The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 120: The Overlord of Crime (4)

The month of Nivose passed relatively peacefully, if you ignored the occasional murder and the sudden influx of golden statues on the black market. Simon consolidated his authority over the Rosanne underworld, continued his experimentations, and tripled the monthly revenue.

All in all, Simon should have passed the Cobweb’s first test with aplomb. He had even carved them a Scholar Crestone to prove he could produce his own. It was only a matter of time before the Prince either tried to take him under his wing as a protégé too important to be left unsupervised, or had him assassinated as a potential threat out of paranoia.

Hopefully, the spider-in-chief would choose unwisely.

“The remaining Blackhares have seen reason,” Belzemine explained when she visited Simon in his office. She had begun to go around using the Brand of Envy to turn herself into a raven-haired, aloof human beauty that men on the street had begun to call Lady Death, since she almost always delivered bad news. “As you asked, I have told them that they will be allowed to run their territory with relative autonomy as one of the Cobweb’s associates and that they will be allowed to partake in the drug trade.”

“Good. Money is the best balm for wounded pride.” Doubly so since their new product was a roaring success. “What about Septic? Is there anything else to report?”

“The watch’s investigation didn’t follow up on his disappearance, and his daughter’s inheritance is secure. I have also purchased your lounge tickets for this Barday’s opera performance.”

“Our lounge tickets, Agnes. You can come with Eole and me, if you want.”

“I will go wherever Your Majesty wishes,” Belzemine replied without emotion.

Simon sighed in slight frustration. Simon had spared her a mental breakdown by immediately applying his Devil Brands to her after removing her old ones and not trying to free her, but at the cost of her keeping up her emotionless slave persona. He knew he was unlikely to make progress on healing Belzemine’s mind in this particular reign, yet it still bothered him to see her act like this.

At least the steady supply of manaliths kept her healthy this time around.

“Did you have any hobbies? Things you liked to do in your free time?” he asked her. “Before… before Mardok?”

The question seemed to unsettle her more than the murder and criminal activities, likely because it reopened old wounds. “I liked gardening…” she trailed before quickly tensing. “But I will like anything Your Majesty wishes me to.”

“I see.” Simon mentally considered how to allocate some of the budget to acquire a greenhouse for her when he heard a knock on his office door. “What is it?”

“It’s me, boss,” Borky’s voice called out. “There’s a girl asking to see you. A Monoceros Guild gal.”

Simon tensed up. “Which one?”

“That sellout, Melisandre,” Borky replied with disdain. “She’s alone.”

Sellout? Interesting… Simon considered how to handle the problem before deciding to take the risk. “Then bring her in, and bring beer,” he said before turning to Belzemine. “Agnes, you may leave for now. I’ll call you again later.”

A few minutes later, Borky entered his office with Alphonse’s Stalker, Mel. Their last encounter ended with Grimm stabbing her to death in the Halls of the Minotaur, but she was alive and smiling again. The fact that she came to him also provided a few clues about how the Cobweb and the White Unicorn had cooperated in past reigns.

Simon was relatively confident about her being unable to tie him to his true identity. He had taken to dying his hair black and wearing blue magical lenses on top of a Fiendmask to slightly alter his face, and that was on top of using Anathemic Secrecy to hide his aura of darkness.

“Please take a seat,” Simon told his two visitors. “Melisandre, is it?”

“Yup. You’re Goldenhell, right?” the Stalker asked upon sitting rather close to the door. Simon noticed a slight undercurrent of tension in her shoulders, although she tried to hide it beneath a mask of confidence. “Word on the street is that you’re the new local Spinner. What happened to Jon?”

“He retired,” Simon lied. Silk said he had been ‘disposed of’ after being found skimming from the top, which was why the Cobweb had so eagerly given Simon his post. They simply had no good candidate to replace him beforehand. “I don’t recall you being one of our own, so how do you know my rank?”

“This girl was the best thief this side of town, until she tried to rob that pretty lad,” Borky said as he opened the beer bottle, “What was his name again…”

“Alphonse,” Mel replied with a frown of displeasure. “His name is Alphonse, Borky.”

“Yeah, right, the Paladin’s son,” Borky replied with a snort. The mobster didn’t respect knights in the slightest. “She should have lost an arm for robbing a noble, but the lad spared her. She’s been his loyal pet dog since.”

“Look at what I’ve risen above, Borky,” Mel replied, glaring at the alcohol bottle. “You’re still peddling that watered-down shit beer?”

