unter of Zero (Bloodborne/Familiar of Zero) ch. 4

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"State your name."

"The Good Hunter."

Osmond and Colbert exchanged uneasy glances. In the corner, Loungeville stopped writing, his quill poised midair. The room they occupied was rarely used, its purpose more ceremonial than practical. Crimes committed within the Academy were almost always dealt with in the Headmaster's office. But when such rare events required external arbitration, the local magistrate would be summoned from the nearest town, and this storage room would hold the accused. But for now, they did not summon the magistrate. 

The criminal in question, however, was far from ordinary.

"Let me remind you, sir, that you raised weapons against the son of a Tristainian general," Colbert said, leaning forward, his tone sharp. "I urge you to tread carefully."

The Good Hunter sat bound, magical chains clasping his wrists. Only the Headmaster's will could release him. Yet he appeared unbothered, calm as a man taking tea on a quiet afternoon.

"Said son insulted the honor of my Master in front of witnesses," The Good Hunter replied evenly. "Said son also accepted my challenge to a duel. Is that not legal?"

"Yes," Osmond coughed, his voice uneasy. "But duels are only sanctioned between nobles. And you, sir, are no noble."

The Good Hunter's lips curled into a faint smile, amusement flickering in his eyes. His hat and neck gaiter rested on a nearby table, revealing a face sculpted by time and experience. Though no longer young, he bore the vitality of a man in his prime.

"Is that so?" he said, a low chuckle escaping him.

Osmond hesitated. "Are you...a noble?"

The Good Hunter paused, as though weighing the decision to answer. Finally, he nodded toward his chest. "Check my left breast pocket. You'll find a badge there."

Colbert blinked, startled by the request, but rose to comply. With a murmured excuse, he reached into the Good Hunter's coat and pulled out a metallic badge. It was shaped like a heather shield, with two hounds or perhaps lions etched into a crimson field.

"I do not know how your nobility is identified here," The Good Hunter said calmly. "But that badge is mine."

Osmond and Colbert studied the ornate emblem, their expressions shifting from confusion to disbelief.

"You ask for my name," The Good Hunter continued, his tone steady. "And so, I shall give it. I am Prince Emilio Maximillian Caballero Vileblood. My mother is Her Royal Majesty, Queen Annalise Funnell Vileblood. She rules from Cainhurst Castle, our home and stronghold."

The room fell silent.

"You...you are royalty?" Osmond stammered.

"I was not born royal," The Good Hunter replied. "I was adopted into her House. My service to my mother and her realm was exemplary, and she rewarded me by naming me a Vileblood. Before my ascension, I was akin to a knight, sworn to protect and uphold the realm."

The chamber would go so quiet you could hear Loungeville's quill drip ink onto parchment. Osmond's cough caught in his throat and Colbert's fingers trembled around the badge, its crimson field glimmering like fresh blood in the lamplight. If this was true, then this was a diplomatic incident waiting to blow up if it already hadn't. A foreign Prince collared as if he were a animal, and insulted by Guiche. Osmond was all but ready to keel over then and there. Colbert set the badge carefully back on the table as if it might burn him.

Osmond wished to challenge this. But really, was he going to take this to chance? His clothes were fine, nothing a commoner couldn't afford. His manners were excellent, according to the staff. And poor Louise...

Colbert however needed to make sure. "What other proof, beyond this badge, confirms your station in Cainhurst? Where even is Cainhurst?" he challenged. 

"Colbert!" Osmond barked. 

The Hunter only inclined his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It is fine. I have my certificate of adoption, sealed with my mother's hand. As for Cainhurst's place, you will not find it on your maps. By all means, it lies in another world."

"Another world?" Loungeville spoke, quill stopping. "Don't be absurd!" 

To their surprise, Osmond interjected. "It...it might not be so absurd." 

"Headmaster?" Colbert blinked. 

His eyes, old and watery, lingered on the Hunter as though recalling a long-buried memory. "Once, in my youth, I met a man clad in green, dark of skin, with a helm of strange design. He wielded a staff that spat fire and slew a dragon I could not harm. I made inquiries, exhausted all knowledge, but I could not find where was from. The only thing which identified him was his banner, fifty stars with blue and red stripes." 

