The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 43: The Stone Muse (3)

Elaine Malphas spent the entire flight being the perfect courtier.

“No way,” Simon said, a smile forming on his lips in spite of himself. “My father actually said that to Thalas’ face?”

“I kid you not,” Elaine replied, slightly tailoring her wording to sound more casual and less refined. “Lord Thalas had just finished his weapon demonstration when His Majesty scoffed and said, ‘I gave you the Berserker Crestone because I thought even a monkey could use it well. I should have followed my first instinct and given it to an ape.’ I could see the light leave the poor boy’s eyes.”

Was it a shame to say Simon burst out laughing when he heard that? He felt torn between amusement and guilt. Even if Simon had no love for Thalas, their father deserved no applause for treating his children so awfully. “My father is not a family man.”

“I could tell.” She feigned unease next. “Our nobles are a cruel lot, both towards each other and themselves. Many of their children look down on my father and me for our common origins. It is… exhausting.”

Appealing to my bastard sensibilities to elicit sympathy, check. “I’m afraid the academy won’t be any more welcoming. Perhaps we should start a book club for the baseborn.”

“Or an occult club,” she replied, smiling faintly. “I’ve been getting into astrology lately.”

“What a coincidence—” It wasn’t, “—me too. What’s your sign?”

Elaine Malphas proceeded to tell Simon she was a Maiden with a fortuitous Minotaur ascendant sign, and then regaled him with her belief that the Zodiac could deeply affect one’s destiny and compatibility with other people. Simon had to give it to her, she was courteous, polite, and knew how to extensively prepare to approach her marks. The model courtier.

In short, Elaine Malphas was a two-faced, duplicitous viper that just oozed deceit.

Was she trying to ingrain herself with Simon personally, or to use him as a stepping stone to reach Louis? The fact that her father only sent her to attend the academy once the crown-prince decided to go there pointed to the latter possibility, but Simon couldn’t be sure yet.

What do I actually know of House Malphas? Simon wondered. Only the official story.

The tale of Patriate Malphas’ ascension was well-known. He started out as a banker and entrepreneur in Valendre who then purchased a tax office—a common practice in the provinces—and then proved so effective at his job that he received promotion after promotion. His talents led him all the way to the rank of Baron, a rank he then leveraged alongside newfound connections to marry his sisters to important imperial dukes, become Lord Treasurer, and obtain the Merchant Noble Crestone as a symbol of office. His daughter Elaine was the result of an affair with another trader’s daughter and was then legitimized at her father’s request… or at least, that was what she told Simon.

All in all, House Malphas was the shining picture of imperial social mobility where talent could open the way to the heights of nobility, and an encouragement to all commoners to work hard for the glory of Endymion.

Why would they even assist elves in attacking the capital, assuming their house was involved in the attack? All their achievements and continued prosperity rested on the empire’s continued survival. It just didn’t make sense.

But then again, he had bigger demonic fish to fry. Simon trusted Shabram to get to the bottom of the Patriate matter while he focused on investigating the black comet and the Zodiac Fiends.

Once they arrived in Telluria and he finally shed Elaine Malphas off him, the first thing Simon did was to invite all of his retainers to visit Duchar and his daughter, then reveal his identity as Overlord to them in the archive as he had done in past reigns. Duchar, Cassandra, and Belzemine dutifully offered him their help, Leonard and Meredith knelt, and Lorimor crawled at his feet while professing his eternal loyalty. Simon bore his antics and waited for him to finish.

But then he said something that caught Simon’s full attention.

“Oh Ruler of the Abyss, oh Serpent-Bearer, I am always your faithful serva–”

“Wait, wait, what did you just call me?” Simon cocked his head at the cultist. “Serpent-Bearer? Who told you this?”

“My muse! My muse told me so much about you!” Lorimor all but cried with religious fervor. “She has waited for your return for so long, oh Lord of the Dark!”

Simon had become numb to Lorimor’s madness, so he had failed to pick up on that detail. “You met this demon in Magvolia, if I recall?”

“Yes, in the Darkwoods, among the tangled trees and twisted trails! She sang to me among the stones and muddy waters!”

Simon turned to Duchar, who had been watching Lorimor with utter contempt. “The Darkwood is a forest in Magvolia,” the old necromancer explained calmly. “There used to be a manatree and a large elven settlement there before the Year of the Doom, but it has gone rotten with miasma. The place is a wellspring of the Dark and crawling with fiends, yet many foolish adventurers regularly try their luck in an attempt to pilfer its forgotten riches. No doubt this fool yearned for them and paid the price.”

