The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 25: Lord of the Berwick Islands (3)

He dreamed of his father again.

He was younger, not yet the grey corpse he saw at the beginning of each reign. He was a red lion of a man, the spitting image of Louis’ handsome features merged with Dassein’s bulk. His face was twisted into a snarl of rage as his hands closed around Simon’s throat. He recalled coughing and kicking and scratching, yet his father’s fingers were colder than ice and stronger than steel. They forced Simon onto the bed and choked the life out of him until his own body went stiff, and as his final wisp of life left him, he recalled his father’s lips stretching into a vicious smile.

Then he awoke to find a woman in his room.

Simon only caught a glimpse of her white figure facing the window before she disappeared into the sunlight, a pale ghost long departed. All that remained was unnaturally cold air and the faint smell of regrets.

“Were you trying to speak to me?” Simon wondered out loud. “Or to torment me in my dreams?”

His questions were met with silence, as they were last night. Lord Paimon had Clerics and Exorcists double-check the area after he had heard the voice in his head since he arrived. Neither noticed anything wrong besides the haunting, which they insisted was utterly harmless. Ghosts were echoes of the departed, who could do little besides whisper or appear around the place. Anna had grown up with it enough to reassure Simon that the voice was likely just their local poltergeist playing a prank on him, and he had been too tired to argue with her.

Nonetheless, his gut told him there was more to this story. Simon quickly put on the Overlord outfit, and immediately sensed spiritual whispers brushing at the edge of his mind.

“Help… help…”

“Who are you?” Simon was certain the presence didn’t belong to the ghost who had just visited him. “Where are you?”

“The Dark… below…”

The Dark? Was that why Simon could only hear the voice when wearing the Overlord Class outfit? Because of its affinity with miasma? “You mean below the castle?”

“Help… below…”

Simon knew that listening to a phantom voice inside a notoriously haunted castle was probably not his best idea, but he had spent enough time in Duchar’s company to understand the dangers of the Dark. He had to investigate and at least confirm that no harm would come to Anna or his retainers, no matter their insistence this was nothing unusual.

Simon removed his Class outfit when he heard a knock on his door. “What is it?”

“Forgive me for waking you, Your Highness,” Meredith’s voice answered. “The maids have come to dress you for the dawn prayer.”

The dawn prayer? Oh, true, the Church of the Light had its adherents pray for the rising sun to conquer the darkness. One of the few perks of being a bastard meant that Simon didn’t have to attend those ceremonies, but his legitimization had changed that.

I wonder what the priests would say if they knew an Overlord was among their flock, Simon thought when servants came in to dress him, something he had to do himself back in Frightwall. Would they burn me at the stake?

The Church of the Light had decried the Overlord as the incarnation of darkness and evil—Mardok having massacred their saints and Gargauth regularly oppressed their faith—until Balzam Magnos took over. Having already been married to their living saint, Euphemia, and requiring their political support to maintain his newly won empire, he had come to an agreement with the High Confessor: the state would recognize the Light of Pharis as its official faith in return for legitimacy. Since then, the Church portrayed Balzam’s ‘conversion’ as the proof that darkness always bent to the holy spirit, and the Overlord had at long last submitted to the ‘true faith.’

Of course, Balzam Magnos violated every single tenet of the Light of Pharis and recognized no authority except his own, but the alliance served him and the church well enough that no one called him out on his blatant hypocrisy.

Once the maids had dressed him in a black velvet doublet decorated with the crowned golden manticore of House Magnos, a purple doublet, and gold pants, Simon was escorted out of the room by his retainers. Anna and Tiella were waiting for him outside.

“Did you sleep well?” Anna asked with mirth. “I must say, I am very disappointed that you didn’t try to sneak into my room.”

“Sorry, a ghost visited me and I could not turn her away,” Simon quipped back.

“You would rather enjoy the company of an old ghost than your living fiancée? Shame on you!” Anna boldly took his arm into her own, as if they were already a couple. Simon found it both awkward and endearing. “It is fine if we sleep during the dawn prayer, by the way. You should keep your wits sharp for the audience.”

Simon frowned. “The audience?”

“Father is away this morning, so he entrusted us with petitions and matters of justice.” Anna smiled from ear to ear. “To give us formal experience, he said.”

