In the end, it turns out that my wives are unwilling to disembark at the estate. Their reasons are varied and many, but Lily-Anne had the most impactful of them, and it sounded like "a few more men at arms will not do much, but someone to talk you down from wanton slaughter just might". Or, to sum it up, they pointed out that lack of firepower is not my problem. The lack of restraint, on other hand... Dad just facepalmed when it was pointed out to him. In the end, we are taking along the dozen of gendarmes, all of them young hale men with swords and muskets. Ostensibly speaking, they also have ranseurs, but there was just no good way to bring the spears into the cabin, so they're just tied in a bundle outside on the cabin siding. I'm surprised father bothered training musketeers, he knows better than anyone that dwarves are... oooh. Oh. Crafty of you, dad.

"So I see dwarves finally licked the breechloading design?" - I quip casually.

"Indeed. As of last week. Some of the gentlemen here were instrumental in testing out the prototypes, and all of them trained with long firearms." - Gerard confirms curtly - "Between their arms and our magic, we should give quite a pause to just about anything short of a dragon."

"Good to hear, because we're going to arrive in twenty minutes." - I agree. Some of the men doubletake at that.

"...That's... quick." - father offers after a bit of a pause.

"Well, you did say it's an emergency, so we're running flank speed. Forty leagues per hour." - I tell him. Doubletakes increase, followed by curious rubbernecking towards the windows.

"Your propensity for breakneck speeds is to our advantage today." - he agrees - "Hopefully, we'll be there before anything unfortunate occurs."

A few minutes pass in silence. I am rather curious as to what the fuck is happening with the la Vallieres, and therefore I am in the nose compartment using a spyglass. Dad's right next to me with his own looking glass at hand. No smoke. Which is already a good sign. Whatever happened, no one put the estate to the torch, as it were. Now that we're getting closer, it does seem pretty fine in general. At least, I can't see any obvious ruination or abundant corpses or anything else... Hrm, except for that guy hacking at the front gates with an axe, that is. Curious. One would think a couple men with pointy sticks would be able to dissuade Lumberjack McUndesired to get a move on... So either he's way the fuck good with an axe to fend off a couple of spearmen at the same time, or there's something wonky going on. Let's see if I can sort things out remotely. If this guy is a problem, let's see how he deals with a sudden panic attack.

...Aaand apparently he just pushes through... Or, wait, no. The initial burst had the effect, I could see him flinching. But then he did something and now the effect is just sort of bouncing off him instead of affecting his mind. Curious. Guy has some kind of inborn talent for nulling magic? That's pretty rare. Someone successfully chimerized a little bit of dragon into their bloodline, perhaps? That would explain la Vallieres asking for help, I suppose. Well then. Since the gates have to remain closed, if this guy is the problem, I'll just hover over the inner yard and drop the ladder. It seems that the guy did not fail to notice our presence, given his gogging. I have to hand it to him, however, he is remarkably quick to return to his breaking in. Tenacious bastard... Who knows the word zeppelin... Curiouser and curiouser. I have been using airship near-exclusively, and there is no historical context in this world for the word "zeppelin". So. Transmigrator? Jumper? Planeswalker? Hell if I know, but he's blatantly not local, now that I think about it.

On one hand, someone else who has a clue would be a good addition. On the other, well... La Vallieres are allies and this guy is being blatantly hostile towards them right now. Might be tricky defusing this. While I mull this over, gendarmes deploy. Not bad, not bad. They could use more training with aerial disembarking, obviously, but lacking practice or not, they're all physically robust young men. Maybe I should build a zeppelin for father to command. And give him some ideas about quick reaction force. That would bolster our reputation and security as a domain... Food for thought.

