The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 105: The Cocagne Affair (5)

Simon and Remedia thus went on a ‘date.’

Both of them used illusions to change their appearances, with Remedia becoming an unrecognizable, elegant blonde lady and Simon putting on his old Whispermire disguise. Simon had selected a high-end, posh Fablan restaurant with beautiful mahogany furniture, velvet seats, and a small stage where a group of performers coincidentally played out a romantic comedy.

“A Fablan-themed restaurant with its own theater… a place designed to appeal to all of my sensibilities,” Remedia mused as a waiter poured them Valian wine. Simon had reserved a solitary table to give them some privacy. “My favorite drink too. Your intelligence service has done its research.”

“Does it really matter how I obtained this information?” Simon replied, not denying it. “So long as you enjoy the evening?”

“It matters that everything you do and say to me will come across as manipulative. Is this the moment where you try to seduce me in the hope of starting a scandal that will sideline my husband and his supporters?”

Of course she had figured it out. “Don’t tell me no man has ever tried to woo your heart, either before or after your husband came into the picture.”

“I do regularly receive such proposals from my nobles,” Remedia replied playfully, sipping her wine, “and I am wise enough to deny them.”

“Has this wisdom brought you any happiness?” Simon asked pointedly, though the fact that she had enjoyed watching her husband being defeated in public had already answered that.

“It spared me many headaches. I will not deny that Filip and I have some… issues… but he is a good man and the better option.”

A good man wouldn’t be so petty as to send assassins over a sparring session, Simon thought. That attack had eased his conscience about plotting to make that man’s life miserable.

“Does he regularly send rats or animal spies after you or my sister?” Simon inquired.

“Sometimes. I have warded the area to ensure they cannot track or observe us, if that is what worries you.” Remedia met Simon’s gaze, and he could sense her seeing through him. “A divorce would lead to another risky tournament for my hand, and an affair would be equally scandalous… which I am sure is why your family sent you here. An alternative should your sister’s engagement fall through, or as a way to drive a wedge in our institutions. This will not happen.”

Beautiful, powerful, and smart, Simon thought. He had to say he was starting to realize why Balzam was so obsessed with this woman. “Yet here you are, playing along with us.”

“I am not a fool,” Remedia replied grimly. “If you’re the least of the Magnos, my country doesn’t stand a chance, even with my power. My army and I will kill many of you, that I am certain, and your soldiers will bleed for every inch of Cocagnian soil you will take… but in the end, you will win.” She let out a heavy, tired sigh. Simon had the feeling she had had this exact conversation with her husband many times before. “We cannot defeat the Overlord and so many Noble Class users at once. It is something Filip and his supporters have yet to accept.”

“Enough that they would ally with the White Unicorn and Illusea to murder a bastard prince?” Simon guessed, catching her by surprise. “Those fireball necklaces are an elven invention issued to their agents.”

“You were well-informed,” Remedia said, sounding a little impressed in spite of herself. “I assume the attack was half payback for that humiliation earlier, half an attempt to break up negotiations over Verdis’ engagement. Filip opposed that match from day one in favor of a princess overseas.”

“Lady Satine Renais, I would assume.” Simon sipped his wine, finding it quite tasty. It fascinated him how wide Ilusea’s web of alliances stretched. He had no doubt the Oracle had been pushing for a Cocagne-White Unicorn coalition for a very long time. “Well, you chose wisely. The path you took may be the only one capable of preserving your country’s autonomy, if not its independence.”

“Thank you.” Remedia waited a moment before asking, “What do you want, Simon?”

Simon shrugged. “The same thing you do, I imagine. Peace between our nations.”

“You misunderstood my question,” she said, her tone sharper than a blade. “I asked what do you want, at the end of it all? Not what your nation wants, or your sister, or the prince of Endymion. You.”

Simon pondered her question for a moment. What did he want? For this reign, the answer was obvious: more magical knowledge, more information on the Zodiac Fiends and the reigns, more insight into Norbelle’s gifts, maybe a Noble Crestone or two… but those were only steps on the path to fulfill a greater goal.