“Our Despairo brand is unlike our previous products,” Simon replied confidently after Borky poured him a glass. He noted that Borky and Mel were apparently on a first name basis too. “Go on, try it.”

Mel hesitated until Borky and Simon both took a sip, at which point she joined in. “Mmm…” she mumbled in pleasure. “I take it back, it’s pretty good.”

“It’s the best,” Simon insisted. Their new soul-brewed beer was racking up quite the profit at the Copper Dragon inn. Locals just couldn’t get enough of it.

Of course, it always turned the drinker into a mean drunk eager to pick fights past a certain point, a side-effect which Simon blamed on Blendy’s murderous proclivities. He wondered how long it would take before authorities picked up on that and restricted sales.

“Anyway, why are you here, Melisandre?” Simon asked. “You want your old job back?”

“In your dreams,” Mel replied gruffly. She grabbed a purse full of coins and put it on Simon’s desk. “I’m here to purchase info, like I did with Jon. He said he could smuggle some of us to Magvolia.”

Simon sneered at the purse with scorn. “You think I’m a lowly crook who works for money like my predecessor?” he clasped his hands. “I can arrange such transportation… but I trade in favors, not gold.”

Mel scowled at his counteroffer. “If you think I’ll rat out the White Unicorn–”

“I don’t need you to tell me anything,” Simon replied sharply. “See, I have nothing against heroes… so long as they don’t dent my income. What I want is to ensure that Alphonse, his elf girlfriend, and your Monoceros pals don’t meddle in my affairs. Keep them off my back, and I’ll scratch yours.”

Mel hesitated, but didn’t argue much. “I’ll… I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good. Coexistence is tolerance, as I always say.”

Mel’s demands were about what Simon expected. She was looking for help smuggling White Unicorn agents into Magvolia, specifically the Darkwood or royalist-leaning areas in preparation for future sabotage actions. Simon assumed that was how the Cobweb managed to infiltrate the White Unicorn. The resistance movement had subcontracted some of its logistics to the criminal network, allowing them to gather intel on its plans. Either way, Simon promised he would look into it and then sent her on her way alongside Borky.

“Funny thing,” Simon said once he was ‘alone’ in the room. “I thought Cobweb operatives always retired in a coffin, one way or another. Why did you let that one leave?”

“We didn’t,” Silk’s voice retorted from the shadows. “How did you sense my presence?”

I didn’t, but your trick is getting predictable. “A gut feeling.”

“I see.” Silk took a seat and put her feet on his desk as if she owned the place. “There is no such thing as an ex-Spider. Melisandre continues to serve our ends. She thinks she’s free, but the truth is that her string is just a tiny bit looser and thinner. She still has her uses.”

Like ratting out the Overlord’s location to the Paladin should he outlive his usefulness? Simon guessed. Did they point her to my cult in the Darkwood too? Just how long had they been impairing my operations back then?

Taken from NovelBin, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Should I indulge them?” Simon asked Silk, though he already knew the answer.

“Up to you. I do think you will sleep more soundly once the Paladin’s cohorts are on the other side of the Dragonsea.”

“True,” Simon conceded. “Are you here to give me my test scores?”

“The Prince is pleased with your progress, but we’re still waiting for word from our Bujan team. That’s not why I came here.” Silk took out a dreamshade pipe and set it alight with a match. “Do you know anything about the explosion at Frightwall?”

News travels fast, Simon thought. He had received Shabram’s mental notice hardly two hours ago. The Cobweb’s Attic had to connect to Marthrone too. “Maybe, maybe not,” he replied evasively. “Maybe I’ll remember if you were to answer a few questions truthfully.”

“My, aren’t you too bold by half?” Silk smiled thinly. “Fine. You get one question. Don’t bother asking about the Prince though.”

“I’m more curious about you, to be honest,” Simon replied. He knew better than to show too much knowledge of the Prince or their Attic, lest he attract suspicion. “You come out of nowhere with knowledge you shouldn’t have, and I couldn’t find anything about you in my father’s notes. Where do you come from? How did you join the Cobweb?”

“That’s two questions, you greedy fiend.” Silk played with her pipe before deciding to indulge. “Fine. I’m not from Valne, and I was born into the Cobweb.”

Simon blinked. “Born into it?”

“You got your answers,” Silk replied calmly. His confusion amused her. “Now answer my question.”

“Who’s the greedy one now?” Simon shrugged and went along. “The Oracle planned to cast a once in a century Tier X spell at Frightwall tonight to destroy the Crimson Throne, according to my father’s notes. I assume that’s what caused that explosion.”

