The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 101: The Cocagne Affair (1)

“–considering the key strategic necessity of binding Cocagne to our cause in the pursuit of House Magnos’ worldwide dominion, it is my will that my bastard son Simon be put to use on the matter should this campaign remain incomplete at the moment of my demise,” the Keeper read out loud. “He shall be sent there with an appropriate Crestone in order to serve and assist my trueborn daughter Norbelle, whether as a marriageable asset or a soldier, or to be executed should he refuse to behave.”

Simon feigned a gasp, while Lauriane paled in horror and Thalas smiled wickedly.

“Looks like Father found a use for you, bastard!” Thalas taunted him.

Simon ignored the jab and observed the only person present whose opinion mattered. Euphemia herself frowned, her gaze undecipherable as Shabram leaned over to whisper words in her ear. Simon saw her nod at the spymistress right before everyone’s attention focused on the Keeper’s next words.

“–as a test of my children’s worthiness, I do hereby bequeath my Class to the sole daughter of Gargauth, Vouivre Ashmodai,” it said, to the astonishment of all the people present. “Let whoever slays her and complete the extermination of that fallen bloodline ascend to the Crimson Throne.”

The room erupted into shouts and gasps, “Vouivre?!” “Gargauth has a daughter?!” “A competition?!”

So far, Simon had mostly named Casval in his will as the heir since it took out a threat to Anna’s life, ensured he got killed—no grudge was ever too small to settle—and led the War Party to track down Vouivre anyway. However, the dragon warlord always managed to avoid death and remain a threat in spite of those measures. Simon was curious to learn what would happen if he fully mobilized House Magnos against her. The name Ashmodai would ensure Casval ended up on everyone’s hit list either way.

Most of the people present all but ran through the doors in their hurry to get a lead on the hunt for Vouivre, with Simon doing his best to avoid glancing at Mastemo. Could Euphemia and Norbelle have honestly missed the demon host right next to them? Maybe they knew and were using his secret to blackmail him… it was something to explore during this reign at least.

“When we meet again, bastard, I will be Overlord,” Thalas told Simon on his way out. “And with luck, you’ll be dead.”

Simon squinted at his half-brother. “Will either make you happy, Thalas?”

Thalas frowned at the question. “Yes,” he said, a bit more hesitantly than he would have if it were entirely true. “Yes, of course it will!”

Simon watched his former bully leave without a word. His contempt for the small, petty man was barely matched by the pity he now inspired in him, chasing the shadow and affection of a man who never respected his son.

In the end, only Euphemia, Shabram, and Lauriane remained behind. The empress dowager pitilessly stared at him, while Simon’s half-sister stepped forward.

“Don’t you even dare, Your Grace,” Lauriane warned threateningly.

“You have heard my husband’s will, Lauriane, as did all of the generals,” Euphemia replied coldly. “They will act on that testament even if I do not. That man treated us all as pieces.”

“This was a shrewd move from His Majesty,” Shabram pointed out, “As I have told Her Grace, although we have secured a royal engagement for Princess Norbelle, King-Consort Filip remains suspicious of our activities and might gather more support in Cocagne’s senate to oppose us. Sending another of His Majesty’s children to the Queendom would convince his wife that we are serious about peace and grant us more leverage in negotiations.”

“But I don’t want to be shipped off to Cocagne!” Simon ‘protested.’ “I was told I could attend the Academy!”

“You should know by now that few people in this world can do as they please,” Euphemia replied, her eyes meeting his own. “Do you know what your father told me when I asked for your head after you dared to punch my son Thalas in the face?”

Simon scowled. He never did learn why his father had saved him that day. “No.”

“He replied, ‘Why would I execute the man of the two?’” Euphemia sneered in disdain. She obviously still resented her husband for that insult years later. “So prove yourself worthy of that lofty compliment if you wish to keep your head. While I consider this matter settled, my son has not forgotten that slight and he will act upon it when given the opportunity.”

“None of you vipers will touch him,” Lauriane threatened the empress. Every reign reminded Simon why she was his favorite sister. “I won’t let you–”

“Wait,” Simon cut in, glaring at Euphemia. “Father’s will says I will get a Crestone, and that I am to help Norbelle in Cocagne. That’s all.”

