratulations for being accepted to Tokyo U, her clubmates chatting after practice, her parents welcoming her home…

"I'msorrythatwasinappropriateofme!" Marina blurted out as a tear slid down Kaede's cheeks.

The latter girl shook her head. She felt melancholic and glassy-eyed, but still forced herself to wear a wistful smile.

"Yes, I do miss home. I wish I could return, but I can't. So there's no point worrying over it."

She didn't even bother correcting Marina's guess about her origins. There just wasn't a point anymore.

Marina had to return to her work soon afterwards. Meanwhile Kaede rediscovered her amusement at what seemed to be a magical vacuum cleaner powered by mana-storing crystals. Not being a mage, Marina couldn't actually turn the appliance on or off, only manipulate its intake controls.

The same cleaner also had an enchanted nozzle for cleaning chamber pots.

Whatever modern impressions Kaede had towards the role, being a medieval maid, at least, was not a job that she envied at all.



—– * * * —–



Pascal's last course of the day was held in the second drill hall. It was more of a stone amphitheater, but with a massive stage ringed by only three meager rows of benches. Advanced Spellsword Combat was an elective class open to upperclassmen and offered every season, so at the moment only thirty-one cadets stood in loose formation.

It was also the only 100% practical course in the academy. Books, parchment, and ink weren't even allowed here. The only acceptable tools of teaching and learning were spells and swords. The usual homework was recovering from injuries, which understandably made students strive for perfection.

As Professor Albert's assistant, Pascal was not required to attend a class that Albert did not teach. However, since Pascal was planning on being a career military officer, he seized upon the opportunity to sharpen his combat skills. Sure, a commanding officer did not need to be a champion, for they relied on brains and not brawn to lead the men. Nevertheless, it would be embarrassing if a mere lieutenant could break into his future headquarters and defeat him.

"As we've covered before, the most commonly practiced combat magic style in Hyperion is Aura Magic. It is utilized for its multiple stances that shift and adapt to circumstances, as well as high channeling speed which allows rapid mana transfer and spellshaping. However, contrary to many claims, the popularity of Aura Magic is not an indicator of superiority."

It was difficult to remember that Duke Gaston de La Conde was actually one of the most powerful men in Rhin-Lotharingie. It wasn't because he looked ordinary, as despite being just short of old age, Gaston was a dandy who only ever dressed in silver-lined white clothes and sported a meticulously curled mustache. His long face could be described as dignified and moderately handsome, but far more memorable were his wavy brown curls and a deep, violet gaze.

However, even though Gaston was an Oriflamme Paladin and one of the top commanders in the Rhin-Lotharingie military, he spent most of his time teaching students art and dueling while leaving his administrative duties to his mistress Cosette.

"For example: Runic Magic remains a favorite in the Kingdom of Gleann Mòr, not to mention our Northmen neighbors in the Greater Jarldom of Skagen. Its capacity for precast and contingent spells that may be activated in a second cannot be underestimated — as many of you learned the hard way from Sir Pascal." Gaston smirked as he turned to the young man in question.

"The key to winning is found not just in practice and experience, but a thorough understanding of the other styles' capabilities. Runic Magic may bring a large cache of prepared spells that may be dumped into battle in an instant, but its glyphs only activate by touch. This hampers its offensive potential and allows a skilled Aura Magic user to keep his distance until he can level the playing field. Sir Pascal, Mister Moreau, would you be gracious enough to demonstrate."

Duke Gaston and the rest of the class quickly left the platform for the benches. Only Pascal and the fiery-haired Reynaud remained on stage. Both of them had agreed heartily to the professor's request, but neither of them looked thrilled as they confronted the another.

"What's wrong, Runelord, cold feet in the face of superiority?" Reynaud smirked a savage grin as he lowered the mass of his already short stature.

His weapons of choice were a wooden kukri in each hand, though one was longer than the other and could almost be considered a falcata. He also wore an open helmet and a brigandine vest for protection, just like every other student including his opponent.

Pascal meanwhile didn't even bother to respond. His steely gaze met the challenge with an imperturbable poker face. He held his wooden estoc in an aggressive fencing stance — the blade raised above his right shoulder, its tip pointed forward and ready to strike.

"You may begin!" The Duke's words rang like a starting bell.

Pascal leaped forward and charged Reynaud without delay. He stretched out his left hand with fingers extended, activating his extra-dimensional storage glove as four rune-engraved pebbles materialized between his fingers. These runes activated a split second later, surrounding Pascal with the invisible aura of his anti-projectile Repulsion Field, five rotating turquoise shields of his auto-blocking Spellshield Fortress, and the unseen plates of his weightless Barrier Armor, which grew translucent as the magic-resistant Barrier Guard layered onto it.

With four powerful defensive enhancements set in the blink of an eye, Pascal could focus his attention completely on offense. He thrust his estoc towards Reynaud's torso. His first stab was light and aimed just beneath the neck. But as expected, the faster redhead dodged it by stepping back and shifting his weight to one side.

Pascal withdrew his weapon immediately and gripped the estoc's handle with both hands. He stabbed forth again, this time for real and aiming at Reynaud's center torso. However Reynaud twisted his body to one side and spun as though he was dancing. The weapon slid past his opponent's armor just millipaces short of contact.

But this time Reynaud did not stay on the defensive, as he used his rotation to build momentum which he transferred into a slash from one wooden kukri, followed by the other. Yet with Pascal's layered, magical defenses in place, the two short blades harmlessly bounced off the automated guard of a hovering spellshield.

Taking the opportunity, Pascal retracted his estoc and stabbed again, this time angled towards Reynaud's right and beneath the shoulder. His wooden blade was almost horizontal as he soon transitioned the stab into a diagonal, cutting motion. His target was a common weak spot just beneath the armpit.

Yet once again Reynaud proved that he was both faster and more agile. The short redhead pivoted his leftover momentum to fall away from Pascal's strike, where he transitioned into a roll before bouncing back to his feet. Before Pascal could follow up with another attack, Reynaud muttered his favorite spell and flashed to the other side of the platform in a bolt of lightning, literally.

"Armor Aura Burst!" The redhead cried from his new spot, sending out a pressurized blast of air as he used his aura stance switch to conjure an invisible suit of magic armor to layer over his brigandine vest. He then crossed his twin kukris before his eyes.

Meanwhile Pascal activated the second four enhancements of his usual defensive array, followed by scattering an entire bag of runic pebbles across the arena. With the field under his control, he dashed forward again, his estoc raised and ready for another two-handed thrust.

However before he could even get close, Reynaud unleashed the crimson magic he had pumped into his practice weapons with a set of Ancient Draconic words:

"Scourge Catalyst Fragmentation Dispel!"

A four-part spell with multiple advanced spellwords normally took up to a minute to cast. However, Burst-mode Aura Magic was known for having the fastest channeling speed of all spellcasting styles. It did had a high tendency to overwhelm the nerve conduits and leave the body numb though, and prolonged use could even lead to temporary or permanent paralysis.

The X-shaped fire blast sucked in air like a black hole as it soared towards Pascal. His Repulsion Field popped like a bubble under a gargantuan hammer. One of his turquoise shields then met the attack, breaking into three pieces under its power but shattering the offensive spell.

