"You."

-Brass instead of to gold. Perhaps more valuable - no, that was dumb, she scribbled it out - certain materials have properties which make them more difficult to-

"You up there."

Wait. That wasn't her, was it?

Louise looked up from her notes, and it seemed that the object of discussion was, in fact, her.

Oh no.

"What's your name?"

"Louise," replied Louise quietly. Wait, no. That wasn't right. She was a scion of a noble and most ancient… Hang on.

She stood up gracefully, pushing her chair back as she did so. "Louise Françoise Le Blanc de la Valliere," she stated coldly. Was 'coldly' right? It was probably close enough. 'Stated' was good, but the coldness didn't quite sit right. Maybe she should have gone for 'imperiously', or crap people are talking pay attention.

"It's dangerous," said Kirche. "I would rather do it myself than have Louise do it."

Oh, right. Apparently she was being asked to cast a spell. Well, Kirche was right that it would be dangerous. Not that that made her less of a cow. If a small bit of verbal lambasting could get Louise out of blowing up the classroom, though, it was probably worth it.

"Dangerous?" The stout woman at the front of the classroom asked curiously. "What's so dangerous about alchemy?" Oh hell, there was no good answer to that. Quickly glancing around the room, Louise saw vindictive grins, petty mouths everywhere readying themselves to expound on her inadequacy. Oh, there would be long minutes of it, that was certain now. Public humiliation, derogatory nicknames… and that insufferable grin of Kirche's.

"I'll do it!" Louise shouted. Wait, no. No shouting. Shouting painted her as overly desperate in that situation. She took a breath. "I'll do it," she said coldly. No, that wasn't right either. She really needed to work on her intonations, but that could wait because why did she volunteer oh crap oh crap that's not right at all-

But another quick glance showed that it had taken. The teacher was looking at her expectantly, and most of the other students were already crouched behind the makeshift barricades of their desks.

Well, she could hardly back out now. Why had she done this? It had purchased her a few seconds of dignity, at least.

Louise slowly walked up to the front of the room, savoring those seconds. She would need them.

o—o—o—o

Not too far from the classroom, a middle-aged fire mage who could charitably be described as "balding" sat down at his desk with a sigh of relief. Starting a new term was never easy, but everything was in order now, and the man could enjoy a brief respite.

These really are great times we live in, he reflected as he poured himself a small drink. That we live in a time stable enough to teach students to their full potential is a wonderful thing. Only a decade ago, our students might have been up for the draft. He raised his glass. Here's to a peaceful year.

The familiar sound of an explosion rocked through Professor Colbert's office. He stared at the glass a moment longer, then dumped its contents into a nearby houseplant.

o—o—o—o—o—o—o

It's okay.

Louise le Blanc de la Valliere. Louise. Daughter of Karin the Heavy Wind, among the most powerful, wealthy, feared, talented… among the foremost heroes of the land, a person whose very name the forces of evil feared to speak.

Louise the Zero.

It's okay.

Louise, who had no magical capacity whatsoever. Who hadn't cast a single spell successfully. The laughingstock of her year. Who, if she wasn't mistaken, was the target of mockery from the unimportant people she was passing by. Kirche Zerbst. Montmorency Montmorency. They still had better prospects than her.

It's okay.

Louise, whose destructive ineptitude was taken so much for granted that the destruction of the classroom had been attributed to the teacher. She shouldn't have made her attempt a spell in front of the class. She was advised against it by the students. She shouldn't have expected anything good to come out of Louise.

It's okay.

Louise, who would be kicked out of Tristain Academy of Magic tomorrow.

You'll do great. You've practiced so much. Every movement, every word of your incantation. This spell isn't even associated with an element. Every single mage in Halkeginia has cast it. There is no possible way you can fail.

Louise was by no means in the Academy by merit. She had gotten in through family influence. Nobody even bothered to hide it. She would have failed out long ago, save that her tireless study had given her a better grasp of the theory of magic than anybody. As is, she performed remarkably on written exams and homework, and had barely scraped by with acceptable grades.

