Hundred Reigns 129: The Overlord of Crime (13) (Patreon)

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Count Verney held up his end of the bargain, and provided Simon with an almost certainly incomplete map of the Attic. 

True to the organization’s name, the network of doors proved to be a nightmarishly complicated web of portals, hub corridors, dead ends, and even traps. Verney had taken a leaf out of Balzam Magnos’ playbook of parental guidance and caused some of his doorways to open up into acid pits, ambush sites, and even a volcano’s heart. Just trying to navigate this maze gave Simon a headache, doubly so since he was convinced Verney kept a lot of private backdoors to himself. At least the Abyssal Chronicle would let him record it for future memorization. 

Nonetheless, this map might prove to be the single biggest game-changer for all his reigns going forward, since it offered Simon a way to teleport across vast distances from the first hour he woke up. The doorway hidden in Marthrone could be used to reach nearly thirty locations of interest for Simon, including Fablan, Lore, Telluria, and nearly every other country in the world. In fact, Illusea and the Kish Sanctuary in the sky appeared to be the only regions devoid of Cobweb infiltration. 

Of course, Simon strongly suspected Verney could immediately detect unauthorized uses of his portals, especially since his fetches constantly monitored it, and he would likely either close them behind the intruder or at least investigate. Simon would have to use this system carefully. 

With luck, Verney would eventually explore the Poison Gardens beneath the Berwick Islands and then receive a sharp lesson about private property from Elios Magnos. If not, then Simon would feign ignorance and proceed with his other plan. 

Everything would be so much simpler once he had killed all the Weavers. Then he could simply check the experience count. Whoever gave Simon the most levels would likely be the real Prince of Spiders. 

Either way, this newfound Attic access let Simon visit Magvolia undetected–the doorway led to the Midnight Market’s basement as expected–to recruit and equip some old muscle along with collecting the Crestones hidden in the Halls of the Minotaur; the Stone Muse sensed him poking around, but Simon ignored her for now. She couldn’t do anything against him, and all of her minions simply submitted to his will the moment they saw him.

Once that was done, Simon arranged a meeting with a certain draconic party in Telluria through Borsh’s branch of the Cobweb, and traveled to Uyo to fulfill Granny Radhag’s favor; the last one on his way to reach Bert and Chrom Cruak. 

As Weaver in charge of the drug trade, the hag lived in what the Cobweb’s members had come to nickname ‘the Kitchen’: a gnarly wooden hut right next to dreamshade flowerfields in Uyo. Having never visited this region in any reign, Simon immediately noticed the incredible heat and humidity in the air. Anyone without fire resistance or immunity would have begun to sweat on the spot. The smell of dreamshade coming from a sturdy black cauldron on a fireplace filled the air of the rustic living room he had walked into. A nearby table drowned in blue leaves, tools, bottles, and other alchemical products, while a small army of brownish goblins cleaned up everything with their brooms and dusters.

And of course, like any old witch in the woods, Granny Radhag had cats everywhere. Black, sleek felines the size of raccoons with sharp ears, yellow eyes betraying otherworldly intelligence, and fluffy tails. The way they all looked up to Simon under the influence of his Unquestionable Ruler Perk suggested this particular breed was closer to monsters than animals. 

“My sweet boy, how kind it is for you to come help out an old lady,” Granny Radhag welcomed him once he emerged from the Attic door in her living room. “Granny will show you around.”

“Is this where you cook?” Simon asked, his gaze lingering on the cauldron. While smoking dreamshade leaves was the safest way to use the drug, the most addictive and popular variants required turning them into a paste and then powder. 

“No, no, that brew is for Granny’s personal consumption. Her eyes aren’t what they used to be, and she likes a little whimsy in her life.” The hag invited him to follow her outside. “My party cauldron is outside.” 

Simon followed after her until he reached the threshold, at which point he froze in place as he took in a mesmerizing sight.

He had already heard tales of Uyo’s ancient forests and primeval swamps, and he knew it held the greatest concentration of manatrees on the continent, but nothing could prepare him for the wonderful canopy ahead. Mountain-tall trees joined branches in a dense network that obscured the sun across a vast chunk of the horizon and towered over a vast, lush jungle stretching as far as the eye could see. The sheer concentration of mana caused colorful vapors to rise in the air like shimmers of morning mist. 

Granny’s azure dreamshade fields looked more like a small clearing in the middle of a sea of vegetation in spite of being many acres wide. A small army of orcs, ogres, and other goblinoids worked tirelessly to harvest the precious flowers’ leaves. A large chunk of them were left to dry in the sun, then brought to a colossal black cauldron that was so tall one needed to climb scaffolds to reach the top. The fumes of dreamshade paste swirling inside tainted the sunset sky blue, and a bed of fire-infused manastone kept it hot and bubbling at all times. 

“This is Granny’s Kitchen,” Granny Radhag explained to Simon as she showed him around. The cauldron was linked to a pump causing the paste within to flow into an equally colossal oven. “Once the paste is dry, Granny’s boys pound it into powder that tastes like sugar for the soul.”