Yet instead of dispersing, Reynaud's dispel fragmented into four parts that pierced into Pascal's translucent armor. The entire suit glowed as Barrier Guard fought to maintain the defense, only to collapse into a kaleidoscopic burst of mana less than two seconds later. Not done with its job, the shards of fiery-red magic then penetrated Pascal himself.

The Runelord staggered. Steam began to pour from his sizzling body as hostile antimagic crashed against his own mana. His second set of four self-enhancements backfired, fueling the hostile incursion as Elemental Body of Earth, Shift Impulse, Mental Clarity, and Metabolic Boost transformed into volatile mana. His speed broke as his teeth clenched down in pain.

A second lightning-transformation put Reynaud just behind the distracted Pascal. Coming out in a spin and infused with the ward-piercing Negation spell, his dual kukris struck the Runelord like twin rotor blades, bringing the latter to his knees.

"Stop!" The Duke called out as he stepped back onto the stage. "Thank you, Sir Pascal. Mister Moreau, please escort him to…"

Kneeling on all fours and panting in pain did not stop Pascal from cutting in:

"I am fine, Your Grace!"

Duke Gaston nodded before turning back to the class:

"The four-part spell Mister Moreau just used is the bane of Runic Magic users' tendency to over-enhance themselves. Dispel is your classic antimagic spell. Catalyst allows it to push through multiple defenses in an increasingly-powerful cascading chain reaction. Fragmentation gives it a chance to break past even the most powerful dispel-warding barriers. And Scourge not only boosts penetration power, but destabilizes the target's own mana to burn their bodies.

"Remember that a spellsword relies neither on blasting the opponent nor overwhelming them through pure martial prowess, but by a synergistic combination of arcana, steel, and tricks," the Duke emphasized. "Barrier Armor plus steel will reduce most physical attacks to mere bruises. Infused Guard, Resistance, and other defensive magic diminish most hostile spellfire down to tolerable nuisances. This goes doubly so for alchemy or enchantment spells which a mage's innate mana may outright repulse."

The Professor then scanned his students before concluding:

"To score a decisive hit, you must be flexible, you must be adaptive. Think on your feet and respond accordingly, let magic be your fist and bring home victory!"

"Now," Gaston followed by raising his arm into the air with a proud grin. Six quarterstaves lifted themselves from the ground and began to hover in a formation around him. "How many of you think you can land a hit on me?"

Five people raised their hands. A slightly winded Reynaud was one of those who did.

"Good." The Duke smiled. "You cannot win if you're hesitant to unsheathe your blade, especially when facing a superior adversary. Your assignment today, class, is to form groups of five and try to land a hit on me. Anyone who succeeds will automatically receive a perfect grade."



An hour later and near the end of class, Reynaud accosted Pascal again after both of them restored their health.

"Up for a real duel that isn't pre-scripted this time? Doesn't exactly please me any to win a fixed match."

"Of course," Pascal grunted as he stood back up, still sore all over. "You know I could have easily dodged that blast."

"We'll see," Reynaud sneered back.



—– * * * —–



"So… where's my bed?" Kaede didn't even bother taking her eyes off her book.

"In Phantasia," Pascal grumbled before climbing into bed bare-chested, snuggling just close enough without touching her. "Ugh, my back still hurts. That Reynaud is unnaturally good at dueling… you think someone stupid and gullible enough to fall for every propaganda piece would not be a spellsword genius."

"His Holiness is fair," she replied, her casual eyes still reading. "With one noodly appendage he giveth, with the other he taketh away."

Pascal just stared at her for a few seconds, then waved the light off:

"Your world is crazy."

Sighing, Kaede pulled down the bookmark string, closed the tome, and laid it on her bedside table.

Why can't he learn to ask first?

And just like that, another day passed in the new world. The rest of the week went by the same way, except after Friday's afternoon chat-break, Kaede was sure she could now consider Marina a new friend. This was an important milestone to Kaede, as it averted, or at least delayed, her fear of becoming a 'shut-in'.



—– * * * —–



"You still haven't managed it?" The new chief groundskeeper snarled. He was a yeomen, a 'middle-class commoner' capable of using magic, who was hired only two weeks ago to fill a vacancy left when his predecessor died in an accident.

"I-I'm sorry," Marina trembled, her eyes nailed to his feet. "K-Kaede… his familiar girl is in his room all day. It's hard to do without being noticed. I'm trying to gain her trust."

"Well, you have one more week. If we miss the deadline and our lord is punished by the Imperator, it will be on your hands, girl. I certainly do not wish to be deemed worthless and a security risk by that squad of killers in town." He warned before departing from the shadowy alcove where he had cornered her.
 
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Volume 1 Chapter 7 – The Perfect Contrast
Volume 1 Chapter 7 – The Perfect Contrast

After just one week, life in the new world was already starting to fit into a schedule. As usual on Sunday, Kaede went to the roof to meditate through archery. And just like every Sunday morning, Ariadne was taking a self-rewarding joyride on her pegasus.

As Kaede spotted the latter, she hesitated for a moment. But she decided to wave down the angelic rider nonetheless.

Her reasons were mostly split between I don't want to become a shut-in and she's as true as nobility gets. Although if Kaede examined her decision tree, she's absolutely gorgeous also ranked in the top five list.

It was hard not to feel attraction towards a gracious lady so stunningly beautiful. Doubly so as Ariadne was also the first person to help her in this world.

After the usual pleasantries, Ariadne happily dropped what Kaede considered a bombshell question:

"I'm going into town for an errand today. Would you be interested in joining me? We can shop for your clothes while we're there."

Calm down, calm down! Kaede's thoughts scrambled, her cheeks instantly glowing. You're a girl now. There's nothing unusual about this!

Ariadne's smile only seemed to grow wider as Kaede took a moment to cool.

"Of course I'm interested! Although… I'd better ask Pascal first." Kaede left out the or there'll be hell to pay.

"Of course, but please remind that self-centered prick that we are shopping to give his cute familiar a makeover. Oh, and tell him that my beloved Perceval is coming along–"

Kaede almost envisioned hearts bubbling off Ariadne when she accentuated 'beloved' in a proud and flirtatious voice.

"Since we're meeting an old friend dropping by. We leave in an hour. Please meet us at the south wall gates before then."

Was that display meant for Pascal as well?

He may have stopped freely using Kaede as an extra sensory organ. But to everyone else, she was still his familiar, his 'eyes and ears'.

Kaede wasn't certain, yet she couldn't help but feel rather put off after hearing it.



—– * * * —–



The indecisive look did not fit Pascal at all.

"Please? Please please? Pretty please?" Kaede begged, no longer uncertain about the universal expressiveness of hands in prayer.

"Fine," Pascal gave in at last, before turning to rummage through a drawer. "At least with that borejob Perceval going, she will not do anything unexpected. Here," he tossed her a small pouch. "Make sure you pay correctly for what you buy. Hell will freeze solid before I owe Ariadne anything else."

Being a girl does come in handy at times, Kaede grinned back. She was almost tempted to give him a hug.

