Hunter of Zero (Bloodborne/Familiar of Zero) ch. 9

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When the Good Hunter stepped off the stage, he snorted incessantly as Louise dragged him away by the arm. Evetta followed close behind, clapping softly, her smile warm, while Derflinger chuckled from within his sheath. The group made their way to a quiet corner, tucked away from the bustling crowd. Louise spun on her heel to face the Good Hunter, her gaze sharp and questioning.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded, her voice flat but laced with frustration.

"A display for the crowd to remember," the Good Hunter replied, his tone calm, almost amused.

"The courtyard is pink now," Louise snapped, throwing her arms up. "And it's covered in glowing flowers!"

The Good Hunter waved her concern away with a dismissive hand. "A harmless trick that will fade in a few hours. Nothing to fuss over, Master."

Before Louise could respond, a series of loud explosions echoed through the air. She instinctively ducked behind the Good Hunter, while Evetta turned toward a nearby window, her expression serene.

"Ah," Evetta sighed. "Fireworks."

Louise followed her gaze and stepped closer to the window. Outside, the sky blossomed with fractals of dazzling light: reds, greens, yellows, and countless other colors blooming in patterns too intricate to describe. The vivid hues painted her face as she stared, mesmerized by the beauty of the display. Slowly, without realizing it, she took a step forward, her annoyance forgotten, her features softened by the glow.

"This would be prettier if it were nighttime. But alas," the Good Hunter remarked with a casual shrug, stepping up beside her.

"It's beautiful," Louise whispered, her eyes fixed on the vibrant display.

"Of course it is. I made sure of it," the Good Hunter said, his voice carrying a quiet pride.

"How?" Louise asked, glancing up at him, curiosity gleaming in her gaze.

"Trade secret," he replied with a mysterious smile. In truth, he had used his powers to travel far and wide, procuring fireworks for this very moment. Let it never be said that the Good Hunter disrespects private capital.

Louise returned her attention to the display, her gaze sweeping over the crowd below. They watched in awe, their faces illuminated by the kaleidoscope of colors. Some reached out to touch the glowing flowers, only for the blossoms to multiply at their fingertips, spreading like a wellspring of hope and faerie glitter brought to life. Louise's peers, who once looked down on her with disdain, now stood wide-eyed, wonder etched into their features. Even Kirche, the worst of them, knelt to poke a flower. To her surprise, the blossom sprouted and multiplied into a cluster of identical blooms. Her familiar attempted to take a bite out of one but came away with an empty mouth, the flower untouched.

"Well..." Louise began, her voice soft. "I suppose I can forgive you for vanishing without telling me where you were going..."

"Of course," the Good Hunter said with a graceful bow.

"There you are," a new voice cut in, smooth and commanding. Louise froze, her ears recognizing the familiarity before her eyes caught sight of the silver tiara.

She curtsied immediately. "Your Royal Highness," Louise murmured, her voice lowered with reverence. Seeing her motion, Evetta quickly followed suit, bowing deeply. The Good Hunter did not. 

"It is expected to bow before the Princess of Tristain," Agnes Chevalier de Milan growled, stepping forward with a sharp glare directed at the tall foreigner who dared to stand without offering Henrietta the proper respect. Her eyes briefly flicked over his unusual attire and the even taller woman standing beside him. Agnes's displeasure was palpable as she straightened her posture, exuding authority.

She had been accompanying the Princess in search of Louise ever since the display ended but the girl had wandered off with her strange familiar before they could reach her.

"It's alright, Agnes. We can excuse foreigners," Henrietta said with a soft laugh, her voice warm but firm. She stepped forward, her smile calming the tension in the air. Turning to Louise, she offered a reassuring gesture. "You and I, Louise, need not concern ourselves with protocol when we're outside the court. You've earned that right with me."

"Y-yes, well...you are the crown princess," Louise stammered, her words fumbling as she dipped her head. It had been far too long since they had last met, and the weight of Henrietta's station still felt overwhelming. Louise didn't want to appear presumptuous, even if the Princess reassured her otherwise.

