The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 47: The Stone Muse (7)

After securing the so-called ‘Halls of the Minotaur’—the Ruined Shrine of the Stone Muse would have been a more appropriate moniker—Simon had Belzemine and Duchar study both their host and her seal while Leonard went to scout out the building.

As he feared, the Minotaur Fiend could not be removed from its host without providing it with a new one. The two were simply too intertwined, something that fascinated Duchar.

Simon himself decided against trying to personally extract the crystal. He was pretty sure that his Indomitable Crown Perk and the Overlord’s power would protect him from possession… but he couldn’t be certain until he tried, and the potential consequences could be disastrous.

Moreover, while he had hope of resisting a possession attempt, he knew that Lorimor’s son or Cassandra would not be so lucky. He had to ensure nobody with a Minotaur birth sign came anywhere near the shrine.

Simon doubted Whispermire would survive the night should the Zodiac Fiend escape.

“Magnificent,” Duchar commented, his voice brimming with almost childlike fascination. By contrast, Belzemine’s haunted look wouldn’t leave her face. “I have never seen a miasma crystal of this purity, nor one possessing a dryad… the archdemon inside must be powerful indeed, even though the merger appears incomplete.”

“What have you found?” Simon inquired before the necromancer could lose himself in his research.

“Lady Firewand and I have confirmed that the seal binding the dryad is of elvish origin,” Duchar explained once they had finished casting analysis spells on the Stone Muse. “Expertly crafted, too. Truly a work of art. It does not inflict the Petrification Ailment, but instead encases the target in a near-indestructible prison of stone in which they spend eternity in stasis.”

“I assume the ‘near’ part is the most important detail,” Simon guessed, having already escaped a similar situation. He had the sneaking suspicion that the seal placed on the Stone Muse was the exact same spell Frea’s allies cast on him in his previous reign.

“A ritual I know, to escape this prison!” the Stone Muse eagerly replied through telepathy. “A follower who has failed me; a priest who does not believe me; a descendant of an enemy; a believer willingly martyred. All slain on my altar on each turn of the season.”

“Sacrifices?” Simon suppressed a shudder so as not to appear weak. “Will their blood alone not suffice?”

“Die they must, so their lives may shatter these granite shackles!” She seemed to sense his reluctance and tried to sweeten the deal. “Reward you I shall for each of them, my love. Many secrets and forbidden truths I can teach you, and great wealth to unveil! All a taste of the bliss I offer once we are wed!”

“And then?” Simon asked out loud. “If I free you and take you as my consort, what shall you do?”

“By your side, I shall rule this forest and beyond!” He could almost taste her mad glee. “Once all sung my praise and clamored for my glory, bestowing gifts upon those I favored! Forgotten I have been, and remembered I shall be! The goddess of these woods I am, now and forever, a queen most worthy of the Lord of Dark!”

In short, she would become a bane on the region and likely the rest of the world. Hardly an appealing proposition.

Nonetheless, he relayed the information to his spellcasters in case they could glean something from it.

“Oh, I know this ritual,” Duchar said. Of course he knew how to unseal an ancient evil. “Grimoires call it the Seasonal Key. The sacrifices must be provided on the equinoxes and solstices, with the targeted seal shattering on the fourth and final one. Any missed victim resets the ritual.”

The Vernal Equinox was a little less than three months away if he recalled, so completing all four sacrifices would take an entire year. As if the whole human sacrifice part wasn’t already a big repellent on its own.

“What spellcasting Tier is this Seasonal Key?” Simon inquired. For all he knew, none of them could even cast the damn thing.

“It would be the equivalent of a Tier IX spell, but that hardly matters here,” Duchar replied.

“Rituals are spells that do not require Tiers or Classes to cast because the power is in the act itself rather than its participants, Your Majesty,” Belzemine explained, her voice quieter than usual. Seeing the Muse’s horrific state had rattled the elf to her core. “Anybody can use them so long as they understand the procedure.”

“Why doesn’t everyone use them then?” Simon asked, sensing a catch.