"Also, I want you back by fourteen hundred. We have a ton of work to go through. I received another task yesterday, and reading up on spell research will be a good opportunity for you to get acquainted with our sorcery," he noted, his expression reflecting her eager smile.

…Or, maybe not. Her urge died instantly as she replied with a deadpan "Yes Sir."

Pascal's world and history might fascinate her. However, the intricacies of magical theory was about as interesting to her as quantum physics.



—– * * * —–



Given Ariadne's breathtaking charm, Perceval didn't turn out nearly as outstanding as Kaede imagined. He was still handsome in an above average way, with short brown hair above pretty aquamarine eyes, a wide nose, and a strong jaw. His height was also above average and around the same as Pascal's. Meanwhile his lean musculature emphasized his strong legs, yet his steps were soft, almost silent.

Perceval also did not wear a uniform, since he was not part of the academy's military school. Instead he wore a tight-fitting doublet of midnight blue, its exterior decorated by criss-crossing patterns. A small, pink cross was sewn onto his right breast, which Kaede learned was the Hyperion symbol for healers. But apart from that, his wardrobe was fairly unassuming compared to most nobles.

"Hello, Miss Suvorsky." He barely nodded, not all that pleased to see her. "I'm Perceval de La Tours de Baguette."

"Baguette?" Kaede blurted out in a whisper, before she rushed her small hands to cover her mouth.

Perceval sighed.

"Don't worry. I'm used to it. Even Aria had that reaction when she first met me."

Realizing that she was already off to an iffy start, Kaede put in her best effort as she dipped down in her blizzard-blue dress in a curtsy. However, her inexperienced movements were noticeably rough around the edges, as Pascal had only taught her how to do one three days ago.

She still found it suspicious that he could do it perfectly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, milord. I'm honored by Dame Ariadne's invitation to come along."

The nobleman attempted to hide his sour expression. It was obvious that he was anything but glad in agreeing to this. Yet he swiftly plastered a forced smile across his lips as Ariadne turned towards him.

Can't really blame him. I am kind of ruining their time alone.

"Just call him Perceval. The formality will kill the mood." Ariadne said as she grasped his hand, intertwined their fingers, and took a few seconds to snuggle into his chest.

Kaede thought it best to just smile and wait out the intimate moment. Then, still leaning against him, Ariadne turned them around and led them out of the south gates. If the people of this society looked down upon public displays of affection, Ariadne was completely unabashed in showing it off to the world.

"Morning, Ariadne! Morning, Perceval!"

"Going for another outing?"

"Trip to the town? Say hello to Lucas for me."

Almost every person the couple came across greeted them with a friendly face: noble or commoner, staff or servant, it didn't seem to matter. Their network of acquaintances and friends appeared to cover the entire academy.

It was a world of difference compared to how Pascal was treated. Sure, he also stood in the center of attention, but few ever bothered to talk to him.

"Good morning, Gerard. Exciting plans today?"

Perhaps the greatest surprise to Kaede was how genial Perceval was. His greetings lacked Ariadne's energy, but his smile was always gentle and delightful. Not once did he show another the distaste he revealed to Kaede.

I'm sick of starting on people's bad side because of Pascal, she complained to herself.

Still, there wasn't much she could do about it. Her master was an ego-centric jerk and people naturally associated her with him. It wasn't all that different from children being judged due to their parents' sins.

Kaede then realized that she was still in telepathy range from Pascal. The complaints she could file later. But there was a curiosity she wanted to know right now.

"<Pascal, is there really a House Baguette?>"

For a brief second it sounded like Pascal chortled.

"<No. It is a duchy. The Duchy of Baguette. Home of the real baguette.>" He added in good humor as though it was a motto. "<Duke Mathias thought that since his new fief was long and thin, he would name it after his greatest invention. The old man is actually quite brilliant. It is a shame his grandson Perceval is his polar opposite.>"

Must be birds of a feather, Kaede thought.



It wasn't until they left the outer walls before Kaede finally spoke up:

"Ummm, pardon me, but how are we getting there?"

"We're teleporting once we leave the Lockdown ward." Ariadne answered. "I'm not a Wayfarer. My jump range is limited to just twenty kilopaces. Thankfully that's enough to bring us to the nearest town."

Kaede shivered. The prospect of being broken down into tiny pieces and reassembled at the target did not appeal to her one bit… At least, that was how teleportation was usually portrayed as.

"Uh, what happens if we wind up overlapping with a passerby, or something like that, when teleporting?"

"There are precautions built into the Astral Teleport spell to prevent that." Ariadne reassured. "The spell is designed to lock on to an appropriate exit point. Its limited range is largely due to safety concerns, as being even a few paces off target could leave you inside a wall or underground. Towns also have beacons to guide teleportation into a sparse area. Otherwise it's always possible to bounce off a warded home and land in a weird alley, or even wind up inside a commoner's shop since warding is expensive. Fortified cities and military installations, on the other hand, are often entirely warded with Lockdown to prevent teleportation in or out."

Of course. Any convenience must also be defended against. Kaede reflected. Nice to see that humanity remains the same wherever you go.

The pair then turned halfway around as Ariadne extended her delicate fingers:

"We're outside the wards now. Grab my hand and hold on."

Kaede took up her offer. Despite her anxieties, she struggled to keep her eyes wide open. Reality was about to be bent, and she had no intention of missing it.

However, both of the others did close their eyes as Ariadne finished preparing the spell. She then activated it by reciting the keywords in the ancient draconic language:

"Merge Targeting… Beacon Lock… Environment Set. Chain, Astral Teleport!"

Kaede braced herself, but it proved impossible to prepare for. It felt as if her entire body was suddenly enveloped by ice, then sublimated in gas and scattered in the air. Her consciousness was pulled through a tiny hole in the fabric of space that materialized before her eyes, while her surroundings dissolved into it like scenery flushed down a drain.

Then, as quick as it came, everything popped back out and returned to normal. Except her body still felt like it was reconnecting itself while her vision swapped — they now stood in a stone-paved square just outside a small town.

If this was only twenty kilopaces, then Kaede was glad she was unconscious when Pascal summoned her across world boundaries.

"Should we bring the little miss to 'Midnight Crescent' and let them take care of her? It wouldn't do to drag her with us to meet Eckhart." Perceval spoke this time. His polite words may have phrased a question, but his unwavering tone left little room for negotiation.

"Sure," Ariadne answered without a second thought.

Merely two lines of exchange quickly rewrote the balance of their relationship in Kaede's eyes.

It's not that Perceval has no charisma. He's just fine with Ariadne making most of the choices until there's something he really wants.



—– * * * —–



Auxois proved to be a hybrid between a sleepy rural town and a trade stop that supplied the Alisia Academy. Other than the local church and tavern, the only large building was a supply depot under the jurisdiction of the academy quartermaster. The market square lay next to it, connected to the only stone-paved road that ran through the town. It was the same path that lead to the academy's gates, barely wide enough to fit a single truck.