What would his perfect reign look like? He wanted to save the world from the Zodiac Parade for sure, and hopefully prevent Endymion from tearing itself apart in a civil war. He wanted Belzemine, Anna, and Eole to be free and happy, for his friends and retainers to prosper, for his loved ones to be safe…

But in the end, all those elements boiled down to one thing.

“I want the strength not to compromise,” Simon replied.

Remedia blinked. “The strength not to compromise?”

“I have had to do things I wasn’t comfortable with to be where I am today.” Simon clenched his fist as his memory of the Seasonal Key ritual flooded his mind, alongside his many betrayals, the many deaths of his retainers, and the way he had been forced to treat Belzemine to keep her alive. He yearned for the power to live an uncompromising reign without guilt or remorse. “What I want is power, Your Majesty. Power so pure and so absolute, that neither the world nor its people can prevent me from doing what I feel is right, or from protecting those I care about.”

Remedia watched him for a moment, a glimmer of interest flashing in her gaze. “And you think you will find this power through chronomancy research?”

It amused Simon that she had apparently kept close enough watch on him to learn which books he read at the library. “I possess the blood of both demons and Visionaries, like Norbelle,” he boasted. “One side of my lineage crippled the other, granting me some gifts and denying me others, but I believe I can unlock this potential and strive closer to the summits I seek.”

“You wish to delve deeper and gaze into the abyss of magic.” She uttered that last set of words with respect, maybe even awe. “It is the same desire I feel when I see your sister practice her craft.”

Simon finished his glass. “You’re not watching her for inspiration, but to understand how to replicate her gifts.”

Remedia nodded. “Magic knows no frontier. It is not because no Mage has yet to summon an eidolon that it is impossible.”

“Beware, Your Majesty,” Simon teased her. “Some would say it is blasphemous to crave a Visionary’s gifts.”

“And it would be shameful not to try to push our limits further than those that came before,” Remedia replied, a fox-like grin that sent Simon’s heartbeat into a frenzy stretching on her lips. “If the gods do not stop me, then surely they look fondly on this enterprise.”

Simon’s blood stirred in his veins. Her ambition, her grace, her charm… How could any man remain indifferent?

No, he told himself, the memories of Cassandra and Anna flooding his mind. He still remembered the sting of the latter forgetting him, and though the former taught him to live in the moment and accept love again, those feelings might cloud his judgment. I’ve played along with Norbelle for now, but attraction is a bad advisor. I must keep a clear head.

A boy was a slave to his whims, and a man their master.

“What do you want, Remedia?” he asked her out of genuine curiosity.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“I would like to keep my throne and my country in one piece,” the queen answered. “And hopefully for my son to find happiness in his marriage. I want to see Cocagne prosper.”

“That’s what the queen wants,” Simon replied pointedly. “I asked Remedia. What does the woman want?”

This time, it was Remedia’s turn to consider his question in depth. She looked at what remained of her wine, gazing into her reflection, and then allowed her queenly mask to slide away just a bit.

“I want the same thing you do,” she admitted. “I had to compromise on many, many things to improve my queendom. I traded the good of the many for the privileges of the few.” She finished her wine. “I want to gaze into the abyss of magic deeper than any Mage before me, and eclipse them all in power. I want Cocagne to prosper. I want my son to be happy…” She hesitated a moment, before adding, “and I want a daughter.”

“The last one should be easy enough to fix for you and your husband, even considering your issues,” Simon pointed out, squinting. “What is truly going on between you and him?”

“That is not for you to know,” Remedia replied sharply, “And if you think you or any other spy Endymion sends can replace him, then you are sorely mistaken. I will neither cheat nor divorce him.”

“Fine by me,” Simon replied with a shrug. After all, he had been mostly going along with Norbelle’s plan to better study her, but he knew from other reigns that Remedia would eventually sign on with the Church Party anyway. He didn’t need to seduce the queen to save the treaty. “Our goals of sidelining your Militarist faction align, so you can count on our support either way.”

“Excellent,” she said, watching the play. “This was a good evening, but we should return to the palace, lest we worry your retainers and my husband.”

It annoyed Simon, but she was right. It was getting late. “I enjoyed this dinner too. We could do it again.”

