novelraw Chapter 109: The Cocagne Affair (9)
Chapter 109: The Cocagne Affair (9)
A week passed after the council meeting, with Remedia delaying their trip to Lafontaine until she could deal with some urgent matters. Everything was more or less going as Simon expected it to.
Remedia’s Shadowguard agents confirmed the existence of the hidden airship base, with a little secret help from Shabram, and she swiftly named Simon a special tactical advisor invited to sit on the council. He immediately exploited the situation by offering Norbelle both information on Cocagne’s internal decisions and to lobby the queendom to support Euphemia in return for concessions on Lauriane and Justine. Simon didn’t trust his half-sister in the slightest, but he knew Euphemia would be pragmatic enough to hold her leash.
His plan for the Elf Conspiracy unfolded, with Patriate Malphas and his daughter being captured and Shabram revealing to the various parties their nature as elven infiltrators. Anselma Flauros was arrested alongside her son and husband, while Justine Eligos ‘miraculously’ avoided the same fate.
Simon had no idea how long the reveal of elven infiltrators in Endymion’s power structure would delay the civil war, if at all. Lauriane thought it would unite his family against the threat of Illusea, but he didn’t share her optimistic vision of their family’s dynamics. Louis, in particular, struck him as having already made up his mind about wiping out all his rivals.
Simon thus ensured Satine’s White Unicorn supporters in Magvolia were spared from the purge in preparation for the conflict he feared was inevitable without an Overlord to rein in the various factions. This should give the Church Party and Cocagne the edge.
Otherwise, Simon spent his mornings trading spells and rituals with Remedia, who taught him four new Tier V tricks for his arsenal: Petrify, the very same curse Balzam so loved to use to turn his foes into statue trophies; Nightveil, to obscure his features behind a veil of miasma; Impwall, a diabolism spell that summoned a small wall of imps to intercept an attack; and Ectoplasmer, a Psychism miasma spell that allowed the user to literally hurl a piece of their own soul at targets in the form of a malevolent dark spirit.
“Isn’t it dangerous for the user to mutilate their own soul?” Simon asked Remedia during their latest practice session.
“What we consider the soul is no more than the core of our mana system,” Remedia replied. “A spellcaster technically spends soul energy every time they cast a spell, because they spend willpower to shape it into tangible matter. Ectoplasmer simply weaponizes the processes by directly firing raw malice at the target to inflict Soul damage.”
“I see…” Simon stroked his chin as he considered the spell’s underlying mechanics. “A normal person transforms their mana into miasma by focusing on negative thoughts, and then they fire it in the form of a corrupted proto-spirit… but since I am naturally producing miasma, I can skip the first part entirely.”
“You catch on quickly, Simon.” Simon had noticed Remedia was calling him by his name rather than his title more often than not nowadays. “We usually call miasma-corrupted soul energy ‘ectoplasm,’ and many intangible undead use it to interact with physical objects. Ectoplasmer was originally created by a past Necromancer to mimic these properties.”
“Would that explain why undead often rise in miasma-tainted areas?” Simon inquired. “Souls whose bodies perish in a dungeon are corrupted into ectoplasm?”
Remedia nodded slowly, a smile stretching on her lips. “You would make a fantastic Mage, Simon.”
Was there any greater compliment coming from a sorceress-queen of her caliber? “You flatter me, Your Majesty.”
“I am simply stating facts. You could easily marry your way into diabolism or necromancy-focused noble houses.” Remedia hesitated a moment before adding, “I could arrange a betrothal.”
She wants to keep me in Cocagne and tie me to her nation, Simon figured. He guessed he should have expected as much. He had already received quite a lot of dinner proposals from senators and noble houses in the past week, especially now that the favor the queen showed him had become plain for all to see.
“I appreciate the offer, Your Majesty, but I was sent here to assist my sister,” he replied politely. “I am likely to leave Cocagne and return to Endymion once I have fulfilled my duty.”
His answer displeased the queen. “I thought receiving my apprenticeship would make you reconsider.”
“It did, to a point.” Simon doubted he would ever find a better magic mentor than Remedia. “However, the Zodiac Fiends’ crystals are spread across the world and time passes far too quickly. I will need to pursue my investigation of them eventually.”
