The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 90: The Church of the Stars (2)

Meeting with Belzemine and Eole had almost become a routine.

In Belzemine’s case, Simon first revealed his identity as Overlord to her in private and then replaced her brands with his own, alongside orders to play along with Malphas and wait in Frightwall until she received one of Simon’s telepathic orders. The fact the brands simply became invisible rather than disappear would ensure they remained in contact and that he could talk her out of a mental breakdown.

The goal of the operation was otherwise simple: ensure the Oracle’s attempt to destroy Frightwall failed while ensuring the capture or elimination of all conspirators before they could become a problem. Shabram was already taking measures to cripple the infiltrators and ensure they wouldn’t cause him trouble this reign.

The real surprise came from Eole.

“May I come with you?” she asked him, once he had said his piece.

“To the Lighthouse?” That was unexpected. He had told her his usual pitch of being a prophet, freeing her and convincing her to avoid Telluria, but her behavior had shifted slightly when he told her the Church of the Light’s High Confessor had invited him to join his Templars. “Why?”

“To meet this High Confessor,” Eole replied with firm determination. “If I am free, I have the right to speak my mind to him.”

“And he will have the right to smite you down where you stand.” The High Confessor lacked the Overlord’s power, but crossing him would be most unwise. “Why would you even want to talk with him? The Church of the Light may often criticize excessive mistreatment of slaves, but there’s no greater opponent of shifter rights in the empire.”

“Which is exactly why I want to speak with their leader, if I can,” Eole insisted. “I will inform him of our plights if he is unaware of it, or reason with him if he knows of them.”

“He is more likely to just ignore you,” Simon argued.

“Then I will curse him for his cruelty and accept that my words were wasted,” Eole replied. “I cannot know what will happen until I try.”

Simon pondered what to do. Eole seemed dead-set on this, and he could simply word it as a request to Mastemo. If he considered it beneath him to speak with a shifter, then Simon would have an excuse to deny Eole and send her back home without a fuss; and if Mastemo was willing to listen, then he might prove more open-minded than expected…

Either way, Simon could ensure that Eole ‘disappeared’ should Mastemo take offense to her words. He wouldn’t mind keeping her in his retinue a little longer, especially since he didn’t plan on confronting either the White Unicorn or the Cobweb if he could avoid it.

“Alright,” Simon agreed. “I will introduce you as my slave, so you will have some legal protection, but you are better off going back to your people’s sanctuary for your own safety once the meeting is concluded. Be polite as well. This will be a once in a lifetime opportunity if he does agree to an audience.”

“I understand.” Eole bowed slightly. “I do not wish to bring trouble to you, Lord Simon. I merely hope that this High Confessor has a heart.”

That remains to be seen, Simon thought as he heard a knock on his bedroom door. Lauriane walked in with a deep frown on her face.

She hardly spared a glance at Eole, who–having never seen Lauriane before–didn’t recognize her anyway. “Can we talk in private, Simon?”

That’s new, Simon thought before addressing Eole in Elvish. “Can you leave us for a moment?”

Eole nodded and left the room, with Lauriane’s gaze trailing behind her. She hurriedly locked the door behind the kish and then cast a few anti-divination spells to secure the area. Simon could immediately guess the reason behind her paranoia.

“You were right,” Lauriane said, her body tenser than an arrow string. “Louis confessed to the crime when I questioned him about the Mana Sword. He said he had found evidence that our father had murdered our mother Eleanor to marry Euphemia all those years ago.”

And stuffed her corpse into a wall on top of that, Simon thought grimly, though he kept that for himself. Lauriane had enough on her plate as it was. “I’m… sorry.”

“I’m not sure what to believe. I can’t fathom that Father could do something like that, or that Louis...” She shook her head, torn between disbelief and what she knew to be true. “Either way, I’ll have to investigate this further. Are you sure you saw the Overlord Class pass onto someone else?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Simon replied, a frown on his face. “Why ask me that? You heard the will.”

“That’s the thing.” Lauriane crossed her arms. “Louis told me that killing Father didn’t give him any levels.”

That took Simon by surprise. “He didn’t level-up from killing the sitting Overlord?”

Lauriane nodded sharply. “That’s why he kept his mouth shut, besides the fact that he didn’t inherit the Overlord Class. He was convinced Father was playing a trick on us all.”

Simon guessed that being a high-level Warrior meant that even killing the sitting Overlord wouldn’t have been enough, but the more he thought about it, the more far-fetched that possibility sounded. Balzam Magnos had at least been stronger than his son, so his murder should have bumped him up a level or two.

“Louis suspects that Father may still be alive somehow and is playing with us, though I can’t see why he would inflame tensions like this.” Lauriane stroked her chin. “Then again, the Overlord Class is unique. I once heard Euphemia say that Father already showcased high-level powers the moment he slew Gargauth.”

