The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 57: The Season of the Minotaur (6)

“Elios Magnos?” The Stone Muse’s dark chuckle echoed through the sanctum. “A cursed name indeed, although I may not remember it...”

“There is a carving of him in your treasure room,” Simon replied sternly. The rotten tree was playing coy with him. “You promised me knowledge and answers if I shattered your chains.”

“Rewarded you already, did I not?” she replied with amusement. “Have I not shared my treasure with thee, beloved? One step towards communion you have taken, but three more vows we must renew before answers I give.”

Simon grunted in annoyance. She still didn’t trust him and wouldn’t budge on her leverage so long as he hadn’t completely shattered her seal. The Muse would hoard her knowledge like a dragon until he coaxed it out of her.

“But other secrets I can share with you, beloved,” the Muse said. “Dark spells most wonderful, for you to cradle our foes into an early grave with.”

An apology bribe? Well, Simon would never spit on new magic. “What kind of spells?”

“Spells that command nature’s very elements.”

“My affinity for miasma makes learning those difficult,” Simon pointed out. After a few failures at learning conventional sorcery with Duchar, he had mostly begun to practice the Mire spell, a poison-focused malediction that inflicted both Corrosion damage and sapped the target’s Vitality.

“But not those I know; Hellfire, Hellwind, Hellthunder, Hellfrost… these are diabolism spells that draw strength from the Abyss itself. Lightning that strikes the spirit, cold that chills the soul, fire that burns hope, wind that carries miasma…”

Elemental spells that drew power from the Abyss? Even Duchar hadn’t heard of those, though that might be because of his focus on necromancy.

“Very well, I accept this gift of knowledge,” Simon replied as he left her sanctum. “We shall begin training tomorrow after we complete the inventory.”

“I look forward to us spending time together, my dear Lord of the Dark.”

A sentiment that Simon didn’t return, but he would gladly bear if it meant gaining more strength. He moved down to Duchar’s workshop, where he found the old mage studying the Crestones they had gathered. His son was back in a deep slumber, a staff very similar to Lorimor’s wand lying on the nearby bench.

“So?” Simon asked.

“I have completed a cursory analysis of our newly collected Crestones,” Duchar said. “Seven remain functional, but the rest have been corroded by too much miasma exposure. They can no longer sustain a Class.”

Simon had feared as much. Four hundred years spent soaking in demonic energy had taken its toll. “What about their Perks?”

“I doubt any of them will interest Your Majesty, but I have compiled a list. I suggest assigning them once I finish extracting their schematics. The more a Crestone is used and its wielder strengthened, the better it will stave off miasma corruption.” Duchar stroked his beard. “Otherwise, I have not found any blood relationship between House Magnos and Empress Euphemia’s line preceding her union with Your Majesty’s father.”

“So we aren’t distant cousins?” Simon inquired. “I thought it might have been the case since both Euphemia and my ancestor were three-eyed Visionaries.”

“Visionaries have been known to appear in the most random of places across all Tribes,” Duchar replied. “Though I do wonder if your wise father partly decided to marry Lady Euphemia in the hopes that the fruit of their united bloodlines would yield a Visionary child.”

“He certainly did.” Which was why Thalas had disappointed him since birth. “Is it some form of mutation? I know the Church of the Light considers it a mark of sainthood, but Elios Magnos is anything but holy.”

“I suspect it is a mutation, yes, but I never had the pleasure of studying a Visionary… the things I could learn from a visisection…” Duchar cleared his throat. “I do know that they possess a myriad of gifts, such as the power to see the flow of mana in the air, the power to bind Eidolons without the Summoner Noble Class, even receive visions of the past and future, but the Church of the Light is the only organization to have extensively studied them, and they hoard their knowledge.”

Again with the Church of the Light… Simon was wondering more and more whether he should spend a reign infiltrating them to access their astrology and Visionary research papers. It might also grant more insight into Euphemia’s plans.

Let us see where this life carries me before I consider the next, Simon thought as he studied Duchar’s new staff. I might survive beyond the ritual’s conclusion with some luck. It would be nice to die of old age for once.

“This is a more advanced design than Lorimor’s wand,” Simon said, his gaze wandering to Hector. “Are you building one for your own son?”

