The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 82: The Elf Conspiracy (9)

Watching everyone’s various reactions to his declaration was quite telling.

Meredith, Leonard, and most of the audience who knew nothing of Balzam’s death stared at him in a mix of confusion and slowly sinking disbelief; Voltobauta seemed more puzzled than anything, likely because the news hadn’t reached him yet; Vouivre squinted at Simon in suspicion; and a brief flash of surprise passed over Bert’s eyes. Only Eole missed the statement’s implications because she didn’t understand Endymian.

“It seems I have your attention now,” Simon said, smirking. “Here’s my offer: return my retainer to me, alive and safe, and I shall share that secret with you. Keep it, sell it, I don’t care what you do with it next.”

“What are you talking about?” Voltobauta asked.

“You lie,” Vouivre said, calling out his bluff.

“Prove it,” Bert said upon recovering his bearings.

Since he couldn’t put them on himself, Simon subtly cast Fiendmask and pulled up his sleeve to reveal copies of his Devil Brands of Sloth, Gluttony, Greed, and Lust on his arm.

“These were gifts granted to me by the new Overlord in return for my valuable services, alongside Firewand’s services,” Simon lied. “If your spy network is as accurate as you think, Spider, you would know my father always refused to grant me any power.”

Bert scowled at the brands, as did Vouivre. Those two probably knew enough about the Overlord’s powers to recognize the designs, and Simon hoped they would take the Dark aura radiating from these fakes as proof that they were genuine. Rogues were not particularly known for their knowledge of enchantments.

“What services?” Bert asked warily, which Simon took as a very good sign.

“It was my suggestion that he forge my father’s will to frame your brother, Lady Vouivre,” Simon replied after pulling down his sleeve to reduce the risk of identification. “We had hoped this would lead to you and that fool Louis killing each other, so imagine my face when I heard you had eaten your sibling instead. I didn’t even know your kind cannibalized each other.”

Vouivre’s expression crumbled from arrogance to horrible realization. She didn’t look angry in the slightest that he had framed her brother, but his knowledge left her slightly spooked. “How do you know about these things…”

“Wait, wait, someone finally slew the old geezer?” Voltobauta chuckled behind his mask. “Now I’m curious to hear who did it. I owe them a drink.”

Meredith gulped behind Simon. “Your Highness–” she said, only for Leonard to silence her with a glare. They didn’t understand half of what was going on, but they could tell they were better off going along with what Simon was doing until they could question him later.

“Why would you betray your new employer so easily for this girl?” Bert asked while glancing at Eole.

“Because he’s lying,” Vouivre insisted.

“Betray them?” Simon laughed. “You don’t get it. The truth is that he’s already out of your reach. Even if I tell you, you won’t be able to catch him.”

“Him?” Voltobauta noted, while Vouivre scowled in silence. As Simon suspected, she only saw his words as a challenge.

“You are unwise to reveal that your leverage is useless,” Bert pointed out.

“Is it?” Simon waved his hand at Vouivre. “Look how eager she is to claim her birthright. Countless fools like her will try to claim the Overlord’s power, even if their efforts are doomed to fail. Think of the favors and chaos you could cause and exploit with it, of what the Oracle would give you...”

Vouivre seethed at the insult. “Belzemine,” she said, insisting on the name. “Capture the Magnos and kill the rest.”

Belzemine frowned at Vouivre, slightly surprised she knew her name… but she failed to answer or to act on the dragon’s order. Steam poured out of Vouivre’s mouth as scales flashed on her skin from her fury.

“As I said,” Simon went on as if nothing had happened, “fools will always try their luck.”

“I would have no way of confirming that information,” Bert pointed out. “I would need proof that you aren’t providing a false name.”

If he’s haggling, then I’ve already won. “Just cast a divination spell when I give you the name. You’ll know I told you the truth when you come up short.”

“That’s insufficient.”

“Too bad, that’s all you’ll get,” Simon replied harshly. “My airship will open fire on this keep within minutes once we fail to return, and reinforcements are already on their way. Take the deal and run while you can, or prepare for a fight.”

Simon and Bert glared at each other, the tension in the air so thick it felt like the onset of a thunderstorm. Vouivre looked downright murderous at the humiliation, Leonard and Meredith clutched their weapons tightly, Belzemine gathered fire in her hands to blast everyone else on a moment’s notice, and everyone else held their breath. Only Voltobauta observed the scene with an entertained chuckle, his hand toying with a glass of red liquid that might or might not be wine. Watching the whole scene entertained him.

