The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 29: Lord of the Berwick Islands (7)

What was he doing wrong?

The thought continued to haunt Simon as he browsed through the spellbook. His study in Fort Corinte was much smaller than the one he enjoyed in Castle Carcas, but he nonetheless loved the quietness of it all.

The keep was small, much smaller than Carcas, and with only a scant few villages nearby, rather than a city neighboring it. Built on a rocky outcropping in the middle of wetlands close to primeval woods, it enjoyed a spectacular view of the Berwick Islands’ manatree. Simon particularly enjoyed seeing it from his window in the morning.

The source of most life on the planet, each manatree was unique in shape, with the one in the Berwick Islands resembling a colossal oak. It was relatively small by its kind's standards due to its youth, only reaching a little over three thousand feet high, but that was enough to rival many minor mountains. Its massive roots spread across the forests and bathed them in such enormous quantities of mana that it became visible as a faint, bluish mist shimmering in the sunlight. Countless creatures called it home, and some even whispered of a rare few elves and fairies that still served the local dryad.

Simon wasn’t sure what to make of those rumors. He and Anna had spent a month in the region, mostly assisting the local inquisition branch in interrogating suspected Green Mother cultists or visiting local villages to help establish more churches. Incidents were rare, but deeply unsettling: a group of soldiers dispatched into the woods to intercept a suspected cult ritual never returned, but that also could have been the doing of wild animals or monsters in the woods; a wolf had somehow broken into a local church and tore out a priest’s throat; and a couple who had converted to the Church of Light vanished without a trace.

And then there were the occasional poisoning attempts. Simon and Anna had been forced to fire all the local staff and bring in outsiders after his Unyielding Essence saved him from some poisoned beer, and to hire a food taster—mostly to avoid raising suspicions about Simon’s ailment immunity. At least Tiella had brought a few more servants with her from Uyo on her return.

I’m doing it all wrong, I can feel it in my soul. His experience earnings had slowed down to a crawl in spite of his constant judgments and noble hunts. At least I’m making progress on the spellcasting front.

It had taken him a while, but he had finally found a Tier II Miasma-powered spell in one of the castle library’s grimoires; one that would become extremely useful.

He heard a knock on the door. “Yes?”

“It’s me, bookworm,” Anna replied before walking in and locking the door behind her. She carried a small book under her arm. “I can’t believe you prefer this dusty, moldy old place to your throne room.”

“It has its charms,” Simon replied before kissing his fiancée on the lips. “How was the meeting?”

“Utterly boring, doubly so since my lord of a fiancé wouldn’t attend. I even caught Tiella yawning, even though she’s supposed to be keeping watch.”

“She overworks herself.” Tiella spent most of her days grinding with her new Dreadnought Class, and she was having a lot more success than Simon on that front, especially with the Brand of Sloth increasing her experience gains. “Have you brought me more reading material?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure I should give it to you,” Anna replied playfully. “Have you been a good student and made any progress?”

“As a matter of fact, I have.” Simon quickly cast his new spell. “Fiendmask.”

A layer of miasma flowed over his skin, covering every inch of his body in an instant. A thin layer of it now encased him like a cocoon, though it produced no visual indication of any kind.

Anna raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me if I’m a bit underwhelmed.”

“Wait for it,” Simon said with a smile. “Dreadnought.”

The word was completely useless and only for drama’s sake. The truth was that he summoned his Overlord Class outfit, only for the Fiendmask spell to cover it and quickly alter its appearance. The black, spiky Overlord armor turned into a perfect copy of the late Leonard’s Dreadnought outfit.

“No way…” Anna smiled ear to ear, her hands inspecting the armor. “Is this an illusion?”

“Even better. Fiendmask is a spell that coats my body in a shell of miasma. It’s the same principle behind a Class outfit, except I control how it looks.” Simon looked at his hand. The effect was so perfect that he doubted anyone could see through it. “The effect is purely cosmetic, but it lasts one hour and does not dispel when taking damage. The spell’s only flaw is that it provides no protection against divination or magical detection, which is why it’s not too commonly used.”

Anna chuckled. “How fortunate then that you have a Perk that lets you do exactly that, then.”

