The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 114: The Cocagne Affair (14)

Adaptive Spellcasting was perhaps Simon’s best investment since Inventory.

The very first subject he tackled was the question of buffs, a field of magic that was mostly closed to him outside of certain diabolism spells. Remedia’s suggestion that he create Ailment-aligned variants of them proved both correct and wise. His new Perk let him figure out ways to translate existing buff spells into curses that reinforced the user at the cost of being struck with a penalty.

In short, Simon was slowly developing his own unique brand of buffs: cursebuffs, spellsthat provided a benefit in return for inflicting an ailment on the caster, which his Unyielding Essence would let him shrug off. His current focus was developing a rather ironic curse that granted the caster heightened Agility at the cost of paralyzing them. Besides allowing Simon to enjoy the benefit without the penalty, it might be possible to reduce its tier compared to the original by optimizing the miasma flow.

His research also allowed him to craft two new cursed items of great utility: the Ring of Strength for Speed, and the Ring of Spell for Speed. The first, as per its name, cut his Strength stat in half and transferred the amount to his Agility stat in turn; the second provided the same benefit, except it cut down his Magic rather than his Strength.

With this setup and Inventory, Simon could now switch between the two depending on the situation. He could hit as hard and fast as the Berserker, or bombard his foes with quickly cast spells. Anyone trying to outspeed him would be in for a surprise.

Otherwise, Justine Eligos’ research was progressing smoothly under Remedia’s oversight. Everything was going smoothly so far… except for one, frighteningly worrying detail that continued to bother him.

“Still nothing?” Simon asked Remedia as she checked her seven crystal balls during their spellcasting session.

“No,” the queen replied, shaking her head with frustration that echoed his own. “What about you?”

“Nothing,” Simon confirmed as he checked the telepathic link for what must have been the thousandth time. “She doesn’t answer me.”

Over a week had passed since Norbelle’s triumphant return, and Simon had yet to receive an answer from Shabram since she boarded an airship for Louis’ new base with Lauriane. She wasn’t dead, since he could sense her presence through the brand that bound her soul, but she didn't answer his telepathic communications. She felt… asleep, for lack of a better term.

Remedia stroked her chin. “She must be in a base shielded by powerful anti-divination wards.”

“No, my power would pierce through them,” Simon replied. He had contacted Shabram when she was working in the empire’s most secure facilities, Frightwall included. “She would have found a way to contact me by now too, if she was free to do so. I fear she may have been captured, petrified, or worse.”

Louis had to have found out about their connection somehow. He had been able to guess that Shabram was a double agent based on circumstantial evidence when Simon operated in the Darkwood.

“That is a worst case scenario, but not necessarily the only possibility,” Remedia replied. “Your contact could be in a different plane, or a place whose dimensional boundaries fray at the edges. Most divination spells require the target to be in the same dimension as the caster. Your power may work in a similar way.”

That could be it, Simon thought. He had read in the Lighthouse’s archives that the material plane blurred with the Worldsoul in some Illusean places. Louis could have taken Shabram to a secret base located on a similar locus of dimensional power. But where and why?

“I don’t think we’ll be that lucky,” Simon admitted. He was never that fortunate.

Remedia joined her fingers. “Could Louis track you down using your spymistress’ brands?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Anathemic Secrecy should protect me from divination and we’ve ensured that the Brands are invisible, but Louis has plenty of powerful Class users in his employ. I cannot make any assumptions.”

“Is there a way to remove those brands then?”

Simon scowled grimly. “Only one… and I would rather not use it.”

“I see…” Remedia stroked her chin. “Give me time. If our divinations continue to fail, I will research a method to cut the link nonlethally. There has to be a loophole we haven’t considered.”

Simon wasn’t so sure… but then again, the elves did manage to figure out how to remove the Devil Brands in a way that required a Title to correct. He had no doubt the Mage could do the same with sufficient time and motivation.

He just hoped Shabram would answer him soon and that his worries were misplaced.