Seconds that seemed to last forever passed, and Ludwig Bert made his decision in an instant.

A dagger flashed out from under his sleeve so fast that Simon’s eyes struggled to keep up and pressed against Eole’s chin, his other hand grabbing Eole’s hair to keep her in place. Simon saw red, but remained calm.

“You win,” Bert said, his voice colder than ice. “I will bring her to you. You will whisper the name to me in my ear, and I will surrender the kish at that very same moment. Play fair, and we’ll all be on our way. Try to touch her, try to play smart, try to play coy, and I’ll slice her throat. Give me the wrong answer, and I will know.”

He must think I intend to teleport away with a gem or the like once I grab her, Simon deduced. So close and yet so far, Spider.

“Prepare to leave as soon as the exchange concludes,” Simon informed his retainers, before addressing a terrified Eole in kish. “I will take you with me. Just go along with this.”

His plan required at least tacit agreement on her part, and she thankfully nodded in relief. She might not understand everything that was going on, but she trusted him to save her. That would have warmed his heart if the situation hadn’t been so tense.

Bert slowly climbed down the stairs with Eole in tow, while everyone else watched on tensely. Simon could tell Vouivre would pounce and strike the moment the kish changed hands, while the likes of Voltobauta adjusted their posture for the fight they knew would begin once the exchange concluded. Not to mention that Ludwig Bert was likely to renege on the deal.

Forty feet… thirty five… Simon suppressed a smile once Bert approached close enough. Thirty… just a bit closer to be sure…

“Now,” Ludwig Bert said once he and Eole faced Simon. “The truth.”

Simon smiled, then leaned forward to whisper in the bastard’s ear. If he was truly the Rogue, he would appreciate the irony of the situation. He had made a slight yet fatal mistake.

Namely, Simon’s Perk didn’t require physical contact; only proximity.

“The Fourth Overlord’s name is…”

Lord of the Demon Castle activated.

Simon teleported away with his retainers, Eole included, leaving Ludwig Bert and his kind with nothing.

They were in Lord Albert’s halls one second, and then in Castle Frightwall’s vaults the next. His retainers all blinked and looked around them in confusion. Only Belzemine appeared to understand what had just happened.

Their surprise was as delightful as the rush of experience coursing through Simon’s veins.

Level 46 Overlord Perk: Dreadful Aura IV (Active): Individuals affected by your Dreadful Aura’s Terror ailment will suffer from an Instadeath, so long as they are at least 20 levels below you.

Pulling a fast one on a criminal mastermind was quite the show of superiority. Simon wondered if the hall had devolved into chaos in their wake. His airship should have been about to open fire, and though he knew it probably wouldn’t be enough to take out Vouivre, but the idea that one or the other perished gave him life.

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This way was safer and let him continue the reign unseen. Simon would certainly have to explain a few things to his retainers, like whether he told the truth at the auction or how he teleported them to safety, but at least this reign would continue with his secret safe. There was still so much to do.

“We are safe, Eole,” Simon reassured her in Elvish. “Let’s go to Shabram and call the hunt on–”

He heard a crack in the back of his head. A terrible noise of glass shattering, or a branch of wood snapping from one’s strength. A red message suddenly appeared in front of Simon’s eyes before he could recover.

You have broken the following Judge’s Law: Teleportation is not allowed within Frightwall.

Judgment: Stasis.

The Judge? Euphemia–

Time suddenly began to slow down all around him. His chest’s movements became a chore, sounds lengthened until they became incomprehensible, and even the flickering of torches halted. Simon sensed an effect his Unyielding Essence didn’t protect him from seizing hold of him.

Stasis status transferred by Lovestruck.

The effect snapped back, and time resumed as normal.

Thank the Light Elaine was still technically betrothed to him.

However, Simon couldn’t say the same for his allies. Eole, Meredith, Leonard, and even Belzemine had been frozen in time; their bodies standing still mid-motion like statues frozen between two ticks of the clock. The Judge’s power had claimed them all.

“I knew the testament was a forgery,” a familiar, stern voice echoed throughout the vault. “Your father would never have trusted you with a barony and Firewand.”

A chill traveled down Simon’s spine. He turned his gaze to the source of the voice and watched a familiar figure walking down the stairs into the vault.

