The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 89: The Church of the Stars (1)

His soul was back in front of the Crimson Throne, floating in nothingness.

It didn't welcome him with applause or contempt, like it often did, only ominous silence. The darkness was tense, realizing that what had happened shouldn’t have been possible and that they had skirted close to disaster.

This is the fifteenth of your Hundred Reigns.

You have earned the Title of Simon the Timeless.

The Timeless: You have slipped through time to reach this present. You are now immune to the Stasis ailment.

Fifteenth? So whatever happened in that dimensional void had been counted as a full reign, but at least it appeared things would resume as they should… although the Title’s rather disappointing ability implied a rather worrying possibility.

“You previously used a Title to cover a weakness in the Overlord Class, but this one offers me little to no protection against the Mana Sword,” Simon pointed out. “You cannot negate that weapon, can you? Not fully, at least.”

The sheer wave of hostility he received in response was an answer in itself.

If the Mana Sword was so dangerous, then that begged the question of what it did to Balzam. Could his father have spent the deaths he couldn’t write down in that dreary dark place, except it cost him four reigns to get out rather than one?

No, no, he must have known it was his final reign, or else he wouldn’t have left those notes… although maybe the Oracle had been half-right. Being struck with the sword slightly disrupted the Overlord Class’ inheritance, but it found a new host in Simon instead of vanishing after failing to pass on to Louis.

It harmed the Class, but it could not destroy it.

Whatever the case, Simon woke up in his bed once more. He looked at his hands to find them normal again, and no longer permanently stuck in his Overlord armor. Seeing the distant lights of Marthrone in the night through his window put a balm on his heart.

He was back, but now with the knowledge that there were things out there that could truly impact the reigns. Titles couldn’t protect the Overlord from the Mana Sword for certain, or at least not at this point in time.

And Louis had it at the start of his reigns.

He will never surrender it, even if I am to impersonate our father again, Simon thought. I might be able to confiscate it from Lauriane once he gives it to her… if that’s what happened…

Simon decided against it. He wouldn’t tempt fate again, at least until he understood the danger that the Mana Sword represented better. He didn’t want to risk being trapped in that castle beyond time again.

And what was he supposed to make of all of this in the first place? Why was Gourmand stuck in that void with him, when everyone else seemed to have disappeared? Why was it so full of miasma? Because it was a dungeon of some sort?

When Simon opened his Inventory to find it utterly empty, with the Mana Sword’s hilt and Gourmand’s skull both missing, it just drove home just how little he understood about how the reigns functioned. He was a child fumbling in the dark, knowing nothing about his greatest strengths and weaknesses.

“I need to learn more,” Simon decided. “Keeper.”

The damn creature appeared this time. “Your Dark Majesty?”

Simon glanced at its hands, vividly recalling how it strangled Belzemine to death with them, before asking, “Why did you kill Firewand?”

“I have not killed Firewand.”

Right, it didn’t remember past reigns, though it was aware of their existence. Simon summoned his Abyssal Chronicle and opened it at the end of the ‘Error’ reign and the ‘Timeless’ one’s start.

“You should be able to read these entries,” he said. “Does it not jog your memory?”

The Keeper quickly read the chapters, confirming that it could indeed gather information from the Chronicle, but it provided few answers. “I have no memory of this event, though I may wager a guess,” it said. “While I lack offensive power, I am compelled to preserve and protect the Crimson Throne to the best of my ability. I must have registered the elf as a threat at the time and targeted her.”

Belzemine touching the Mana Sword did seem to strengthen its power, maybe because she was an elf or connected to whatever fate Mardok sought to prevent by targeting her… “How did you negate her magic then?”

“I have no information on the matter. It may be an ability I am unaware of.”

Come to think of it, the creature was called the Keeper of the Throne. It wouldn’t make much sense for an Overlord to give the title to a creature unable to defend its charge.

Could it have combat abilities that only showed themselves when the Crimson Throne itself faced a direct threat to its existence? The damage that the Mana Sword caused must have triggered a failsafe of some sort. A pity Simon didn’t see any way to test that hypothesis without risking catastrophic damage to the reigns.

“What of this dark castle, that… void outside of time?” Simon inquired. “Do you know anything about that?”

“I do not, Your Dark Majesty. I exist to serve, not to understand.”