“In more positive news, Lady Eligos has made good progress,” Remedia said as she moved on to the next source of concern. “She believes—correctly, as far as I can tell—that you simply cannot become a true Visionary like Norbelle. The spells your father and his physician used to open your sister’s third eye could only work because both her body and soul were in the process of developing in the womb. The window of opportunity to fully attune you to the Worldsoul has simply passed.”

Simon feared as much. His father would have likely researched a procedure to awaken his own latent gifts with his limitless resources if he could seize that power for himself. “But I still have powers to awaken.”

“Yes, but we must follow a different path,” Remedia replied. “Norbelle is a unique case in that both her Darkblood and Visionary potential amplify each other like miasma and mana reinforce each other. Justine would rather explore a more novel approach by making you something entirely new: a Visionary aligned to the Abyss rather than the Worldsoul.”

“A Dark Visionary,” Simon summed it up. “What would that entail? I don’t suppose alchemical concoctions will be enough to connect my soul to the Abyss.”

His eagerness caused Remedia to raise an eyebrow. “Do you even understand the implications, Simon? We are discussing binding your soul to the Abyss

. To a dimension of demons, horrors, and darkness.”“I am already connected to it through my Class, so I don’t think it will change me much,” Simon pointed out. He had already taken a trip to the void beyond time, and his very essence was bound to a miasma crystal the size of a comet for a hundred lifetimes. He didn’t think he had much to lose. “I'm damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

“You may be right, but I would still be wary and run tests first,” Remedia warned him. “But it is true that alchemically altering your blood on its own wouldn’t be sufficient. We must also alter your very soul through a profound symbolic act through a custom ritual of potent power.”

This was the Seasonal Key come again. “Can we design it?”

“That should be simple enough for Justine and I,” Remedia mused. “But writing down a ritual and completing it are two very different things, and this is something that has never been done before even then. We cannot write off the possibility of failure, or of unexpected consequences.”

“It’s still worth a shot,” Simon replied without skipping a beat. “If only to find out whether it’s possible or not.”

“Your confidence amazes me, Simon.” Remedia smiled with a hint of affection. “You truly think you can do anything, can you?”

Well, he had many tries to get it right. “Does that displease you?”

“Not at all. If anything, I find your desire to risk everything for knowledge… appealing.” Remedia cleared her throat and hastily changed the subject, probably in case someone could overhear them. “We can begin experimenting with the ritual after the Grand Hunt. We will have time and peace of mind then.”

Simon nodded in agreement, though he had the feeling something would derail those plans.

His gut told him he had missed a key detail somewhere.

The Grand Hunt was due to be launched on the first of Germinal, on the day of the Vernal Equinox heralding the beginning of the year.

As per tradition, the various participants and the royal family gathered in a hunting lodge in the royal woods near Fabliau for a pre-sunrise breakfast. A cadre of waiters and golems welcomed them to a large manor with an intentionally rustic decoration. It even included silk sheets to mimic cobwebs next to artistic candelabras burning with soulfire.

“Are you certain you wish to partner up with me for the event?” Simon asked Verdis as the two of them made their way to the dining hall. “Your father won’t take it well.”

“Mother insisted I go with you, and I didn’t have the heart to deny her,” Verdis replied with a laugh. “She thinks you need an experienced chaperone and guide to find the right quarry.”

Simon greatly doubted that. He found it more likely that Remedia thought Verdis’ presence would dissuade Filip from forcing a confrontation, or at least force him to second-guess his murderous plot. Taking out Simon would require isolating him from the prince, which ought to complicate the Ranger’s plans for a confrontation.

“Also, it will be nice to be a party’s vanguard for once,” Verdis said. “I usually follow Father’s lead on a hunt. It’ll be my first time being a guide.”

“I’m sure you’ll acquit yourself well,” Simon replied. Verdis’ Class was a Vassal of the Ranger, and thus likely to thrive in this environment. “Then all we need is a third member, no? I recall parties can only have three people at once.”

“Yup, though animal companions don’t count,” Verdis confirmed with a smirk. “The Ranger who helped found Cocagne was a clan leader with two blood-brothers, so the tradition stuck.”

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“Well, we’re already in-laws,” Simon quipped as they entered the banquet hall. “But I don’t think any of my half-brothers will help us round out the trio.”