What Kaede found most surprising was how remarkably clean Auxois was compared to the medieval towns of Earth. There were no exposed sewage, no muddied paths, not even any aired garbage outside the usual litter. It was as though the injection of magic into a culture also encouraged better sanitation than its European equivalent.

In the end, Kaede was left behind in Ariadne's recommended 'Midnight Crescent' tailor shop while the couple went off to meet their guest and enjoy the day. She couldn't really complain; it was their day after all.

Besides, the owner, Claire, an elderly lady in her late fifties, was very enthusiastic. With both a keen eye and a creative sense of fashion, she quickly put together several designs based on Kaede's tastes. This included both spiffy uniform-like dresses that were easier to move around in and combination outfits that wore leggings below a shorter skirt — although Claire admitted worriedly that it was very unorthodox and barely met social decorum. The designs were mostly black or white or some mix thereof as Kaede preferred, with sewn borders and silk ribbons in floral-pink to bring out the color of her eyes.

Unfortunately for all her talents, Claire wasn't a mage. Therefore her designs had to be sent elsewhere for manufacture and enchantment in the highest quality nobles expected. Nevertheless, Ariadne had remarked that the store was a popular shop for the academy's students and earned good money for their designs.

By one o'clock, Ariadne returned by herself to pick up and send Kaede back. Apparently the meeting was taking far longer than anticipated.

"Sorry about this, even though I invited you," the lady apologized. "Perceval is usually friendly to everyone, but he dislikes your prick of a master in particular. I was hoping he'd treat you differently, but I guess that was asking a bit much."

Kaede didn't even hesitate:

"What did Pascal do this time?"

Ariadne left behind her ever-present smile for a faint scowl as she continued:

"Perceval is on the administration track as well as a practicing intern healer. His dream is to one day become a royal surgeon, who advises the Emperor on matters of health for the entire empire. Three years ago, he was studying abroad in Weichsel's Königsfeld Academy when I had 'the fight' with your arrogant prick of a master. Perceval tried to interfere on my side, only to get brushed off and called 'Bore-ceful' in return. It's a really childish thing, but it struck a personal complex that really hurt him."

Bore-ceful? Really, Pascal? Is your mental age seven or something?

"That idiot," Kaede voiced. This probably explains why she flaunts their relationship so much. What is she, the perfect girlfriend? Talk about missing out on Pascal's part.

Whether it was from a male or female perspective, Kaede couldn't help but feel envious of Ariadne and Perceval.



—– * * * —–



"You are late!" Pascal growled.

"Sorry! It's hard to run in these heels, and it was a long walk." Kaede then looked at the clock. "I'm barely two minutes late!"

"The enemy will not wait a single second for you. Late is still late! Come on, we are off to the library. That will be the only break you get today and tomorrow," Pascal decreed as he took her wrist and dragged her out the door. His tight grip was painful and his quick stride almost made her trip several times.

Sheesh, I'm not a stress ball. Don't take your irritation out on me!



—– * * * —–



Once the rising pearl of the Inner Sea region, the coastal metropolis of Arcadia had since fallen into decadence and slow decline. As the Capital of the Holy Imperium, the city was still ringed by high walls and dotted by garish palaces, but the fluidity and nonstop expansion of its harbors and marketplaces had given way to the territorial oligopolies of urban guilds and corporations. Their control of the markets discouraged competitiveness and brought stagnation, widening the class divide through the reduction of opportunities.

The result was social stratification, rising crime, and economic recession as the bright, the motivated, and the daring left to seek new frontiers.

What remained was a city of servants and courtiers, plebeians who slaved day and night for the Senators and their wealthy patrician supporters. Here, the beating heart of the Imperium lay sickened by centuries of political decadence. The civil legislature had long stopped being a representation of the people, its subcommittees fraught with corruption and lobbyists' interests.

Once, the people looked to the populist leaders, consuls who proved themselves in the field of battle and claimed they would bring that same competence to the civil administration. But after dozens of Emperors, even the great autocrats and the philosopher kings of old have vanished.

Historians of the Imperium proudly speak of the 'Five Righteous Emperors' who achieved great deeds. Nevertheless the tradition of adopting sons for the throne laid a disastrous precedence to the line of Imperial Succession. When Theodosius III, the previous Imperator Augustus, died sixteen years ago from a sudden cerebral hemorrhage, he left behind both a biological and an adoptive son.

The ensuing civil war tore the Holy Imperium apart and scorched its lands for six long years. Known as the 'War of Imperial Succession', it quickly engulfed the entire continent, as the Imperium's neighbors and enemies took advantage of the chaos to slice off and annex border states.

With the help of the patricians' bottomless funding and the Legions once loyal to his late birth father, the adopted Skantarios Aurelius brought an end to the bloodshed by seizing the laurels. Yet even in his moment of triumph, he looked towards the northern horizon with bloodied eyes, never forgetting the treachery of nations that should have been his allies against the infidels of the south.

It took ten years to consolidate his power, ten years to rebuild the Legions to full strength, ten years to bribe and negotiate and wrangle for all the arrangements.

And now…

"What is our status, Stilius?" Imperator Augustus Skantarios asked as he strolled down the shadowy halls. Only his most trusted servant followed him, the foreigner who thrice saved his life from overwhelming odds, rising from a mere mercenary to Magister Militum of the entire Holy Imperium.

"Our spies in Cataliya confirm that the Caliphate is mobilizing. Troops are pouring across the Grand Strait Bridge by the thousands every day as they march towards the Rhin-Lotharingie border. The Caliphate now stands committed, regardless of whether they believed our emissaries' claims. It is only a matter of time before they declare Holy War against the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie."

"Good, and the Pope?"

"The Papal Legate assures me that if Geoffroi folds before the infidel invasion and pulls back his border armies, His Holiness will have a more-than-long-enough list of transgressions to have him excommunicated."

The Imperator sneered. He knew that Pope Vigilius had long harbored a hatred for Emperor Geoffroi of Rhin-Lotharingie for his revocation of Papal Investiture within the Empire. Neither had the Holy See forgotten Geoffroi's swift eagerness to take advantage of the civil war by stripping the Imperium of its western territories, instead of intervening against the Caliphate's invasion.

In a game of thrones, machinations involving the church had never been about piety. Here, Imperator Augustus Skantarios proved it yet again as he discussed his plot to maneuver the infidels against fellow rulers of the same faith.

"Excellent." His deep voice rang pleased against the dark halls. "Even without aid from those petty Lotharin nobles, that alone should be enough to fracture the Empire during its most critical hour. It will also strip Geoffroi of any right to call upon aid from crusaders. What of their newfound ally, that upstart Kingdom of Weichsel?"

"Imperator, during the War of Imperial Succession, Weichsel not only doubled their landmass by stealing our northern territories, but also struck fear into the heart of Rhin-Lotharingie before the two states could forge a defensive treaty against Imperial retaliation. It is not wise to…"

Old companions or not, Skantarios cut off his foremost general without a moment of hesitance:

"When we want your sermons, Stilius, we will ask for it. Continue, or must we repeat ourselves?"