On the ground, dad's exchanging pleasantries with the lord and lady la Valliere. I vaguely remember the anime they seem to be cribbed from, but my expectations do not pan out, just like with Louise. Lady la Valliere appears to be an artist, of all things, I can smell oil paints on her. I guess this is whom Louise had picked her artistic inclinations from. Speaking of whom, she is also present... and fidgeting a lot. Her older sisters are fine... though again, subverting my expectations. Eldest is... kiiinda plump. Not quite into the "fat" category, but she is definitely well-rounded. And smiles more often than not. The one that was supposed to be sickly is actually... hrm. Either she's a fitness nut or aspires to be a knight, which is odd for a woman but not entirely unheard of. Scratch that, definitely aspires to be a fencer, I can see calluses on her fingers from over here.

"Greetings, everyone." - I proffer as I walk up next to dad. I was about to say "good day" when I realized it would be inappropriate as a greeting, given the situation outside.

"Ah, salutations, maiden Gillespie." - lord la Valliere offers. What's his name?... Dammit, I can't remember. Nevermind, not that important. He coughs awkwardly after a pause and continues - "As you could probably see from above, we are in a bit of a quandary here. To preempt the obvious questions, that fellow outside seems to be capable of some strange magic that makes him utterly impervious to any harm. Thankfully, he is an ordinary man otherwise. I am at a loss to explain his hostility, however, as to the best of my knowledge, we have never met before, and I could not think of any recent action I have undertaken that could be construed as a slight towards anyone in particular."

"He is not interested in talking, is he?" - I quip. It can't hurt to doublecheck, a lot of bad shit went down due to simple misunderstandings.

Viscount frowns. "Oh, he is." - he grits out angrily - "It's just that he refuses to talk until we hand Louise over. Which, obviously, is not an option. Before you ask - we've gone over the last year with Louise already, and we're certain this fellow had never approached her before, so I am at a loss as to why this is his demand. He had been taking an axe to our gates after our refusal and all that we were able to get out of him is that he is, as he puts it, inevitable, and the sooner we bow to that, the better for us. The gall of that bastard!"

"Inevitable, huh?" - I retort - "You know, I think I'll go and chat with the fellow. Point out to him that whatever his durability is, he's still groundbound. Where's his vaunted inevitability would be if I just airlift all of you to Parsee?"

Viscount brightens up and chuckles. "Oh my yes." - he chortles - "By all means, go ahead. I do look forward to seeing his reaction. Inevitable, hah. Impotent is more like it."

Well, that's.. wait. "Before that, though... Did that fellow injure anyone already? He seems to be remarkably, ugh, determined." - I quip.

"Regrettably, yes. A couple of our guards had been manhandled roughly, though thankfully their comrades were able to pull them away before that ruffian did something... unfortunate." - lady la Valliere pipes in - "Do not worry about that, however, my modest skills with healing magic proved to be quite sufficient for that."

Thus reassured, I jump over the gates, drawing a number of surprised and appreciative gasps in the process. Apparently, gendarmes are impressed.

"Hey, Thanos. Let's have a chat." - I call out confidently, as I conjure a table and two chairs. I want him to assume I'm flippant and cocksure, people tend to say more when they assume their opponent is in over their head.

He jerks. Wonder why... Oh. Oh fuck. I just let him know in no uncertain terms I'm also not from here. GG, Alyssa, give your trumps out before the game, now won't you? Guy sets the axe down in the meanwhile. Very... curious. He should have been winded from swinging that big thing around for at least two hours. It is just as well that he has no fucking concept of how to handle the axe, he could have broken through the gate a dozen times already if he had a clue. As it stands, the gates are pockmarked with slashes all over, but being sturdy oak braced by iron bands, they still stand intact. Dumbass had been trying to strike between the bands of iron, ignorant of the fact that the other side has crisscross of them.

"You're like me, aren't you?" - he grumbles - "Thanos, hardy-har-har. Well, I was here first, so bugger off. This is my isekai, my adventure, my fucking destiny. Do not interfere, I don't give a damn! And stop introducing goddamn anachronisms, for crying out loud! It's too early for dirigibles."

"And... how exactly do you know you were here first, pray tell? It's not like I had dirigible in my pocket coming to this world, yanno." - I riposte, getting comfortable on the chair - "You have some fucking gall, noob, coming into MY isekai and stirring shit up."

