The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 52: The Season of the Minotaur (1)

Simon ensured that he settled all of his affairs before leaving Frightwall.

He first released Eole after warning her about Vouivre to ensure she wouldn’t return to Telluria. That meeting was a bit tenser than its previous iterations because Simon didn’t ask her to come with her, nor did he entertain the idea of going to her people’s Sanctuary in the sky. Tellingly, while she thanked him for her release, she didn’t offer him a feather as a token of friendship this time. Perhaps she could sense he was about to do something she would never agree with, or the wall Simon intentionally put between them.

It pained Simon to let her go like that, but he would rather have her leave a stranger than as an enemy. He hoped to have the luxury of befriending her again when he had the power to do so without consequences in a future reign.

Afterwards, Simon took care of removing the backdoor in Belzemine’s slave brand on his way out. He simply didn’t have the heart to leave her in that state or to give Vouivre the slightest possibility of controlling her again.

Of course, he did so very ‘gently’ by reminding her he intended to keep her as his slave rather than free her.

“A sabotaged Brand of Pride is of no use to me, and it annoys me to see you bear the heraldry of masters other than me,” he told her when he stripped her of her former slave mark and bestowed his own in return. “I shall bestow other bindings on you until the day I can grow strong enough to reapply the Brand of Pride on you myself. Lady Shabram will provide you with fake ones so no one may see the switch.”

“As Your Majesty wishes,” Belzemine replied obediently. She was clearly uneasy about losing the Brand of Pride, but as sad as it sounded, being reminded that he still considered her his property brought her relief.

“You are to remain here and act as if this meeting never happened and hide the Brand of Pride’s absence until my return,” Simon ordered her. “You shall feign ignorance and pretend you have no knowledge of who the Overlord is. Some of my enemies may try to contact you. Act with them as you would normally.”

“I…” Belzemine looked at him with confusion. “I do not understand, Your Majesty.”

“I am not strong enough to claim the Crimson Throne yet. I need to gather more strength in secret first, so for now, all must believe the Overlord is gone.”

“I could come with you,” she insisted. “I can protect you. No man will harm you in my presence.”

Tell that to Thalas and all the others. “Believe me, you will serve me better by staying here and pretending everything is normal. I trust you to handle things on your own according to your own initiative until the day I return. It is that simple. As far as the world is concerned, everyone must believe the Overlord is missing, and Simon Magnos had nothing to do with it.”

The truth was that Simon had no idea what exactly unfolded between her and the Malphas’, although he had his suspicions, and he was wary of giving her more directions than he already had.

“But…” Belzemine grew more and more uneasy. “I… my place is at your side. What am I supposed to do in your absence?”

Simon took a deep breath and steeled his resolve. “Agnes, I need you here,” he said, hating every word coming out of his mouth. “So long as those brands burn on your skin, you belong to me unto eternity. You would not disappoint me by disobeying, would you?”

Belzemine straightened up, all hesitation gone from her face and replaced with her stone mask of stoicism. “No, Your Majesty. I would never disappoint you.”

“Then keep my secrets and act as you would under my father’s rule, and all will be fine until my return.”

Simon knew that was an empty promise, and he wished he could have taken her with him, but Agnes Firewand’s absence would bring too much attention from both the elves and imperial factions. He trusted Lady Shabram to take care of her in the meantime. He had extensively briefed the spymaster and intended to keep close tabs on her for this entire reign.

Their last meeting before his departure was also the best occasion for Simon to ask a question that had been on his mind for a while.

“The location of all Noble Crestones which the empire has yet to acquire, and intel on their holders?” Lady Shabram smiled at his request. “Is Your Majesty planning to go on a hunt?”

“Perhaps,” Simon replied. The Seasonal Key ritual should keep him busy this year, but he had a Devour Crestone Perk slot to fill. His clash with Thalas, Norbelle, and Antonine had convinced him that Noble Crestones had much to offer him. He might as well start looking into those outside the empire. “I know where the Paladin and Librarian are, but the rest elude me.”

“The Librarian?” Lady Shabram whistled with curiosity. “Color me surprised, that information eludes even me. Where is it, if I may ask?”

Simon shuddered upon recalling his ancestor. “In the hands of a level 100 lich, who we should not bother in any way.”

“Oh…” Lady Shabram was rarely rattled, but that information did seem to briefly disturb her. “I see. Yes, I can see why Your Majesty would want to focus on easier prey…”

“And the other Noble Classes?” Simon asked.