“And the leftover leaves are compacted into bricks for pipe-related consumption,” Simon guessed. The sheer scale of the operation amazed him. “How much do you make?” 

“Oh, not much, only a handful of tons every month or so. Granny prefers quality over quantity.” The hag rubbed her hands. “Granny feels all this industrial production lacks the sweetness of her homebrew, but she hasn’t found a way to give her paste the zest it needs.”

“And you want my help in refining the product, like I did with the bootleg alcohol?”

“You would be such a sweetheart if you did,” Granny agreed with a smile that almost looked motherly. “Granny thinks you have the magic touch when it comes to magic cauldrons.”

And he did. Simon only had to take a look at the dreamshade paste for his Devil Forgemaster Perk to suggest a few ways to enhance the flavor.

“I need the souls of sixty-six addicts to infuse the industrial cauldron with, and thirteen for the ovens,” Simon said. 

The hag rubbed a finger up her long nose. “Why consumers, sweetheart?”

“Because the secret ingredient is love…” Simon took a deep breath. “For the product.”

Finding the ‘happy volunteers’ took less than an hour, since it turned out a lot of the workers doubled as freeloading consumers happy to take a dips from the batches. They were swiftly slain, with Simon infusing the ovens with their souls until they grew iron teeth, while the giant cauldron gained a single cyclopean red eye glaring down at everyone. 

Both occasionally began to growl at workers taking the dreamshade away from them, but their warmth made the powder all the purer. Whereas dreamshade powder was usually a dark shade of blue, almost black, the stocks coming out of the soul-infused constructs were now the very color of the sky. 

“The first rule of drug-running is not to get high on your own product,” Granny Radhag said upon studying the newest batch, “But rules are for the young.”

She fearlessly dove head-first into the powder and inhaled it with her long nose, taking in the drug with a deep breath. She nearly broke out crying the moment she finished inhaling.

“Is the batch bad?” Simon inquired. He knew goblinoids were extremely adaptive and a hag was probably capable of resisting her own product’s effects, but still… that was an overdose-worthy amount of dreamshade she had just consumed. 

“I’m sorry…” she apologized, wiping away a tear with a tissue. “It reminded Granny of her first human baby’s taste. So full of love.”

Simon had spent so much time with imps that such comments hardly horrified him nowadays, though he would be sure to give her a taste of her own medicine one day soon. “Have I fulfilled my favor to you then?”

“You have, and our dear clients will be very happy too,” Granny replied after she recovered from the emotional shock. “Come, Granny will reward you with tea and cakes.”

Simon wouldn’t mind, since his last attempt at cooking resulted in screams and blood all over his kitchen. “Only if the cakes don’t bite back.”

“Oh don’t worry, Sweetie, I whip them with love before I serve them.”

A few minutes later, Simon sat in her hut’s fireplace with a cup of spicy tea and cakes made from that strange, bitter dark plant the Uyo people called ‘cacao. He half-expected a ‘poison’ notification when he took them, yet none arrived.

He took it as a good sign. Borsh had given him cursory information on the hag’s background, and she had apparently gained some notoriety in Uyo for running a gingerbread house, where visitors were equally likely to walk away with gifts as to never come out before being introduced to dreamshade cultivation by local shamans. She took such a liking to it she recruited her extensive goblinoid family to cultivate more of the stuff, and ended up partnering with the Cobweb to increase the size of her operations. The other Weavers found her too offputting to hang-out with in spite of her frequent tea party invitations, and she was content sticking to her own turf outside of the occasional summons. Silk and Velvet believed she would go along with whoever was in charge so long as she remained unbothered.

“I like the cakes,” Simon said. The food was sweet and the hut’s cozy atmosphere reminded him of the home he once shared with Cassandra, minus the drug-running and cannibalism part. “Do you have a coven? I recall that hags like you can form one with Witch Classes.”

“Granny had one, but she had a falling out with her sisters over her choice of profession,” Granny replied as she sat next to him and ate her own cakes. “Granny was the entrepreneur of the family. She is looking for strong-willed, self-made witches to form a new coven with, but so far has been unlucky.”

Simon briefly wondered if he should introduce her to Cassandra, before quickly deciding against it. He didn’t want his innocent ex-lover anywhere near a creature that ate human babies as party snacks. “Well, you are worth a coven all by yourself.”

“You are so sweet, Dearie,” she said upon sitting next to him and gluttonously devouring a cookie. “Tell me, have you considered running a coup someday?”

Oh please, Granny, not you too, Simon pleaded in his mind. He already needed a mental chart to keep track of all the schemes and double-crosses going on in this organization. Then again, what else did I expect from a thieves’ guild? They’re all liars and traitors. 

“You think I would make a good prince?” Simon asked evasively. 

“Sweetheart, you are the Overlord, don’t put yourself down,” the hag said. “Granny feels a tighter hand should lead the ship and bring back some discipline. This business should be run like a family, not a whorehouse. Look at Velvet and Silk, they’re still unmarried while Granny had fifteen children at their age.”