"Yes, Imperator." The General bowed his head in servitude. "As you already know, the Jarls of Västergötland, desperate after the epidemic that scythed through their herds and blinded by their eagerness for our gold, launched their invasion before the Caliph was ready. Weichsel's Field Marshal handed them a series of disastrous defeats before winter could embrace the North Sea. By now, it is fair to assume that our efforts in Västergötland have been wasted, and the Greater Jarldom of Skagen stands unwilling to commit without their pagan allies."

The Emperor cared nothing for the barbaric Northmen who still worshipped pagan gods. He wouldn't bat an eye if their entire civilization ceased from starvation. However, their presence was necessary to occupy the Imperium's northern foes.

"A great shame. We can only pray that tensions at their northern border will at least pull Weichsel's armies away. What of our own forces?"

"The Northern Legions stand ready under Gaius Aetius. They're assembled near the Weichsel-Lotharin border, poised to apply pressure against either military. The Western Legions were officially furloughed by Marcus Belisarius. However his forces have merely broken down into organized labor units and can swiftly regroup once the time is right. The Southern Legions have been recalled home under my personal command to remove their presence from the borders, so that the Caliph may focus on waging his war."

The Emperor nodded thoughtfully. With geopolitics always being a game of balance, great powers with capable rulers did not wage war unless they could guarantee the noninterference of their neighbors. However, even wiser rulers did not reveal their fangs until their foes were battered and ripe for the taking.

"You have done well, Stilius." The Emperor gave his praise. "Once the Caliphate and Rhin-Lotharingie maul each other to exhaustion, we shall have the perfect opportunity to seek permission for a new Crusade. Then, I shall become the first Imperator Augustus in five centuries to reclaim lands lost by the Holy Imperium. The patricians will be pleased by the wealth new conquests shall bring, while your name will rise above even that of Consul Marius, immortalized as the most celebrated general in Imperial history."

"You are most generous, Imperator." Stilius bowed, suppressing the urge to warn his liege of counting chickens before they hatch.

"The Grand Republic has adopted a policy of non-interference for centuries and should hopefully stay out of the conflict this time. The Shahdom of Chorasmia is once again engaged in a border war against our treaty partners in the east, the Dawn Imperium. Our only known threat at the moment remains the Kingdom of Weichsel." The Emperor turned towards his general with raised fingers: "I want that alliance fractured if not broken, Stilius. Be discreet, but otherwise do whatever it takes."

"Yes, Imperator. I have already dispatched three of our best Mantis Blade squads north. It should not be long before one of my plans bear fruit."

Skantarios nodded. Stilius was a first rate general who had never failed him before. But it was precisely that flawless record which made protocols of authority ever more important: for if the master did not command the servant, the servant would surely rise to become a new master.

"See to it, Magister Militum." He ordered in a deep, stern tone, weighed to fit for a true Imperator.

He hardly cared if it rang dark and sinister against the shadowy halls. After all, history was written by the victor. Villainy was not a trademark of evil, merely foolish incompetence and stupidity.

…And he was no fool.



The current working map of Western Hyperion.
 
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Volume 1 Chapter 8 – Inquisitive Hope
Volume 1 Chapter 8 – Inquisitive Hope

By Monday afternoon, Kaede was starting to feel burned out. Not actually being a bookworm, there was only so much continuous reading she could stand before the task started draining her mental health. Over a week of almost nothing but research pushed even her focus.

Pascal's sour mood over the weekend hadn't helped, but Marina's visit did much to lighten things up.

"You're welcome to come down and visit us in the servant's quarters," she offered, her smile bright enough to light the room. "It's just beyond the kitchens at the end of the dining hall."

"I'd love to," Kaede beamed back. "Probably sometime later this week. Are you around here during the weekends?"

"Week…ends?" Marina puzzled.

"Saturdays and Sundays. Don't you get those days off from work?"

"I've… never heard of anyone who get two days off from a regular work schedule." Marina replied. "There are some who get Sundays off from work, but not us. Servants do not receive any days off on a weekly basis. There's always food that need serving and rooms that need cleaning."

"But…" Kaede was surprised and even somewhat appalled by what Marina just said. "How do you get time off from work then?"

"We can request leave if we're sick or if we have family matters. And there are some holidays when we receive most of the day off. But that's about it." Marina shrugged as though this was completely normal. "I'm lucky that my superior is usually very understanding towards such requests."

This world seriously needs some labor regulations! Kaede thought.

Clearly, there hasn't been the equivalent of the Socialist Party of America yet, who were responsible for establishing much of the labor standards used in the modern world.

"Alright, then what time would be best for me to visit you, so you can request some time off?"

"Probably Sundays, though mornings work better in general," Marina replied as her hands continued to rearrange and clean the tabletops. "Most of the teaching and research staff live outside the castle, and they're usually home on Sundays which saves us a lot of work. Also unlike the other servants, I don't have any family in the area, so I rarely request time off. Shouldn't be a problem if I ask for an hour or two when you visit."

"Sounds good. I'll definitely make time next week," Kaede smiled. She then wondered aloud: "How long have you worked here?"

Marina paused for a second to think. "It's been about two years since I came to this region in search of a job."

"Wow, that must be tough. Two years with almost no vacation."

Kaede couldn't imagine doing that herself. With her modern standards, she would lose control from sheer stress alone. Yet part of her knew that if she left Pascal, this was exactly the life she would have to live in this world.

"Where did you live before?"

"I was an orphan raised near the eastern borders of Rhin-Lotharingie," Marina casually spoke without any of the melancholy expected of such words. "My parents died during the chaos of the last war ten years ago."

"I'm sorry," Kaede muttered back with downcast eyes, feeling uncomfortable after breaching such a topic. However Marina merely shook her head and returned an angelic smile:

"I was lucky. A kind individual took me in and raised me. But I couldn't keep being a burden to them after coming of age. So I left home after I turned fifteen and sought to become independent."

She's only seventeen then, the same age as me! Kaede couldn't help feeling herself grow even closer to the young maid. "Does your benefactor know that you're here then?"

"I've sent letters, and gifts," Marina replied with a happy look. "But I haven't seen him for two years now. I hope that by the time I meet him again, I'll have the chance to settle down."

"Settle down?"

"Most maids work to save up enough money for a good dowry, so they can get married one day," Marina explained.

I guess some things haven't changed, at least for commoners, Kaede realized. Just because magic-blessed noblewomen like Ariadne had similar opportunities as men, didn't mean that the same applied to the lower classes.



—– * * * —–



In an unusual turn of events, Kaede found herself waking up late at night. She felt feeble, even weaker than her usual self these days. Furthermore, her body was aching all over, as though she was in the grips of a fever. There was also a constant buzzing in her head.

"You are finally awake," Pascal noted from beside the bed. He sat in a chair with a book on his lap. His worried eyes drooped in an uncharacteristic display of fatigue.

"Do you remember what happened? I found you collapsed on the floor after returning from my classes."

She looked at the wall clock. It was four in the morning, over ten hours since she last checked the time.

Has he been watching over me this whole time?

Thinking back, Kaede tried to recall her last memory:

"I was searching for my cup… but I couldn't find it and was getting thirsty, so I just used yours…"

She eyed the enchanted silver goblet that sat on the bedside table. It could be infused with mana to conjure clean, refreshing water out of thin air by summoning it from underground water tables.