“I will not lie to Your Majesty, there are many reasons why certain Crestones remain out of our grasp. They have found their ways to dangerous holders more often than not, and while none are as powerful as the Librarian, I would not underestimate them either.” Lady Shabram removed files from her bookshelf and handed them to Simon. “As you probably know already, Queen Remedia of Cocagne is the Mage, and her consort, Lord Filip, is the current Ranger. The queen is estimated to be between levels 65 and 75, and her husband to be between level 45 and 58, according to our experts. We hope Lady Norbelle’s engagement will allow us to sneak in operatives that can ascertain their threat more closely and hopefully bring the holders into the imperial fold.”

Simon flipped through the files and read the information gathered on Cocagne’s leadership, which included both their recorded Perks, spells, and other critical pieces of knowledge like their psychological profiles and personal histories. He would have much to read up on during this reign.

“The current Rogue is suspected to be a mysterious mastermind known as the Prince of Spiders, who leads an international criminal ring called the Cobweb,” Shabram added, confirming Simon’s suspicions. “While their identity, level, and location remain unknown—if they are even a single person—we have singled out operatives that can provide that information under duress.”

“One of them is nicknamed Silk, I would assume?” Simon guessed.

“Your Majesty is well-informed,” Shabram complimented him. “We think she’s both the organization’s underboss and a level 60 Assassin constantly on the move. She would make for a dangerous foe, but imperial intelligence has been careful to cultivate alliances of convenience with the Cobweb in the hope of eventually identifying their leader.”

Level 60. Simon had pegged Silk to be of a high level, but not that high. She could probably pick a fight with some members of House Magnos, and her employer had to be stronger still.

Silk is in touch with Odette Kano, Simon thought. As much as he disliked the Cobweb for their treacherous ways, forming a business relationship with them in Whispermire might let him learn more about the organization and its leader. I’ll unravel that spider’s web one strand at a time.

“The current Necromancer is the newest self-proclaimed pirate king of Portempête in Valne, the vampire Amadeus Voltobauta,” Lady Shabram said. “Estimated to be around level 50 with secondary Artificer and Raider Classes, he commands the largest private fleet prowling the Dragonsea from his ship, the Ravenous.”

“I think I’ve heard of him,” Simon recalled from his memories in Valne. One of his raids had cost the Septic a lot of money. “He’s a plague on transcontinental shipping.”

“Indeed. The League of Valne barely tolerates him because they need his might to repel us, but we hope to inflame tensions until we can lure him into a trap.” Lady Shabram flipped some pages of Simon’s files and stopped on a drawing of a woman with silver hair. “The last known Adventurer is a Lorean woman called Alcyone Hyades… but true to her Class, her wanderlust keeps her constantly on the move. She’s been in contact with both Voltobauta, Ser Richard of Lore, the current Paladin suspect, and the Crafter.”

“Ser Richard isn’t the Paladin,” Simon corrected her. Shabram was well-informed, but still fallible. “He’s a decoy for Alphonse, his son.”

“Truly?” Lady Shabram immediately noted the information in a file. “I will keep that in mind. Planting spies around the family has proved exceedingly difficult due to Lore’s dedication to the White Unicorn and the Oracle’s meddling. In any case, Alcyone was last seen visiting the Crafter in Muse two months ago and buying herself an airship to become the world’s first ‘sky pirate’ as part of some bet with Voltobauta.”

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Simon scoffed. “A sky pirate? What, she raids airships in midair?”

“Or she plans to, at least.” Shabram chuckled. “Unfortunately, that’s when we lost track of her. Her current whereabouts, if she is even still alive, are currently unknown, but reports put her at around level 75.”

So, out of Simon’s league, even if he managed to find her. He wasn’t sure if it would be worth the effort anyway, considering he already had an exp-boosting Perk from the Adventurer’s Vassal Class anyway. “What of the Crafter?”

“The last holder of the Class was Carlo of Muse, the country’s chief artificer,” Lady Shabram said, hesitation breaking through her voice. “However, the man hasn’t left his Mechanical Tower in over forty years and interacts with the republic only through a few carefully selected apprentices and constructs, so I cannot confirm if he is still alive or if somebody else secretly replaced him.”

“Truly?” Such a gap in intelligence surprised Simon, especially considering his father’s knowledge. “Have we found no way inside the tower?”

“We’ve tried, but everyone who approaches the tower too close without permission ends up shot at with a magical weapon by a mysterious sniper. Even Rogue-type Vassal Classes have failed to break inside.”

Oh.

Oh, that explained some of Balzam Magnos’ deaths then…

“The only people allowed inside the tower are the Crafter’s apprentices, and those go through an incredibly difficult selection process,” Shabram added. “Our attempts to infiltrate or bribe our way into that group have proved fruitless so far, and His Late Majesty told us not to bother. His plan was to crash an airship into the tower’s base during an invasion of Muse, watch it collapse, recover the Crafter Crestone from the debris, and then salt the earth behind us.”