Verdis’ embarrassed expression already forewarned Simon of the company awaiting them in the dining hall. As large as a small house, it housed a sprawling table facing a fireplace and a wall of trophies. It was amazing the kind of bestiary Cocagne hosted, from stuffed giant fishes to manticores and griffins, not to mention one pre-Gargauth dragon skull. A banquet of Cocagnian wine, Musan coffee, Fablan tea, Berwickian cheese, and Uyan fruits was served for the thirty or so participants. Most were nobles Simon had only ever seen in passing at the palace or never before, with three noticeable exceptions.

The first was Filip, who occupied the head of the table.

The second was Alphonse of Lore, who nodded at Simon and Verdis when they entered, lacking the Ranger’s hostility.

And the third…

“Bastard,” Thalas ‘greeted’ Simon the moment he saw him.

Of course he’s here, Simon cursed. He had participated in the siege of the Goetia Research Facility in a previous reign, so he would have been in Norbelle’s vicinity. “Thalas, what a surprise. I didn’t know you were invited.”

“It was a last minute suggestion from our sister,” Thalas replied, a rancid smile on his lips. “I’ll bring a quarry to Anna to celebrate our wedding.”

Thalas only said those words because he knew it would hurt Simon to know he was marrying her, and he was right. Still, Simon had had enough experience handling his emotions across the reigns that he simply feigned indifference.

“Good for you,” Simon replied, “I feel sad for Antonine though. The humiliation of a broken betrothal mustn’t have been pleasant.”

Simon’s answer took Thalas aback. His expression devolved into a dark scowl, and he mulled over it rather than answer. He seemed almost sorrowful.

Could that be remorse? From Thalas Magnos? Simon didn’t think his half-brother was capable of that, but he seemed genuinely sad about his broken betrothal. Then again, those two were engaged for years. It wouldn’t surprise me if Thalas had gotten attached to her.

Poor boy. If only he knew his fiancée would sell him out to Vouivre to wash away the dishonor, he might have reconsidered…

Either way, a rather uncomfortable Verdis quickly tried to change the subject. “Lord Alphonse, it is a pleasure to see you here!” he said, sitting right next to the Paladin. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

“His Majesty Filip invited me to participate as a representative of both Lore and Magvolia, Prince Verdis.” Alphonse bowed to the assembly. “It is a great honor I hope to live up to.”

“I have no doubt that you shall, Lord Paladin,” Filip replied, his giant wolf resting behind his chair. The truth of Alphonse’s Class had spread quickly after he openly participated in the Goetia Raid. “I daresay you may be today’s favorite.”

“Behind Your Majesty, of course,” Alphonse argued courteously, before turning to face Simon. “With your permission, I would like to lend you my sword for this ordeal, Prince Simon.”

The assembly welcomed the proposal with gasps, though none were more surprised than Simon himself. “You want us to form a party, Alphonse?” he asked, not having expected this. “After we nearly came to blows when we last met?”

“That is exactly why I would like us to fight side-by-side in this contest,” Alphonse declared. “I admit I have misjudged you. Everyone I’ve interrogated told me your advice and tactical insight were invaluable in our victory. You were instrumental in restoring Magvolia’s freedom, and I owe you a debt of gratitude for that.”

“You owe me nothing, Ser,” Simon replied warily. What was his game? Was Alphonse in league with Filip and planning to isolate him to better kill him? Did the White Unicorn somehow figure out his true identity as Overlord?

“That would be a great idea!” Verdis said with enthusiasm. “The three of us would form the ideal party! I can be the scout, Lord Alphonse our frontliner, and Simon our spellcaster and support!”

“It would be a sensible party combination,” Alphonse agreed with a nod.

Filip scowled in displeasure at the proposal, and Simon himself hesitated. It could be a trap, but he sensed no hostility coming from Alphonse anymore, and the Paladin struck him as lacking the self-control for deceit. He had been quick to take emotional bait in the past. Had he truly moved beyond their grudge as he said?

Oh, he wants to talk to me in private, Simon realized. And I think I know about what.