“Only as a safety measure until I can correct his body’s design flaws,” Duchar replied without doubt or hesitation. Most would have hesitated about creating a magical item to control their own child, but not him. “I must thank Your Majesty for it. The insight your soul-stealing Perk provided into our spiritual condition was most enlightening.”

“I don’t want any incidents,” Simon replied before he heard the familiar noise of airships in the distance coming through the Dungeon’s thick walls. It seemed Louis had begun his bombing run. “But I do agree we will need more guardians.”

War was finally upon them.

Two weeks had passed since the Vernal Equinox heralded the beginning of a new imperial year on the 1st of Germinal, and that of the imperial civil war.

True to Shabram’s warning, Louis opened the conflict with an all-out bombardment that stretched from Magvolia to the Berwick Islands. Towns and cities burned all across the empire, and though Whispermire was spared, the sight of airships flying across the region had already become a common occurrence. The war machines bombed cities in the Church Party’s territories, returned home to refuel, and then flew back on new assignments. The thick cloud of miasma covering the Darkwood prevented the airships from seeing the Halls of the Minotaur from the air, but Simon could still observe their vague silhouettes when he looked at the sky at night. Odd to imagine that a town burned each time they moved east.

Louis had also bombarded cities deemed disloyal across the region, and while barbaric, it had turned out to be a tactically sound decision. Magvolia had been cowed into obedience by the fear of devastation from the sky and failed to rise in rebellion as it had in the past reign. Even local abbeys kept silent in spite of High Confessor Mastemo’s call for arms on behalf of Euphemia. It seemed people’s fear of fire raining down from the sky outweighed their faith.

This had a knock-on effect that prevented Norbelle and Cocagne from attacking the Goetia Research Center and thus left Lauriane firmly in charge of the empire’s Crestone production. The current battlelines had moved to the Navarre region and Cocagne’s borders in the south, whereas Dassein and the Tellurian Shifter tribes pressed on from the north.

And there was still no word of Vouivre.

At least Shabram confirmed that Anna and her father had survived the Berwick Islands’ bombardments, though the knowledge that she had officially wed Thalas enraged Simon each time he was reminded of it.

True to his objectives for this reign, Simon kept up with the news while working on his spellcasting and crafting. He had quickly mastered the Mire spell and practiced the Hell series spells under the Muse’s tutelage. She had proved to be a surprisingly good teacher so far, clearly explaining the underlying mechanics behind her sorcery and being attuned enough to miasma to effectively guide Simon. He could see why she had taken a liking to mentoring artists in the past.

The ‘Hell’ series of Tier III spells worked by blending the major elements and miasma to ensure half the damage they inflicted was aligned with the Soul type, which meant they could partly ignore elemental immunities. Training with them also put the issue of affinities to the forefront. Although Simon had an easy time learning the likes of Hellfrost and Hellfire, Hellwind came more slowly to him due to his neutral Wind affinity. It would likely take a month or two before he mastered all of them. He had also experimented with his Lord of the Demon Castle ability and confirmed he could reshape the Hall of the Minotaur at will, with the restriction that he could not move the Muse’s sanctum around due to the seal locking it in place.

Otherwise, he had also distributed the Crestones to his followers after copying their schematics and confirming none of them had Perks worth devouring. A few went to cultists who had proved loyal enough. Simon also experimented by giving a handful of Crestones to monsters. He already knew that demons could use Classes—Mardok came to mind, and the empire employed a few as shock troops—but it seemed that any sentient creature could call upon one. Carrock the treant, gargoyles, imps, toadmen, and even a sentient slime had proved capable of using Crestones.

There were a few exceptions. The Songstress and Courtesan Classes could only be used by female users due to the archetypes they represented, and trying to give Orator to an animated tree had resulted in a miserable failure. At least the Juggler gargoyle had proved surprisingly amusing.

The Vassal Class’ Perks didn’t change, no matter the user, but a monster’s biology could synergize with them in surprising ways. For example, Ulmos the slime quickly learned to use its own body to fuel the Pictomancer’s paint requirement, and Carrock’s control of the forest let him mix traps with Illusionist-fueled mirages. Trying to maximize the use of each Crestone was quite the interesting subject.

And I suspect they’ll all be put to the test soon, Simon thought as he entered the Midnight Market under the guise of a Fiendmask. It was his first time visiting Whispermire in person after the beginning of the civil war, and the adventurers’ den was already packed with local youths. He also spotted a few guards bearing the Magnos manticore’s seal among them.