Pascal nodded as he followed her gaze:

"It was on the floor also, just beyond your reach. I thought you might have been poisoned, but I scanned both the cup and your system with Detection and nothing suspicious came up. Neutralize spells had no effect on you, nor would Rejuvenate wake you up. You did not have any wounds or noticeable bruises that would indicate being attacked by an intruder either. Do you remember anyone or anything suspicious coming into the room, or feel any lingering pains at the moment?"

Kaede took a moment to run through her memories again. She had spent the entire afternoon reading. She then chatted with Marina when the maid came to clean the room. It was just like most other weekdays since she had arrived.

"…No. Nothing unusual happened. And… my body aches, but not in any specific spot as much as all over."

Pascal's brows furrowed as he ran out of ideas.

"The healers' only suggestion was that you might have been feeling anemic. None of them really knows anything about Samaran physiology."

"Well… it's true that I haven't been sleeping well, and someone keeps waking me up every morning. Not to mention changing bodies might still be taking its toll." Kaede glared at Pascal with an accusing scowl. "But I didn't feel dizzy or anything outside of the usual sleepiness. It just came out of nowhere… I don't know if Samarans react poorly to sleep deprivation or something."

Pascal sighed, partly in response but mostly in relief.

"I did run the basic tests on your blood while you were out. All I can say is that you are not showing signs of any major illness we know of." He then stood up and began taking off his dress shirt: "Take the day off tomorrow and sleep in. In the future, tell me when you are feeling under the weather. You do have a girl's body to take care of now."

Kaede merely nodded back as she sank back under the comforter, her mind already set on visiting the library tomorrow.



—– * * * —–



Kaede's morning routine must have set her biological clock. After waking up around the same time as usual, she spent the early morning trying to sleep in. She wanted to stay until at least after breakfast, when the students began their daily courses.

Pascal made a surprise return after the meal. With no desire to hear any grumpy orders to rest, Kaede pretended to still be asleep. The tray of bread, cheese, and savory slices of roast pork he left behind for her came as a pleasant surprise.

"<Thanks for the food,>" she told him over the telepathic bond after finishing.

His reply was a simple: "<Get better.>"

Her morning and afternoon trips to the library were far less enjoyable. Both times, several nobles made their opinions of her presence in their sanctuary known with disgusted gazes and hushed whispers. Worse yet, after scanning through two dozen books on Samarans in the library's cultural section, all she managed to find out were some general details:

Other than differences in appearance, Samaran physiology was almost equivalent to that of regular humans. They had the same organ functions, similar biological cycles, and even suffered the same ill effects for nutritional imbalance. One book did claim that Samarans' pregnancy lasted much longer than normal humans, though it failed to provide any further details.

The only major difference lay in their blood. The crystal-clear Samaran 'fluid of life' was known for its healing properties. It could close wounds in under a minute and chase away all but the worst diseases within a day. Furthermore, their blood enhanced healing magic, and could be transfused into any human subspecies without rejection.

Scholars believed that the blood was the source of their longevity. Few Samarans were innately capable of sorcery, yet even an average Samaran could live up to two centuries, which was longer than the healthiest of human mages. Upon reaching the prime years of early adulthood, a Samaran would normally retain their youthful appearance and vigor for well over a hundred years.

However, there was also a dark side about being a Samaran…

Ever since the Great Northern War which gave birth to the Grand Republic of Samara five centuries ago, knowledge about the healing properties of Samaran blood had become commonplace. As a result, Samaran blood had become a highly-sought commodity, used to treat diseases, enhance curative spells, and even imbibed by the rich and powerful in hopes of prolonging their life. Because of this, Samarans were often the victims of trafficking and even large-scale slave raids.

After waging several wars and launching countless black operations against 'blood traders', the Grand Republic finally gave in and made the 'fluid of life' a national export. It was managed by the official Blood Bank of Samara as a diplomatic trade good, and collected from all adult Samarans within the Grand Republic as a literal 'blood tax'. This discouraged illegal sourcing of Samaran blood by offering legitimate supplies and keeping profit margins down. Threats of embargo, war, and active special operations further helped to deter adventurous individuals and nations alike.

Nevertheless, Samaran trafficking remained an issue, especially since neither the Holy Imperium of the Inner Sea nor the Cataliyan Caliphate had ever abolished slavery. Samarans outside the Grand Republic had to guard themselves carefully, as black market traders would pay extravagantly for a living Samaran body with a crushed will. Meanwhile, the Samaran Shadow Guard has earned a reputation as the most ruthless intelligence organization in Hyperion, as they routinely made gruesome examples of any traffickers they uncovered.

For a second time, Kaede found herself glad that Pascal gave her a set of defensive runes. Reports of Samaran slaves exploited as living blood farms depicted a life too terrible to imagine.

Unfortunately, she found nothing about Samarans being prone to instantaneously fainting. If anything, the healing properties of Samaran blood should reduce the likelihood of such occurrences.

Kaede packed up several cultural books plus a tome on the history of familiars into the extra-dimensional messenger bag Pascal gave her. She then departed the library for the dormitory keep. But as she turned around the central keep, her legs froze mid-step upon coming across the most unusual sight:

On the grassy lawn of one inner castle courtyard was a giant amorphous thing. It could only be described as a massive blob of silken tofu the size of a small car. Standing next to it was Perceval, periodically nodding his head and petting the giant tofu as though interacting with it.

It took a minute before Kaede could recollect her composure.

"Hello, Perceval," she called out as she approached Ariadne's beloved.

"Oh, it's you." Perceval replied in a bland tone, his uninterested glance swiftly returning to the giant tofu before him.

"Pardon me but, what is that…"

"My familiar is a white pudding from the Southern Lotharingie Mountains."

Perceval's casual explanation almost sent Kaede's head into a spontaneous meltdown. However her safeties triggered a brief moment of mental paralysis instead.

"That…. that… is… a creature…!?"

"Yes. White puddings belong to the ooze kingdom of creatures," Perceval continued with just a bare tinge of courtesy. "Like most oozes, they're magical decomposers that can engulf and transmute almost any mass into more of itself. Although they prefer the remains of dead critters."

The giant tofu wobbled like jelly under his gentle caress. Kaede's eyes almost popped out of their sockets when it bounced once, like a child hopping in joy.

It was so far outside the realm of Earth biology that Kaede didn't even know how to react. She couldn't even imagine how a huge piece of gelatinous mass could function as a living entity, let alone fit into some corner of the ecosystem.

She also couldn't believe how everyone else walking by ignored the giant tofu as completely normal, but stared curiously at her instead.

"What does it… do?"

"They're a food source…"

With one hand still caressing the giant tofu, Perceval leaned left and right, examining his familiar as though it had any anatomical features to speak of.

"Very bland tasting, but nutritious and easy to consume and digest…"

It really is living tofu!!! her battered logic puked out before fainting. Meanwhile, images of cavemen hunting packs of wild tofu with spears paraded across her mind.

"Animals in the mountains treat them as a roaming food source during the winter, and so do the people living there… ahh, finally…"

"Oyyy! Sorry I'm late!" A short boy with flaming-red hair called out.