What a useless creature. “What about Gourmand? Is he linked to the reigns somehow?”

“No,” the Keeper replied flatly. “The creature entered your predecessor’s service eleven years ago, after being summoned from the Abyss.”

According to the Keeper, Gourmand apparently belonged to a rare kind of undead called a Soul Devourer, which was the result of a demon spontaneously animating after death. These creatures became the reverse of a normal demon possession; instead of merging with a living creature the way the Zodiac Fiends did, they instead drew souls inside them and slowly assimilated them to fill the void in their hearts. Balzam had apparently summoned Gourmand for the purpose of using his ability to steal knowledge from dead souls, but then grew to enjoy his jester act enough to keep him in his service.

All in all, it seemed he was indeed unrelated to the Crimson Throne… which made Simon all the more curious as to why he alone managed to linger in the time-displaced Frightwall. Did all the souls he had accumulated in the last reign give him enough power to survive the time anomaly? Or was there something unique about him?

Or… could that dark realm full of miasma have been the infamous Abyss? Simon had failed to summon imps there, but he couldn’t totally exclude that possibility. Gourmand could have survived there for the simple reason that he came from that realm in the first place.

The Keeper lacked answers on the subject, but it did provide useful intel on other matters.

“Did my predecessors have their own Abyssal Chronicles, too?” Simon inquired. “Did they vanish after their deaths?”

“No,” the Keeper replied, “The Abyssal Chronicles linger after their holder’s death, to ensure future Overlords may use them.”

Simon’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. That could change everything. “Where are they then?”

“I do not know.”

Simon cursed in annoyance and considered possible leads. He was all but certain that Mardok’s Chronicle had fallen into Elios Magnos’ hands. The old lich was still loyal to the archdemon’s centuries after his death, and it would make sense for a Librarian to recover his master’s memoir. Gargauth’s chronicle was likely in his hidden hoard or in Vouivre’s possession.

Which left Balzam’s book unaccounted for. Either the old man had hidden it somewhere in his archives in Telluria or somewhere else… or Louis must have recovered the book if it was dropped by his corpse like Inventory items. Simon couldn’t exclude the possibility that the books were still somewhere in this castle, either.

At least only the Overlord and the Keeper could read the Chronicles, so nobody else should be able to use the secrets within.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“I want you to search every nook and cranny in Frightwall for those missing Chronicles after you deliver my altered will,” Simon ordered. “I want you to report to Lady Shabram should you find anything.”

All possible leads on the Abyssal Chronicles led to foes beyond Simon’s ability to confront at the moment, so he would settle on easier targets for now. Approaching Elios Magnos to ask for answers on the reigns was suicide at this point in time, and interrogating the elves would be just as foolish, which only left a few leads.

The Church of the Light… or Eligos.

Justine Eligos claimed that she could help him unlock his Visionary and Darkblood precognitive gifts. Those might grant him insight into how the reigns worked, and she had proved amenable… but this meant tackling the elf conspiracy head-on and risk drawing the Oracle’s attention.

Mastemo already wanted to recruit Simon for his Templars, which would grant him access to their Lighthouse’s library. The Church’s chronomancy and astromancy research should provide certain clues on how the reigns functioned, or at least how they related to the comet Abraxas. They also had tremendous resources.

That sounded like his best lead so far.

Impersonating my father will throw the usual sequence of events out of sync, Simon thought. Infiltrating the Lighthouse might take time, so I’ll need stability… a longer reign.

Simon knew which stones to nudge to avoid the landslide falling on top of him.

After the meeting with the Keeper, Simon used the precious hour that preceded the discovery of his father’s corpse to contact Shabram and Belzemine, inform them of what would follow, and to take precautions to defang the elf conspiracy. This would ensure the civil war began many months later than usual, and hopefully in a way that would leave Louis on the backfoot.

He also took the occasion to show Shabram the Abyssal Chronicle to check what would happen if someone other than the Keeper or an Overlord tried to read it. She had one of her employees try to read it after being warned it might carry consequences, but instead her servant simply told her the book’s pages appeared to be blank. This reassured Simon, since it meant outsiders wouldn’t be able to learn the Overlord’s secrets and he wouldn’t have to fear an early restart should the Chronicle fall into the wrong hands.