“I have heard of that place from other soldiers, Your Majesty,” Meredith said. “The army considered sending an expedition there, but Lord Louis deemed it not worth the cost. The demons there rely on the dense miasma to survive like elves need mana and thus cannot leave the region, so they pose little threat unless actively provoked.”

Simon pondered this. He recalled that his father’s notes mentioned Magvolia as a location hosting one of the demonbarrows that remained unaccounted for. Could it be…

He had to check. “Lorimor, I have a task for you, one that requires astronomical calculations. Agnes will assist you in this.”

“Your Dark Majesty honors me beyond my wildest dreams,” the cultist replied with excitement.

“And you shall be granted power appropriate for your service.” Simon opened his gauntleted hand and called upon the Brands of Sloth, Gluttony, and Lust. “These brands shall grant you various benefits, such as increased experience yield, immunity to poison, disease, and fatigue, or eternal youth. The first of them, which my father already blessed Duchar with, will also allow me to speak with you through telepathy over any distance.”

“Fascinating… I wasn’t aware Your Majesty could assign so many variants of the brand at once,” Duchar said, stroking his beard. “I shall pass on youth, but I would welcome protection from fatigue.”

“Oh?” Simon asked in surprise. “I would have thought you would be the first to request the gift, considering your advanced age.”

“Your Majesty is a generous patron, but youth clouds the mind with baser instincts. Age has sharpened my focus and freed me from temptation. I have no nostalgia for my foolish younger years.” Duchar chuckled darkly. “Besides, I hope to transition into becoming a lich one day. I would only require youth if I need more time to complete the ritual.”

And here Simon thought he had shown some wisdom. He wasn’t particularly eager to deal with another lich after his disastrous encounter with his own ancestor.

“Personally, I would like to obtain all three marks,” Cassandra said demurely. “If Your Majesty would bless me so.”

“The likes of me and Lorimor should hold out on the youth blessing as well,” Leonard suggested. “I do not think the changes would be too noticeable, but we shouldn’t take the risk.”

“I will take eternal life,” Meredith replied. “I would rather keep my skills forever sharp, and I am not so old that it would be noticed.”

“Fair enough,” Simon replied as he turned to Belzemine. He had dreaded this moment for some time, rehearsing it in his head many times. “As for you, it displeases me that you bear the mark of a previous Overlord. I shall remove my predecessor’s Brand of Pride from you and replace it with these three.”

Belzemine’s eyes widened in brief horror and distress. “Your Majesty… Your Majesty would remove my brand?”

“The only brands you need are those I apply myself, those that mark you as my property,” Simon replied imperiously, albeit with reluctance. He needed to remove the Brand of Pride to prevent Vouivre from ever using it against him, but in such a way that wouldn’t cause a scene like in the last reign. “Do you have an issue with that, Agnes?”

Belzemine clearly didn’t like it, but she simply lowered her head in obedience. “I am Your Majesty’s servant in all things.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

At least she didn’t cry and break down this time, Simon thought grimly. Her meek acceptance of her own slavery, and the fact that he had to partake in her torment just to appease her unsettled him. She still thinks I intend to keep her as my slave, and it reassures her.

Little steps, he told himself. Eole was right, his best bet was to be a kind master to her until her emotional scars could slowly heal and freedom became a desirable possibility rather than a daunting one.

After purging Belzemine of the Brand of Pride, Simon assigned his own marks to his retainers. Belzemine, Meredith, and Cassandra were granted all three, while the rest settled on the Sloth and Gluttony ones only.

He then proceeded to assign orders. Belzemine and Lorimor would complete Balzam Magnos’ astronomical research on demonbarrows to the best of their abilities and confirm if the Darkwoods indeed held one; Leonard and Meredith would help him keep watch on Louis and Elaine, respectively; and the necromancers would continue to teach him the ways of the Dark. All in all, he was set on spending this reign doing research in Telluria.

But then…

Then he met Anna again.

Simon found her waiting for him in his bedroom when he returned to the academy with Meredith and Leonard.

He had expected it. She had always been there with Tiella, waiting to surprise him… and he was, when he saw two newcomers seated with them at the table, smiling and laughing.

“Ah, Simon,” Louis greeted him with a playful smile. An elegant young woman Simon had never seen yet sat at his right, a golden goblet in hand. “We were starting to wonder if you had lost your way.”

“You are too kind, Louis,” Anna replied with a chuckle. “I should chastise him for keeping us waiting for so long. What punishment does he deserve, Tiella?”

“Maybe we should listen to his excuse first,” Tiella said shyly.