“He wants us to learn lordcraft and to be seen delivering justice, so the commonfolk and nobles come to see us as authority figures,” Simon guessed. He knew how the game was played.

“My, you catch on quickly. Isn’t there anything more romantic than deciding to hang some thief as a loving couple?” Anna teased him. “I can be the iron hand, and you the velvet glove.”

“Or we can switch it up to keep them guessing,” Simon quipped back as they walked down to the chapel on the first floor. It was far less grandiose than the one in Castle Frightwall, with griffin tapestries in place of the statues Balzam Magnos loved to collect, but its marble altar had a certain charm to it.

The priest—some old man named Father Donell—proceeded to give a sermon as dawnlight filtered through the stained glass window of Saint Pharis, who had promised the Overlord Mardok Endymion that she would return to bring him to justice the day he had her murdered. Simon had heard the holy words a thousand times already and mostly pretended to listen. He noted that most of the people present were either retainers or soldiers, except for two figures at the back: a grey-haired nobleman in his fifties or so, wearing a rich mantle embroiled with gold and rings glittering on his fingers; and a taller, black-haired man in his forties wearing armor, with a square jaw and a fearsome scowl.

“The tall one is Count Landar Ipsos, and the old one is Marquis Ronlaw Naberius,” Anna whispered into Simon’s ear. “They’re my father’s bannermen and constantly at each other’s throats. I’m sure we’ll have to play peacemaker with them after the sermon.”

“I’m already looking forward to it,” Simon replied with the driest, most unenthusiastic tone he could muster.

Once the sermon was done, they moved to the castle’s throne room on the third floor. While it paled in comparison to Castle Frightwall’s, it still remained an imposing hall with hanging tapestries of griffins, a huge fireplace, and an iron throne draped in golden silk and velvet cushions. An expensive chair was placed next to it. Simon moved to sit there when Anna pulled him back.

“What are you doing?” Anna asked with a laugh. “You’re the prince, you sit on the throne.”

“What?” Simon choked. “That’s your father’s seat!”

“He gave you permission to represent him, remember? Besides, Your Highness Simon Magnos is a gallant prince now. You technically outrank him.”

Simon stared at the throne uneasily for a moment before he dared sit on it. It immediately felt wrong to do so, almost uncomfortable, even though his own father used to rule from it a long time ago. It took him a moment to realize why.

It was too small for him.

There was only one throne worthy of the Overlord Class, and its spirit made its displeasure known to Simon. He could feel its distaste at having to hide its true identity when called upon to rule, mixed with its eagerness to judge others and enforce its authority.

I wonder if I would gain experience from sitting on the Crimson Throne, Simon thought as Lorimor ascended the dais to stand at his right. As a Scholar, he was well-learned about imperial law and thus could provide advice on matters of justice. Three cases had been put forward today and would be judged according to their severity.

The castle seneschal and an individual wearing the armored outfit of the Inquisitor Class brought a man forward. The Inquisitor waved his hand and caused a luminescent, mouth-shaped rune to appear on the floor, then forced the defendant to stand on top of it.

“That is an Inquisitor-made Rune of Confession,” Anna explained to Simon. “It can detect lies and punish them.”

“Unless they possess defenses against divination,” Simon pointed out. Almost no one used it in litigation involving nobles because everyone with deep enough pockets could easily buy an item to shield themselves against it.

“True, but most defendants don’t have the means to buy themselves that luxury. I swear you’ll find it very useful.” Anna smiled at the defendants and accusers alike with regal dignity. She clearly took her role of Lady of Carcas to heart. “Court is now in session.”

“On behalf of the army, I submit that cadet Ramsay, here present, was found looting the corpses of his fellow soldiers who died fighting bandits,” said the castle’s seneschal. “Fellow soldiers caught him reselling stolen goods, and he confessed his crime when confronted.”

“Is that true?” Anna asked Ramsay without skipping a beat. Simon could tell she had much experience delivering judgment in her father’s stead. “You looted your fellow soldiers?”

“I won’t lie, Your Highness, but there was no victim,” the defendant said. “Why would the dead need trinkets? We, the living, need everything the dead can’t use. Besides, I wasn’t keeping the money all for myself. I gave a few coins to my comrades.”

The seneschal scoffed. “As bribes, no doubt.”