Colbert's eyes were incredulous. "Headmaster, you cannot be serious."

"I am," Osmond cut him off, voice low and grave. He turned back to the bound figure, the chains clinking softly. "Perhaps His Highness speaks truer than we dare to admit."

He sighed. "Your Highness, would your mother send emissaries to seek you if you disappeared? Would your mother consider your summoning an insult to Cainhurst?" 

"The magic you used on me has made contact between Cainhurst and Tristain impossible so you need not worry about that," the Good Hunter explained. "As for my Queen, she would be incredibly upset at this event. I am her Son, after all." 

This was what Osmond had feared. "I...I am sorry, Your Highness. But the summoning ritual is permanent. There is no way to break it." 

To his surprise, the Good Hunter shrugged, his chains clinking. "Don't worry about it. I think it's hilarious. I had wanted a vacation from my duties and I would be happy to indulge in this." He spoke with the confidence of a man that knew what he was doing, and confident that he could get out of it. Osmond desperately wished that he could listen to the Good Hunter words, but political reality will keep him up at night. 

Colbert would not say he believed in the Good Hunter. But the Headmaster was willing to. Colbert respected the Headmaster's judgement and if the Headmaster believed in this, then he would do so as well. Osmond by himself was a lazy pervert. But he knew politics. If this was a plan to smooth things over, then he was going to play along. He was still suspicious in the Good Hunter. When opportunity would present itself, he would press more. 

In her corner, Loungeville simply wrote. 

"Back to the duel however..." Osmond coughed. 

"I merely did my duty as my Master's familiar. If anything, this ought to be smoothed over by her and Guiche. Or perhaps their parents?" The Good Hunter asked. 

"It...does not have to reach that," Osmond coughed again, anxiety rising in his bones. He did not want to deal with Karin or Guiche's father in one room together. "When morning comes, tempers have been cooled. There, we shall have them meet." 

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Quiet sobs escaped her lips.

Louise lay on her bed, curled up tightly, clutching her pillow as though it could shield her from her fears. Tears streamed down her face, her heart heavy with dread. The professors had taken her familiar away, interrogating him endlessly. What was going to happen to him? Would she be expelled? Would they force him to leave? Would her mother find out?

She should have taken control of the situation before it spiraled into chaos. She should have dragged him away. damn the taunts and jeers of her classmates.

This was her fault.

Everything a familiar did reflected on their master. That was the rule, wasn't it? When morning came, she resolved to apologize to Guiche, to the professors, to anyone she had inconvenienced. She would take responsibility, as she should have from the start. These thoughts haunted her as exhaustion finally overtook her, pulling her into restless sleep.

Except...she didn't fall asleep.

Instead, she found herself seated on a bench.

Louise blinked and looked around. She was once again at that Old Workshop, perched atop a hill with its familiar stone path winding up to it. But this time, the Workshop wasn't the dim, eerie place she remembered. It was brighter now. Flowers bloomed in vibrant clusters around the garden: roses, lilies, and other blossoms she couldn't name. Birds chirped cheerfully, and bees buzzed lazily in the sunlight.

The Workshop itself was transformed. It was larger, with a tower rising above it and new wings extending from the sides. The stone walls looked fresh, and the red-tiled roofs gleamed in the light.

She blinked again as a shadow fell over her.

"The Good Hunter asked for the Workshop to be brighter," a soft voice said. "So I learned botany and other household arts. It was a comforting experience."

Louise's head snapped to the left.

There she was, the woman Louise had seen before. Impossibly tall, shawled, and serene, with her hands clasped together. She carried a basket in one hand, the faint aroma of bread and pastries wafting from it. Though Louise had caught glimpses of her in the past, this was the first time they were face-to-face.

And this time, the woman spoke directly to her. 

[SPOILER="The Plain Doll"][/SPOILER]

"You are sad," the woman noted, her calm expression shifting to one of concern. Setting her basket aside, she knelt gracefully in front of Louise. "What troubles you, Louise Vallière?"