Euphemia frowned. “What is your point?”

“That means I will be free to go with the Crestone once Cocagne falls under Endymion’s control,” Simon replied. “I just need to help Norbelle with her mission, and then we’re done.”

“You will no longer be our concern should you achieve this feat, yes,” Euphemia conceded. “I do not care whether you choose to join the Academy or disappear afterwards.”

Lauriane looked at him with concern. “Simon, are you sure about this?”

“I don’t want to give her or Thalas any excuse, or you to be in trouble because of me,” Simon replied earnestly. “You’ll already have your hands full.”

“Still…” Lauriane clenched her jaw, torn between concern and practicality.

Euphemia studied Simon for a moment before turning in Shabram’s direction. “You said one of our prisoners has a Scholar Crestone?”

“Yes indeed.”

“Then he may have it. Cocagne prizes spellcasters above all else, but scribes are still honored. He might prove useful to my daughter as a clerk or assistant.” Euphemia walked past Simon and Lauriane without sparing them much of a glance. “I leave you to arrange his transportation, Shabram.”

Are you that eager to get me out of your hair and so confident that I am no threat to your daughter’s ambitions, Your Grace? Simon wondered as he watched her leave. Such a poor Judge of character.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Simon,” Lauriane apologized.

Simon cracked a smile. “Just make sure Thalas doesn’t get the Overlord Class, and I will forgive you.”

“Do not worry about that. Louis will put this Vouivre into the ground and that upstart empress in her place.” Lauriane then glared at Shabram. “If anything happens to Simon, I will hold you personally responsible.”

“I will keep it in mind, Your Highness,” Shabram replied with a pleasant smile, knowing everything had gone exactly according to her master’s plan.

Simon now had a perfect excuse to join Norbelle’s retinue and leave for Cocagne without arousing suspicion, and obtained a Class that could let him hide some of his abilities. Although Scholars traded pure spellcasting progression for analytical abilities, few would raise an eyebrow if Simon suddenly discovered some surprising affinity for spellcasting thanks to it… or why he would one day request access to Cocagne’s grand library.

Simon would be sure to thank Lorimor for his donation in a later reign.

Simon spent the next few days preparing for his departure.

The first thing he did was to have Shabram arrange Eole’s ‘disappearance.’ He met with her in secret, freed her, gave her his prophet spiel, and then sent her on her way for her own safety. As much as he appreciated her company, the links between the Cobweb and the Church of the Light might cause the former to track her down or cause issues down the line. At least Leonard and Meredith would stay with him for this trip.

The second thing he did was to meet with Belzemine to arrange the same anti-elf conspiracy operation he ran last reign. And the third…

“Here are the cattle you requested, Your Majesty,” Shabram said as she introduced him to a barn at the edge of Marthrone. Twelve cows idled within their enclosure. “I purchased them alongside the farm to ensure they are not disturbed. They possess strong mana reserves for their kind and won multiple prizes at dairy shows.”

“Excellent,” Simon said before putting on his Overlord outfit and addressing the cows, his Unquestionable Ruler Perk ensuring they would submit to his will. “Can you understand me, ladies of the plains?”

His All-Seeing Perk translated his words into whatever language cattle used, causing the cows to perk up and stare at him. “Moo, are you the new nourisher?” one of them asked. “The hand that feeds?”

Simon had learned in Telluria that creatures like hellhounds could be branded so long as they verbally agreed to bear a brand out of their own free will. It was time to confirm whether or not this applied to normal animals, too.

“I am your new master, and a gift I offer you: brands that do not hurt and reward instead!” Simon opened his hand and manifested a Brand of Lust. “Accept it, and you shall never grow hungry again! You shall be free of age and disease, healthy and eternal!”

The cows mooed in enthusiasm, to Shabram’s amusement. Simon proceeded to brand them one after another. This confirmed he could probably mark any beast or monster, should they submit to his will.

“I cannot help but wonder why your father never made much use of those brands, especially if the Overlord can use them to restore themself,” Shabram pointed out once he completed his task.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to NovelBin for the genuine story.