“Because rituals are highly complex and require extensive preparation, special circumstances, or rare ingredients,” Duchar replied. “Your Majesty can strengthen themselves with a word and a pulse of mana, but a ritual allowing you to do the same would probably require something like slaughtering an auroch and bathing in its fresh blood. Not very practical, I'm sure you'll agree.”

Simon didn’t like that. If the Stone Muse only needed four sacrifices on specific days rather than a dedicated spellcaster, then all she had to do was contact some fool like Lorimor to act on her behalf. Her orders could already reach beyond the Darkwood.

Simon glanced at the Scholar, who was currently too busy praying to the Stone Muse for forgiveness—which she wouldn’t give—to do anything productive. It might have been a blessing in disguise that he and the other would-be cultists had been too focused on the comparatively easier task of finding a compatible host for the Minotaur Fiend rather than abducting and murdering people to break the seal.

How long until the Muse found someone willing to try the other approach? Simon had the suspicion the answer would be ‘not long’ with the Cobweb in town.

“Stone Muse, do you hear me?” Simon telepathically asked both Belzemine and Duchar. The two spellcasters frowned, but the Stone Muse failed to answer or react. “She cannot hear us through the brands.”

“Fascinating… this would suggest the brands create a direct connection between our souls rather than simply carry telepathic messages,” Duchar mused. “I assume Your Majesty wishes to discuss things you do not want our prisoner to overhear?”

“Yes.” Though the brands did not allow Belzemine and Duchar to communicate with each other, only with their Overlord master, Simon still asked them the same question. “Can she be cured?”

“I… I am not sure,” Belzemine admitted with a grim look. “She is… twisted, even without the crystal. Death might be mercy. What was done to her… was awful.”

“If by ‘curing’ Your Majesty means turning this unique and wonderful creature back into a common and uninteresting dryad, then this cannot be done without removing the fiend possessing her,” Duchar replied with a rare display of annoyance. “Which would require either finding the demon a new host or breaking the seal. Even then, I am not sure if the former method would even work, considering how intertwined they have become, unless we test it first. Perhaps if we attempted the fusion in a controlled environment–”

“No,” Simon decided immediately. No way he would take that risk. “The dryad seems to be under the delusion that she will possess the new host too.”

“She is mad,” Belzemine replied with deep sorrow. “Only the demon will escape. The scission… the scission might even kill her.”

“She is probably mistaken, but again, this is a unique situation that warrants further investigation,” Duchar replied. He didn’t bother hiding his immense curiosity for the unique creature. “I would suggest Your Majesty should go along with the ritual option for the reward it offers.”

Simon raised an eyebrow behind his helmet. “Surely you do not believe a mad dryad will keep her word?”

“Not at all. Your Majesty will understand that wise wizards do not design rituals to break nefarious demonic entities free for the sake of arcane solidarity. This kind of magic also creates a contract between the fiend and its liberators. Freedom against service.”

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Simon’s eyes widened with interest. “What kind of service?”

“In this particular ritual’s case, the freed entity will be magically compelled to fulfill a single wish for whoever completed the ritual to the best of its ability.”

“For whoever completes the ritual?” Simon could immediately see the catch. “So one could complete the first three sacrifices and be robbed by whoever completes the fourth?”

“Your Majesty is perceptive. Yes indeed, only the person who completes the fourth sacrifice may command the beast. Moreover, the fiend will be bound to the wording of the wish, so they are free to interpret it. I would suggest His Majesty ask a talented lawyer to review their wish before they utter it.”

“But she won’t be able to disobey?”

“No. The ritual will permanently banish the fiend back to the Abyss if they refuse or fail to complete the task.”

Now that changed everything. If the Minotaur Fiend was bound to fulfill any command, then Simon could use the ritual to order it to leave this plane of existence and never return, or force it to do good for the rest of its immortal life. This would remove it as a threat to the world.

All for the price of four sacrifices.

Quite the dangerous way of thinking.

“The other reason why I suggest Your Majesty goes along is that the dryad doesn’t actually need our help,” Duchar added. “The seal is already fraying on its own. Lady Firewand will likely confirm it.”

Simon took a long, deep breath. He had feared as much from the fact she could contact others from a distance—something which had been impossible for him in his previously sealed state in the past reign.