“It would be a pleasure,” Simon replied with a smile. “You must have grown quite familiar with hunting monsters in woods by now.”

The hunt began at sunrise, with the hunting parties spreading across the woods on horseback.

Filip was clearly displeased that Verdis chose to participate with Simon, but grudgingly accepted his choice. Simon suspected that the Ranger would be forced to call off whatever hit he had planned on his romantic rival to avoid involving his son or the Paladin, though he couldn’t be sure yet. Either way, it would only delay the inevitable.

Simon couldn’t rule out that Thalas would try something. His half-brother had easily found two hangers-on among Cocagne’s noble scions to accompany him on the hunt, and departed with that same urge to prove himself that always gnawed at him. He was equally likely to try to outshine Simon by finding the most impressive quarry to claim rather than to just try and kill him.

Still, Simon just couldn’t shake the feeling that something would happen during the hunt. He couldn’t quite put it into words. His gut told him an unseen danger stalked his steps, that he might stumble into a trap he couldn’t see…

“Oh, look what I found!” Verdis called out to his teammates when they found a relatively dry riverbed. Small bones and reptilian footsteps were half-buried by the mud. “I think we’ve found a hydra.”

“How can you tell, Your Highness?” Alphonse asked with genuine curiosity.

“Hydra heads usually tear apart pieces of their prey, and each head swallows a piece after a brief period of infighting. The limbs were eaten whole, but not the torso, which indicates it was pulled apart from multiple directions at once.” Verdis pointed at marks on the bones. “And those are acid marks. A telltale of hydra saliva.”

“Impressive,” Simon complimented Verdis. He will make a fantastic Ranger. “Do you suggest we engage the creature?”

“Of course!” Verdis pumped his fist. “It’ll be no match for us, and we can each bring our own head trophy!”

Alphonse nodded. “I have slain more dangerous creatures on my lonesome in Magvolia’s Darkwood. I don’t think it’ll prove much trouble.”

“So you did follow up on my suggestion,” Simon noted, squinting at the Paladin. “What did your elf friend say?”

Alphonse let out a sigh. “It was as you warned us,” he admitted. “We found an archfiend sealed in the Darkwood. Our mage, Frea, attempted to reinforce the seal, but she fears it will escape on its own within a year’s time.” He looked away at the rising dawn. “We saved Magvolia from a tyrant, only to open ourselves to an attack by another.”

“Huh?” Verdis blinked in surprise. “The Oracle didn’t warn you of it?”

“Not even Frea knew?” Simon asked pointedly, fishing for information.

“She didn’t, which bothers me,” Alphonse replied. “Frea stayed in the Darkwood to study the seal and figure out a solution until the Oracle answers her, but…”

“But?” Simon pushed.

Alphonse hesitated before answering. “A few among the White Unicorn have been doubting her wisdom, considering how the Overlord shrouded her sight so easily in the past,” he said. “Others say she is using the White Unicorn movement to preserve Illusea’s shores from attack while minimizing elven casualties. Her leadership has been put into question, especially since the fourth Overlord remains unaccounted for.”

“Yes, it must be difficult for all the White Unicorn’s components to find a common ground without a uniting enemy,” Simon replied evasively. It pleased him to learn that Justine’s skepticism of the Oracle wasn’t a minority opinion in the White Unicorn organization. This could open the door to future compromises.

Moreover, he found it fascinating that she either didn’t know fully sealing the Stone Muse was impossible, or didn’t warn Frea about it. The Oracle could simply have failed to foresee the true threat of the Zodiac Parade, since all these archfiends were fragments of what had now become the Overlord Crestone. Anathemic Secrecy’s deleterious effects on divination might have extended to Abraxas’ other children. Frea could have lied though, since she had already hidden critical information from her allies.

Is this incompetence, paranoia, or malice? Simon wondered. Magvolia was the only kingdom whose archfiend the Oracle tried to reinforce the seal of, and even then she didn’t inform her own troops of the true scale of the threat. Did she hope they would tear apart Endymion and feud with the Overlord while leaving allied countries alone? I don’t recall any big disaster striking Lore in previous reigns either…

“Truthfully, I had hoped to broach the subject during this hunt, Prince Simon,” Alphonse said. “I recall that you implied this creature was one among many?”