But Henrietta paid no mind to Louise's hesitance. Without warning, she stepped closer and pulled the pink-haired girl into a deep, heartfelt embrace. Louise gasped, freezing in place, utterly unprepared for the sudden show of affection. What caught her even more off guard was the feeling of Henrietta's shoulders shaking and the quiet sobs that followed.

"Oh, Louise..." Henrietta whispered, her voice trembling. "It's been so long..."

For a moment, Louise stood stiffly, unsure of what to do. But as the Princess's sobs grew quieter, she awkwardly lifted her arms and wrapped them around Henrietta in return. Gently, she tapped the Princess's back, her voice soft and soothing. "It's...alright, Henrietta. I'm here."

The two stayed locked in the embrace for a few long moments, the world around them fading into the background. Finally, Henrietta pulled back, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glistening with tears. She smiled awkwardly, brushing at her damp cheeks with trembling fingers.

"My apologies," Henrietta whispered, dabbing at her eyes with Agnes's handkerchief. She straightened herself, smoothing out her dress, and offered a warm smile to the Good Hunter and Evetta. "As you've likely heard, I am Henrietta de Tristain, Crown Princess of this country." Her gaze shifted to the man in black. "You must be Louise's familiar, correct?"

"I am," the Good Hunter replied smoothly, inclining his head. "I trust you enjoyed the show?"

Henrietta's smile brightened, her eyes sparkling with genuine delight. "It was absolutely marvelous. It was unlike anything I have ever seen before." She tilted her head, curiosity evident in her tone. "But tell me...what is a Soda Pop?"

Louise visibly froze, her face paling as she turned to the Good Hunter, dread creeping in. Her heart sank further as he leaned forward slightly, his piercing gaze fixed on the Princess's.

The Good Hunter extended his gloved hand toward Henrietta, his smile enigmatic. Confused but intrigued, Henrietta hesitated for only a moment before placing her hand lightly in his. With an air of practiced elegance, the Good Hunter bent low and pressed a soft kiss to her ring finger. When he straightened, his smile deepened, his voice smooth as silk. "You, Your Majesty. You are soda pop."

Henrietta, however, blinked in surprise, her cheeks tinged pink before breaking into a fit of giggles. Agnes glared, her eyes narrowing on the Good Hunter as though she wished to skewer him where he stood. Louise visibly cringed, her face flushing with secondhand embarrassment. Then confusion set in. He was doing this in front of Evetta, his wife? She stole a glance at the blonde woman, expecting outrage or jealousy. To her surprise, Evetta didn't look upset. In fact, she seemed amused, a faint smile playing on her lips.

What...what was going on here?

"But to answer your question," the Good Hunter began, his tone calm and conversational, "soda pop is a type of recreational drink where I am from. It's a sweet, fizzy water enjoyed either with food or on its own."

"I've never heard of such a thing before," Henrietta said, tilting her head in curiosity. "Which part of Halkeginia are you from?"

"Ah," the Good Hunter said with a small, knowing smile, "that would be because I am not from Halkeginia." He gestured toward himself and Evetta. "I was summoned from a different world along with my wife, Evetta, by Louise's magic."

With a graceful motion, he extended a hand toward Evetta, who dipped into another elegant curtsy.

Henrietta's eyes widened, her expression shifting to one of concern. "You're married?" she whispered, her voice betraying a hint of mortification. He had kissed her hand!

"We were wed under the light of the moon," Evetta revealed softly, her voice carrying a whimsical serenity. "Afterward, the Good Hunter imparted himself upon me, and we-"

"Thank you, Evetta," Louise interrupted hastily, clearing her throat, her face turning crimson.

Agnes, crossing her arms, gave the Good Hunter a pointed glare. "You would let your own husband kiss the hands of other girls?" she asked, scandalized.

Evetta blinked, her expression calm and unruffled. "I see no issue with it," she replied. "We kiss girls all the time."

"We?" Louise, Agnes, Henrietta, and even Derflinger repeated in unison, their voices a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"Oui," Evetta answered with a serene smile, entirely unfazed by their reaction. "I do not understand what the issue is."