He sputters, whatever line he had coming up next bungled up and forgotten. This fellow doesn't seem to be particularly strong with logic if this simple rebuttal makes him confused. ...On one hand, it's likely I'd be able to talk rings about this fellow. Which is good. On the other, he might prove himself to be too stupid to fool. And would you look at it, he finally has something to say. It wasn't even five minutes, wow.

"Whatever! It does not matter, don't interfere!" - he finally comes up with - "I don't care if you're like me, I will fight back if you push it."

"Maybe you should start with introductions, you know. And at least some outline of what is that you expect me not to interfere with." - I point out - "To set an example, I am Alyssa Gillespie. I own a bunch of stuff here and there and generally have a lot of say in this kingdom. You, on the other hand, are a complete rando noname. And I mean it, I haven't heard about you at all, meaning you're either the noobest noob or have been so lame so far no one remembers you. So which one it is?"

He grimaces in my direction. Was that supposed to be a fearsome expression? He just looks constipated. The impression exacerbates when he pokes himself in the chest with a finger and then points at me.

"I'm going to use simple words." - he says, while doing the aforementioned gesturing - "Me, god mode, you, squishy. Fuck off."

"It's so cute of you to think you're the only one who got cheats." - I dismiss him airily - "If you think you're so tough, come on at me, bro. I'll toss you into orbit, and I mean that literally."

That gives him a pause. I wonder why. Did he seriously presume no one but him has access to unusual abilities? But, if my prior experiences with such people are of any indication, he is going to dismiss what I just said as a bravado if I don't do something to confirm it. These types don't listen unless you hurt them first. Of course, with his ability to block off attacks, I'm going to have to be a little creative about it. With that in mind, I make a show out of using telekinesis to grab a flower from a meadow over yonder, and "use it" to cave the ground beneath the idiot opposite me, dropping him waist-deep into the ground.

"It's not like I have to hurt you directly, you know?" - I chirp at him - "Keep mouthing off like a caveman and I'mma fucking bury you alive, y'dig? Sure you can dig yourself out, but it's gonna take a while with your bare hands. Imagine - I'mma drop you into the ground, take my time airlifting everyone here to Parsee and just come back every other week to rebury you deeper. Maybe get some laborers over eventually to demolish the structures here and erect a hedge maze instead. We'll call you Minotaur and invent some legends about keeping you contained. How long do you reckon you'll last before you simply go nuts from being repeatedly buried?"

"You're psycho!" - he yelps, clambering out of the hole hastily - "What the fuck is wrong with you? This is fucking murder you're threatening me with!"

"Says the guy recreating a scene from Shining." - I deadpan at him - "You are breaking down a gate leading into a house of my allies with an axe and refusing to explain yourself. Why should I not treat you as an ax-crazy serial killer in the making?"

...I think I'm getting through his thick skull a little. At the very least, he is capable of considering how his outward appearance could dictate his treatment.

"...Goddamnit, fine!" - he yells out loudly, then hushes up, looking around himself in... stupidly shifty manner. Honestly, he could not be more conspicuous if he tried. "Look. I guess you didn't watch the series to the end, or you wouldn't be bothering me." - he then proceeds in a harsh whisper - "Louise is the only one who can save Halkeginia from catastrophe and they just would not fucking listen! She needs to come with me to do what needs to be done! Don't spread this around, the church are all utter bastards and no one else wants to believe."

I... facepalm. "This is not Halkeginia and you're not a familiar of Zero, dumbass." - I then explain slowly - "You are in the kingdom of Champagne, which in terms of FoZ setting would correspond to Gallia AND Tristania AND Romalia. As one kingdom, yes. The analog of Germania is Kraut, which is to the east, not to the north, and separated by a mountain range. Albion corresponds to Albic isles, which are the dominion UNDER Champagne. Furthermore, and most importantly, people are not limited to one element per mage. You just saw me doing earth magic, now watch this."