“It wouldn’t be wise, Prince Simon,” Remedia chided him. “You earned a private tutelage session though. I have the feeling we can both help each other when it comes to magical research, at least. Your unique affinities for the Light and Dark are… fascinating.”

“I will agree… under one condition.” Simon crossed his legs. “We will have dinner again.”

She laughed again, which he took as a good sign. “I do not know whether you are mad or merely insolently bold,” she said, setting her empty glass aside. “Many would kill for an apprenticeship under the Mage.”

“And I know secrets a Mage would kill for, Your Majesty.” For better or worse. “A dinner is all I ask. A cheap price to pay for forbidden lore, I’m sure you’d agree.”

Remedia hesitated, torn between her inquisitive, Mage-like curiosity and the queenly duties that demanded she not play this very dangerous game. It was a long struggle, during which Simon remained silent, but one side eventually prevailed.

“I have a very busy schedule,” she said tentatively before asserting her boundaries. “And it will be a meeting between friends. Nothing more.”

“Fine by me.” Simon simply intended to make it seem like he was making progress with Norbelle and to get closer to Remedia. He had the intuition she could become a powerful ally if he played his cards right. “Make room for our next meeting. You won’t regret it.”

Remedia chuckled to herself and looked at the stage, the performers bowing to their audience as their play came to an end. “Very well, you insolent prince… But you'd better surprise me.”

And surprise Remedia he did.

“Fascinating…” she said as she observed a small, stone replica of Fabliau, which she had summoned with her magic. She had put on her Mage outfit, which included a black robe collared with crow feathers, a dark crimson cloak, and a purple cravat. Simon could almost taste the magical power radiating from her. “And you say this ‘Vernal Fury’ ritual can destroy an entire settlement?”

“Up to an area twenty miles wide,” Simon confirmed. “Sufficient to wipe out a small town.”

True to her word, his host had invited Simon for a private spellcasting training session in her private laboratory, a hexagonal chamber on the palace’s uppermost floor. It was absolutely filled with workbenches, bookshelves, and shelves filled with arcane reagents or notebooks. Runic symbols glowed on the walls and condensed mana in the area to the point its particles were faintly visible in the air.

As he suspected, Queen Remedia didn’t know any of the Stone Muse’s carefully guarded geomantic rituals. Simon was relatively confident sharing those since they were both obscure and extremely inflexible.

“At the conclusion of the ritual, the chosen sacrifice is slain on top of the city model, symbolically staining the settlement with a citizen’s blood,” Simon explained. “This causes manatree roots to rise up beneath the actual city and ravage it for the length of the vernal equinox.”

“Because that date symbolically represents spring and nature’s renewal,” Remedia noted with keen insight. “Where did you learn this geomantic ritual?”

“I learned from a dryad,” Simon replied evasively, with Remedia raising a skeptical eyebrow at him. “It is true. She developed this ritual in ancient times, when a primitive settlement encroached on her forest without permission, and never shared it with her sisters.”

“I can understand why she chose to do that. It is a devastatingly dangerous spell, if unreliable. Illusea would have used it to devastating effect against Endymion and others would have abused it.” Remedia stroked her chin. “Are you not afraid I will use it against Marthrone one day, Prince Simon?”

“You may try, but you will find our walls are sturdier than any root, and I will know who cast it.” Simon sat on her desk as if he owned the place. “You may then wake up one day to find Fabliau overrun with ivy.”

“A mutually assured destruction pact… and a city is not a country.” Remedia waved her hand, and the Fabliau replica collapsed back to nothingness. “To think you managed to teach me a new spell. There is always more to learn.”

“So you will agree to my dinner proposal?” Simon teased her.

“I will think about it.” Remedia crossed her arms, her fingers touching her elbows. “Are you a demon, Prince Simon, to offer me forbidden knowledge in exchange for favors?”

“If so, you will agree I come cheap.”

“True,” she replied, smiling. “What is the highest tier of spells you can cast? Your true highest Tier.”

“Five,” Simon conceded, “Either in Light-aligned prayers or miasma-aligned conventional spells.”