“You would have an easier time tracking them down with my nation’s resources at your disposal.”
Simon chuckled. What an interesting proposition. “Would you give them to me?”
“If you ask,” she replied, returning his smile. “Your advice has been extremely helpful so far, and you have been a good influence on Verdis. I will do what it takes to keep you around.”
Well, well, she has come to trust me a great deal over the past few weeks… Simon was rather flattered.
“We can discuss this more during lunch in Lafontaine, since it is almost time,” Remedia decided. “Have you made the necessary arrangements?”
“Yes, I have informed my sister and retainers that I will be gone for the day.” The latter had protested, and the former simply mischievously smiled at him. What was she imagining?
“Excellent.” Remedia took his arm into her own. “Teleport.”
Reality shifted around them, with the arcane laboratory turning into a nondescript, small apartment with closed windows. Simon assumed it had to be a Shadowguard safehouse the queen could use to enter Lafontaine undetected.
“May I ask which Tier a Teleport spell is?” Simon inquired as he put on a Fiendmask to change his appearance.
“Tier VIII,” Remedia replied, the queen following his example and using her magic to transform into a common, if elegant, woman. “It is a more advanced version of the lower-Tier Recall spell used to create the misnamed teleportation gems. Whereas Recall sends the user to a premarked location, Teleport lets the caster appear at any place they have already visited.”
Tier VIII… What a frightful number. That meant it would take Simon at least thirty levels before he could even try to master that spell, which might take dozens of reigns. That also meant Remedia was likely around level 70 or above, which would put her in the same league as the likes of Dassein or Lauriane.
“Isn’t it counterproductive to keep all those Vassal Crestones on yourself as well?” Simon asked when they left the safehouse. “Isn’t your experience split between all of them when you cast a spell?”
Remedia smiled ear to ear. “Shall I explain it to you over lunch?” she asked teasingly. “The secret to leveling up a Noble Class?”
Lafontaine turned out to be worthy of its reputation as a pleasant and vivacious center of commerce. As vast as any Endymian port, it boasted full piers of ships from Uyo, Fablan, and Scaland on their way to the western continent and back, an enormous market where Cocagne’s magical wonders were sold to worldwide trading groups and adventurous merchants, and an enormous colosseum. Remedia invited him to a beachside restaurant with a direct view of the latter, near a small chapel.
“The more one levels up in a Class, the less experience they receive from mundane tasks,” Remedia said while Simon checked the restaurant's rather expensive menu. “When I first received the Mage Crestone, learning a Tier I spell was enough to earn me a level. Now the penalty is so great it has become a waste of time.”
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“Then why split that precious experience seventeen ways?”
“Because the lower-leveled Vassal Classes do receive experience from mundane spellcasting,” Remedia replied upon ordering a local alcoholic beverage called champagne. “They grow in power each time I cast a low-Tier spell my Mage Class no longer benefits from.”
Simon immediately caught on to the trick. “And since one can transfer related Vassal Class experience to the Noble one, you can let the former store up experience from those activities and then give it directly to your Mage Class…”
“Now you see the exploit. This still lets me receive experience from mundane tasks I would have done anyway.” She smiled at him. “Of course, there are limits to this technique. First of all, experience is not levels, so sacrificing a level 40 Diabolist Vassal Class may only earn me a fourth of a Mage level’s worth of experience nowadays; and second, I would obviously earn more experience if I practiced high-tier spells or raised castles into the sky.”
“But this lets you rule without sacrificing your level progression,” Simon replied. How annoying that the Overlord had no Vassal Class of its own, or he could have greatly accelerated his level progression with this trick. “This must consume an ostentatious amount of Crestones in the process.”
“The perks of royalty,” Remedia quipped back. “I recommend the bouillabaisse, if you wish to try a local dish.”
“I will trust you on that.” Simon set the menu aside. “Why pick this place? Is it a Cobweb front?”
“No… but the arena is.” Remedia frowned, her gaze turning to the colosseum. “Do you know the status of slavery in Cocagne?”