“Right, that.” Anna stared at Simon with mischief in her eyes. He could never resist her when she did that. “What do you have to say in your defense?”

“I… I simply didn’t expect you here,” Simon said, the impromptu lie sounding so weak in his voice. He leaned forward to meet her lips, but realized his mistake a second before contact and veered off to kiss her cheek instead.

Anna nearly exploded in laughter. “Did you just try to kiss me on the lips?”

“No,” Simon blurted out, when he meant yes. Force of habits. “I was just… distracted.”

“By my beauty?” Anna smirked at him. “We’ll need to find you a wife this year.”

She meant it as a joke, but it felt like a stab in the heart. Whatever joy Simon still felt at seeing her alive and well again was drowned out in an ocean of bitterness. He forced himself to keep a stony face and to focus on the stranger among them. “I don’t think we’ve been acquainted, Miss…”

“Isabelle,” the woman replied with a courteous smile that, unlike Elaine’s, seemed entirely sincere. She was a pale beauty with long, pale platinum hair swept into a high ponytail falling all the way to her hips, and whose strands framed her lovely face. Her eyes were a pale shade of azure, and her evening satin gown showcased her fine curves; as for her white hermine cloak, it bore the thunderstruck tree heraldry of House Barbatos. “I’m glad to meet you, Simon. Louis spoke highly of you.”

“Did he?” Simon asked with a raised eyebrow. He noted that Isabelle didn’t introduce herself with her family name, even though House Barbatos ruled over one of the realm’s largest duchies. He wondered what kind of person she was. He recalled that Anna described her as nice and kind, but Louis called her away in previous reigns since he wasn’t present to ensure her safety.

“I give praise when it is deserved,” Louis replied with a thin smile. “A pity Thalas decided against joining us.”

“Milord scared him away,” his fiancée quipped. “Which was rather mean of you.”

“Yes, our half-brother would rather avoid me for some reason.” Louis chuckled. “I doubt anyone here will miss his ‘natural charm.’”

“Not at all,” Anna replied before introducing her handmaiden. “Simon, let me introduce you to Tiella Decarabia. My beautiful companion.”

“Yes, I–” The word ‘know’ died on Simon’s tongue. “I’ve heard.”

Louis gave him that sharp, soul-piercing look he had, then rose to his feet. “Thank you for your hospitality, Anna, but alas, I must retire. Work does not wait.” He glanced at his fiancée. “Isabelle?”

“I’m coming, milord,” Isabelle replied before setting her goblet aside. “The wine was delicious, Anna. Remind me to introduce you to those of my region someday.”

“Please swear you will study Divine Mysteries with us before you leave,” Anna implored her.

“Of course, Anna,” Isabelle promised with a chuckle. “I am more at home with Thaumaturgy than Prayers, but I have been meaning to broaden my repertoire.

“I will do my best to attend one of your dueling club sessions as well,” Louis promised Anna. He stopped next to Simon and leaned to whisper in his half-brother’s ear as he walked by. “Forget them.”

Simon froze in place. “Forget whom?”

“You have seen these two in your visions, I would assume? Or else the sight of them would not unsettle you so much.” Louis took Simon’s silence for confirmation. “The girls you have seen are not the people you’ve met today. They are furtive mirages, illusions of what could be. They are no more substantial than dreams and will crumble to nothing as soon as you challenge your fate.”

“It’s not that easy,” Simon replied. What keen insight, and only with a glance…

“Then work hard. You will never get anywhere if you let ghosts rule your mind.” The crown-prince strode away with regal confidence. “The past is already written, the future is always changing, and only the present matters. You would do well to remember that.”

Three days passed since that night. Three agonizing days where he had to pretend nothing was wrong at the academy while spending his evenings in the archives.

The loss of Eole and Belzemine’s loss of emotional progress had stung, but the pain paled compared to the agony of dealing with Anna on a daily basis. Meeting her in class, smiling at him as if nothing happened between them—and from her point of view, nothing did

—was becoming unbearable. He had to resist the urge to hold her in his arms and kiss her on the lips each time she greeted him, and the way she joked about checking out handsome male students hurt more than Casval’s flames. Even the sight of Tiella, whom he had gotten close to during the Berwick Islands reign, left him aching with a grim feeling of loss and emptiness whenever she stared at him as if he were a newcomer rather than a trusted companion. Simon was strongly considering avoiding class entirely. They wore him down and prevented him from focusing.