I ignite a sizeable plume of fire on top of my palm to underscore the point, then extinguish it with a microblizzard, which is water and air in tandem. One would think this is sufficient proof he is sorely mistaken and any name coincidence is in fact just that.

"I know, fuck! The timeline is all tipsy-turvy! I mean, I'm a fucking Brimir, I'm not supposed to even meet Louise!" - he shouts back, cutting himself off when he realizes this is easily audible beyond the gate. He looks around, then ambles closer and takes the chair, leaning on the table intently. "Look. Just... help me, if you insist on butting in. This world is about to go boom and they refuse to even consider working against it." - he continues his whispering - "No one wants to listen so I just have to do things my own way. But I need other void mages to do that, and the only one I know about is Louise!... Wait, wait a moment, if this place is Gallia then the king is another!"

"The king of Champagne is his majesty Abraham Cullen." - I inform him patiently - "He is not Joseph, he was never named Joseph, he did not usurp the throne from his relatives, he does not have a trusted aide named Sheffield and he is not a sadistic nutcase. I happen to know him personally, having been engaged to marry into the royal family, and I can assure you, he is not what you're looking for."

This does not go over well, given that fellow in question descends into glum muttering. Bother.

"Why do you even think you are Brimir?" - I poke at him - "He was not exactly known for invulnerability."

"I know who I am, thank you very much." - he snipes back - "My name is Brimir le Reimir Nidavellir and I have the power of denial."

I... struggle very hard not to snort at that admission. He is in denial, alright.

"Denial of what, exactly?" - I keep poking at him - "And how do you figure it's void magic?"

He looks at me with what presumably is an exasperated expression. "I just know, OK?" - he bites off - "And I can deny anything I want to. I stumble my toe? I deny the pain and it does not happen. I swing axe all day long? I deny the tiredness and it does not happen. Someone tries to stab me? I deny the wound and it does not happen. Get it? Any harm that comes to me, I can just deny. I can't be wounded, can't be poisoned, can't be confounded and I can't be obliviated either!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, we're in Hogwarts now?" - I quip sarcastically - "Don't go there. Seriously, just don't. You can't afford THAT lawsuit, let me assure you."

He just stares at me in confusion. Then waves his hand dismissively - "You know what I mean. Can't have my mind messed with."

"Sure you can." - I needle him - "Maybe not by magical means, but no cheat abilities would save you from regular old lies or gaslighting. Who told you you're Brimir? Who said this is Halkeginia?"

"...I know where you're going with this." - he suddenly changes tack - "Nothing happening, buster. I'm the hero of the story, and I'm keeping it this way. Since you're in the know, you can be my sidekick, but forget about horning in on the main role. That's for me."

...I'm very much not alright with this. The guy is seriously delusional, and his denial powers, as he puts it, are a considerable issue for most people. He seems to have had preemptively denied any kind of being tired, wounded or poisoned. But that last one has to be selective, or he... wait, no, he could have just denied getting hungry. Fuck. I... wait, wait a second. That sounds like an opportunity. I activate a version of me in Paris, quickly throw together a pizza and teleport it inside of myself in situ. Then just surreptitiously pull it out from under the table, set it down, and start nomming on it.

"...Oh you are a cruel cruel bitch." - he tells me, swallowing saliva right after. A bit overly familiar, pal? I'm not your friend. But fine, I will tolerate the breach of etiquette for a moment.

"I'd offer you a slice, but I'm pretty sure you denied getting hungry first thing off, no?" - I tease him. With any luck, his skill with denial ability is crude and he will turn the whole food denial thing off entirely.

"...Fuck, I knew I was forgetting something!" - he grumbles, taking a slice. What? He didn't think to turn hunger off? Good grief. Munchkinry is not strong with this one.

"Let's take five and have a snack, alright?" - I suggest - "I have a gist of what you're on about now, but I'm sure there's an easier way to get what you want. For example, there is no reason to go after la Vallieres with an axe, you'll just scare them like this. Peace out. Let's find out WHERE Louise is needed before grabbing her, you know? I understand that you've been expecting adventures, but it's not going to start well if your first companion is abducted at axepoint. Not to mention, she is a timid girl and would just cry and beg to be set free all the time."