“My guess is that since brands create a soul-bond between the branded and me, it can create vulnerabilities others can exploit,” Simon said. “Still, I doubt anyone will expect the Overlord to keep a barn of cows to heal himself with.”

“I will ensure your cows are kept in a secure and innocuous location.” Shabram crossed her arms. “Is there anything else Your Majesty wishes for?”

Simon nodded. “Do you know of any ability that can breach through anti-teleportation wards?”

Shabram stroked her chin. “May I ask what Your Majesty has in mind?”

Because I am sick of having my escape routes cut off. “I suspect I will face opponents who can block teleportation within a certain area, and I would rather avoid being trapped.”

“I see.” Shabram pondered his question before confessing her ignorance. “I unfortunately do not know much about the subject. The Summoner has Perks that let them summon allies inside teleportation-warded areas, but I do not know if they can teleport out of one. I have also read reports that the Adventurer has a teleportation ability of some kind, but its range and limits remain to be assessed.”

Oh? A pity that they had disappeared then. Simon guessed it could be worth investigating whether or not that Perk would be a good addition to his collection. “Is there no empowered teleportation gem that can break through such boundaries?”

“Not that I know of. Teleportation gems are extremely rare and costly, with only high-level crafters and spellcasters being capable of manufacturing them. Moreover, the fact that they need to imprint on a given location and shatter after a single use makes extensive use of them extremely impractical. Current imperial research focuses on finding cheaper methods to mass-produce or at least recycle them rather than improving their potency.”

Simon guessed that made sense. Only House Magnos, Duchar, Mastemo, and Alphonse’s party had made use of those gems, and they carried a mere handful of those for extreme emergencies even then.

“I want Imperial Intelligence to commission an improved teleportation gem project and research methods to break through anti-teleportation wards,” Simon ordered Shabram. Even if they couldn’t complete it in this reign, he could remember the information and carry it to a future loop to continue it. “Keep me constantly updated on its development.”

“As Your Majesty wishes.”

“There is another thing that bothers me.” Simon crossed his arms. “You know I can use brands to drain the life of others, yet you willingly accept them.”

Shabram smiled back. “I am confident I will be more of use to Your Majesty in my current capacity than as a sacrifice.”

She would be very right under normal circumstances, but her words only filled Simon with guilt. The risk he would forget himself in the heat of combat would remain a constant threat, and he should not take her for granted.

“Is there something you wish for, Shabram?” Simon inquired.

“I am quite happy as I am, Your Majesty. I simply seek to continue serving in my current capacity.”

“I know that,” Simon replied. “I was thinking more of a gift for you or Aegio, as a token of gratitude for your services.”

His proposal seemed to take Shabram slightly aback, probably because Balzam Magnos never offered anyone something like that. She pondered his proposal for a moment, studying him in silence until she reached a decision.

“There is a favor I might ask from Your Majesty,” she admitted. “However, I would rather wait until you sit on the Crimson Throne and rule in the open before claiming it.”

“I see.” Simon guessed it had to be an official Overlord decree or a request that had to be backed with state power. “Very well. We can continue this discussion when I return later.”

“Your airship is ready to depart anytime, as are your retainers,” Shabram informed him. “It will deliver you to the capital of Fabliau. I have compiled detailed briefings on Cocagne’s history, geography, and political situation so you can arrive prepared.”

“Then let’s not waste any time. I am ready.”

—----

Although he had already read much about Cocagne in the past, Simon spent the flight catching up on its greater intricacies.

A Magocracy at its core, Cocagne’s government was divided into three main branches: the royal family, led by its Queen and guardian of the nation’s Noble Crestones; a legislative body called the Senate, which represented the cities, economic sectors, and noble families of the country; and the Magisterium, an order of spellcasting judges magically enforcing the laws of the land through an army of golems. The head of the state was the Queen, who wielded the Mage Crestone, and whose husband always received the Ranger Crestone. The King-Consort was selected from a tournament open to every citizen and where magic was forbidden, which in theory ensured the country’s mightiest and most competent warrior would defend the nation from outside threats.