Then Simon returned to his room in his normal appearance, waiting for his sister to arrive. He sat on the bed and watched as she frantically opened the door with a shaken expression.

“Simon! Sim–” She froze upon seeing him staring back at her from across the bedroom. “You’re awake? Good. Come with–”

“Did you help him kill Father?” Simon asked simply.

Lauriane froze motionless where she stood, then realized he already knew about their father’s death. “Leave us and lock the door,” she ordered the knight behind her, before questioning Simon when they were alone. “Did you see who did it?”

“Yes, I did.” Simon was pretty sure he didn’t risk anything with Lauriane—she had been willing to murder their own father to protect him—but he couldn’t entirely exclude the possibility she had been in on it from the beginning. “Did you help him get the Mana Sword?”

“Help who get the mana what? You’re not making any sense…” Her confusion was only matched by her worry. “Did you… did you see the murder?”

“I did,” Simon half-lied. He couldn’t be sure of anything, but he had gathered enough information to piece it together. “And if you helped the killer, I… I promise I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“I… I didn’t, why would I…” Lauriane blinked repeatedly. “Why would you think… why would I help someone murder our father?”

She didn’t know. Simon was all but certain of it now. “Because Louis did it.”

“Louis?! No, that’s… he would have shown me the Overlord Class if it was him…” Obviously, she didn’t say he couldn’t have done it at all. “I don’t understand. What did you see?”

“I saw him strike Father with a… a shining sword of pure light; something our father called the Mana Sword, whatever that means,” Simon half-lied. “I saw our father die alongside one of his concubines, but the Overlord Class… I think it… I think it fled to someone else.”

Lauriane observed him in silence, a scowl forming on her lips. She struggled to believe him, but the fact that he foresaw their father’s death alongside his mistress gave credence to his ‘dream’.

“Are you sure that is what you saw?” she asked warily.

“Yes, I am.” Simon gulped. “That’s… that’s why I feared you were involved.”

“No, I wasn’t… I would never...” She frowned and massaged her forehead before putting her hands on his shoulders. “Listen, Simon. This information does not leave this room until I have confirmed it one way or another. If Louis was indeed capable of killing our father, but chose to keep it to himself, then…” Her lips twisted into a dark scowl. “Then your life may be in danger.”

She doesn’t want to admit that Louis could do it, Simon realized. She doesn’t know about her mother yet. “You think Louis would kill me?”

“I… I hope he won't do that.” But she couldn’t guarantee it, and that frightened her. “What I can promise you is…” Her grip on his shoulders tightened. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you, Simon.”

I know, Simon replied upon pulling her into a hug. She hesitated a moment before returning it. “I know, Lauriane.”

He was now more or less convinced she didn’t have anything to do with Balzam’s murder, which meant his first guess was probably correct: Louis had slain their father with the Mana Sword, then gave it to Lauriane once convinced she would pick up where he left off after revealing what had happened to their mother.

Unfortunately, that meant engineering a situation where Louis surrendered the weapon without a fight would take some preparation, and informing Lauriane about his Overlord identity right now would only put them both in danger.

Simon dearly wanted to tell her the truth, and he intended to do so in a future reign, but the risk that she would let something slip to Louis in turn was too great. He needed to be sure he wouldn’t be interrupted for some time during this reign, and the best way to do so was to ensure everyone followed a certain script. Just telling her about the Mana Sword and Louis’ true nature might have already ruined that.

One day, I’ll repay all that you’ve done for me, Lauriane, Simon promised himself. Your faith in me won’t be misplaced.

Afterwards, they went to Balzam’s bedroom to rehash a scene Simon had lived through a good dozen times by now. Lauriane continued to send worried glances at Louis' way this time–and he was starting to notice–but events more or less unfolded as predicted otherwise… until the Keeper arrived to read the will.

“–as for my bastard son Simon, it is my wish that he be put to use by joining the Templars, so that we may confirm whether or not he has any gift worth developing for House Magnos’ benefit,” the Keeper read. “I otherwise bequeath him five slaves of his choosing as part of his inheritance, including my physician, Agnes Firewand.”

Lauriane’s head snapped at the Keeper in shock, the slight crack in her neck almost as loud as the gasps of shock from the people present. “What?!”