“I know it is legal, but tightly regulated,” Simon replied, quickly guessing where this was going. “That it’s mostly constrained to slave gladiators.”
“Yes. Gladiatorial combat is an old and honored tradition in Cocagne since nobles started using them to settle disputes as an alternative to spellcasting duels.” Remedia let out a heavy sigh. “The Tellurian slave trade of beastmen was always strong, but it exploded after Endymion began to push north. Slaver ships make a stop in Lafontaine to introduce the men as gladiators, then move west to sell off the women and children as prostitutes.”
Simon scowled in disgust. “And nobody tries to stop this?”
“My husband fought hard to curtail the slave trade.” Remedia smiled at Simon’s slight surprise. “That astonishes you? Filip is the Ranger. He is more sensitive to the plight of beastmen—or shifters, as he calls them—than anyone else in Cocagne.”
“That’s good.” The man had slightly risen in Simon’s esteem. He wondered if he should introduce him to Eole in a reign where they weren’t at each other’s throats… “Why did he fail?”
“Because I shackled him.” The food finally arrived, being made of a mix of seafood, vegetables, and soup. “When I took Cocagne’s throne, our peasants, our serfs, were slaves in all but name. They were bound to their land, denied pay and any higher education, and left at their lords’ mercy. Not being an absolute monarch, I had to make…” The queen cleared her throat. “Concessions to improve their living situation.”
Simon scowled upon putting two and two together. “You traded the slavery of foreign shifters for your citizens’ freedom and happiness.”
“Yes, I did. This is something Filip never quite forgave me for.” Remedia met his gaze. “Am I a bad person for choosing this way?”
“Why are you asking me this?”
“Because I believe someone in your unique position understands better than most.”
Simon froze in his seat and studied the queen for a very, very long time. She faced him without a word, her face blank, her hand holding her champagne with a slight undercurrent of tension. His gut told him she was ready to teleport away in a pinch, depending on his reaction.
She knew. Somehow, she knew. He must have given himself away somehow, or she pieced it together from other hints. Watching him cast spells could have been enough to guess the truth for someone as experienced as the Mage.
Yet Remedia hadn’t struck him down or slain him where he stood, and instead invited him to a restaurant in the open to make him feel safe. Simon took that as a sign of trust, or at least a show that she wanted an amicable discussion rather than a fight.
“I cannot say,” Simon admitted. “I am in no position to judge you… though I would tell you not to give up and stop halfway through your reforms once you have the power to act.”
“I will not.” Remedia hesitated a moment before addressing the leviathan in the room. “Did you kill your father to avenge your mother?”
She wasn’t mincing words. “No,” Simon replied warily, “Though I wish I had.”
Remedia squinted at him over her champagne. “Why do you have the Overlord Class then?”
“Because everyone is wrong about how the Overlord Class is passed on,” Simon replied. “It was my brother Louis who killed our father, but it is I who inherited the Class anyway. The Crimson Throne does as it wishes.”
“And the light megalith answers your prayers still, in spite of everything.” She glanced at her reflection in her drink. “I think I see how it is. You weren’t picked because you were the most malevolent candidate available, but to deny the Light a powerful champion.”
Simon scoffed. It was a good guess, and while he thought it was more likely that the Class went to whoever killed the Overlord the most across their predecessor’s reigns, she might even be right in a way. It seemed cruelly ironic for Abraxas to corrupt and torment a man once destined to become the Paladin.
“What gave me away?” he asked.
“A few things. My inability to see your real Class, your otherworldly talent, your affinity for miasma… the truth wasn’t hard to glimpse when I learned of your father’s death.” She finished her glass. “Did you come to Cocagne for the Zodiac Fiend, or for my Crestone?”
I came for Norbelle. “A bit of both,” Simon admitted. “I haven’t lied about the comet and the threat the Zodiac Fiends represent, but I had hoped to find a solution to my Class’ restriction to miasma spells.”
“How so?” Remedia looked deeply curious. “By awakening your latent Visionary and Darkblood potential?”
“Maybe.” Simon had no idea if that would help him on that front. “The Overlord is capable of consuming Crestones to steal one of their Perks.”