He guffaws. "Louise, timid? Did you even watch the anime!?" - he demands incredulously.

"I live here, and I know her personally." - I explain patiently - "She is a timid girl who does not like crowds. Her hobby is painting. She does not have a temper nor does she have any specific inclination towards explosions. Moreso, she is reasonably apt with water magic, which she uses to keep her paints at optimal viscosity. I've seen her painting many times in the Academy, she could not be further from show's Louise if she tried."

Dude doubletakes. "You're having me on!" - he then blusters through a mouthful of pizza. Gods damn it, pal, say it, don't spray it!

"First rule of lying - do not tell a lie that is easily verified." - I riposte - "What would I gain out of giving an obvious fib? Think about it. There are considerable divergences between what you expect to find and what actually is. Why wouldn't Louise be entirely different either?"

"She's supposed to be a void mage, so she can't be good with water magic. You're just having me on, though I don't get why. I've already told you I'm not giving up on being the hero." - the guy insists - "Oh, I get it! You want to set me up! I'm onto you, buster!"

"So are you Brimir or Saito?" - I demand, as I compress a cubic meter of nitrogen and transform it into a kilogram of assorted cookies, then teleport the cookies in the same way, pulling them out as soon as pizza is over. A pot of real tea comes up next, having been teleported from Parsee. This fucker needs to go. He is going to insist on his delusions, and his talent makes his insistence a bit of an issue because he really can ignore a whole lot of methods typically employed to detain someone. I'm not sure how far his denial can reach. Like, can he deny being caught by lasso? And if so, how would it work? So... let's see how well he can deal with subtle methods.

"I am Brimir." - he explains, as he takes a cookie without even asking if he is invited to them. Unceremonious asshole, we're NOT FRIENDS, don't act like we are. Goddamn idiot. "I'm also Saito." - he continues, as he keeps popping those cookies down - "I told you, I'm the hero of the story. I grab Louise here, we go on an adventure, defeat the king here, then move south to meet the elves. I'm certain I will meet Sasha there, and because I will have more void mages with me, we can stop the cataclysm the first time without needing to postpone things for six thousand years. So no getting stabbed by my familiar in the name of saving elves, we just turn off their magic bomb in the making and go home amid much applause. I suppose you can help... Let me think, oh, yes, the skyship pilot. That would work out very nice."

There is only a quarter of cookies left by now. He is just... devouring them by the handful. And... he just reached into the bottom layer. The one I coated with a dusting of arsenic. Let's see what happens. And he just gulps down at least three grams of it at once. Twice over LD50 for someone of his weight, pretty much a guaranteed lethal dose. Now let's see what happens.

What happens is the guy flips the table. "You fucking bitch, did you just try to poison me!?" - he yells as he leans over me menacingly. I kick him in the nuts. He had his injury and pain denied, of course, but apparently he did not think to deny recoil. I can practically hear the winces of men along the wall as the guy ascends almost two meters in the air, landing on his back a couple steps from me with a thud.

"Personal space means anything to you?" - I inquire acerbically, as I stand up - "Get up, motherfucker, it's time to end this farce. You're not a hero, this is not Halkeginia, the elves do NOT live in the far south and there is no such thing as windstones. You think finding someone named Louise la Valliere is proof you're in your favorite wank material? Think again, because I just had tea with Juliette last week. Followed by watching a duel featuring Hamlet and Laertes. Shakespeare is not your thing? Well good golly gracious, visit Mersaille then. If you're lucky, you can meet brigadier Buonaparte there. Napoleon, dude. Literally Napoleon. My own mother used to be Bradford before marrying into Gillespie family. X-Com, anyone? Or Silent Hill? Or even better, I'm friends with marquis Sadoux, who by all accounts does seem to be this world's version of de Sade. Oliver Cromwell had written to me to discuss the colds remedy purchase! This world is an agglomeration of historic and belletristic names thrown about willy-nilly. A whole lot of them are NOT really similar to what you would expect out of them either."