"Already used to it," Perceval sighed. "Seriously, Reynaud, just because your friends don't hand out demerits doesn't mean you should keep us waiting. What took you an extra half hour?"

Small and skinny, Reynaud was at least a hand's length shorter than Perceval and was clearly below the male average. However, he virtually bounced across the distance between them with his overflowing energy. Underneath his red hair were a pair of spring-green eyes, a narrow, delicate nose, and lightly freckled cheeks sporting a gleeful grin. His features combined for an innocent, boyish look better suited for a high-school initiate than a collegiate academy student.

However, unlike Perceval, Reynaud was a cadet of the academy's military school. His uniform consisted of a padded, bright-blue leather jacket — a gambeson that wrapped tight around his narrow chest and fell to beneath his waist.

"Sorry sorry," Reynaud waved in apology before stepping up with a giant tin bucket in hand. "Gerard wouldn't admit defeat from our match earlier. He challenged me to a duel right after class ended."

Oh right, he's the one Pascal complained about for being too good at dueling.

Kaede was still lost in thought when Reynaud glanced towards the girl who stood beside his best friend and blinked. A huge grin soon spread across his face as he eyed the young girl.

"Well well, if it isn't the Runelord's familiar — the commoner who walloped the princeling." Reynaud circled around Kaede, examining her as he went. "Aren't you a bit too adorable to be giving someone the fisticuffs?"

"You're one to talk, shorty."

With her heels on, Kaede was actually a touch taller than Reynaud. But as he spiraled closer to her with his ogling eyes, she felt her gut begin to knot in discomfort.

It felt distinctively like he was undressing her with his gaze.

"Miss, you are way too precious to be a decoration for that noble jerk." He bowed slightly before extending his hand. "Please, allow me to take you home instead and treat you like the sweet and tasty buttercup that you are."

Are you f'ing serious…?

Kaede's brows twitched twice in irritation. Then, her cheeks flushed scarlet as she felt his hand snake behind her and brush down against the skirt covering her rear. She swiftly pulled her arm back and sent a fist straight into his face.

Her hand might be small and weak, but it was still enough to leave a swollen eye.

"Well, that cleared some doubts!"

Even with a hand rubbing his blackening eye, Reynaud's cheery grin seemed to only widen with delight. His tone soon turned into what reminded Kaede of a drawling, British accent:

"Little weak but just the right amount of spice. Please lady may I have some more?"

Just what is wrong with this pervert?

Kaede stiffened and hesitantly took two steps back. Her fingers were poised to stab the runes on her forearm just in case. She might not want to start a fight with a noble, as she didn't know if Pascal could shield her from all the repercussions. But she certainly wasn't going to just allow some pervert to keep groping her in public.

Thankfully, she never had to resort to such actions, as Perceval interjected and stepped in-between them:

"Control yourself, Reynaud. Just because she's not a noblewoman doesn't mean you can blatantly insult her like this."

Does that mean there are only legal repercussions when a lady is harassed? Kaede immediately realized to her horror.

Meanwhile Reynaud scowled. No, pouted was a better description.

"Sheesh, you're never any fun, Perceval. Fine fine," he complained as though harassment was fine just because it was a 'joke'. He then walked towards the white pudding and, with one scoop, filled his bucket with a generous chunk of the giant tofu.

"Thanks as always brother!" Reynaud began to walk off, backwards. "Nice to meet you as well, Buttercup! Next time you give that jerk a beating, be sure to invite the rest of us to cheer you on!"

Talk about noble hypocrisy, Kaede bitterly thought. Even 'that jerk' Pascal has more respectfulness than this little creep.

"I'm sorry about that." Perceval apologized in a deep, sincere voice. "Reynaud doesn't mean any harm by that. He just doesn't know any boundaries on when to stop fooling around."

Kaede took a brief exhale to alleviate her frustration. It wouldn't help her any to spill her annoyance on the person who helped her.

"That's alright." Kaede decided to simply nod back. Though she did feel surprised that Perceval was being genial to her.

"Anyhow, did you need me for something?"

Kaede quickly remembered that the man before her was also a healer:

"Yes, actually. I would like to ask if you know anything that may cause someone to fall unconscious with no warning, especially a Samaran."

"…You?"

"Yes. Me," Kaede nodded.

"I'm no more an expert on Samarans than the rest of the healers…"

Perceval scratched his head. Nevertheless his eyes focused in an instant, revealing the concentration of an apprentice physician who took his job with the utmost seriousness:

"But if you don't mind some blood testing, come with me to the healers' chapel and we'll see what we can find. You can tell me what happened along the way."

"Sure. Thank you." Kaede agreed and began to follow him.

Unable to tear her eyes away from the giant tofu that bounced along behind them, she asked:

"Out of curiosity, what did Reynaud want with a chunk of… uh, white pudding?"

"He has a baby skywhale familiar that's barely old enough to cut milk. A white pudding's consistency and ease of digestion makes it a decent baby food."

Kaede simply nodded. Compared to sentient tofu, skywhales felt like a perfectly logical animal in the world.



—– * * * —–



The healer's chapel was a sterile white hall full of beds, which Kaede found unusual because it was the only room painted white in the entire castle complex. Counters lined up against the far-side wall were packed neatly with potion vials, flasks, and bottles. There were also a dozen transparent quartz crystals the size of tablet computers.

Perceval still held one of them in his hands, through which he had examined Kaede over the past half-hour. She felt oddly naked under his focused gaze, but not exactly uncomfortable thanks to his professional demeanor.

"As far as I can tell, there's nothing wrong with you, other than a slight vitamin-D deficiency," Perceval noted as he put the quartz screen back onto his lap. "You need to come outside more often."

Kaede was amazed they even knew about vitamins. The biomedical understanding of this world is more advanced than I'd have guessed.

"Well… people haven't exactly been welcoming to me." She then answered.

A barely noticeable cringe went through Perceval before he closed his eyes and sighed.

"Yes, and I haven't exactly been helping. I'm sorry about that. I know it's no fault of yours, but… your master and I have a history."

"I've heard from Ariadne. Don't worry about it," Kaede rushed to wave it off before changing the subject back: "Do you know any other reason why people here might faint suddenly?"

"Our medical capabilities are nowhere near perfect, and there are plenty of possible reasons for losing consciousness over some condition we either overlooked or simply can't detect. However…" his gaze turned from contemplative to warning. "Ten hours is too long. That's just too serious not to leave an evident sign. Furthermore, Rejuvenate spells can usually wake up even someone sick to the verge of death. To stop something like that… I can't think of anything BUT a magical effect, except you don't carry any suspicious auras, either."

"Do all magical effects leave an aura?"

"No, but a hidden magical aura isn't a natural occurrence. That means you're not just contracting a magical disease or having an allergic reaction against the wards, but being affected by deliberate foul play. Although, given your master, I wouldn't be surprised if that were the case."

Kaede couldn't tell if Perceval was smirking or scowling; probably a bit of both.

"Are you sure all you drank was water? That there wasn't anything in that chalice you mentioned?" Perceval asked.