“The rune didn’t trigger, though,” Anna noted. “I believe the punishment for looting corpses is flogging, right? Seems pretty clear-cut to me. I don’t think he deserves worse.”

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Simon hesitated. He had spent enough time in the capital’s court to develop a certain instinct when it came to liars. Something about this Ramsay bothered him.

“Were they all dead?” Simon inquired.

Cadet Ramsay looked up. “Your Highness?”

“The people you robbed. Were they all dead when you stole their belongings?”

The question took Cadet Ramsay aback. “Y-yes, of cour–”

The rune at his feet lit and zapped with an electric shock, startling everyone present. Simon scowled in distaste as he put two and two together.

“Alive then,” Simon said. “Which means you stole goods from one or more of your fellow soldiers before they expired rather than bring them to a healer.”

“You left someone to die?” Anna asked the cadet, her horror giving way to outrage.

“He was barely breathing!” The man defended himself. “There was so much blood, I’m sure not even a healer could have saved him–”

The mark zapped him again, which only deepened Simon’s disgust. He turned to Lorimor. “What’s the punishment for leaving a fellow soldier to his death?”

“Death by beheading, usually by other soldiers so they can level-up.” Lorimor cleared his throat. “I will remind Your Magnanimous Highness that death sentences can always be commuted into slavery ones.”

“We operate salt mines north of the Berwick Islands,” Anna added, her gaze steely and harsh. “Conditions there are so terrible that we struggle to hire miners. It will make him wish for death.”

“You’re harsher than I would have expected,” Simon commented. Anna was always such a carefree soul, so it took him aback to approach matters with such sternness.

“His actions killed another human being–a comrade even–for the sake of greed,” Anna replied, showing a side of her Simon had yet to see before. “He’s lucky to keep his head. If anything, the mines would be exceedingly generous.”

“My lady has spoken,” Simon said as he raised his voice. “Cadet Ramsay, death is a mercy I shall deny you. You are condemned to hard labor in the salt mines as a slave until you reimburse twenty times the value of the goods you’ve stolen.”

Guards dragged away a screaming Cadet Ramsey out of the room, then brought in the newest accused before them. This one was a middle-aged woman, likely a commoner from the look of her clothes, and Simon didn’t fail to notice her black eye.

“This is a religious case, Your Highness,” the Inquisitor said. “This woman, Isanne of Balmosa, stands accused of faking her conversion to the Light and persisting in the sin of idolatry by worshiping the Green Mother.”

“The Green Mother?” Simon asked. “Is that a dryad or an eidolon?”

“A dryad bound to the islands’ manatree,” Anna confirmed. “Her faith is still popular in forest villages and backwater communities, but you know… all non-Light religions are outlawed nowadays.”

“We have already secured a written confession,” the Inquisitor said. “All we require is your written approval to burn her at the stake.”

Worship of the dryads and their manatrees was one of the oldest faiths in the world, alongside that of the eidolons, and was still popular in lands beyond the empire. Nonetheless, the Light of Pharis had slowly caused them to fade into insignificance over centuries inside imperial territories.

Simon recalled that while the Church’s Inquisitors were allowed to prosecute, capture, detain, and interrogate heretics, Balzam Magnos wisely denied them the right to issue and apply sentences. That power remained firmly in the hands of the state.

“Is this true, Isanne? Did you truly fake your conversion?” Simon questioned the woman. He was wary of taking the Inquisitor’s words at face value, considering her bruises.

The woman held her head high. “It is true, Your Highness. I went to the church and professed words I didn’t believe in so I could continue to live in my community.”

“You are taking this with too much nonchalance,” Anna said with a hint of genuine concern. “Don’t you realize your life is on the line?”

“Death is nothing, Your Highness,” Isanne replied with such calmness that Simon almost found it eerie. “My soul shall rejoin the Green Mother and reincarnate in time. She will see that her righteous children shall enjoy better lives than this one.”

“You dare blaspheme in a prince’s presence, wench?!” the Inquisitor snapped at her. “The Light alone oversees the cycle of rebirth!”

Isanne clenched her jaw. “Your Light is a lie, and the fact that you priests weren’t punished for kissing the Overlord’s feet proves it!”

“Enough of your prattle!” The Inquisitor said before facing Simon and Anna. “Do you hear this, Your Highness? She is unrepentant! To insult the Light is to spit on both the Church and the state!”