Theory wouldn't be enough tomorrow. The familiar summoning spell was a determinant of a noble's entire future, a powerful indicator of their talent, their character, even their destiny. If she couldn't manage anything…

"I wonder what kind of a familiar spirit you will summon."

"I'll summon a sacred, beautiful and strong familiar that will be unmatched by everyone else's familiar spirits combined," Louise replied as she walked away.

She hadn't meant to say that out loud, and didn't stop to look back at the cows' faces, but the heavy sound of silence told her she had absolutely nailed that conversation.

o—o—o—o—o—o—o

Louise had absolutely flubbed that conversation.

"Today is the day of your Summoning."

It was here. It was here and it was so much worse than it could have been, word had spread and people were watching her curiously now. Why did she brag? Why could she never keep her Brimir-damned mouth shut?

"This is the first exam of your second year, as well as the sacred day of your first…"

The professor's voice droned over the muttering of the crowd. All the students had some level of reasonable apprehension. It just so happened that reasonable apprehension currently comprised about 85% of Louise's body by mass.

There's no room for something petty like fear to get in the way, she thought. This is important. Go over the ritual again.

Yes. That was good. Practice. The words ran through her mind, almost a catechism at this point. My servant that exists somewhere in the universe… as Louise continued mentally reciting her ritual, her heart calmed, and her breathing deepened. She was ready. She was ready. She would show them. She would do this. She was ready.

"I can hardly wait to see how great a familiar spirit you will summon," said a voice like embers down Louise's neck.

"Kirche, if your face is still there when I turn around, I'm going to make it forget it ever had a mouth."

o—o—o—o—o—o—o

This was it.

No thoughts. Just the ritual.

"My servant that exists somewhere in the universe!"

Surprised muttering. Stares. All unimportant.

…Really, it doesn't matter what kind.

"Oh sacred, beautiful and strong familiar spirit!"

It was just her and the spell. Louise… and her familiar.

A mighty beast… A shining steed… A cunning hunter…

"Here I desire and plead from my heart!"

It was the beginning.

Strength doesn't matter. You only need to be there. That's all it takes.

"Answer my call!"

o—o—o—o

Qilavar Lelavana, or Quill as he was more commonly known, was a bit of an odd case.

Quill was strong. Not as strong as a typical two-hander, but stronger than average, at least, with 14 strength. He was also strong in the sense of one's capacity to kill things. Not too much so, as then his hit dice would exceed the limit of the summoning's power, but at fifth level, he would be the most powerful Paladin in any small town. The most powerful individual with Paladin levels, anyways. Well, one Paladin level. A variant Paladin level, of chaotic good rather than of lawful good. Some might say that Quill was not the most Paladinly figure. Quill might reply to them that Paladinhood is in the heart, and that he's done an upstanding job of keeping his own code of conduct, and no, he's not just chaotic for the mechanical benefits, and no, a chaotic good Paladin is not just a lawful good Paladin with looser restrictions, and yes, he's a real Paladin, shut up. In fact, Quill had said these exact words so many times he had started to consider writing a sonnet, lay, or similar craft of wordsmithing to get the point across in a more distinctive manner.

Quill was sacred, ostensibly. He had levels in a divine spellcasting class. One level. Which was not enough to cast divine spells, or give him a noticeable aura of good. Nor did he have sufficient wisdom to cast divine spells, if he were to take enough Paladin levels to gain access to them. Regardless of what he said, he really wasn't much of a Paladin. Having traded Detect Evil for Inspire Courage once per day and perform as a class skill, and having a feat allowing him to trade Smite Evil for Inspire Courage once more per day, Quill could be said to be more of a Bard than a Paladin. Bards, of course, would disdain this idea, owing to his lack of arcane spells, skill points, bardic knowledge, and almost every factor that generally defines a bard. Sadly, the Bard class has a rather uninspiring public image, and despite producing many of history's great warrior kings, spymasters, authors, artisans, and just about everything imaginable on Toril, its members often have trouble being taken seriously. Thus Quill was a Bard to his friends and acquaintances, no matter how much he insisted otherwise.