Simon had had the displeasure of seeing Euphemia render judgment in her husband’s stead once or twice in the past, so he immediately recognized the Judge Class outfit on her: a white toga reaching silver sandals, with a gilded necklace and bracers gleaming on her skin. Metal wings of golden feathers had grown out of her back. Her left hand carried a pair of scales, and her right a warhammer that seemed too big to lift for anyone short of Dassein’s bulk. Her normal eyes were blindfolded, but the third one pitilessly glared at Simon

She was a true angel of the Light, one devoid of pity.

“I foresaw that the new Overlord would try to sneak back in, so I set a Law to stop you,” Euphemia said. “Still, I did not expect you to be the one to activate this trap.”

Simon cursed under his breath. He hadn’t tried to teleport inside Frightwall in all the reigns after Balzam’s death became public for fear of discovery, and it would make sense to set defenses preventing teleportation inside to protect from outsiders, but he hadn’t expected Euphemia to lay that kind of trap. Simon would have thought his Treacherous Title would have let him ignore a Judge’s law, but… he guessed it didn’t count as an agreement or contract. One couldn’t consent to being subject to the law.

The ability probably punished anyone violating its terms, no exceptions allowed.

At least that would explain why the War Party never tried to teleport back into Frightwall to retake it during the civil war. They must have lost a few assassins trying to sneak in.

“Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty,” Simon said, bowing in an attempt to salvage things. “I have returned on behalf of Lady Shabram to report on a conspiracy–”

“I do not believe you. Only the likes of Louis or the Oracle should be able to ignore one of my Judgments.” Euphemia’s third eye squinted at Simon. “You are either the new Overlord or more than you pretend to be.”

“I am more than I look,” Simon admitted. “I have been working with Imperial Intelligence on behalf of my father and Lady Shabram to uncover a conspiracy sponsored by the Oracle to infiltrate our ranks. I have been extensively trained for this.”

“Is that why you deceived your father-in-law?” Euphemia asked, her voice laced with skepticism. “My spies tell me you lured him and his daughter into your sister’s den, yet you alone walked out of it.”

“Indeed.” Thank the Light, she seemed at least willing to listen. “The Malphas family has been on the White Unicorn’s payroll for years. They’re planning an attack on Frightwall at the end of the month to exploit our vulnerability. We’ve gathered proof of their treachery, which my sister will bring to you shortly.”

Euphemia listened without a word, her face blank. She pondered his words for a moment before speaking up again, with her third eye glowing with holy light. “Tell me the sky is pink.”

Simon blinked. “What?”

“I said, tell me the sky is pink.”

Simon immediately realized what she was trying to do, and that he was already doomed. “The sky… is pink.”

“My Discerning Gaze Perk could not register that as nonsense, which means you are immune to divination.” Euphemia’s face twisted into a dark scowl of indignation, runes shining on her warhammer. “A patricidal liar is all that you are!”

Simon immediately activated Lord of the Demon Castle, teleporting himself and his retainers straight into Shabram’s office. He landed right in front of the shocked spymaster, but a notification appeared in front of his eyes before he could ask for her help.

You have broken the following Judge’s Law: Teleportation is not allowed within Frightwall.

Judgment: Stasis.

Curses, the effect could be applied more than onc–

Time began to slow down all around him, but since Elaine was still affected by Stasis, Lovestruck failed to transfer the effect to her. Simon’s sense of reality blurred as he and the rest of the timestream drifted further apart, until he ceased to think.

He was trapped on the threshold between now and next.

He never saw the blow that brought this reign to an end.

It must have been Euphemia tracking him down to Shabram’s office and smiting him where he stood. Perhaps she gave Thalas or Norbelle the honor of doing the deed in the hopes that they would inherit the Overlord Class. Whatever the case, he soon found himself back in front of the Crimson Throne.

The grim irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Simon. He had spent this entire reign lying his way to victory, only to die when a literal divine judge called his bluff.

It was such an unexpected, yet fitting ending to this reign.

I was so close, Simon lamented upon finding himself in front of the Crimson Throne. I had the elf conspiracy dead to rights! I could have pushed further, found other weak points, maybe even located the Mana Sword! I even managed to save Eole!

He guessed he had at least learned more about Euphemia’s Perks and abilities. He also knew how to wreck the elf conspiracy and prevent them from interfering any further. The end came earlier than he would have liked, but the job was still done.