“Emperor Louis wants you for his regiments!” the crier called out across the hall. “The usurper Euphemia would keep you poor under a burden of taxes while nobles and the Church of the Light revel in unearned luxury! Can you follow a woman who murdered her own husband for power?! Would you rather fight for a leader who keeps you in chains, or one who offers rewards, toil, and sweat?!”

Lauriane isn’t wasting any time going for the throat, Simon thought as he paused to listen for a bit. Both sides were accusing the other of murdering Balzam Magnos to garner support among imperial loyalists.

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“Enlist today, and a Class will one day become yours! Poor, commoner, highborn or lowborn, it does not matter! Endymion thirsts on the strength of its people, no matter the tribe and station! Hail Endymion!”

“Hail Endymion!” a horde of would-be adventurers, drunk on alcohol and dreams, shouted back... but many remained silent or half-heartedly raised their hands so as to avoid reproach. Many probably resented the War Party for its bombing run, but it was always dangerous to speak up against those in power.

Soldiers went on to distribute enlistment papers, with Simon grabbing one on his way to the stairs.

True to Louis’ meritocratic ideals, the army promised a job to anyone enlisting and a Crestone to anyone making it to the rank of officer. Simon wasn’t sure if even the Goetia Research Center had the output to fulfill that promise, but the promise of a Class would motivate the masses.

Which would lead to issues when they looked for places where to level up new recruits…

Simon put the enlistment paper in his pocket and ascended the stairs to Cassandra’s apartment. Two guards—both cultists—kept watch over the door with sheathed swords.

“Master,” they greeted Simon upon recognizing him. He nodded back at them and stepped through the door as they opened and closed it behind him.

The smell of potions and alchemic fluids reached Simon’s nostrils the moment he crossed the threshold. Odette had afforded Cassandra her largest suite, and the witch had transformed its main hall into a witch’s workshop. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the rafters next to shelves filled with magical ingredients. Cassandra herself was near the fire pit placed underneath the chimney, using a large spoon to stir green liquid inside a black cauldron.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted him with a faint, kind smile.

“You can call me Simon,” he replied courteously. “We are friends now, not just subordinates.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” she replied with a curious expression. “Since when?”

“Since… I don’t know? Friendships happen naturally.” He unloaded his bag. “I don’t remember assigning you bodyguards. Did something happen?”

“No, your worshipers took it upon themselves to protect me after some bar patrons bothered me.” Cassandra paused a moment before adding, “I think they hope I will invite them inside to have sex with me one day.”

Simon scowled. Cassandra had the power to easily repel any unwelcome attention, but he would rather avoid an incident. “Do you want me to send them away?”

“It is fine. I do not mind them, and they fear me too much to try anything too overtly.” She let go of her spoon and checked Simon’s bag. “Did you bring the slime oil I asked for?”

“Yes indeed,” Simon confirmed. He had had success breeding various elemental jellies in the Darkwood’s swamp. “What kind of potion are you making?”

“Oil for the skin and salt baths.” Simon’s surprised expression amused Cassandra. “I have a private bath.”

“Oh, alright.” Simon didn’t know she was into those things. “Doesn’t the Brand of Lust make skincare routine redundant though?”

“The Brand of Gluttony makes it pleasurable.”

“I see.” Sometimes Simon forgot it also magnified the bearer’s senses.

“I think I figured out how the Brand of Greed works, too,” she said. “It does not charm people, but it does bring about fortuitous coincidences. I find dropped money more often, and sometimes I feel compelled to meet someone’s gaze and learn he is looking for a particular potion I have in stock. I can even sense which decisions will yield better results at the gambling hall, though I cannot explain why. A small series of little events creates a flow of fortune my way.”

“Interesting. I always wondered how the Luck stat manifested compared to the others.” Simon spotted a sealed scroll of paper on the table near the cauldron. “Is that Shabram’s document?”

Cassandra nodded. “A messenger brought it to me and told me to deliver it to you.”

Simon nodded as he went to grab it. Obtaining the Spy and Merchant Classes’ blueprints was half the reason he had returned to Whispermire; the other was that the Cobweb had asked Odette for a meeting.

The document contained both the Spy and Merchant Classes’ schematics, alongside a description of their stats and known Perks. The Spy, true to its name, mostly focused on infiltration-related abilities like soundless steps, cosmetic and cloth alterations to better disguise the wearer, or even the power to change one’s voice.