"You...you know me?" Louise whispered, startled.

"I do," the woman replied with a gentle smile that seemed to warm the air around them. "The Good Hunter speaks of you often, sharing tales of his adventures."

"Who...who are you?" Louise asked, her voice trembling.

The woman giggled softly, rising to her feet before offering a graceful curtsy.

"I am Evetta," she said. "I care for the Old Workshop when the Good Hunter is away. Though, it is no longer merely a workshop...it is our home."

"Are you his servant?" Louise asked cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper.

Evetta's smile grew, and she shook her head. "No. I am his wife."

Louise's eyes widened, nearly bulging from their sockets. "He's married?" she shrieked.

Evetta chuckled softly, pulling her hands from the folds of her shawl to reveal a ring on her finger. "We are," she confirmed. "He proposed to me, and I accepted."

Louise's stomach sank as if it had plummeted into the depths of the sea. Not only had she summoned a foreigner into her world, but she had also taken him from his wife. Guilt surged through her, and tears began to flow once more.

To Evetta's alarm, Louise buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Oh," Evetta murmured sympathetically, sitting down beside her. She gently pulled Louise into a warm embrace. "What is wrong, Louise Vallière?"

"I'm sorry," Louise choked out between sobs. "I...I got him into trouble, and now I've taken him away from you. I didn't mean to-"

Her words were cut off as Evetta held her tighter, cradling her as one might comfort a frightened child. Louise blinked, startled by the gesture, but soon her tears returned with greater force. She pressed her face into Evetta's shoulder, letting herself cry freely. Memories stirred within her, memories of her eldest sister's arms around her when she was younger. The warmth, the safety. Evetta's embrace was just the same: comforting, gentle, and unshakably kind.

When her tears finally subsided, Louise found herself nibbling on a delicious pastry, her head resting against Evetta's shoulder as the taller woman combed her hair with delicate fingers.

"Do not worry, little Louise," Evetta said softly, her voice soothing. "The Good Hunter has fought nightmares before. He is no stranger to trouble." 

"Mhm..." Louise whispered, chewing on a special type of sweet jam. 

"He is happy to be there at your side. He sees you as a poor troubled soul in need of someone, anyone, to stand for her. You have been bullied by those around you, yes?" Evetta asked. 

She nodded. 

"Then worry not, for as long as you and the Good Hunter are in contract, he will be by your side." Evetta said, planting a soft kiss on Louise's forehead. 

"Still I...I took him from you. You are his wife," Louise said, after swallowing.

The Doll laughed, a giggle that made Louise blink in confusion. "W-what?"

Evetta finished chuckling, patting her head. "Did you not pray to the Moon?" she asked. "You wished for a beautiful, divine, and powerful familiar, did you not?"

Louise froze, her half-eaten pastry forgotten in her hands.

Evetta's smile widened, her tone warm and knowing. "I listened." 

With a gasp, Louise woke. Birds sang outside, their morning chorus mingling with the golden rays of sunlight piercing through her window.

"Hey, you," a male voice greeted her casually. "You're finally awake."

Louise turned her head sharply, her brows furrowing as her gaze landed on her familiar. He stood tall in the corner of her room, ironing her clothes with practiced ease. His coat, hat, and neck gaiter were neatly set aside on a nearby chair.

"Slept well?" The Good Hunter asked, his tone light.

Louise stared at him, her throat tightening.

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," he joked, though his smile faltered as he caught the storm of emotions flickering in her eyes. Setting the iron aside, he stepped toward her, his boots clicking softly against the wooden floor.

"Who...who are you?" Louise asked, her voice trembling, her fingers gripping the edge of her bed.

"I am your familiar," The Good Hunter replied simply, though his calm demeanor did little to quell the tremor in her chest.

"I met her," Louise whispered after a moment, her voice barely audible. "I met Evetta."

The Good Hunter froze mid-step.