“Indeed. Thanks to it and Anathemic Secrecy, I can now use my Class in public… just under a false name.” He deactivated his Class outfit and put his arms around his fiancée’s waist. “Have I worked hard enough to earn a reward?”

“Mayhaps…” Anna set her book aside and put her arms around his neck. “But I’m afraid the Anna Academy has higher standards than most…”

“Can I convince you to give me extra credit?” he asked as he began to pull up her skirt, his hands touching the Brands of Sloth and Gluttony he had put on her thighs a few weeks back. Anna had insisted, half because of the experience boost and poison immunity benefits, half because it spiced

things up.“That’ll depend on your… performance.”

Fifteen minutes and one broken desk later, Simon and Anna rested on a bed of grimoires—the Overlord having ‘accidentally’ caused a bookshelf to fall after slamming against it during their passionate lovemaking. Simon felt a little awkward making love on furniture like this, but the feeling of a naked Anna crawling on his chest dispelled all his doubts.

“You weren’t kidding about that Brand of Gluttony magnifying the wearer’s pleasure,” Anna mused. That was the benefit she had gotten the most use of besides the poison immunity. “We should spend some time apart now and then, or else I fear we won’t do anything productive.”

Simon sighed. They had been making love more often since Fort Corinte had fewer prying eyes than Castle Carcas, but she was right; it was mostly a distraction from that gaping sense of frustration.

“I’m doing something wrong,” he admitted aloud. “My experience gains have stalled out. We’ve been here for a month and I haven’t been able to gain a single level.”

The Poison Gardens’ loss had been a tremendous blow. The Berwick Islands were one of the safest and most militarized regions of the Empire, which meant most dangerous local monster species had long been exterminated, and no dangerous criminals with high bounties roamed the land. Green Mother cultists were mostly Classless farmers, so executing them provided no benefits, and the beasts he hunted as part of his noble duties were no match against anyone with a Crestone. His father-in-law had tried to supply him with monsters and criminals from the mainland to execute, but Louis and Euphemia’s forces already monopolized those.

In short, he had run out of things worth killing.

“It’s not just the lack of enemies,” Simon complained. “I can feel I’m doing something wrong when I judge people. I can tell I receive less experience than I should from lordcraft.”

“I figured as much when you stopped attending audiences to focus on your spellcasting.” Anna searched the books they had thrown around and recovered the one she had carried into the room earlier. “Which is why I brought you this.”

Simon glanced at the cover and groaned upon reading the title. “An Introduction to Fatebinding? Really?”

“Now, now, don’t be like that, you know how much I love this game.”

“It is fun, I will admit it.” Fatebinding was a game used for both pleasure and divination that revolved around twenty-two cards representing the Noble Classes, fifty-six representing minor suits, and an extra card themed after the Overlord. “But what does it have to do with my leveling problem?”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“It will help by providing insight,” Anna stated as she flipped the pages of the book until she found the one she was looking for. “Here, take a look.”

Simon glanced at a picture of an archivist in a library with an eye for a face, a glowing lantern illuminating four symbols representing a sword, a coin, a cup, and a wand.

The Librarian - Arcana 21

Most mysterious of the Classes is the lost Librarian, whose Crestone has been unaccounted for for centuries—though blueprints remain. Representing both the archivist and the archive, it represents ultimate knowledge, wisdom, and understanding. Whereas the Crafter seeks to build for constructive ends and the Mage revels in his power, the Librarian toils for enlightenment’s sake alone.

The Librarian represents the end of a journey and reflection, whether it is the fulfillment of a dream and the honoring of a great achievement, or a false, unfulfilling end brought by shortcuts and a lack of closure.

Upright: Completion, Wholeness, Integration, Closure, End of the Journey.

Reversed: Lack of Closure, Shortcuts, Delays, Unfulfillment, False End.

“I suppose an undead lich with all the world’s secrets would indeed embody the Librarian well,” Simon conceded, “but I still don’t see your point.”

“All the Noble Classes represent an archetype. The Commander is the general leading soldiers in battle, the tactician with the plan, and the leader who always knows what action to take. Since my Lord Class is its vassal, understanding it let me figure out what worked best for it too.” Anna flipped the pages to the last one. “This particular edition was written before the Reformation, back when the Overlord was a reviled symbol of evil rather than the sanitized version the Church of the Light created through censorship.”