“Why is the seal failing?” Simon asked both his spellcasters at once.

“I cannot say,” Belzemine admitted. “These seals are supposed to last forever, yet I fear this one may not last years.”

“Maybe it is a lack of maintenance or the miasma crystal slowly eroding the bindings,” Duchar replied evasively. “Certainly, our assistance will hasten the process, but its outcome has already been decided. Should we not profit from it while we can?”

Simon sensed the Stone Muse brush against his mind before he could answer. “Why are you all standing in place without a word?”

“I was mentally asking my advisors whether they felt you were worth the hassle,” Simon replied bluntly. Lorimor already knew about the brand’s telepathic abilities, so it was only a matter of time before she found out anyway. “You promise much, but remain vague.”

His response rattled her, her eyes gleaming red for a second. “How about a secret I already bestowed upon a fool? How to craft a Crestone true, born of the renegade Librarian?”

“Renegade?” Simon asked. What an odd choice of words.

“Your interest I have piqued, and your question I shall answer upon our engagement, sealed with blood. I shall say naught more until then.”

Alright, she indeed had precious knowledge to impart… but would it be worth the cost? Simon knew intellectually that nothing he did in this reign would carry consequences since time would rewind ninety more times anyway, but the idea of sacrificing people to a possessed dryad and unleashing her upon the world was too much. The people around him were real, with thoughts, feelings, and lives. The fact that he could go back in time to change history wouldn’t diminish their suffering.

But then again, Duchar has a point, she will break out on her own, Simon thought. He couldn’t exactly walk away from this, and that was without considering the worst case scenario where some cultist managed to successfully bring her a compatible host. She might also manage to contact the likes of Silk, who wouldn’t blink twice at dealing with a demon for power. We won’t actually have to kill anyone until the Vernal Equinox, so we can at least string her along until then, study the seal or figure out how to cure her. I could also contact Lauriane.

Time was on his side, now and until his final reign.

Leonard soon returned from his patrol with a newly sketched map of the building. “These halls cover four floors, this sanctum included, and lead into caverns dug into the manatree’s roots and then a swamp,” he explained. “I’ve spotted frogmen and other aberrations lurking there, but nothing too worrisome. The place is easy to defend, and most facilities could be quickly restored with a dedicated workforce.”

“A workforce the native monsters could provide, once sufficiently motivated,” Simon guessed. If the Stone Muse’s closest servants couldn’t resist Unquestionable Ruler or Dreadful Aura, then no creature in this swamp could deny him. He could easily turn these halls into a new base if needed.

For now, he decided on stringing the Stone Muse along until they learned more. It would take time for his spellcasters to both investigate the seal and fully weigh all the potential outcomes of either allying with her or putting her down.

Not to mention that he had other deadlines to consider.

Simon and his group left the Halls of the Minotaur with two concessions from the Muse: first of all, her sworn promise to stop harassing Odette Kano and her son; and second, the identity of her cultists in Whispermire.

Well, ‘cultists’ might have been too strong a word. While old families in the village continued to practice some folk traditions that dated back to the Stone Muse’s reign, most had largely forgotten about her until she mysteriously gained the ability to communicate with others a few months back. She had only recently begun to influence two dozen people across town by contacting them in their dreams. One of them, a retired farmer called Grius, had been the source of the blood graffiti and dead animals incidents after growing obsessed with his new patron’s voice.

All in all, Odette Kano had only been half-right; there was no organized cult in Whispermire, but there would soon be one as the Stone Muse continued to recruit more thralls.

The first thing Simon did after returning was to organize a private meeting with the mayor in her office. She seemed outright disappointed to learn that Lorimor had survived the trip, although the madman spent the day muttering to himself about how he had ‘disappointed’ his mistress in a fugue state.

“A dryad?” Odette Kano scowled when Simon told her the news. “Now that is a surprise. I thought the manatree’s dryad was dead and that this Muse was a demon.”

“You were wrong,” Simon lied. He had wisely kept the truth of the Minotaur crystal hidden and only revealed that the Stone Muse was a corrupted dryad to ensure nobody would try something foolish. “While she is still set on rebuilding her cult, I have extracted her promise not to bother your son again.”