In practice, Cocagne’s powerful spellcasting noble families held much influence over the Senate and Magisterium, and King-Consorts were usually selected from non-magician members of their lineages. The Queen held great power, true, but she wasn’t an absolute monarch like Endymion’s Overlord and had to placate powerful factions to keep the peace.

According to Shabram’s reports, the country was actually somewhat divided between an ‘Militarist’ faction supporting King Filip, who advocated a stronger response to Endymion’s expansion by allying with the White Unicorn or offensive actions to check their power; and an ‘Autonomist’ faction gathered behind the Queen, who pushed for economic integration with the empire as an allied state while preserving their autonomy.

It’s like a microcosm of Endymion, Simon mused as he continued to read the reports. The Autonomist faction had apparently gained ground in Cocagne’s senate due to King Filip’s inability to provide his wife with a daughter to continue the royal bloodline, which in turn led to Norbelle’s engagement to Cocagne’s Prince Verdier. And so the noose is cast.

Males couldn’t inherit Cocagne’s throne on paper, so the prince’s engagement to Norbelle shouldn’t threaten the Queendom’s stability… but if she were to give birth to a daughter while Remedia continued to fail to conceive a female heir, then Endymion could push a Magnos-blooded claimant on the throne and eventually assimilate the country.

This particular scheme wouldn’t yield gains until a few years at best and included a lot of uncertainties, but Norbelle seemed convinced she could hasten along the process somehow. Simon had the suspicion it involved getting rid of King Filip, though he would need to see what his half-sister had planned first.

“We are approaching the Deadlands, Your Highness,” Meredith warned him.

Simon looked through the airship’s porthole. Endymion’s southern region of Navarre was mostly a heat-scorched desert with oases of arable land, but the frightful Deadlands that separated it from Cocagne was a veritable sea of sand devoid of life or landmarks besides half-buried ruins and desolate mountains. History books said the whole region used to be a verdant forest until Overlord Gargauth set the local manatrees on fire during his great continental purge of all other dragons, at which point the region underwent a complete ecological collapse. Only goblinoid bandit tribes inhabited the area nowadays.

Ironically enough, this ‘natural’ barrier created by the Second Overlord had been one of the main obstacles to the Third’s efforts to expand southward. Only airships could reliably cross it.

They flew well into the night and the next day, at which point they were intercepted by Cocagne’s defenders.

The Queendom had few to no airships, since Endymion and Muse had a near monopoly on this technology, but it had plenty of golems and magical constructs to call upon. The two that arrived to escort Simon’s vessel nearly gave him a heart attack when he saw their wings and draconic profiles, only to breathe in a sigh of relief when he saw they were covered in gleaming metal rather than scales. Two machines the size of Casval’s true form soared above the clouds, their joints made of cogs and gears, their wings thin sails of enchanted cloth, and their hearts boiling steam furnaces. They breathed no fire at the airship, but they did flank and force it to follow a certain itinerary.

Cocagne then soon came into view.

Its landscape couldn’t be any more different to the Deadlands. It was lush and verdant as far as the eye could see, with farmfields and vineyards fed by waterways improved by spellcasters. They flew over bucolic villages and great cities, then approached the great capital of Fabliau.

Located on a river delta where the Queendom’s two main rivers flowed into the sea, it was roughly the size of Valne’s port of Rosanne, where Simon once spent a reign with Eole and Belzemine. Protected by a great ring of fortifications and connected to the riverbeds by two great bridges, it was quite the lovely sight, with white spires spewing multicolored smoke from crafter forges and spiraling iridescent domes glittering in the sunlight. The Cocagne Palace, home to the royal family, towered over the city’s heart. While its many marble and whitestone towers were quite elegant, Simon had to admit it didn’t hold a candle to Frightwall’s demonic majesty or the Lighthouse’s towering glory… if not for one detail.

It was flying.

The royal palace was floating roughly thirty meters above a complex set of waterways connecting the city’s districts, hovering in place thanks to some kind of miraculous enchantments that left Simon dazzled. His thoughts immediately turned to the kish’s floating sanctuary in the sky. Did a similar process keep this castle afloat, or was the Mage so talented that a spell of theirs could defy gravity itself like Exodeos had?