“A rather radical solution to the sniper problem,” Simon replied dryly, with Shabram smiling back at him in response. “Which leaves the Oracle and the Beast.”

Lady Shabram’s smile faded away. “The Oracle of Illusea has been her eponymous Crestone’s wielder since before the Doom. She is confirmed to be one of the few individuals in history with a level 100 Class, and Your Majesty’s predecessors have managed to compile or infer many of her abilities over the ages, but all attempts to even infiltrate the elven empire have been met with immediate failure due to her foresight. As for the Beast Crestone, we suspect it to be hidden somewhere in Telluria. We have compiled a list of tribes whose chieftains could provide us with intel about its whereabouts and thoroughly investigate all rumors, but nothing specific yet.”

Simon pondered that information. The Beast was the ancestor of all ‘monstrous’ and shapeshifting Classes. Mr. Adrissant even mentioned that it might have contributed to the rise of the Shifter Tribes in ancient times.

Do Vouivre and Casval know about its location? They showed no hint of it in previous reigns, but they had been plotting against the empire for years, and Simon still had no clear idea how they could shapeshift into humans in the first place. Could that power be connected to the Beast Class?

He had so many leads to pursue, and thankfully plenty of time left to do so.

“My sincere apologies for these gaps in information, Your Majesty,” Lady Shabram said demurely. “I would have hoped to greet you with complete reports on all the Noble Class wielders.”

“Don’t sell yourself too short. You already gave me more than I expected.” Compiling so much intel on high-level people capable of escaping the Overlord’s grasp must have taken immense efforts and decades of investigation. “This intel will not be wasted.”

“I live to serve.”

Did she? Even now, Lady Shabram refused to tell Simon why she served the Overlord unless he openly took the throne. He was pretty sure she was loyal to the position, having consistently served him in the last two reigns, but he could tell she was keeping cards close to her chest.

Oh well. So long as she remained loyal, he could give her leeway.

“You would be wise to leave the castle a few days before the elven spell’s deadline,” Simon warned her. He had no intention of letting Antonine de Shax recover her Crestone from Frightwall’s ashes. “Even if all goes to plan, I cannot confirm the attack’s failure until the date has passed.”

“Your Majesty need not worry,” she promised him. “I assure you that I will correct this elven conspiracy oversight. They will have nowhere to run or hide.”

After that final meeting with Shabram, Simon departed on a nondescript train to Telluria in secret.

He spent the trip coaxing the secrets of Crestone creation out of Lorimor. The man’s knowledge was limited to the Scholar, since the Stone Muse only showed him that Class’ schematics in telepathic visions, but he helped Simon understand the underlying theory. As Lauriane told him in the previous reign, it was mostly a matter of finding manaliths of sufficient purity and then inscribing specific magical scripts onto them. The process itself was painstakingly precise and had to be done by hand.

All in all, Simon was certain he could craft Vassal Crestones himself, given time, should he obtain the necessary materials and schematics. Hopefully the Stone Muse would have more of the latter to provide, and he knew who else could supply him with pure enough manaliths.

Once they arrived in Telluria, Simon immediately went to visit Duchar and Cassandra before explaining to them the situation. Obviously, the old wizard couldn’t contain his curiosity when told of the Stone Muse.

“An archfiend-possessing dryad lurks in Magvolia?” Duchar’s eyes gleamed with immense interest. “And Your Majesty wishes to bind her with the Seasonal Key ritual?”

“I sense your interest, but little surprise,” Simon noted. He had expected a bit more disbelief from his part when he showed up at his door with plans for a dark ritual right after communicating with him through the Brand of Sloth for a mere few days.

“Your honorable father would always show up at my doorstep with new projects or rare artifacts, so I have come to expect the unexpected,” Duchar replied with a shrug. “I assume this ritual was something he planned to do before his demise and entrusted you with, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, indeed,” Simon lied, going along with his assumptions. “Certainly a wizard of your caliber wouldn’t miss out on this opportunity. Moreover, I have gained powerful Overlord Perks that people like you and your daughter could help me refine, such as the ability to bind souls into miasma gemstones.”

“I do not doubt Your Majesty’s generosity, but the Seasonal Key ritual will take an entire year to complete…” Duchar hesitated, torn between his hunger for knowledge and domesticity. “We would have to leave Telluria behind, including the archive and my laboratory…”

“We will seal the archive to ensure no one can break into them, and I can offer you other facilities where you can continue your experiments on a much grander scale,” Simon reassured him. The Halls of the Minotaur would serve as an incredible base once refurbished. “An entire Dungeon with more miasma than what a necromancer would know what to do with, and where the dead rise at will.”