“It could have something to do with the Mana Sword,” Simon suggested. It could prevent the user from gaining experience as part of its purpose to disrupt the Overlord inheritance cycle.

“It could be. Either way, it’s a giant mess.” She looked at him with concern. “Do you intend to go with Mastemo?”

“I think so,” Simon confirmed. “I need to understand my gifts.”

“I advise against it. I fear Mastemo will try to use you against us. At least the Academy is something of a neutral zone. Once you join the Church, they will never let you go.” Lauriane squinted at him. “Why the sudden change of plans? You wanted nothing to do with the Church or imperial politics before our father’s death.”

Simon hesitated, fearing revealing too much might cause a knockdown effect, but not alleviating his sister’s fears might result in the same outcome. “I’ve… had more dreams. Concerning ones.”

That worried her. “What kind of dreams?”

“Disasters,” Simon admitted. “I saw a dark star in the sky bringing ruin to us all, while our nation tears itself apart. They’re as vivid as the nightmare I had about Louis murdering Father.”

“I see…” Lauriane’s jaw tightened. “You think the Lighthouse will provide answers.”

“I hope so,” Simon confirmed. “I’m sorry, Lauriane, but I have to go there. I need to know.”

His choice didn’t please her, but she relented. “This is a teleportation gem linked to one of my safehouses,” she said upon offering him a small crystal. “If you ever feel that your life is in danger, shatter it and you’ll return to my care. Do not trust anything Mastemo tells you.”

“Is he that dangerous?” Simon asked, not being very familiar with the High Confessor beyond his support of Euphemia.

“He is a zealot with an agenda; of course he is dangerous,” Lauriane countered. “He used to lead the Church of the Light in revolt against Gargauth with the express purpose of overthrowing the previous Overlord.”

“I know that,” Simon replied. He had studied his history. “But he wasn’t so zealous he couldn’t hash out an agreement with our father.”

“Because having the Overlord in his pocket helped him spread the Church of the Light’s influence across the continent, but make no mistake, Mastemo would turn this country into a theocracy in a heartbeat if he had the chance.” Lauriane scowled. “I know for a fact he has been hoarding relics and artifacts from destroyed faiths whenever Father wasn’t paying attention, and the Light alone knows what he does in his Lighthouse. Even my spies couldn’t infiltrate that institution. You don’t run such a tight ship when you have nothing to hide.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Doubly so since Simon could feel something was subtly wrong with the man, although he couldn’t explain why. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

To Simon’s immense surprise, Mastemo actually agreed to hear out Eole on their way to the Lighthouse. He also sounded rather pleased to hear that he would bring his newfound retainers, Leonard and Meredith, with him to Valendre. He was apparently familiar with the latter.

Simon left a miasma crystal in Shabram’s mansion like in the previous reign before leaving, and asked her to keep an eye on Gourmand. The jester’s behavior hadn’t changed in the slightest for now, but it didn’t hurt to check if the time anomaly had somehow affected him in the long term.

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Either way, Mastemo invited them to board his airship, the Radiance, to travel to the Valendre region. Besides being paved with the pearly marble and gold the Church of the Light loved, the architects went as far as to replace the portholes with enchanted, stained glass windows to turn the ship into a flying temple. The salon also held more books than seats, including church texts, litanies, and other biographies. It seemed Mastemo was quite the voracious scholar.

“Welcome aboard, Your Highness,” Mastemo said upon greeting them, two white-clad Templars escorting him. The High Confessor had ordered food and tea for his visitors, though he hadn’t removed his mask to partake in it either. “I am very pleased to see you again, Meredith.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Your Excellency,” Meredith replied with a deep bow, which Leonard imitated. “Praise the Light for letting our paths cross once again.”

“You two know each other?” Simon asked curiously.

“Meredith once served Knight-Commander Beatrice as a squire,” Mastemo explained. “Unfortunately for the Church, she decided against pronouncing her Templar vows when she was granted a baron title for her extraordinary services in Telluria.”

“I meant no offense to you or the Church, Your Excellency,” Meredith apologized. “I simply sought to provide my brothers and family with a better future.”

“And I wish you success on that front.” Mastemo turned his mask towards Eole and studied her for a moment. “What an elegant creature. So it is true what they say, to gaze upon the kish is to receive a glimpse of paradise.”

“Greetings, Lord Mastemo,” Eole said in Elvish, her hands joined, her back straight, her expression cold. “Thank you for agreeing to listen to me.”

“I can sense your loathing from here, child,” Mastemo replied in impeccable Elvish. “You despise what I represent, do you not?”

Eole didn’t deny it. “I came to the land of Telluria to meet with my fellow shifters, only to find them in chains,” she said with an accusatory tone. “Your Church of the Light says it stands for peace and harmony, yet what glory can be found in enslaving others?”