Aaand... this all goes straight over his head, I see. He hops up and thrusts his hand in my direction imperiously.

"FUCK you, bitch! I take your cookies and I deny your poison! Forget everything, I'm not taking you along. Fuck's sake, what if I wasn't immune to poison? You're not a fucking character, you should know better than trying this shit! Goddamn it, you should be arrested!" - he bellows. Very deeply delusional. I guess he just doesn't see people around him as people, given that he calls them "characters". However, his body is still subject to the very same physical considerations as any other, since he neglected to magic it away. And his explicit statement that cookies were accepted is very foolish. Very.

"Very well." - I agree - "Goodbye, we will not meet again. Because you're about to die." And with that parting line, I raise a wall of earth, ducking behind it.

He is clearly intending to scoff when his eyes round. He lets out a burp, farts, grabs his bulging stomach... and bursts with a loud bang, splattering the immediate vicinity with a mixture of blood, shit and shredded intestines. Cookies were nitrogen. A whole cubic meter of it. And that whole cubic meter suddenly reappeared inside of his body, partially in the intestines and stomach and particularly already in the bloodstream. A cubic meter of nitrogen might not sound like much... but there is one issue with this. Nitrogen is a fascinating compound that can be molecularly rearranged into interesting shapes. In this particular case, I have finagled the transformation. The nitrogen going into cookies was your ordinary atmospheric N2. The nitrogen the cookies reverted into? Octaazacubane, N8. Energy-wise, that amount is equivalent to a little less than five kilograms of dynamite.

Surveying the area, I locate relatively intact arms and head, though hands are mostly absent. Legs... are more or less shredded up top but remained reasonably intact from the thigh and lower. There are unidentifiable pieces of meat, bones and organs all over the place, generously mixed with half-digested shit and blood. The smell is... considerably vile. I'm glad I made a wall to duck behind, getting splattered with this would be annoying. I pick up the head by the hair and consider it critically. Deader than dead, blood flashboiled and turned brain into a sponge. Good riddance. Now... I have to explain. I drop the head back into the mess and turn around to face the opening gates.

___

"...So to sum it up, this person was a madman convinced that Louise needs to be, uh... used for the sake of saving the world from some kind of magical catastrophe that is wildly implausible and impractical?" - viscount reiterates - "And he was so deeply delusional that exploding him from within was the best way to ensure everyone's safety?"

"He intended to go find elves next." - I agree - "I'm certain you have a good idea what happens if you trespass into Evergreens. He might have had his strange power to protect him, but Louise most certainly would not enjoy the same protection and for the elves, there is no reason to make a distinction among trespassers."

He frowns. "He would have gotten Louise killed, no doubt." - he agrees gloomily - "Gods, what a horror. To lose one's mind so badly that execution is the best cure... Though, I have to ask. We could not hear most of what was said, but there was one shout... That man shouted that he was not even supposed to meet Louise. Why was he so obsessed with her if he himself believed he is not supposed to meet her?"

"According to his delusions, he was supposed to set things in motion six thousand years ago so that Louise could finish them today." - I explain - "I have no idea how that was supposed to work. Either he thought himself to be six thousand years in the future or he believed himself capable to travel six thousand years in the past. I hesitate to say which assertion is more asinine than the other. Anyway, everything he feared about was hinged on so-called windstones. Which, according to him, are the stones that collect air magic and eventually become lighter than air. And he thinks they are everywhere and eventually will cause mountains to fly up. Which Louise was supposed to somehow prevent by killing lots of elves. Madman, no other word for it. He also believes that elves do not live around here at all, but could be found in great numbers in the Sultanate. Oh, and he was planning on either attacking or kidnapping his majesty king Abraham, so it would have been an execution in any case whatsoever."

Father slaps viscount on the back jovially. "Cheer up, Carolus. The nutter is gone and not coming back, you can breathe freely now." - he proffers - "Whatever strange powers his madness brought him, he can hardly bring them to bear after being torn to shreds like this."