“Since your brands are still active, I would assume she failed,” Silk mused. “Using shapeshifting prostitutes to cater to city officials’ darkest vices and get dirt on them was a good use of them, I’ll admit.”

“Thank you,” Simon replied. “Between us, does your organization reach as far as Illusea? Not even my father’s services could infiltrate it.”

“Sadly not,” Silk admitted. “Besides the fact the elves’ economy is tightly regulated, leaving very little room for us to infiltrate it, its Augurs foresee crimes before they even happen. We wrote off the region after too many of our smugglers got caught on arrival.”

“Augurs?” Simon raised an eyebrow. “Are those Oracle Vassals?”

“The Augurs are the closest thing that Illusea has to a government.” Silk blew out dreamshade smoke into his face. “From what we gathered, the elven civilization knows neither toil nor want. Golems and enchanted objects do all the manual labor, leaving elves to devote themselves to indolent intellectual pursuits like art, philosophy, or magic. All their citizens are treated the same, with concepts like ‘nobility’ or ‘wealth’ being foreign to them. They live in harmony with nature, with a cadre of seers trained by the Oracle herself taking care of all problems before they even happen, from crime to diseases and natural disasters. Their people don’t even use coins outside of trade with other countries, because they never truly need anything.”

“A civilization of equals without any problem, work, or poverty…” Simon chuckled. “That sounds like a paradise.”

“You would be right… and our kind cannot prosper in a place where everyone is content,” Silk replied. “Frustration is the wellspring of greed and ambition.”

Simon pondered her words when he heard something at the edge of his consciousness; a familiar voice whispering in his ear, in his soul. “Oh Lord of Dark, Dread Master of the Crimson Throne, listen to my pleas…”

Finally! Simon bolted out of his seat. “Forgive me, but I’ll have to cut this meeting short.”

Silk frowned. “What’s happening?”

“I’m getting a call,” Simon replied as he closed his eyes and focused on the incantation. A presence called out to him, inviting him to join from across the sea. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Oh Emperor of Darkness Everlasting, please answer my call… with these words of fealty and my blood offering, I implore thee…”

Simon surrendered himself to the call rather than resist it and teleported away in a shroud of miasma, much to Silk’s surprise. The office faded away, replaced with a familiar main room lit by candles. The fireplace burned with ghostfire, and Simon stood in his Overlord armor in the middle of a pentagram of blood.

“Well…” Duchar Honorius stroked his beard outside the circle, his daughter Cassandra watching by his side. “I didn’t expect it to work…”

A surge of emotions rushed through Simon. The last time he had met with the Honorius family was when Louis slaughtered them back in his Darkwood reign. The pain of watching Cassandra, whom he had loved, torn apart before his eyes came back to him in a flash that felt all the more raw after what happened with Remedia.

Now I remember why I put this off for so long, Simon thought grimly. Pursuing other objectives away from Telluria had mostly been for practical purposes, but a subconscious part of him also wanted to avoid meeting the Honorius family again. A year spent together, and they remember none of it.

He had to power through it though. Louis had been right about one thing: the past people he knew were ghosts he would have to grieve and accept the demise of. This reign was a necessary evil by design and bound to end in betrayal. Forming new emotional connections would be painful and ill-advised.

“A pleasure meeting you in the flesh, Duchar,” Simon said. “You too, Cassandra.”

“You know my name?” she asked with slight surprise.

Such words from his former lover felt like daggers to the heart, but Simon retained his composure. His last encounter with Anna had already been a painful experience.

“I do. It was about time you called me, Duchar. I was wondering when–” Simon stopped upon noticing a ring of solid light rising from the circle around the pentagram. “What’s this? A ward?”

“My apologies, Your Majesty…” Duchar cleared his throat and cancelled the ward around the pentagram. “I wasn’t entirely sure the spell would work according to its specifications in spite of my studies, so I took certain measures to banish back whatever I called should it prove hostile.”

“No harm done,” Simon replied. No self-respecting sorcerer would have tried out a new demon summoning spell without covering their bases. “I’m glad it worked out either way.”

After Duchar stubbornly refused to engage in anything productive until he met Simon personally, he resorted to having Shabram’s agents send Cassandra a scroll including instructions on how to cast the Overlord Call spell Belzemine had developed and then have her present it to her father; trusting that the man would at least recognize the spell for what it was and be curious enough to test it out.