“We do not condone slavery, except against the faithless,” Mastemo replied calmly. “Whereas imperial civil and private institutions may believe in the natural inferiority of beastmen–”

“Shifters

,” Eole amended, which drew a worried glance from Simon. Her earnest idealism and boldness blinded her to the danger of provoking a very powerful man.“–the Church of the Light judges people on faith alone, not their origins,” Mastemo continued as if he hadn’t heard the correction. “We have allowed converts of your kind into our priesthood and armed branch, after all.”

“Then why are my people treated so poorly?”

“The beastmen are a tribe born of the Dark, like the goblinoids,” Mastemo replied with utter certainty, although Simon didn’t sense any contempt; he was merely stating what he believed to be a fact. “We argue against assimilating them further into the imperial power structure until we have fully converted their populations to the true faith, lest we bring chaos into our households. They will enjoy the same rights as our citizens once they have culturally reformed.”

Eole frowned, her anger breaking through her composure. “You hate dryads and eidolons so much that you would use my people’s faith in them to enslave them?”

“We do not despise dryads and eidolons, for they too are of the Light,” Mastemo replied. “We oppose them being worshipped. The same way demons, however powerful and princely they might appear, are simply emanations of a greater force, dryads and eidolons are but messengers of the Light. Worshipping the trees blinds men to the forest, and thus higher spiritual truths.”

“You cannot deny the Mana Goddess’ existence,” Eole countered. “This is absurd. All life in this world derives from her.”

“The Mana Mother, child,” Mastemo corrected her. “A mother to us all she is, and for that we must always be grateful. But our goddess? Never.” He shook his head. “It was her and the elves’ vanity that led to the Doom.”

Rather than the black comet in the sky? Simon kept his mouth shut for now. He knew for a fact that the coming of Abraxas had caused the previous disaster, so Mastemo was either misinformed or outright hiding the truth behind propaganda. I have to give it to him, so far he sounds very calm. I would have expected more witch pyre threats from a priest confronted with a heretic.

“Forgive me, Your Excellency,” Simon interrupted the conversation in an attempt to take some heat off Eole. “But I was told shifters evolved from humans who used primeval magic to adapt to their environment. Why would you say that they come from the Dark?”

“Because they do,” Mastemo replied calmly. “The sorcery that created the first beastmen derived from demons, as the kish will confirm.”

Eole blinked. “What do you mean?”

That seemed to confuse Mastemo. “You do not know?”

“Know what?” Eole asked, growing more and more agitated.

“The sin your kind committed against all beastmen tribes,” Mastemo elaborated. “The great crime of the kish people.”

“If you speak about the Kish Empire enslaving our fellow shifters, then I am aware of it,” Eole replied gruffly. “It was my desire to atone for my ancestors’ crimes that brought me to Telluria.”

“Your people’s responsibility to other beastmen goes far beyond mere racial slavery.” Mastemo steepled his fingers under his chin. “Have you never found it strange that the kish can magically compel other beastmen to obey their orders? Do you think this is something that just happens naturally?”

Eole shifted in place, suddenly uncomfortable. “I… I do not understand what you are implying.”

“Are you suggesting that their power is no quirk of nature?” Simon inquired.

“I am suggesting nothing, this is a fact,” Mastemo replied. “Once upon a time, the human tribe that would become the kish people formed a pact with a powerful archdemon of the Dark. That vile creature used her foul sorcery to grant the kish their wings and enchanted voices, then warped enemy clans into the first beastmen to create a slave caste.”

An archdemon? A Zodiac Fiend? Simon’s eyes widened as he put two and two together. The Twin-Tailed Fish in the kish capital.

“That’s a lie!” Eole immediately countered, her face red with fury. “My people would never do such a thing! Our elders say the kish were merely a single tribe of shifters among many others!”

“You dare raise your tone at His Excellency, beast?!” one of Mastemo’s guards snarled. His hand reached for his sword, but the High Confessor stopped him with a wave of his hand.

“Your elders are either mistaken or hoarding their knowledge,” Mastemo said calmly. “I can prove the truth of my words in Valendre… if you are brave enough to face it.”

Eole bit her lip, hesitation crossing her gaze. “Is this a trap?”

Mastemo let out a rare chuckle of amusement. “A flick of my wrist would end you forever if I wanted you dead or in chains, child. All I offer is the truth that was denied to you. What you do with it will be your choice alone.”

Eole scowled, but failed to provide an answer. Simon could tell she was torn between outright denying the High Confessor’s words and a small, nagging doubt.

“Think on this during the flight,” Mastemo said as he dismissed her and everyone else. “Would you kindly leave me with Simon? I have much to discuss with His Highness.”