Simon noted that the Rune of Confession didn’t zap either of them. He guessed that the spell didn’t punish what the targets believed to be the truth. He turned to Anna to whisper in her ear. “Executing someone for a mere belief doesn’t sit well with me, but she’s not making things easy for us.”

“There’s more,” Anna replied, scowling. “The Green Mother’s cult has caused my dad some issues in recent years. They’ve kidnapped priests and are suspected of having murdered inquisitors.”

Gee, I wonder why, Simon thought before giving the accused one last chance. “Are you willing to forsake the Green Mother in exchange for your life?”

“No,” Isanne replied without hesitation. The rune didn’t so much as blink.

Simon exchanged a glance with Anna, who seemed to share his resignation. They could have argued for mercy had Isanne gone along with them, but she would rather die than betray her beliefs. The Church of the Light would not tolerate her acquittal, especially if her group had offended holy men.

“A pity,” Simon decided. “We have no choice but to surrender you to the Church’s justice then.”

Isanne didn’t resist when the Inquisitor took her, though she did utter a few parting words. “I’m not afraid of death, Your Highness. Are you?”

Simon scoffed at the implied threat. “Believe me, you know nothing of death.”

The third and final case was that of Count Landar Ipsos and Marquis Ronlaw Naberius, who both thanked Simon and Anna for overseeing their dispute. This one was a bit complicated, so the seneschal reviewed the matter first.

Count Ipsos’ family had apparent purview over a bridge to the south, until they had the misfortune of fighting against Balzam Magnos’ takeover of the islands. Although they bent the knee, he punished the Ipsos family by granting the bridge and all of its toll rights to a knight married to a daughter of Marquis Naberius. Both of them died of a plague last year, alongside their only son.

“So there’s no clear heir for the bridge and its toll rights?” Simon inquired.

“There is one, me,” Count Ipsos argued. “My father owned that bridge.”

“A traitor punished for his foolishness,” Marquis Naberius replied. “It was Your Highness’ father's intent to teach a lesson to those who wouldn’t see which way the wind was turning, and my good daughter wanted her rights to revert to House Naberius. She said as much in her will.”

Count Ipsos grunted in disdain. “That is not how it works, Ronlaw, and you know it. When a noble line perishes without heirs, its fief reverts to its overlord.”

“Which your family hasn’t been in thirty years,” the Marquis countered. “My son-in-law answered to House Paimon, who I’m sure will rule justly on the matter.”

“What does succession law say on the matter?” Anna asked Lorimor.

“By law, the bridge has indeed reverted to House Paimon,” Lorimor replied while reviewing documents. “House Ipsos built the bridge and administered it for a century until their expropriation, so they do have the stronger claim… but the deceased lady of House Naberius indeed asked that her father inherit her possessions should she perish with no heir.”

In short, there was no clear-cut solution to the problem. Simon could see the obvious trap: that awarding the bridge to any of these nobles would alienate the other.

“We can’t exactly cut the bridge in half,” Anna whispered in his ear. “We could split the revenues, but they’ll never agree on the share.”

Simon pondered the matter a moment, before coming up with a compromise. “How about this?” he asked, leaning in to better whisper in her ear. “We give possession of the bridge to one, and a share of the income to the other until he dies.”

Anna listened to his proposal with a smile on her face. “That could work. Neither of them will be entirely happy, but they will have no cause to complain.”

“Isn’t that the essence of all compromise?” Simon cleared his throat and then turned back to the nobles. “Very well. By law, House Ipsos possesses the stronger claim to the bridge. Though my father dispossessed your father, Count Ipsos, a son should not inherit the crimes of his sire.” And Simon said that from experience. “Ownership of the bridge shall revert to your house.”

“However, since Marquis Naberius’ daughter wished for her father to inherit her wealth, all income from the bridge’s toll shall go to House Naberius until its current head’s death,” Anna said. “House Paimon shall review the finances involved to ensure all payments are delivered on time and that neither party shall have cause to complain.”

Count Ipsos and Marquis Naberius both scowled in near-perfect synchronicity, yet they showed no true outrage. The compromise didn’t entirely satisfy them, but they could each walk away pretending they had won something out of the arrangement, and they would have no other choice but to behave.