“Gifts?! Him?!” Thalas glared at Simon with all the depths of his jealousy. “What gifts could this halfblood have?!”

Euphemia scowled thoughtfully before glancing at Mastemo. “Did you know about this?”

“No,” the High Confessor replied, “But I am pleased His Majesty listened to my queries.”

As planned, most of the audience lost interest in Simon the moment the Keeper moved on to reveal who had inherited the Overlord Class. Simon named Casval as usual, which caused Louis and Euphemia to bolt out of the room with most of their retinue. Even Lauriane reluctantly followed in their hurry to cut the grass out from under the Church Party’s foot.

Simon quietly lingered behind, alongside Mastemo and Belzemine. The Cleric hadn’t taken a step to follow after the empress in spite of the risk of losing precious time on the hunt for the Overlord Class.

In all of his reigns, Simon had interacted very little with the Church of the Light’s High Confessor. The man had always been something of an enigma, and not only because he wore his office’s mirror-mask at all times. Simon knew he wielded the Cleric Noble Crestone and backed Euphemia as part of the Church Party, but his personal character and objectives remained elusive. Even Shabram had limited information to provide on him, since Confessors abandoned their previous identities upon taking up their offices.

“It appears the Light has brought us together, Your Highness,” Mastemo said. “Did your father tell you about this?”

“No, he…” Simon gulped and feigned unease. “This comes as a surprise to me.”

“Is that so? Yet surely you must realize that you possess gifts by now.” Mastemo lowered his head slightly until Simon’s face reflected in his mask. “You did not look as surprised as a son finding his father’s corpse should be.”

He’s sharp. “I… I saw it in a dream.”

Mastemo paused for a moment before lowering his head to whisper in Simon’s ear.

“You saw who did this,” he asked, pointing at Balzam’s corpse. “And you are afraid.”

So far so good. Simon gulped and feigned unease. “If I tell you, will you protect me?”

“Yes, my child, of course. The Light wouldn’t have brought you to me otherwise.” The Cleric put a hand on his shoulder, like a loving father with his son. “Although I will grant you sanctuary either way, joining the Templars is both a great honor and a harsh duty. I will give you time to ponder the consequences.”

“What consequences?” Simon asked with a frown, trying to look more timid than he actually was.

“Our Templars swear a vow of poverty, among others, to ensure material concerns do not interfere with their duties. You will have to discard most of your possessions to join us…” Mastemo glanced at Belzemine, who obediently stayed without a word. “Including your slaves and whatever inheritance you received from His Majesty.”

Simon knew the War Party wouldn’t tolerate the idea of Agnes Firewand falling under the Church Party’s influence, so this played into his hands. He already knew how to ensure her survival otherwise. “I… I see.”

“Our recruits have certain leeway during training before they utter their vows, but commitment requires sacrifice,” Mastemo insisted. “Either way, I will be happy to answer any questions you have, my child.”

Simon took a deep breath and appeared to consider it. “Would you help me understand my visions? Or how to change them?”

“Understanding them and what purpose the Light gave you, yes,” Mastemo replied, “Changing them, however, is not something desirable.”

…

Huh?

“Interfering with the future shown to you in your dreams is both futile and almost certainly counterproductive,” Mastemo replied with utter certainty. “The page is written, the ink is dry. Whether or not you wish to prevent or support those visions is irrelevant. By showing them to you, the Light has already put the wheel of fate in motion.”

“I…” Simon frowned in genuine confusion. What was he talking about? The Oracle’s predictions had been proven wrong time and time again for a start. “I don’t understand.”

“The truth may be troubling without the necessary context, but do not worry, all will be clear in due time,” Mastemo reassured Simon before offering him his open, gloved palm. “Come with me to the Lighthouse. Join the Templar Order, learn to use your gifts in the service of the church, and I assure you the golden path that the Light planned for you shall reveal itself.”

Simon looked at the hand as if he were still considering it, then took it. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll… consider it.”

He half-expected Mastemo’s hand to burn him in spite of Anathemic Secrecy. He was the Cleric after all, the leader of the Church of Light. His kind should be nearly as hostile to the Overlord spirit as the Mana Sword or the Paladin.

Quite the contrary, the hand felt… welcoming. Pleasant.

Familiar.