As for the Merchant…

The Merchant: The noble wandering trader, the fast-talking dealer, and the magnate who turns coins into power and makes dreams into reality.

Strength D, Vitality D, Agility B, Perception A, Magic E, Intelligence A, Charisma A, Luck S.

Innate Perk: Inventory (Active): You can stock up to one item per level that you own in a unique pocket dimension only you have access to, and bring them out at will. Should you die, all items in your inventory are released at the spot of your demise.

Innate Perk: Golden Rule (Passive): Fortune favors you, and the flow of wealth always goes your way. You are supernaturally lucky when it comes to commerce, gambling, or treasure-finding.

Innate Perk: Lootbox (Active): You can sacrifice any amount of money to magically craft an item of equal value. The selected item is created at random.

Innate Perk: Buddyguard (Active): Magically summons an otherworldly bodyguard to protect you for a day. The bodyguard’s level and power depend on the amount paid to summon them.

Two things came to mind when Simon finished reading the document.

First of all, the Merchant was indeed the apex of money-making, utility Classes.

And second, Noble Classes were absurd.

Inventory alone was tremendously useful, but Buddyguard and Lootbox ensured a clever Merchant always had a way out of their predicament; with Golden Rule ensuring they always stayed in the black.

Otherwise, the Merchant’s other Perks were powerful but situational; identifying the value and history of items on sight, spending money instead of mana to power spells, buffing yourself by spending coins, a large Charisma bonus, the ability to speak all languages, and so on. The Overlord could already do a few of those, and most abilities required a sizable war chest to be fully effective.

It was Inventory that fascinated Simon the most. Besides the fact that it neatly explained how Patriate Malphas could have smuggled in the sword that killed Balzam Magnos into Frightwall, having the ability to stockpile dozens of items—including Crestones—in a private portable treasury would improve his logistics during so many reigns. No more trouble moving the Beleth archive around when he could simply stock them.

Moreover, this power might shed some light on how reigns worked. If Simon could stock items in this Inventory dimension and they traveled back in time with him, it would suggest that previous timelines still existed physically somehow; if not…

Oh wait, no, it says I drop everything upon death, Simon thought after rereading the Perk’s description. Although… if I die, would the items appear right next to my body after I wake up in a new reign if I perish instantly?

He could at least test that theory. The Inventory Perk would be incredibly useful either way.

“Innate Perks can only be used if someone wields the Crestone, right?” Simon asked Cassandra for confirmation. “A wielder does not retain them if they lose it.”

“Yes indeed,” she confirmed. “This is why the army does not have soldiers touch every Crestone they find in the hopes of having them collect a wide variety of Perks. Only passive abilities gained through level-ups can be retained without a Crestone.”

Then I’ve made up my mind, this is too good an opportunity to pass upon, Simon thought as he focused on contacting Shabram. “I would like to have the Merchant Noble Crestone delivered to me somewhere outside Whispermire.”

“I can arrange that, Your Majesty, but be wary that it risks being tracked down,” his spymaster answered quickly. "Euphemia holds Frightwall so I had to smuggle the Crestone in a more secure location."

“It will not be long for this world, trust me. There is no particular urgency, so take your time to arrange a secure delivery.”

“Understood.”

Simon cut the communication and folded the schematics under his coat. “I have a meeting upstairs, Cassandra,” he said. “Perhaps we can have tea or coffee after I am done?”

“Will you leave afterwards?” Cassandra asked, sounding a bit more nervous than normal.

“Maybe.” Simon raised an eyebrow. “Do you need me for something?”

Cassandra bit her lip. “I admit I find my current work lonely without my father or brother,” she confessed. “Your followers are kind to me, but they are neither family nor kin.”

“I can stay a bit longer in Whispermire,” Simon reassured her. He could practice his spells anywhere and return to the Halls of the Minotaur in a pinch should there be an emergency. “I would be happy to spend time with you.”

“Thank you, Simon.” She politely nodded at him. “I hope your meeting goes well.”

Simon took his leave and then walked up to Odette Kano’s office. His new retainer was waiting for him alongside Silk, signing a pile of papers. The Cobweb representative had come dressed in casual clothes rather than her assassin ones and didn’t bring along her grimoire, which Simon took as a good sign.