"What are you?" Louise demanded, her voice growing louder, sharper. "Why do I Dream? What is a Yharnam?" Her words came out in a rush, her breath quickening. She narrowed her eyes at him, her fear and frustration bubbling to the surface. "Who are you!?" she roared, her voice cracking with desperation.

The Good Hunter regarded her in silence for a moment, his lips parting as though to speak, then closing again. Finally, he asked, softly but gravely, "Do you truly wish to know?"

"...Yes," Louise replied, her voice steadier now, though her heart hammered in her chest.

He nodded, his expression unreadable. Pulling a chair from the corner, he placed it beside her bed and sat down, one leg cross over the other. 

"So be it," he said quietly.

And thus, he began to speak. He didn't tell her everything, of course. Some knowledge was best left to those with the eyes to see it. She wasn't ready. Not yet.

"When scholars from Byrgenwerth descended into ancient catacombs, they unearthed something," he began, his voice steady but carrying the weight of past horrors. "A miraculous, potent substance that could heal wounds, cure disease, and invigorate the body. It made men stronger, taller, faster, more vibrant. They called it the Old Blood."

"Blood?" Louise blinked, her confusion clear.

The Good Hunter nodded. "Oh yes. Blood. Sick, sweet blood. My city, Yharnam, was built around Blood Ministration. It fulfilled its promises. Many were healed, lives were saved. A religion even formed around it, formalizing the process. It was the Old Blood that called to me, drawing me to Yharnam. But when I arrived..." He gave a bitter laugh. "The city was already crumbling."

He leaned back slightly, his expression darkening. "You see, the Old Blood was sourced from the corpse of a...well, a God. While it healed, it also cursed. Its side effect was grotesque. It turned people into uncontrollable monsters, into beasts. It wasn't long before the streets of Yharnam overflowed with blood and madness. The only thing standing between the people and the beasts was my order."

"Hunters," Louise whispered, piecing it together.

"Quite," he said with a faint smile. "We fought the terrors of the night, keeping people safe as best we could. For years, I was content with that in defying fates that seemed set in stone, saving lives that would have otherwise been lost. I was happy to fight for a brighter world in one bereft of light. But..." He sighed, his voice growing softer. "Wanting to protect a place doesn't mean you always have the means to do so."

"What did you do?" Louise asked hesitantly.

The Good Hunter smiled faintly, a glimmer of something unreadable in his eyes. "I hunted Nightmares. I settled disputes that no one else could. The path wasn't clean, Louise. But it was worth it."

Louise looked down at her chest, the weight of his words pressing on her. Outside, she could hear her peers stirring, the muffled sounds of morning routines filtering through the walls. Yet she remained rooted in place, focused on the strange man before her.

"Lady Evetta said she heard my prayer," Louise murmured, glancing back up at him. "And that she approved. What did she mean by that?"

"It means," the Good Hunter replied, his voice firm and unwavering, "that no matter what happens, no matter who dares try, no one can ever, ever hurt you."

He stood up, turning toward the window. The sunlight framed him, casting his shadow long across the room. "I'll leave it at that. You still have a day to face...and a fop to meet."

Louise blinked, startled by the reminder. She'd completely forgotten about that. Her gaze flicked to the door, then back to him as a new question formed in her mind.

"...What now?"

"Now?" He tilted his head slightly, as if amused by her question.

"I'm not stupid," Louise said sharply, her tone bristling as she sat up straighter. "If you wanted to, you could leave. Why are you still here?"

He chuckled softly, the sound almost mocking. "Because, little Louise, you have my attention. And I've decided to amuse myself with it."

Her eyes narrowed. "And what if I stop being amusing?"

"Too late," he said, his laughter quiet but deliberate. "For as much as you have marked me, I have marked you."

Louise's eyes darted over her body, searching for something, anything, that resembled a mark. She found nothing.

"Not on you, silly," he said, tapping his temple. "In you."

She blinked, her confusion deepening. "I don't feel anything."

"You don't need to feel," the Good Hunter replied, his tone cryptic yet final. "You just need to see."

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​A/N: Louise's canon building moments starts in the next chapters.