“Yes, there are…” Simon scowled, a sense of unease stirring inside him. “Others…”

Verdis immediately noticed his change in behavior. “What’s wrong, Simon?”

“I… I don’t know.” Simon couldn’t quite put it into words; his gaze wandered across the riverbed for any sign of a pack of monsters or an assassin sneaking up on them. He didn’t see any, and neither did his allies. “I feel… like I’m being watched.”

“Huh, really?” Verdis put on his Hunter Class outfit, which resembled a toned-down, duller version of his father’s Ranger clothes, and looked around. “I don’t see anything.”

“I think I do…” Alphonse replied as he activated his Paladin Class, his eyes gazing at the sky through his helmet. “Something… something above us.”

Simon’s sense of unease only grew in intensity, as did his impression of being watched. He felt eyes staring at him from high above, far beyond the clouds, and more strangely… from within.

Anchor status.

You can no longer teleport.

What?

Realizing the danger, Simon immediately tensed up and put on his Ninja outfit. His first thought was that either Thalas or Filip had decided to strike now, but he could have sworn the magic that affected him came from nowhere… nay, from the depths of his soul. He focused on its source, his heart skipping a beat when he identified it.

Shabram.

The spell had coasted its way to Simon through the connection he shared with his spymistress.

“Shabram?!” Simon called out to her. “Shabram, what’s happening?!”

He sent the message through the many brands he had applied to her, but another presence answered at the end of the line. A will strong in the Dark, and as suffocating as Asterion and Exodeos.

“I’ve found you, Deceiver.”

The voice… the voice had grown deeper, more demonic—as if laced with another full of malevolence—but Simon had heard it often enough in the past that he could still recognize it, to his shock and displeasure.

“Casval?”

The presence responded by biting his soul.

There was no other way to describe it. A malevolent presence harpooned his soul by using the bond he shared with Shabram’s Devil Brand like a rope, and then took a bite out of his spirit. Invisible fangs closed on his mind and tore out a huge chunk of his essence in a vicious flash of phantom pain.

Massive Soul damage!

Simon had fallen off his horse before he knew what hit him, his vision blurring. He heard Verdis call out his name and Alphonse’s hand catching him, the Paladin’s healing magic quickly coursing through him. He tried his best to save Simon, dispelling whatever doubts he still had about Alphonse, but the demon gnawing at his soul relentlessly continued its assault.

Must break… connection! Simon attempted to strip Shabram of his Devil Brands, only to fail. His Deceitful Title prevented him from removing them. His flesh was growing cold, his mind fading away from the psychic assault. He attempted to retaliate with Mindflayer, Ectoplasmer, any spell he thought might work, but they didn’t carry through the soul-connection.

Simon could only think of one solution to wrench himself free before the creature killed him, and it disgusted him. He had sworn it wouldn’t happen again, but here he was, moments away from another early death and another early end to a reign.

It couldn’t stop now! He couldn’t let it end now of all times!

No… no other way… Simon cursed. I’m sorry, Shabram.

He drained her of her lifeforce in a single minute, feasting on his spymistress’ energies.

This time was deliberate murder rather than accidental—something which horrified Simon—yet he felt no screams, no death wail, no echo of a dying soul. He simply tasted the last embers of a fading fire devoid of will, and Casval’s frustration at their link being cut with her death.

Shabram was already gone before Simon killed her. He could tell.

He gasped for air upon recovering from his shock, his flesh cold, his vision returning. More than anything, Simon was confused. How did Casval get his hands on Shabram? Since when did he become proficient at soul magic?

A shade covered his face as those questions flooded his mind, which he mistook for Alphonse looking down on him… only to see him and Verdis staring at the clouds with undisguised astonishment. Simon blinked and looked up to the ceiling–

“W–what?“ A still-shocked Simon blinked a few times as he stared at brown rather than blue. “That… that is not a ceiling…”

A stone sky floated above them, casting the forest in its immense shadow.