The picture of the Overlord was most frightening, and indeed nothing like the stern but fair emperor-like card from the modern Fatebinding edition. Simon’s Class appeared as a vile and cruel archdemon with a dragonlike serpent coiling around his neck, his boot firmly crushing a defeated hero’s face underfoot.

Overlord - The Numberless Arcana

Created by a demon in opposition to all other Noble Classes, the Overlord alone draws its power from the Dark; whereas the other arcanas represent all that is heroic and virtuous in our kind, the Overlord embodies all that is evil and wicked. It is the adversary that degrades, corrupts, and humiliates heroes; the destroyer who revels in pointless carnage; the maker of monsters whose twisted creations despoil what is fair and beautiful; the demon that bears poisoned gifts and lures fools into selling their souls; the tyrant that seizes power through strength and rules through terror. Its sole purpose is to dominate all that it can seize and destroy what it cannot, embodying heartless order, absolute selfishness, and savage chaos.

The Overlord is the most recent addition to the Fatebinding Tarot and trumps the other arcanas. Unique among all cards, the Overlord is a purely negative force, and drawing it is always an ill omen, either representing calamity or a terrible obstacle for good to overcome.

Upright: Adversity, Domination, Tyranny, Enslavement, Triumph of Evil Forces.

Reverse: Destruction of Property, Loss of Values, Strife, Humiliation, Calamity.

“So my Class represents all that is bad and wrong in the world,” Simon deadpanned, “I already know that.”

“Yes, but I think we underestimated the real issue.” Anna took a deep breath. “The Overlord Class was created by an archdemon who wanted to kill heroes, enslave the world, and drown it all in darkness. It was made by an asshole for assholes… and you aren’t one, Simon.”

Only then did the truth hit Simon like a brick to the face. “The Overlord is not a fair ruler; they’re a tyrant who’s in it for themselves.”

“Exactly, and I think that’s the detail my dad missed. He thought you would passively gain experience the way our Classes do, merely from acting like a ruler, but that’s not enough in your case. Maybe the reason you don’t gain as much experience as I do from these audiences is because you aren’t mistreating our subjects.”

Simon scowled. As far as he remembered, everyone had always been terrified of an audience with Balzam Magnos, because one was never certain how it would turn out for the petitioner. He was as likely to offer a reward as to inflict terrible punishment in a fit of arbitrary cruelty. No one in their right mind took his judgments for granted.

Simon knew from recent experience that his father had been twisted long before he ascended the Crimson Throne, but maybe his cruelty prospered because it offered a twisted symbiosis with his Class. The more vicious his rule, the tighter his grip on power, and the more experience he received.

Tiella’s telepathic voice, carried by the Brand of Sloth, soon echoed in his mind. “Your Majesty, where are you?!”

“My study,” Simon replied. Was that dread he sensed in her voice?

“The beasts you slay aren’t exactly paladins or holy defenders of the people either,” Anna pointed out, being unaware of the mental discussion. “You’re not binding more subjects by distributing brands, or claiming power by force.”

“We would have a rebellion on our hands within a fortnight if I started acting like my father,” Simon pointed out.

“I know… but everyone was too scared of your father to even try.” Anna sighed. “I think you’re trapped. You can’t gain much non-combat experience unless you reveal yourself as the Overlord and act like it, but if you do that, then the cat is out–”

A frantic knock on the door startled them. “Your Highness, Anna!” Tiella called out. “Please open up now!”

“I was grading my fiancé,” Anna replied playfully. “If you want a remedial lesson–”

“There’s no time! We need to leave!” she all but shouted through the door, her panic intense. “It has begun!”

Simon’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, as he immediately figured out what had just happened. He exchanged a glance with Anna, with the two of them quickly putting on their clothes before opening the door. Tiella waited on the other side, clad in her Dreadnought armor, which looked almost identical to Leonard’s except it was entirely white rather than blue and slightly slimmer. A group of soldiers bearing the House Paimon emblem stood behind her, looking rather grim.