“A spider crawls into your den again, Miss Kano,” Simon said as he took a seat. “I would be wary if I were you. I hear they leave cobwebs everywhere.”

“They also catch flies,” Odette mused. She seemed to be in quite a good mood. “The spider has a proposition I thought we should discuss.”

“I’ll cut straight to the chase,” Silk said, immediately all business. “Demand for Vassal Crestones has exploded with the start of the civil war, and an extremely rich client commissioned us for a stockpile at multiple times the market rate. I want you to increase production.”

“What kind of client?” Simon asked warily. “The White Unicorn? One of the civil war’s sides?”

“That is not for you to know,” Silk replied sternly, as if she were talking to an unruly business partner rather than an archfiend. Simon wasn’t sure if she was genuinely that confident or just careful not to show weakness. “We take client confidentiality seriously.”

“I doubt that,” Simon replied, having been on the receiving end of their treachery in a previous reign.

“Doubt all you want, it is the truth. We would have blown the whistle on you a long time ago, otherwise.” Silk crossed her legs. “We will increase pay rates if you can produce at least three per month.”

“Once again, you take me for a criminal in need of money, when I trade in souls and secrets.” Simon clasped his hands. “I want to know where you found that miasma crystal of yours, and where I can find others.”

Silk held his gaze. “I cannot provide that information.”

Either the Prince is looking to obtain them for himself, or someone contracted the Cobweb to investigate, Simon thought. And Silk won’t spill the beans.

“I can provide other useful intel,” Silk said. “We have spies among the White Unicorn and their allies. Their eyes are turned on Magvolia now that imperial armies are waging war in the east.”

“You tell me nothing I don’t already know,” Simon replied, having already seen similar events unfold in a previous reign. “I have already foreseen that Lore and the League of Valne will attempt a landing in the future when the imperial army least expects it.”

“But do you know that they have already deployed spies and agents on the mainland to lay the groundwork for their arrival, and that Whispermire tops their list of targets?”

Simon suppressed a scowl as he put two and two together. “A town of adventurers is the best place to gather forces without too much notice.”

“I would keep an eye open when you sleep, or else you might find a Paladin knocking on your door when you least expect it.” Silk’s smile had sharp teeth. “Unless we give you an early warning, of course.”

Simon pondered her offer. He had already bested Alphonse in battle once in the past, at the cost of being sealed for years; not to mention that the likes of Frea were unlikely to pull their punches now that Belzemine was dead…

“Very well, I will pay for useful information on the White Unicorn in Crestones… alongside intel on another figure of interest to me.” Simon slouched in his chair to portray confidence. “You have dealings with a dragon warlord called Vouivre.”

Silk’s scowl confirmed Simon’s suspicions. The Cobweb was still in contact with her. “She is a good customer and supplier, so I doubt the Prince will agree to share information on her. We can always arrange a meeting, however.”

“Perhaps in the future,” Simon decided. He wasn’t ready to confront Vouivre unless he had the Minotaur Fiend to throw at her. “But very well. Depending on the value of the information you bring me on the Paladin and other holy fools, I may consent to producing more Crestones.”

“There is another matter we must discuss,” Odette said. “You have seen the army recruiters downstairs, but that is just the tip of the iceberg. I received a decree from Lady Lauriane ordering me to sell monster parts in any quantity required and to host new recruits.”

Now it begins, Simon thought. His fears were now realized. “Louis intends to use the Darkwood to level-up Class users before sending them to the front.”

“Yes. I will try to delay as long as I can, but I’ve already received word that they’re planning large-scale drills in the following months.” Odette joined her hands. “One that will involve dozens of Class users.”

Simon could read between the lines. He would have to prepare for a raid.

This turn of events saddened Simon, even if he knew it was inevitable that adventurers would come poking near the Halls of the Minotaur at one point or another. Trying to loot an ancient dungeon for wealth was what they did for a living, and the war would only bring more challengers.

But they knew the risks, Simon thought. It wasn’t like the Darkwood’s creatures were besieging Whispermire or threatening the local communities. Warriors went to the region for sport and profit. There were a hundred safer jobs to be found, and yet they still chose this one. Not to mention that they could disrupt the ritual should they reach the sanctum. Sacrifices must be made. I can’t delay forever.

“Well then,” he said, a half-smile stretching on his lips. “I will be sure to prepare a warm welcome for them.”

Those adventurers wouldn’t be the only ones leveling-up this year.