"Pascal said the Detection spells came out clean. How reliable is that?"

"Reliable enough for everything conventional," Perceval simply shrugged. "But healers aren't in the subterfuge or poison business, and that spell is old, ancient. One of the lessons they teach us in this school is that as long as there is a way, there is also a counter. Unfortunately… that's all I can really tell you."

Kaede nodded as she held onto that thought for later:

"Thank you so much for this. I really do appreciate it."

For the first time, Kaede saw Perceval's gentle, peaceful smile directed towards her.

"Not to sound mean, but I'd do it even if you were the devil's daughter — that's what it means to take the healers' oath. However, I do promise to try to be cordial in the future. Bet my actions thus far must seem unworthy compared to how dear Aria described me."

Kaede sent back a grin of her own:

"Not at all. As Ariadne said, you're a very generous man."

A shadow of guilt entered his almost-bashful expression in response. It was both what Kaede hoped for, and what made her thoughts agree with her words.

Good people aren't always nice, but you can always count on them to try to do the right thing, she thought as she waved to Perceval before leaving the healers' chapel.



On her way back to the dormitory keep, Kaede replayed all of yesterday afternoon in her memories. Other than Marina's daily cleaning visit, she couldn't think of a single sign of an outsider entering into the room. Furthermore, she remembered that Marina didn't just perform the usual, but also gave all the furnishing in the room a thorough dusting and sanitary wipe-down. She must have at least lifted the chalice when cleaning the bedside counter it sat on.

But why would Marina want to harm Pascal? If this is poison, it's far too low grade… almost like an immature prank.

Kaede knew that history was abundant with cases where agents bribed or blackmailed servants into carrying out their dirty schemes. Pascal was the son of Weichsel's Marshal. His father no doubt gathered plenty of enemies. Furthermore, Pascal's own character was hardly the type to avoid burning bridges.

Nevertheless…

I can't just lay suspicion on Marina for no reason. Who knows what these nobles may do to a mere servant girl?

The sun was already setting. Pascal would return from class soon. Therefore Kaede's only course of action was to confirm for herself tomorrow.



—– * * * —–



Pascal had been stuck in an irritable mood for several days now.

It began late last Saturday when he tried to contact Sylviane again, only to be rejected without a single word.

Farspeak spells opened the most reliable communication channel that could be made using spellcraft. But it required both the sender and the receiver to concentrate on maintaining the one-to-one link.

Due to her busy schedule, Pascal only called once a week. However in the past, even if she was attending a special council meeting, Sylviane always at least sent back a brief reply before closing the connection.

The fact he knew exactly why she ignored him only deepened his melancholy. It certainly kept him awake late into the night.

Ariadne's invitation to Kaede didn't help his moodiness, but it was a mere drop in the bucket compared to Sylviane ignoring his calls on both Saturday and Sunday nights. Pascal had no wish to further irritate his fiancée by pestering her nonstop. However, shutting down two attempts per day made it evident that she was deliberately not talking to him.

Sunday night was the first time Pascal realized just how late Kaede stayed awake every night, shifting and turning.

Kaede's collapse on Monday night began to push his limits. Fatigue was but one factor. Pascal was also not used to being emotionally strung out.

On Tuesday morning, a noble who criticized the Emperor's recent policies received a ferocious tongue lashing from Pascal. After that, everyone stayed twice the distance they usually kept from him. Professor Albert noticed this, and requested some early research discussion from Pascal's Pandemonium Doctrine project in order to 'keep his thoughts occupied'. As expected, the assignment kept Pascal contemplative for the remainder of the day and well into the evening.

"Hey Pascal," Kaede asked from behind him. "Did you know that the familiars of mages who die of old age often revert back to normal and live on?"

"Yes." Pascal didn't even bother to look up from his writing desk. "Speculation claims that it is the shock of death carried across the bond that mortally wounds the familiar's psyche, either killing them immediately or destroying their will to live. It is the same effect for when a bond is severed by force. Obviously, no one is going to experimentally test either of those hypotheses. But I am nowhere close to the age of dying peacefully."

"Can't you at least try to look into some method of how I can get back?"

Pascal sighed and put down the ink stone that he used to channel words straight onto parchment. He turned back around to face the familiar girl.

Kaede sat in his bed with another book opened between her small hands. She wore only the white halter-top he dressed her in on the first night. Meanwhile, her long, snowy hair draped across her bare back and shoulders, pooling into a pile besides her atop the bed.

"I have thought about this, Kaede. But by all knowledge there is simply no viable solution. We cannot just cut the bond and hope a miracle happens to return everything back to before. Nor does any banishment magic work on your naturalized body, either due to its form or due to the link. In fact, I even asked Professor Beaucaire — he teaches teleportation — to cast the ancient planar banishment spell on a sample of your blood. It did not work. Therefore, even if we knew exactly which world you came from out of the infinite numbers out there among the multiverse, we couldn't send you there. The magic of the worldwalkers is a tale of old legends and folklore. It is not something achieved within the annals of modern sorcery."

Kaede met his stare evenly:

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"By some fluke of the spell that I still cannot figure out," Pascal admitted with a scowl. Then, his words grew almost challenging: "I was impressed how quickly you were adapting to life here. I guess that is not the case after all."

"Oh please, it's only been eleven days!" she retorted. "Philosophically, I adhere to the Eastern views of my home world more than the West. We try our best to be accepting of the world around us, to be at peace with how it molds our lives. But being accepting isn't the same as simply surrendering to fate. My will still points my way, and I fully intend to explore all options."

The Holy Father may have plans for us all, but under his guidance we shall still strive for our cause, Pascal reflected as Kaede declared her intent with hardened eyes. For a second he almost felt impressed, with an urge to pull her into a theological discussion.

Almost…

"Anyhow, since there are stories of visiting other worlds…"

"Yes, from millennia ago when angels, demons, and dragonkind still waged wars across our world, when the very nature of magic was different," Pascal's irritated words cut her off. "I am not going off to chase sorcery that has been lost for over a thousand years over wishful thinking. I admit that my mistake brought you here, but I do not owe you all the years of my life in repayment for it!"

With those final-sounding words, Pascal turned back around to focus on his work, leaving only the back of his head to meet Kaede's burning glare.

"<You just don't want me to go back, do you?>" Kaede seethed over the mental link.

Pascal froze for a second.

Do I?

His fatigued thoughts stumbled through a fuzzy world of internal analysis, cycling through memories of the past week-and-half. He admitted that while he did indeed enjoy her company at times, there were many more where he wondered if Kaede was really worth her trouble.

It took another minute before he finally replied:

"<Maybe. But I promise you that if some clue of it being reasonably possible appears, I will look into it. But until then, I refuse to waste any more time chasing what every professor believes a pipe dream based on nothing more than ancient history.>"

The sound of a book slamming shut came from behind him as Kaede haphazardly tossed it onto the counter. She then lowered herself into the bed and pulled the bedcovers over her head.

The emotions that flowed across their link had never grown beyond mere annoyance. But even that, when added to his own irritation, was enough to push his current self-control, or lack thereof.

I need sleep.
 
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