Oh, and their blades were drenched in blood. Simon couldn’t forget that detail.

Anna immediately put on her Class outfit the moment she noticed it. “Whose blood is that, Tiella?”

“Priests and inquisitors,” Tiella replied with a hint of guilt and shame. “We tried to parlay, but… they didn’t give us a choice.” She presented Simon with a letter bearing Lord Maublanc’s seal. “This was teleported directly to our rookery, alongside orders to move to a new safehouse. The Commander’s work.”

Simon scowled as he opened the message to find it hastily handwritten by his own future father-in-law. He already guessed what to expect before he even saw the truth spelled out on the first lines.

They know.

Dassein has been leading troops into Telluria’s heartlands to fight some scalefolk warlord; I don’t know what he found there, but what he reported let Louis connect the dots, and Euphemia’s spies informed her in turn. They all know.

High Confessor Mastemo has sent an order to every priest and inquisitor in the Berwick Islands to capture you alive. An elite group of Templars, led by Lady Beatrice herself, is on its way to my domain as we speak. Avoid them at all costs.

Euphemia has publicly announced your father’s death, declared herself empress, and seized control of the capital. Thalas has done the same with Beleth, and Cocagne is set to support their claim. All lords are proclaiming for one Party or the other.

My intelligence indicates Louis is set to retaliate with an all-out attack on all non-affiliated imperial command centers, Castle Carcas included. I don’t know what form the operation will take, but my spies believe it will happen tonight. Both sides know I will not surrender you, so they will not negotiate.

I’m on my way back to the mainland. You will take Anna to a secure location and wait for me to meet with you. Trust no one.

I knew this would happen, Simon thought grimly as he folded the letter. He should have convinced Lord Maublanc to bear the Brand of Sloth earlier, if only to improve communications between them. I gave away too many hints.

Anna gave him a sharp look, having already guessed the situation. “I take it the wedding is delayed?”

“Yes,” Simon replied with a scowl. “The civil war has begun.”

They left Fort Corinte like thieves on horseback.

The ‘safehouse’ was located to the far north of the fort, deep past the wetlands and into the nearby marshes. The group traveled light, hardly a dozen men, including Simon, Anna, and Tiella herself. They had galloped through the wetlands well past sunset, which had been plenty of time for Simon to think about what had gone wrong.

He could guess what had happened: Dassein had either encountered Vouivre in Telluria or learned that she had killed Casval without inheriting the Overlord Class, which thus confirmed that Balzam Magnos’ testament was a forgery. It had probably taken mere minutes for Louis and Euphemia to realize Simon was the only one to have benefited from the fake will and then suspiciously fled to a faraway, well-protected region under one of the late Balzam’s loyalists.

Two months, Simon thought. It had been a little over two months since Balzam Magnos had been murdered. It will only take two months for the imperial factions to come to blows, even with a decoy to distract them with.

He had known a civil war was all but inevitable without an Overlord on the throne, but events still moved too fast for his taste. Louis and Euphemia hadn’t even tried to convince Lord Maublanc to surrender him peacefully, which meant they were either desperate to recover the Overlord Class quickly to solidify their claim… or were confident in their victory.

They must both have hidden resources, or secret weapons stashed somewhere, Simon guessed. They wouldn’t be so daring otherwise.

He solved half of that mystery at nightfall, when the group heard a booming noise coming from the horizon; a rumble spreading into the clouds, alongside the familiar howl of mana-powered engines.

“What is that?” Anna asked with a frown, her head perking up.

Simon recognized the sound even before he saw them. “Airships.”

They appeared over the horizon, coming from the western mainland, red and black and terrible, massive vessels of metal carried by mighty propellers flying over the sea. They were cruiser-class military airships, twice the size of the one Simon had used to fly to Telluria and the Berwick Islands. The empire was only supposed to have five of them as part of its flagship fleet.

Yet Simon counted ten of them soaring towards the Berwick Islands, ready to bathe them in fire and brimstone, all of them proudly bearing the three crossed swords emblem of the War Party.

No way Louis would send them all here while Euphemia holds the capital, Simon thought as he struggled to believe his eyes. This can only mean one thing.

Louis had an entire airship fleet stashed somewhere.