Of all the things Louise had hoped to avoid discovering about her familiar and his wife, learning they were…free-lovers was at the very top of the list. To her inward dismay, her mind conjured unwanted images of their supposed "practices," and she immediately wished for a way to scrub the filth from her thoughts. She shuddered, her face heating with a mix of embarrassment and horror.

Agnes, steadfast and stoic Captain of Henrietta's Musketeer Guards, stood frozen, looking utterly scandalized, her stern composure cracking. Henrietta herself teetered between shock and a valiant attempt to mask it, her royal demeanor fraying at the edges.

"W-Well," Henrietta managed, clearing her throat as she tried to regain her composure. "It's… good for you. I-I have heard of such practices in Germania."

"Ah, but we are not from Germania," Evetta replied with a serene smile, her tone as calm as ever. "We hail from Yharnam."

"Yharnam is their city," Louise interjected quickly, her voice sharp as she desperately tried to steer the conversation away from her familiar's shocking lifestyle. She focused on keeping the discussion grounded in something, anything, more appropriate.

"I see..." Henrietta coughed, recovering her poise, though her cheeks still carried a faint blush. "It…it must be difficult to be so far away from home."

"Oh, not at all," the Good Hunter said, his tone light and dismissive. "Yharnam is dark, dreary, and endlessly miserable. There's only so much one can tolerate of gargoyles and bitter cold. Halkeginia is a fine vacation, and I intend to enjoy it for as long as possible."

"Are…are you not anxious to return home?" Henrietta asked hesitantly. Then, after a brief pause, she added, "And are you aware that a familiar's bond with their master is binding?"

"Anxious to return? Not particularly," the Good Hunter replied with a faint smile. "Home is wherever Evetta and I are together."

He shared a meaningful glance with his wife before turning his attention back to the Princess. "As for the bond, Your Highness, I am quite aware. But that is fine. I shall go where Louise goes, and she shall go where I go."

Henrietta's eyes widened, her expression softening at his words. "Such loyalty..." she murmured, clearly impressed.

"It works out well for me," the Good Hunter said with a chuckle. "Louise gets me, and I get a much-needed vacation."

"I wish I could have a vacation," Henrietta joked. "Alas, I cannot vanish. I am Tristain's Crown Princess." 

"You have my sympathy and my understanding," The Good Hunter offered. "Royal burdens tend to be a headache." 

Henrietta caught onto this and digested his words. Was he a-

The building shook. Agnes blinked. 

​"Oh...is there an earthquake?" Evetta asked with the same tone someone might use in asking if dinner was available. 

"Look!" Louise called out as darkness seeped in. But not because night had fallen but because a massive six-story golem was wrecking havoc outside. 

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She focused.

Fouquet of the Crumbling Earth was a titan, towering over the insects below her. Astride the shoulder of her golem, she directed it towards a spot in the tower. The golem obeyed, and slammed a closed fist against the building. To her dismay, the tower repelled the attack. Wards. 

"Again," she ordered and her construct obeyed, stone groaning as it reared back its hand, and struck the tower again. Below, she drowned out the screams of the dignitaries with contempt. She had to focus here lest she be distracted. She would have started this much much more earlier if it wasn't for that admittedly impressive show. She did not understand the lyrics or what a soda pop was but damn it, the Zero's familiar was a pretty good mage and singer. 

A pity he was going to be a casualty in the coming war.

"One more," Fouquet muttered. The golem raised its massive fist again, poised for the strike. "Strike!" she barked.

The golem obeyed. This time, the blow shattered the protective barrier, cracks spiderwebbing through the stone. The groaning construct pulled its fist free with a grinding sound. Fouquet allowed herself a triumphant smile and stepped forward, using the golem's arm as a makeshift bridge to the breach.

Then a shadow stepped between her and the breached wall. 

Two shadows.

Fouquet's eyes widened.

"I ask you to cease, lest we turn you into paste," the Good Hunter warned, arms crossed, his voice calm but heavy with menace. Beside him, Evetta stepped forward, Derflinger raised and ready. Her usual gentle demeanor was gone, replaced by an ice-cold focus that left no room for hesitation.

"I cannot do that," Fouquet replied, steeling herself as she readied her wand. "I have a job to do."

