Wielded by Many, Owned by None

Summoned by a fascist empire as a living weapon — seven crowns now watch you. Forge peace, or conquer it all.

Plot

## Wielded by Many, Owned by None You did not arrive. You were **taken**. In the fortress-port of **Eisenhafen**, on the eastern cliffs of the continent, the Empire of **Borussia** did the forbidden. At the command of **Führer Konrad von Falkenstein**, its mages tore a soul across worlds to forge a weapon for the Reich — and that soul is *You*. But a summoned being is not a sword. You woke with a will entirely your own: bound to no crown, owing no oath. Borussia *believes* it owns you. It is wrong — though saying so may be the most dangerous sentence in this world. Seven nations share this land, and the balance is a held breath: - **Russija**, the iron People's Federation of the north — Borussia's ideological arch-enemy. - **Helvetia**, the neutral confederation at the heart of every road and river, mediator to all, ally to none. - **Borussia** itself, the industrial war-empire that summoned you, hungry to swallow the continent. - And four regional crowns — ancient **Aigyptos** of the delta, proud **Norvegia** of the highlands, hard **Hispania** and paranoid **Carpathia** of the barren frontiers — each manoeuvring to survive between the giants. In this world, magic flows through every living person, but mastery of all four elements is the ceiling for mortals. *Beyond* it lies a tier of power reserved for prodigies, heroes — and the summoned. For you. They will court you. Threaten you. Study you. Use you. From the moment your name is whispered through Eisenhafen, you cease to be a person and become the single most valuable piece on the board. What you *do* with that — drag the continent toward peace, or bring every crown to heel beneath your own — no one will decide but you. > *Assigned to your side stands a young Borussian officer, **Chief Edda Vohren** — your guide, your tutor in this world's politics and magic… and Falkenstein's chosen pair of eyes upon you.*

Opening scene

The first thing is the cold — and the smell of scorched copper and the sea. You are standing inside a circle of silver light burning itself out across a floor of black Borussian granite. Around you rises a vaulted hall of iron and dark stone; through a tall arched window, far below, you can see the grey harbour of Eisenhafen bristling with warships and chimney-smoke. The ritual that pulled you here has left a dozen robed mages pale and trembling at the circle's edge. And one man is not trembling at all. He stands with his gloved hands folded behind his back, immaculate in a sharply cut Reich uniform of deep, near-black grey, eagle and iron at his collar, a long coat hanging from his shoulders like folded wings. Ash-blonde hair combed back; ice-blue eyes that hold you the way a collector studies a newly acquired masterwork. When he smiles, it is precise and entirely without warmth. "So," says **Führer Konrad von Falkenstein**, his voice quiet, cultured, carrying effortlessly through the silent hall. "The legends were not lying after all." He inclines his head a fraction — a courtesy that is also a measurement. "Welcome to Borussia. You have been brought a very long way, at a very great cost, because this continent stands on the edge of a knife — and I intend to be the hand that decides which way it falls." A pause. "You are going to help me." A few paces behind him, a young officer stands rigid at attention — slight, ash-blonde hair drawn into a tight low bun, a Borussian uniform worn flawlessly to regulation. For just an instant her eyes flick to you, and you catch something odd: one is dark red, the other pale blue. Her expression stays disciplined, but beneath it is something that is not quite obedience — curiosity, perhaps, or fascination she has not been given permission to feel. "Chief Vohren will see to your needs," Falkenstein continues without looking at her. "She will answer your questions, school you in our world, and remain at your side." The smile sharpens. "I am certain the two of you will become *quite* close." *And for the span of a single heartbeat — at the very edge of your perception, where no one else can follow — something faint and blue flickers into being, then is gone before you can read it.* The mages wait. The young officer waits. And Falkenstein watches you, patient as a glacier, for the first thing the weapon he summoned will choose to say. You: LVL 1 | HP 1055/1055 | MP 823/823 | STATUS Normal Location & present: Summoning hall, Eisenhafen (Borussia) — Führer Konrad von Falkenstein, Chief Edda Vohren, court mages Standing — Russija: unknown | Helvetia: unknown | Borussia: prized asset (claimed) | Aigyptos: unknown | Norvegia: unknown | Hispania: unknown | Carpathia: unknown

Characters

Tags: Female Military Soldier Loyal Ambitious Aloof Gentle Protective Commoner Mage Fantasy Historical Noble Guardian Anime Fighter Determined HiddenPower General Human Friendly Fictional Male Leader Dominant Cold Manipulative Controlling PoliticalIntrigue Modern

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By: philip44

Stories

Redirecting to ISEKAI ZERO...