Quill was beautiful, to the extent that 14 charisma permits. The term was certainly more accurate than "handsome," as although he would somewhat rather it not so, his figure was feminine even by half-elf standards. Sometimes, while in particularly difficult situations, Quill had considered it a mistake to have diverted points from his physical ability scores to Charisma, in light of his nature as a two-handing frontliner with no class features dependent on it. Sometimes, when feeling particularly conflicted about his character creation choices, Quill would spend hours awake in front of a mirror practicing quips and flourishes. That night would have been particularly embarrassing to explain to the party, if not for two of them being medically dispossessed of any sense of humor and the lot of them being medically gits. It was rather embarrassing in any case.

And while Quill was perhaps not the most strictly appropriate candidate for Louise's summons, he was graced with the unusual distinctions of being a Player Character and of having no urgent tasks. Quill had just participated in the completion of a rather significant quest arc, in which his party had saved a barony of moderate size and been rewarded accordingly – at the moment, it seemed unclear to him how he had ever lived without extradimensional storage – and he had a decent charisma and no need to rest and regain spells, which helped propagate further negotiations with the Baron's daughter. As well as his other daughter. And his son. Quill wasn't much of a roleplayer most of the time, but being a paragon of Chaotic Good was exceptionally fun at times. In any case, as he found himself strolling through a grassy courtyard in the small hours of the morning, enjoying life and wanting for a plot hook, the Delimiting Metanarrative decided in its infinite scope that a glowing green portal should open directly before the startled young half-elf.

Quill blinked. There was a portal.

Well, he didn't have spellcraft ranks to positively identify it as a portal, but what else could it be? Nobody would just put down a big glowing damage effect and expect him to walk into it. It could be a portal to an ambush, or the Elemental Plane of Fire. Wherever it went, his party wasn't with him.

Then again, Quill's party was comprised of enough spellcasting power to break the Tomb of Horrors, and contained enough melee power to… well, it contained a cleric and a druid. They would be fine without him, and this was glowing. He could hardly just ignore it.

"When opportunity knocks," Quill muttered with a shrug.

So it was that less than six seconds after the portal to another world opened, Quill the Warblade leaped into it headfirst, never to be seen again.

o—o—o—o—o—o—o

Hello! I've been putting this off for some time now. Get ready, because this is my first story and I expect it to be entirely terrible. I'd like to promise that the quality will improve in future chapters, but I've already written a few of those and that doesn't really seem to be happening. You can at least expect more action later on.

As a crossover between Familiar of Zero and Dungeons and Dragons, this story is primarily aimed at fans of both, but I expect you'll find it fairly enjoyable if you're only familiar with one of the two. If you don't know anything about either... probably don't bother reading this story. Sir Poley's is better anyways.

Speaking of which, make sure that you check out Sir Poley's story, Harry Potter and the Natural 20, also on fanfiction dot net! It is a glorious pillar of fiction, of which i can but hope to trace the shadow.

This story attempts to follow the Rules As Written of D&D 3.5 Edition to the best extent I can manage. This may not always succeed. Please let me know if I mess up. I offer no guarantees that any dice will be rolled legitimately. Quill is ostensibly from Faerûn, because he has a deity and alternative class feature from that setting... but I know very little about Faerûn, so I expect to mess up the fluff elements there constantly. Feel free to also correct me on that if you like. Really, just letting me know whenever I do something stupid would be appreciated. That is to say, please review.

Quill's current character sheet is available at [slash] #id=1135213 (EDIT: That's a myth-weavers sheet, ff dislikes urls and I don't really know how to deal with that). His stats were generated using a 28 point buy, with rolled HP and approximately the right Wealth By Level.