Such was the essence of power.

Simon immediately sensed a rush of experience, followed by the most wonderful sight in the world: that of a new level and ability.

Level 16 Overlord Perk: Anathemic Secrecy II (Active): You can create a set of false stats. Should someone attempt to read your stats with a divination spell, item, or use a similar ability, they will see those stats in place of your real ones.

Oh. Oh! Why couldn’t he unlock this earlier?! This was perfect, wonderful even! This changed everything!

Both nobles bowed, thanked House Paimon and House Magnons for listening to their plea, and then left. Anna watched them depart and then grinned at Simon. “You’ve leveled-up, too?”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “Too?”

“I’ve a Lord Class, so I gain experience by doing lordly things.” Anna chuckled. “Why do you think Dad puts us up to this?”

“You did well too,” Simon complimented her. “A true princess.”

“I was born for this… and it is nice being listened to.” Anna stretched her arms. “Anyway, now is time for breakfast, then we can go on a promenade for the afternoon.”

“I would like to check something first.” Simon needed to be sure. “Can you show me the castle’s basement?”

Like any fortress worth its salt, Castle Carcas had its own dungeons on its lowest floor.

Simon had never visited them on his previous visits, since the basement was only ever used for three things: keeping dangerous prisoners contained until their judgment day, storing House Paimon’s treasury, and serving as a mausoleum. Relatives of House Magnos and House Paimon alike rested in those crypts.

“This floor looks older than the rest of the palace,” Simon noted as he studied the walls with a lantern, while Leonard and Meredith checked the rest of the room, just in case. Simon wouldn’t put it past his father to have left a magical trap of some kind.

“Because it is,” Anna replied. “I think your dad reused stones from some old shrine when he built the castle.”

That part bothered Simon. “A shrine to what?”

“Who knows? Who cares?”

I do, Simon thought. He clearly recalled the voice’s call. “Below.”

Simon glanced around to make sure that the only people present already knew of his Overlord Class, then summoned its outfit. He immediately sensed the sinister presence nearby.

“If I may ask, Your Majesty, what are we looking for?” Leonard asked.

“I’m not sure myself,” Simon replied as he walked into a corridor and reached a dark, damp chamber. A huge limestone and basalt sarcophagus rested along the northern wall, its lid carved into the shape of a woman whom Simon immediately recognized as the late Eleanor Magnos.

“Close…” said the frightful voice, its words clearer. “Help…”

Simon checked the room alongside his allies without finding any hint of a secret passage, hidden vault, or other contraption of any sort. After a few minutes, only one spot remained untouched, with Simon’s suspicions worsening with each passing second.

“Open the sarcophagus,” he ordered.

Anna blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Your Majesty,” Meredith said, clearing her throat. “It is forbidden by sacred law to dishonor a corpse after it has been sealed in its tomb by a clergy of the Pharis faith.”

“And this sarcophagus belongs to Emperor Magnos’ former wife,” Leonard added uneasily. “Your late stepmother.”

“Open it,” Simon insisted. If his suspicions were correct, then the Light was the last of their worries. “I’ll take full responsibility.”

Leonard and Meredith exchanged an uneasy glance before complying with the order. They tried to push the lid with their bare hands, then both transformed into their Class outfits when they failed.

“If the ghost comes out, Simon, I’ll scream and leave you to your fate,” Anna warned him. “We haven’t said ‘till death do us part’ yet, so I have no obligations.”

“I'd better marry you soon, then,” Simon replied as he watched his retainers’ struggle. “Can’t open it?”

“I sense a magical lock of some kind,” Meredith replied. “We could use force to break it open, but…”

Simon squinted at the sarcophagus, then moved to touch it with his hand. It was warm to the touch, far too warm for cold and ancient stones. Runic symbols immediately glowed on its surface and caused a screeching noise to echo across the crypt. The lid began to move on its own without Simon having to push it, revealing its contents.

There was no sign of Eleanor Magnos’ corpse; only a staircase leading deep into the darkness below.

“What is this?” Anna muttered in disbelief, her hand moving to cover her mouth. “Where… where’s the body?”

Simon recognized the faint stench of miasma coming out of these shadowy depths. He had already breathed a similar air not too long ago in Telluria.

There was a Dungeon beneath Castle Carcas.