Their airship landed at a ‘landing pier’ near the castle, where they were ‘welcomed’ by a set of clockwork-powered golems in gilded steel armor. Norbelle came to greet him alongside her personal bodyguards and a handsome teenager of fourteen, maybe fifteen years old, with brown hair, deep purple eyes, and pimples on his cheeks. He was tall and sharp like a spear, and dressed in traditional garb bearing Cocagne’s phoenix heraldry.

“My dear half-brother, I am so glad to see you!” Norbelle greeted him with a warm smile that immediately set off alarm bells. She took Simon’s hand into her own and then kissed him on not one, but both cheeks. “Did you have a pleasant flight?”

“It was… pleasant enough.” This was either an impostor, or Norbelle was playing the loving little sister role for her audience. Simon decided to play along for now. “I’m glad to see you too, Norbelle. I’ve missed you greatly.”

“I can’t wait to show you around this beautiful country.” She then ‘remembered’ her companion. “Where are my manners? Let me introduce you to my fiancé, Crown-Prince Verdis of Cocagne!”

“I’m just a prince, Norbelle,” Verdis replied shyly, gallantly putting a hand on his chest and saluting Simon. “It is an honor to meet you, Prince Simon.”

“I am no trueborn prince, I’m afraid,” Simon replied.

“Nonsense!” Norbelle said with a small laugh, her hand gripping his own tightly. “You may have been born on the wrong side of the sheets, but you have always been our kin since we were children!”

Yes, your mother and brother loved me so much that they wanted my head on a spike. Simon forced himself to smile. “That takes me back… I hope they haven’t treated you too poorly here.”

“Trust me, Fabliau has become a second home to me, and it will become yours too before you know it,” Norbelle lied before inviting him to come along. “Come, I’ll show you our quarters.”

“I could show your brother around too,” Verdis said eagerly.

“Verdis, you know your father will complain if you skip training again,” Norbelle said, her gentle smile sweeter than honey. “I’ll come by with Simon as soon as we drop off his belongings. I’m sure you’ll enjoy sparring with him.”

Verdis’ eyes lit up with excitement. “You’re a warrior too, Simon?”

“I’ve received training, but I wouldn’t call myself a warrior,” Simon replied politely.

“He’s too modest to boast,” Norbelle said as she dragged Simon away from the prince. “Later, Dear!”

Simon followed Norbelle as she guided them to a set of three lavish guest bedrooms on the third floor of the castle with a splendid view of the city below them. Each was furnished with finely crafted beds with woolen blankets, cabinets, and chairs. Norbelle ‘kindly’ asked Meredith and Leonard to take care of Simon’s belongings, then invited him inside her own room for a private chat.

“Ugh, what a moron,” Norbelle said the moment her Endymian guards closed the doors behind them. “He’s like a puppy dog I cannot kick! Insufferable!”

There’s the Norbelle I know, Simon thought. “I take it that this room is warded against divination or eavesdropping?”

“My dear Simon, always quick on the uptake.” Norbelle sat and crossed her legs, her sweet and loving sister mask gone in an instant. “So Father is dead?”

Simon took the fact that she needed to ask rather than having already seen it in a dream as a good sign. “Yes. He sent me here in his will.”

“Which means you're now my… servant?” Norbelle put a finger on her lower lip. “You must do everything and anything I ask?”

“Everything that helps you with your mission,” Simon replied, establishing boundaries. “Don’t push it, Norbelle.”

“Am I dreaming, or are you talking back to me right now? Getting bolder as you age, brother?” Norbelle seemed more amused than anything. “Of course, we must keep our minds on the mission. I would have preferred to have Dassein here, but…” Her eyes traveled up and down Simon’s body. “You might do. You might do nicely…”

Something about her smile sent shivers down Simon’s spine. “Do what?”

“I have a question for you, Simon. A question whose answer will determine the entire course of this Queendom’s future.” Norbelle’s teeth showed behind her lips as she learned forward. “Are you into older women?”