Remedia blinked in surprise. “Truly?”
“Yes.” Simon guessed that wasn’t common knowledge, even among scholars. “I had hoped to find a Perk worth consuming in Cocagne.”
“That is a frightful ability…” Remedia looked wistfully at the ocean, and then burst out in laughter all of a sudden.
“What’s so funny?” Simon asked, taken aback. He had the feeling that he had become the butt of an inside joke he didn’t quite get.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… just a moment…” Remedia took a few deep breaths to calm herself down, though her smile didn’t fade away in the slightest. “Alright.”
“Alright, what?”
“Alright,” she said with a mysterious grin. “I will let you consume the Mage Crestone, Prince Simon.”
Simon blinked in disbelief. “Is that a joke?”
“No, not at all. It won’t be as much of a sacrifice for me as you think.” Remedia played with her glass. “As the Mage, I know how to reconstitute my Crestone should it be destroyed… or summon it back to me should you try to steal it instead.”
What the… That would have been an unbelievable claim coming from anyone except the Mage, but elven spellcasters created the original Classes in the first place. Remedia could have memorized the blueprints, found a way to recreate the Noble Crestone, or learned whatever ritual Illusea once used to bind the Classes in the first place.
“What’s the catch?” Simon asked with suspicion. This was too good to be true. “You won’t give it away for free, will you?”
“Of course not. You will have to fulfill two…” Remedia stroked her chin and increased her price. “Let’s make that three wishes. Fulfill three of my wishes, like the genies of legends, and I will let you consume any Perk from the Mage Crestone. We can form a magical contract to ensure we both fulfill our end of the bargain.”
Simon grit his teeth and considered the proposal. Having the Mage willingly give away her Crestone saved him the trouble of stealing it or waiting for an opportunity that might never come, and Remedia didn’t strike him as the dishonorable type. She would only need to inform Euphemia or Endymion if she truly wanted to ruin him. He had to assume her proposal was genuine, though he had the intuition the toll would be steep.
“What wishes?” Simon asked warily.
Remedia clasped her hands. “First of all, I want you to ensure Cocagne will be on the winning side of the Endymian civil war.”
“There will be a civil war?” Simon teased her, the queen returning his grin. They both knew it was inevitable. “I was already working towards that end, Your Majesty.”
“But now you have a contractual obligation.” Remedia pointed at the colosseum with her chin. “For my second wish, I want you to crush the Cobweb slave and drug rings operating in that arena. Wipe them out in such a brutal way that it will cripple their operation for years.”
“Can’t you send Filip or the Shadowguard to do the deed?” Simon asked, before he quickly caught on. “You fear the attack will be traced back to you.”
“I do not fear, I know,” Remedia replied sternly. “Cocagne is a nation of spellcasters, and true immunity to divination is unique to the Overlord alone. Moreover, the arena belongs to a powerful noble family. Taking them on directly would be… risky.”
“But an outside assassin with false, unverifiable stats will leave your hands clean.” Truth be told, Simon relished the opportunity to harm the Cobweb so much that he might have gone through with the task for free. He might even receive a level out of it. “You want something subtle?”
Much to his surprise, Remedia shook her head. “I want a loud and visible massacre. A public incident will create outrage I can exploit to push for legislation in the senate. Make it look like a revenge killing or a gang hit.”
“That way, you can call for restrictions on the slave trade for peace and security.” Simon chuckled. “You are more ruthless than you let on, Your Majesty.”
“I am only as ruthless as I need to be,” she replied. “Kindness is a rare and valuable luxury in this world.”
She was more right than she knew. Simon had learned that lesson multiple times across the reigns, to his sorrow. “And what is your third wish?”
“That one will wait until you have fulfilled the first two,” Remedia admitted. “So? Do we have a deal?”
Simon nodded sharply. “Can you provide me with information on what I can expect to find in that arena?”
“My Shadowguard can provide you with a layout of the place and an evacuation route.” Remedia tasted her bouillabaisse with a happy expression. “Can I trust you to take care of this matter today then?”
Simon laughed in anticipation. “There’s no time like the present.”
After so many betrayals, he would finally take the fight to the Cobweb personally.