Duchar Honorius simply couldn’t resist the lure of forbidden knowledge.

Either way, the Tier V Diabolism Overlord Call spell was a roaring success. Simon finally had a way of crossing vast distances quickly that didn’t rely on either Dungeons or airships. Only a handful of his retainers and allies would have the knowledge to cast the spell for now, but it opened up many new options.

After short introductions, Simon immediately moved to the heart of the matter. “My servants in the intelligence service shared highly confidential information with you, Duchar, but I have yet to receive your input on them. Have you done any work on it?”

“I have,” Duchar conceded. As Simon suspected, he simply couldn’t resist studying new pathways to forbidden knowledge. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but your father was adamant that I did not share any information with you unless we were to meet in person, even through the brand.”

That paranoia bothered Simon. He didn’t think his father would have gone through such extensive measures without reason. Reducing the number of Devil Brands had probably been meant to protect himself from soul-based attacks, but the identification requirement… Did someone manage to falsify the Brand of Sloth’s telepathy in a past reign?

Either way, Duchar had indeed studied the notes Simon had sent him on Justine’s planned Dark Visionary awakening ritual and even done some research on his own.

“From what I gathered, the idea is to symbolically awaken a ‘third eye’ connected to the Abyss by blending latent Darkblood and Visionary potential,” Duchar summarized. “An incredibly daring and fascinating project. Truly bold. I would dearly love to meet whoever came up with the idea, if possible.”

“I will see what I can do,” Simon replied. He had the intuition that Justine Eligos and Duchar Honorius would hit it off almost immediately, to everyone else’s sorrow and despair. “Do you think this researcher is onto something?”

“I think so, though I cannot be certain. Your Majesty must understand that this is something that has never been done before.” Duchar stroked his beard. “From what I gathered, the ritual would require three things: an alchemical concoction meant to stimulate Your Majesty’s dormant demonic heritage; a potent miasma crystal to act as the ‘third eye’ to awaken; and a unique performance ritual symbolically tying Your Majesty to the Abyss. This researcher’s idea would be to run it as a grand opera play re-enacting Mardok’s creation of the Overlord Class… but I can think of other alternatives.”

“Such as?”

“Since every past Overlord was the Lord of Dark, I believe Your Majesty could achieve the same result by ritually emulating one of their most infamous acts instead of just Mardok’s creation of the Class,” Duchar replied. “Any past Overlord’s crime.”

Like what, my father strangling his pregnant wife to death? Or Gargauth exterminating his own race? Or Mardok enslaving Belzemine? None of these possibilities pleased Simon in the slightest. The opera idea seemed like the least evil possibility, but he currently lacked the time to organize it. And then there’s the matter of the miasma crystal…

With some luck, Simon might get away with using his back-up Dungeon hideout’s core. If not… if not, he would have to find one somewhere. The Zodiac Fiends were probably too dangerous to use considering the risk of possession or them screwing him over due to their sheer hatred of Mardok, but other powerful creatures of the Dark often produced a miasma crystal on death. The alchemical concoction would probably be the easiest component to obtain by comparison.

Either way, Simon had his hands full with the Cobweb for now, and there was still time to further research the ritual.

There had to be another option he hadn’t considered yet.

Simon had Belzemine summon him back to Valne soon after his meeting with the Honorius family. Besides the fact that their presence filled him with a pervading feeling of grief, he didn’t dare risk being away too long from Rosanne for now, lest the Cobweb get any ideas.

Simon would return to Telluria in time though. Duchar’s expertise on souls should help him refine his own crafting, and he was now at a high-enough level for Unquestionable Ruler to pacify Hector. Some of his new brands might further stabilize the flesh golem, maybe even let him reintegrate into society to a degree.

Simon was summoned back to his office by Belzemine inside a circle drawn with her own blood. This one didn’t include a ward binding him in, but Simon still noticed a figure lurking in the shadows behind Belzemine.

“Incredible… and very clever.” Silk’s voice startled Belzemine, who clearly hadn’t noticed her presence. Not that Simon had expected to keep this particular secret from the Cobweb, considering that they likely had him under constant surveillance… “I didn’t know the Overlord could be summoned like this.”

It was Silk, but not the one Simon had dealt with so far. He could tell the difference in the way she smiled at him. It was the Silk who guided him to Bujan, the talkative one… which could only mean one thing.

“We’ve confirmed your words, so the Prince will abide by his word,” she said, smirking. “It is time for you to meet the Weavers.”