“Prayers are unreliable, but I know many miasma spells. Your elemental affinities would lend themselves well to psychism as well.” It didn’t surprise Simon that the Mage would guess his affinities by observing him cast spells alone. “Psychism is a school of spellcasting that focuses on non-verbal mental magic, such as telepathy or telekinesis. Your powerful Mind and Soul affinities should make it easy for you to master it.”

“I would be delighted, but if you don’t mind, I would like to practice more chronomancy too,” Simon said, recalling some of the spells he gleaned from the Lighthouse’s forbidden Chronomicon volume. “I’ve read about a spell called Countdown. Do you know it?”

“Of course. Countdown is a Tier V Chronomancy spell that curses the target with Instadeath after five minutes have passed, killing the target by severing the bond between the body and soul.” Remedia smiled. “Are you planning to murder someone?”

Silk, Bert, Casval, Vouivre, all the Zodiac Fiends, the entire Cobweb, and your husband will get his turn if he tries to kill me again. “Just one or two people.”

“I am not certain Countdown would be the best solution to this particular problem, Prince Simon. It is one of the earliest Instadeath-inflicting spells a caster can access and one of the easiest to disrupt. Five minutes is a long time to dispel or disrupt a curse, not to mention that the spell has a limited range.” Remedia chuckled to herself. “Do you know there is a stronger, necromancy variant that can hit a target regardless of distance, but requires knowing the target’s face and name?”

“Truly?” Simon was now curious. “I didn’t know, no. It must be very high-Tier, or else I imagine many dignitaries would fall dead.”

“You are a few tiers short of learning it,” Remedia mused. “I will help you practice Countdown and teach you the Mindflayer Tier Vpsychism spell. It lets the caster project a psychic blast in a cone that stuns and damages the minds of everyone in its path. It would nicely supplement your Chaos Wave spell. First, you need to focus on dark thoughts…”

And Simon had plenty of those.

They spent the morning practicing their spellcasting, with Remedia’s intuition proving right on the money; Simon’s affinities and considerable experience with telepathy meant he quickly took to the Mindflayer spell. It had an extensive range of twenty meters, but Simon could tell the stun effect would be the real advantage. Paralyzing weaker foes for a few seconds could mean the difference between life and death. Countdown would take a bit more practice to master, especially since Remedia restricted him to casting it on mice for training.

Remedia eventually dismissed him to focus on other royal matters, but she voiced interest in helping him unlock his Darkblood and Visionary gifts. Simon suspected she intended to learn how to replicate the traits as part of her objective to bind the Phoenix herself.

He thus left her arcane laboratory rather content with himself, only to find Norbelle waiting for him in the corridor.

“Ah, Simon, there you are.” She looked rather pleased to see him emerge from Remedia’s personal lab. “How did your visit to Fabliau go?”

“Fine, only two people tried to murder me.”

“Shame, what a shame, Fabliau’s streets are so much more dangerous than Marthrone’s.” Norbelle put her hands behind her back. “Did you catch them alive?”

Simon sighed. “Unfortunately, not.”

“Disappointing, but it’s fine. I’m sure our enemies will slip up eventually.” Norbelle put a finger on her lips. “Otherwise, I’ve arranged a private sparring session between you and my fiancé this afternoon. Verdis couldn’t wait to learn your amazing Endymian moves.”

“Does his father know?” Simon inquired. The Ranger was bound to throw a fit upon hearing his son had chosen to practice with the man who humiliated him in public.

“Not yet, but I will make sure he does after the fact,” Norbelle replied with a wicked grin, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “Get along with my fiancé, please. Remedia loves him very much, so the seduction will fall through if you alienate him. I know it’s hard, but you’ll have to bear with it.”

“Don’t worry, I have a lot of experience with unbearable people,” Simon said, the fact that this comment could apply to Norbelle flying completely over her head. “Why do you dislike him so much?”

“Whom, my fiancé?”

“Yes. He seems like a good lad, he’s handsome, a prince… what’s not to like?” Simon asked. “Does he have a dark secret or something, because I don’t get why he hasn’t grown on you.”

Norbelle stared at him with an expression of pure, absolute despair.

“Norbelle?” Simon asked, a little disturbed.

“He bores me, Simon,” she lamented, tears forming in her eyes, “He is so bland, he bores me to death.”