Simon’s retainers returned to their rooms, with Eole clearly deep in thought. The Templars closed the door behind them.

“My apologies for Eole’s behavior, Your Excellency,” Simon said once they were alone, in case the High Confessor had taken offense. “Courtesy is a new concept for her, but she means well.”

“No one should apologize for arguing on the behalf of others, Simon,” Mastemo reassured him. “If anything, I find her boldness and honesty refreshing. I can tell that this girl’s heart is in the right place. She is simply misinformed and deceived.”

Either he’s far more open-minded than I thought, or he’s planning something. Simon decided to play dumb for now and hoped the High Confessor’s interest in Eole was simply educational. “This archdemon you mentioned though… Are they still at large?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot share that information with you until you take your Templar vows.” Mastemo invited him to sit and have a cup of tea. “Now that we are alone, I would like you to tell me about your dreams. Omit no details.”

Simon thus proceeded to deceive the High Confessor for an hour with half-truths and outright lies.

He told him how he had dreamed of Louis slaying his father in his bed with a magical sword, that he foresaw the Overlord spirit finding a new host, that he dreamed of a great dark comet in the sky unleashing monsters and cataclysms across the world, and of waking up alone in an empty Castle Frightwall floating in an empty dark void. Mastemo listened carefully, only speaking up on occasion to ask for more details, yet never dismissing anything Simon said.

“So Louis slew His Majesty, yet the Class found another host…” Mastemo pondered this information. He sounded more surprised by the failed Overlord Class transfer than by the fact that Louis had murdered his own father. “Peculiar, but not all that surprising.”

“You think my father’s testament had something to do with it?” Simon asked, trying to learn how much the High Confessor actually knew.

“Perhaps. The issue is that we only have two examples of Overlord succession in history to work off as references. We assumed the Class went to whoever had killed the last one, when in truth it might simply select the most appropriate wielder.” Mastemo clasped his hands. “Either way, the Lighthouse is beyond Louis’ reach, and Her Grace Euphemia will deal with him in time. Your other visions concern me more. I would wager the void you saw was almost certainly the Abyss, but Visionary visions can often be highly symbolic rather than literal, so it could simply be a message that the Overlord’s rule will soon come to an end.”

I’m afraid that vision was very much real and literal, Simon thought. “What about this dark comet? Did others dream of it?”

Mastemo nodded slowly. “This is not public knowledge, but Empress Euphemia once foresaw a second Doom very similar to what you dreamed about.”

Simon never knew that. “She did?”

“She foresaw that dragons would incinerate the earth under the glow of a great dark star,” Mastemo explained. “Although she couldn’t see Gargauth due to his immunity to divination, she correctly interpreted her visions as the Light’s urging her to depose the former Overlord.”

Dragons incinerating the earth? Simon did recall wyrms battling demons that time he awoke in Valne to see the Zodiac Parade underway. Did Gargauth intend to use Abraxas for his own uses? Did he leave instructions to Vouivre to pick up where he left off? Euphemia could simply have misunderstood her vision too…

“But she failed,” Simon pointed out. “If I’m having dreams of dragons and demons destroying the world during a second Doom, then slaying Gargauth didn’t prevent that future from coming to pass.”

“By design, certainly.”

“I don’t understand,” Simon admitted. “Visionary visions come from the Light, no? Why would the Light send misleading information to its seers?”

Mastemo glanced out a stained glass porthole. “There was once a king from a near-forgotten land who visited a Visionary for advice. The Visionary received a vision that the king would be slain by his firstborn son. The king, seized by fear, ordered one of his most trusted guards to slay the child. When faced with the deed, the man found he couldn’t stomach the order and instead fled the castle with the child, whom he raised in the neighboring nation.”

Simon could see how that parable ended. “The child grew up to kill his biological father anyway, am I right?”

“Yes. He became a general who led his adoptive nation’s army when his father’s kingdom invaded it, and slew him in battle without knowing of their relationship.”

“So the lesson is that the future cannot be changed?” Simon didn’t like that line of thinking in the slightest.

“Not quite,” Mastemo corrected him. “The lesson of this story is that by informing the man of the prophecy, the Visionary ensured it would come to pass. The mere act of showing a vision in itself serves as a way for the Light to nudge fate in a certain course. Lady Euphemia served her purpose in removing Gargauth, but the Light sees further than its servants.”

Simon loathed that kind of fatalistic thinking. “If you’re right, then no one has a choice and nobody is responsible for their own actions.”

“We do have a choice, in how we act and react, and we will be judged on that in our next life… but the outcome itself has already been decided.”

That didn’t sit well with Simon. The Light didn’t plan for his mother’s murder or her ending up trapped in Frightwall rather than him becoming the Paladin; Balzam Magnos did.

Even fate bends to the Overlord’s will, old man, Simon thought. Just you watch.