Thankfully, his research distracted him well enough. He had contacted Shabram, who confirmed that Balzam Magnos had ordered them to put the Darkwood under surveillance roughly a year back, though he never explained his reasoning. The place was a monster-infested den in a backwater region, so the empire never considered it worth the cost to send troops to clear it out. It was also relatively close to the Goetia Research Facility, where the empire produced most of its Crestones, while Lorimor and Belzemine’s attempts to complete Balzam Magnos’ astronomical calculations pointed to a demonbarrow being indeed located in the area.

I have to check out that place, Simon thought as he observed a rat in a cage in the company of Leonard, Duchar, and Cassandra in the archives for a test. He swiftly killed the animal with his Toxin spell, then quickly harvested its soul like he did with Alphonse’s in the previous reign. A black gem of miasma appeared in his hand, to Leonard’s dread and the necromancers’ amazement.

“Marvelous, truly marvelous,” Duchar said with sincere interest. He all but snatched the miasma crystal from Simon’s hands to better observe it. “I was aware His Late Majesty could capture souls, but I never had the privilege to observe the process in person.”

“Is it such an outstanding feat?” Simon inquired.

“It is,” Cassandra confirmed calmly. “Your Majesty may not know this, but only powerful creatures of the Dark, like demons or the strongest of vampires, can steal souls by force.”

“There is a third-Tier spell that can seal a soul in a gem like Your Majesty does, but it requires both a specially prepared container and the victim’s consent,” Duchar added. “Spells capable of emulating Your Majesty’s Perk would be in the Eighth or Ninth Tier.”

“It is quite the dreadful power,” Leonard said. “But I wonder what use is there in a captive rat’s soul.”

“Plenty. Souls can be used as currency to barter with dark powers, to infuse magical items with power, to raise powerful undead, and to fuel potent sorcery, or even for company. I have heard some necromancers capture the souls of minstrels so they can sing for them their favorite songs on demand.” Duchar coughed at the glares Simon and Leonard sent him. “It was a purely academic answer, of course. Our only interest is to preserve these souls from death for the sake of unlocking immortality for all mortal beings.”

“Should we try to implant a soul into a new vessel?” Cassandra asked her father. “This rat’s mate is pregnant. We could try to transfer this soul into one of the unborn babies before a new soul settles into the fetus.”

“Brilliant idea,” Duchar praised his daughter. “I’m sure transferring the father’s soul into a son’s body would improve compatibility and grant us insight into reincarnation. This would be the occasion to take that mind-transfering helmet out of storage, too.”

“I am sure the mother will be happy to be reunited with her mate too,” Cassandra added calmly as if they were discussing the weather rather than a ghastly experiment, completely oblivious to the scowl of disgust on Leonard’s face.

Simon was almost relieved when Meredith walked into the archive to give her report, though the scowl on her face quickly told him she didn’t bring good news.

“As you suspected, Lady Elaine has been following us and snooping around,” Meredith said. “In spite of my attempts to lose her, I am now certain she at least suspects this place’s existence. I’ve also noticed a detail I think Your Majesty will find disquieting.”

That’s a high bar to reach after discussing incestuous rat reincarnation, Simon thought before answering out loud, “Go on.”

“Her steps don’t make any sound. I’m sure of it.”

“So she’s a trained spy?”

“No,” Meredith corrected him, “Her footsteps simply do not produce any sound at all. It is not practice, it is a Perk, and a telltale sign of a Rogue-type Vassal Class.”

Simon squinted at her. “Like what, a Saboteur?”

“Or an Assassin,” Leonard suggested. “Should we arrest her, Your Majesty?”

“This interloper could simply have an accident,” Duchar suggested flatly. “These streets aren’t safe, after all.”

Simon immediately shot down the idea. Being a spy wasn’t worthy of death unless they confirmed she was connected to the Frightwall bombardment plot, and the sudden disappearance of the Lord-Treasurer’s daughter would bring too much scrutiny. It wasn’t worth the effort.

But on the other hand, she would inevitably find or investigate the archive if they continued to operate in the area. Silk had taught him that someone with Rogue-type Classes could easily sneak in anywhere. Staying in Telluria while she remained active presented a grave security risk.

Then again… did he actually need to stay in Telluria at all?

Eole was gone, Casval was probably dead, and Louis would hunt Vouivre down himself. All the threats in the region already had or would soon be dealt with. Anna and Tiella were safe, and Shabram could keep watch over House Malphas in Simon’s stead.

But more than that, Simon just couldn’t stand being constantly reminded of what he had lost. He needed time to process it, to accept it, to move on.

“Leonard.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“You will go to Louis and tell him…” Simon sighed in resignation. “You will tell him that I have changed my mind, and that I would like to visit Magvolia.”

And they would all be going.