Odette scoffed. “And you believe her?”

“I can be persuasive.”

Odette studied him for a moment, a suspicious frown forming on her face. “Destroying this Muse, if it’s even possible, would destroy the Darkwood and ruin Whispermire’s livelihood,” she said, “but allowing her to recruit more people like my ex-husband will bring too much negative attention. I will have everyone involved in her faith arrested before the rot spreads.”

“No, you will not,” Simon replied, crossing his legs. “The more visible incidents will end, but you will close your eyes on the Muse’s followers. Maybe even use your influence to help cover up some things that might bother the Church of Light.”

Odette scowled. “And why would I do that?”

“Because otherwise Endymion will learn of your illegal activities, from your association with the Cobweb to your attempts to create illegal Crestones.”

Meredith confirmed that Silk had only stayed a few hours in Whispermire and proved incredibly difficult to track down since she seemed to disappear at will. However, Odette Kano had immediately followed up their meeting by meeting with some of her staff, whom Meredith secretly followed to a mound a half a day’s ride from the town, on the other side of the Darkwood. She couldn’t approach it too closely for fear of being noticed, but the intel she brought back had been enough for Simon to guess what was happening.

“Illegal?” Odette Kano feigned outrage and ignorance. “Everything I do here is tightly regulated. You only need to check my registers, and I will be happy to cooperate with any investigation.”

Simon didn’t believe her. “You see, something has been bothering me. Creating a Crestone does not require just any mana crystal lying around. It needs to be of sufficient purity to support the magical scripts inscribed on its surface. A bookmaker like Lorimor could never have obtained one on his own.”

“I told investigators that he defrauded my suppliers.”

“I struggle to believe someone as meticulous as you would fail to notice,” Simon replied. “I think you knew he was trying to create a Crestone, and while you may not have actively helped him to keep your hands clean, you did close your eyes because you hoped to profit from that knowledge… until he threatened your son, of course.”

To her credit, Odette Kano had nerves of steel and didn’t budge. “That is ridiculous.”

“Truly? Well, I think you have an unregistered manalith mine somewhere in the region, whose contents you sell off to the Cobweb for a price.” Which neatly explained how the organization supplied Simon in the previous reign. “Mana crystals can fetch a good price on the black market, but Vassal Crestones? Now those would be worth a fortune.”

Although Odette Kano kept a stony face, her grim silence was an answer in itself.

“I can read your thoughts.” Simon slouched in the chair. There was nothing more intimidating than casual, dismissive confidence in the face of threats. “You are considering informing your spider friends and asking them to make me disappear. They will fail, and it will cost you. We are House Magnos. The Cobweb can ruin businesses and intimidate dukes, but we bring kingdoms to ruin and paladins to heel. You will not survive the night if you make an enemy of me, and you know that.”

“What do you want?” she asked warily. “How much do you want?”

“Please, you think we need money? The only commodity my family trades in is servitude.” Simon joined his hands and held her gaze. “You’re going to do everything I say, anytime I want… and you will start by telling me what the Cobweb wants with you.”

Odette Kano observed him for a moment before yielding. “Everything,” she confessed. “They are one of my main buyers, especially of elven antiques that adventurers find in the Darkwood. They pay more than the state for these artifacts.”

Of course they would. They likely resold them for much higher prices in Valne or Lore. “How long have you been working with them?”

“Since before the empire conquered Magvolia. The chaos that followed the change in government made it easier for me to hide our activities.” She rested her chin on her clenched fist. “Although I do have a secret mine, I assure you I have no ongoing illegal Crestone creation operation. My husband wouldn’t share his knowledge, and I learned my lesson after the kidnapping attempt.”

“I see.” Between Lorimor’s knowledge and this secret mine, Simon had a way to create bootleg Vassal Crestones even should he break things off with his family. He had the feeling this would serve him well in the future. “Very well. You may continue as you have always have, for now.”

“For now?” Odette glared at him. “And then?”

“And then we shall see, I haven’t decided yet.” Simon grinned at her. “Come on, Madame Kano, smile a little. We’re friends now… whether you like it or not.”