Duchar’s expression reminded Simon of a bear who had taken a furtive bite from a honeycomb. He tried to watch out for the bees, but the honey was too sweet to resist.

However, Simon could tell that something bothered him about leaving Telluria for a long period of time. It couldn’t have been the region, since the man didn’t strike him as the kind to grow sentimental over a place, and the archive could be sealed beyond anyone’s ability to detect. What else could hold him back?

Cassandra cleared her throat. “We can bring Hector with us,” she said softly. “The ambient miasma ought to improve his health.”

“Hector?” Simon’s head perked up upon remembering the name. “Your brother? Isn’t he dead?”

“He is,” Cassandra replied softly, as if that didn’t mean anything.

It was then that the truth finally struck Simon like a bolt of lightning, and he figured out why Lauriane treated the old necromancer with such disdain.

“Show me,” he ordered them.

Duchar held his gaze for a moment, then sighed in surrender. “Very well. Perhaps Your Majesty could cure him.”

The old necromancer guided Simon and Cassandra into the depths of his workshop, where his murdered son lay to rest in a nine-foot-tall coffin almost too small for him, right next to a double-edged axe too big for any normal human to wield.

Hector Honorius was an abomination.

His head was somewhat normal, being that of a man with wholly grey hair, a square jaw, and a heavy nose seemingly deep in slumber… except for the enormous screw on both sides of his head keeping the skull in place, and the stitches binding his throat to a neck that certainly didn’t belong to him. His body was an amalgam of body parts bound together with thick string, wire, and metal staples. A Crestone was encrusted on his massive, bare chest, and everything below the belt was covered in black pants and boots. His limbs were so thick, Simon suspected they had been taken from orcs and ogres rather than humans.

“As you can see, Your Majesty, my son suffered a debilitating injury in Lady Lauriane’s service,” Duchar said coolly, as if death was nothing more than a bruise. “I managed to save him by stitching his head onto a new body capable of sustaining his brain without causing further rot.”

“You turned him into a flesh golem,” Simon realized. He should have been horrified, but after everything he had seen in Duchar’s archive and the horror lurking below the Berwick Islands, he could only muster a slight sense of disquiet. “Why is he slumbering?”

“Because Hector is… volatile in his current state,” Duchar confessed. “He gets along with other undead just fine, Your Majesty, and he can behave for a time, but… there is something about the living that eventually infuriates him. I’m afraid to say he terminated our last maid’s contract–”

“He killed her,” Cassandra corrected him bluntly.

“Temporarily incapacitated her biology,” Duchar insisted in an attempt to soften the blow. “Since then, he asked to be kept in stasis out of fear of harming Cassandra and I. I have been trying to fix him since.”

A great many things about the Honorius family’s obsession with necromancy began to make sense now. Balzam Magnos had to have known this. He must have promised them knowledge and resources to heal their kin in return for their loyalty and silence.

“What level is he?” Simon asked, his eyes lingering on his Crestone. “And what is his birth sign?”

“A level fifty Executioner, born under the sign of the Twins, Your Majesty,” Cassandra replied with sisterly pride. “Hector is a peerless warrior.”

And too high-level for Simon to bend to his will with his Perks just yet. Waking him up now would be a mistake if he was truly predisposed towards harming the living in his current state. But then again, Simon’s brands, resources, and crafted items might eventually mitigate those bouts of insanity.

At least he wasn’t born under the Minotaur’s sign. Allowing an archfiend to possess such a powerful warrior would have ended in disaster.

“Can you keep him under control?” Simon asked Duchar.

“My son will not wake up unless I speak a command word,” the old mage reassured him.

That would explain why they didn’t take this golem with them in the last reign. They had expected a shorter trip than a year-long vacation and thought he could simply take a long nap without their supervision.

“Then let us take him with us to Magvolia, alongside everything we need,” Simon decided. “Take everything you require for at least a year. We will not return until then, and I foresee a great conflict will engulf these lands soon, so we will need to seal the entrance behind us. You may not be able to come home safely for a very, very long time.”

Simon briefly thought about leaving a Dungeon crystal there to ensure he could teleport back to the archive in a pinch, but decided against it. Besides the fact that Duchar apparently kept teleportation gems to return there as a contingency anyway, Simon had another place to claim.

An Overlord needed a seat of power worthy of his Class to level up within, not a hidden basement.