The Crimson Throne itself was happy with this outcome. It overflowed with pride and joy as it bestowed upon him a title worthy of his actions against the Overlord’s ancient enemies.

This is the thirteenth of your Hundred Reigns.

You have earned the title of Simon the Deceitful.

The Deceitful: You have proven yourself a master liar and discovered a flaw in the Overlord Class, which shall be remedied. Your Devil Brands can no longer be removed once applied—ever—but you can choose to make them undetectable.

Huh, so Titles could directly change how the Overlord’s Perks worked? Simon guessed that the Crimson Throne truly loathed finding a flaw in its prized Class, enough to edit it–

Wait, did that mean that Simon couldn’t remove the Devil Brands? Including Belzemine’s? Was she condemned to stay a slave until death, or would the fact that she had been enslaved by his predecessors give him some leeway? The Title said it applied to his brands...

Simon woke up in his room with all these questions.

He sat up on the bed and considered what to do for this reign. Although the previous one had been cut short earlier than he had hoped, he did obtain an immense amount of information. He could cripple the White Unicorn’s activities in the empire and uproot their entire spy ring with a single message to Shabram. Their constant interferences would finally come to an end, at least until the Oracle managed to regain her footing.

Only two particular issues remained: the identity of Balzam Magnos’ assassin, and the Mana Sword’s whereabouts. The fact that the latter might be capable of interfering with the reigns or the Overlord Class made it a threat Simon couldn’t ignore. He had to find its location to prevent it from blindsiding him, study it if possible, and destroy it if it proved too dangerous. Only then would he be capable of leveraging all of Endymion’s resources for his other projects without always looking over his shoulder.

But how could he do that? Only the Oracle knew the assassin’s true identity, and Simon doubted the Mana Sword could be tracked through divination. Patriate Malphas informed Simon that he had left the weapon in the chapel where the predicted killer picked it up, so that left him with a vague hint.

I could set a trap to lure out the assassin, Simon thought. It has to be Louis, Euphemia, or… or Lauriane.

Euphemia might have called him a patricidal liar, but Simon knew better than to trust her. She might have simply been trying to cover her tracks.

I could put them all under surveillance… no, it won’t be enough. I’m in my thirteenth reign, and the assassin never showed their hands in any of them. If any of them have the Mana Sword, they’ll only use it when they’re certain they can kill me.

What play could be guaranteed to throw the assassin off their game enough to make a mistake?

It was then that the perfect idea crossed Simon’s mind.

A daring plot, so absurd in its scope and execution that he actually burst out laughing alone in his room.

“No, that’s not… someone would notice… no way I can keep that up for long…” Simon stroked his chin as he pondered the plan a little bit longer. “Still… they said I looked identical to him in the armor… and there’s no way the assassin will keep a straight face… they’ll slip up… plus I would have an excuse to shrug off Euphemia’s Perks…”

Moreover… Moreover, it would let him both check the Deepground plan, leverage all the empire’s resources, and prevent the stupid civil war from tearing the empire apart. Not to mention that it might grant him quite a few levels.

He at least had to give it a try.

His choice now made, Simon teleported into his father’s bedroom to find him dead and lying in his own blood next to one of his dead concubines. Simon stared at Balzam Magnos’ body for a second, briefly considered the best way to dispose of it, and then came up with a fitting solution.

“Keeper.”

The Keeper of the Throne obediently materialized at his side. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“I need you to do something I should have ordered you to do long ago,” Simon said. “Dispose of my father’s corpse in the acid room in the basement. Make sure no one sees you.”

That left the concubine’s corpse in his room, but it wouldn’t be the first time Balzam Magnos killed one of his mistresses. He had executed another over cheating accusations, and he had gone as far as to secretly murder his first wife.

Leaving the Keeper to its work, Simon moved to the nearest mirror in his father’s bedroom, changed his stat information with Anathemic Secrecy, and then cast a Fiendmask spell to change his appearance. He appeared to grow taller, with a white beard and a lion-like mane of hair growing on his face alongside wrinkles. The voice would be a little harder to imitate, but Simon had gained quite a lot of experience on that front during his stint as a demon in the woods. He repeated a few sentences until he nailed it.

He doubted he could keep up the masquerade for long, but it should fool most people unaware of the switch for a time.

As far as the world was concerned, Balzam Magnos had never died.