"Then so be it," the Good Hunter said, his tone devoid of pity. "Evetta, attack!"

Fouquet cursed as the tall blonde charged, her dress billowing behind her like a banner. Derflinger cackled madly, its metallic voice brimming with bloodlust.

"Golem, attack!" Fouquet roared.

The towering construct obeyed instantly, its free hand lurching forward in a massive, closed fist. Evetta leapt to dodge, but Fouquet had anticipated this. Raising her wand, she cast a spell. Rocks and pebbles behind her surged into the air, then launched forward like a hailstorm of bullets.

Evetta reacted quickly, directing Derflinger to block the incoming barrage. The blade deflected the stones with ease, but the relentless assault was overwhelming, like a machine gun firing without pause. Even with the skills she had inherited from Lady Maria, Evetta was forced to retreat, disengaging as the dust kicked up around her.

Fouquet smirked, holding her wand steady, waiting for the dust to settle. But then she froze.

A shadow emerged from the haze.

It was the Good Hunter.

Fouquet raised her wand, preparing to cast again but her breath caught as she saw what he was holding.

It was a cannon. A massive, utterly ridiculous, fuck-off cannon. And he was holding it by hand. Cannons were not supposed to be lifted by hand. An average cannon needed two oxen to pull. And larger siege artillery needed mages to assist! The cannon fired. Smoke and gunpowder filled the air as a black, gyrating ball hurtled toward her. Fouquet barely had time to raise her wand and cast a ward before it struck. But it wasn't just an iron ball.

It was explosive.

Her ward shattered under the impact, and the force of the blast sent her flying from her golem's shoulder. Fouquet cursed, using her wand to stabilize herself mid-air. She barely had time to catch her breath before she registered another monstrosity the Good Hunter was holding. It was just as massive as the cannon but it bore six tubes. Tubes that were spinning. 

"Fuck!" she screamed, throwing up another ward. The protective shield shimmered as a hail of bullets struck it with unrelenting force, each impact sending vibrations rippling through her trembling arm.

"Golem!" she roared. Her construct obeyed, groaning as it drew its fast back to crash into its shoulder. The Good Hunter glances over his shoulders, then leapt at a reverberating crash echoed throughout the Academy. Grasping for breath, Fouquet turned to the ground, mid-air, then drew her wand. 

"Rise!" Fouquet cried. Strands of magic fell down to the ground and from it, the earth cracked. Closed fists punched out, and figures rose from the ground. They were akin to Guiche's valkyries but bigger, better, stronger. The were clad in plate, barbute helms on their faces. They carried great-axes, spears, greatswords, and mauls. "Attack everyone!" Fouquet directed her army and the smaller golems obeyed, spreading chaos around as the hacked and smashed the closes things they saw. The Good Hunter raised his Gatling Gun towards Fouquet but the screams of the others distracted him. 

Fouquet cursed again. This was not what she planned for things to go. The golem was supposed to be enough distraction but no, Zero's familiar had to interfere! Landing on her golem's shoulder, Fouquet rushed towards the breach. She had wasted far too much time, far too much effort for one simple job. Trinkets glittered all around, magic pulsating around their forms. But Fouquet was not interested about those. No...

"There you are," Fouquet murmured, a grin spreading across her face as her shadow loomed over the object.

It was a box, as tall as she was, its surface black as night. Its edges were sharp, precise, and it radiated an air of power. There were no jewels, no extraneous carvings, just a smooth surface that glinted ominously under the faint light.

And yet, there was one peculiar detail. A symbol was etched onto the front: a circle with three thick, triangular blades radiating outward, separated by curved gaps. Below it was a script she could not read, its letters jagged and sharp, like cracks in a mirror.

'WARNING. RADIOACTIVE. HANDLE WITH CARE. PROPERTY OF US ARMY'

Fouquet frowned, shrugging off the insignia and unreadable script. Whatever it meant didn't matter. The box was what she needed.

Her grin widened as her fingers traced its cold surface. "Finally," she whispered as she hoisted the box over her shoulder. 

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​A/N: I wonder what it could be.