“I don’t feel ready to have children myself, Granny,” Simon replied. He had no idea why he was telling a drug-running hag that, of all people. Perhaps the cat which had just settled on his lap like he owned the damn place soothed him. “None of my past relationships have lasted more than a few months.”

“That’s because you don’t emotionally commit, my boy,” Granny replied. “All those slave girls you keep, they’re no good for you. You should eat and forget them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind…” 

“Anyway, Granny feels she can pour her heart out to you, that you are a winner. She could be your…” She scratched her nose again. “Fairy godmother?”

Simon guessed that Unquestionable Ruler was working on her the same way it had on Borsh. Almost all monsters in the imperial bestiary would instinctively bend to his will at his current level, including hags and goblinoids. Watching him stash stolen souls in her kitchen tools probably helped her realize the risks of opposing him, too. 

“I have no desire to usurp the Prince,” Simon replied, which was true. He wanted to kill them and burn the whole place to the ground. “But if you want to become my ‘fairy godmother,’ as you say, we could seal that pact with a few magical brands.”

“Yes, Granny has heard about them.” The hag nodded to herself. “Very well, my good child. Granny will take them so long as gets to keep her cottage and enterprise.”

Simon frowned with suspicion. “Just like that?”

“Granny didn’t reach her age by betting on the wrong centaur.” The hag gave him a crooked smile. “Granny smells the blood in the air, Dearie, and she can tell her answer will be either ‘yes’ or ‘die’ the next time you ask her whether she wants to serve. Or ‘die’ and then ‘yes.’”

“And if that day never comes?”

“It will. You wouldn’t be the Overlord otherwise, and you didn’t tell Granny ‘no’ the first time she asked if you were entertaining a coup.” Granny shrugged. “Granny knows that old heads fall when new blood comes in, and she would rather keep both her own and her business.”

Her approach heavily reminded Simon of Shabram. That probably made her wiser than any Weaver, even Albert, who had only asked for a vow of forgiveness rather than prove his usefulness. Simon remained a bit wary of applying a Devil Brand to a powerful spellcaster in case she was looking to exploit the connection, but he was confident in his new protection against Soul attacks. 

Simon decided not to let the opportunity pass by and quickly applied all his Devil Brands except the Greed one to Granny Radhag, the influx of experience coursing through him leading to the rush of a new level.

Level 57 Overlord Perk: Dreadful Aura V (Active): Anyone or anything caught in your aura’s range can now be targeted by your Deathmastery Perks, as if you were touching them. 

Simon smiled at the notification. Anyone caught in his aura’s range should now rise up as an undead under his control as soon as they perished while leaving soul gems behind, and infusing objects in the vicinity with souls should have interesting tactical applications. 

“Strange,” he noted upon seeing that Granny’s appearance hadn’t changed in the slightest, besides her new invisible marks. “The Brand of Lust should have made you young again.”

“Granny is young again. Her back no longer aches.” The hag shrugged. “Granny always looked old, even when she was a maiden.”

“The Brand of Envy should let you correct that,” Simon replied. “Hags count as Humanoid and Fey types, if I’m not wrong. You could change into a human, another goblinoid, or even an elf.”

“Could I become a dryad at last?” The hag wondered with envy before grunting. “Nay, those self-absorbed mushrooms are half plants…” She activated her Brand of Envy and shuffled through multiple faces until she settled on the appearance of a corrupted elf with deep gray skin, long black hair, crimson eyes, and grasping talons for nails. Her beauty and youth was that of a venomous flower, both alluring and offputting. “Hah! Close enough!”

“That is but the least of your new powers,” Simon said, before sending her a telepathic message that startled the hag. “I have a mission for you… fulfill it without alerting the Prince of Spiders, and your future will be secured.”

Simon spent the rest of the hour conspiring with Granny through telepathic messages, impressing upon her the need to keep that particular ability to herself. He learned a hag of her caliber was the equivalent of a level fifty Witch in terms of power, which put her far ahead of Cassandra in terms of spellcasting abilities, and she possessed a Chemist Vassal Class to help with her business. Simon considered she was wasting her talents on drug-running, but he would be sure to put them to better use.  

“You want Granny to cook tons of alchemical fire?” the hag asked through telepathy. “Granny can do that, Sweetie, but what cake would warrant such a bonfire to cook?”

“That is not for you to know yet,” Simon replied. “I will send imps and other workers to transport the bombs where I need them soon enough. Time is of the essence.”

Simon had sworn he would burn the Cobweb to the ground, and he intended to fulfill that oath very literally. 

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Simon spent the afternoon branding all of Granny’s goblinoid workers, then departed back to Valne. With her and Borsh’s branches of the Cobweb under Simon’s control, a good fourth of the organization now answered to him whether its members knew it or not. He should now be in position to become the ‘kingmaker’ of the struggle between Verney and the twins.  

All he had to do was to secure a certain person’s support and complete the last remaining Weaver favors to push for the final confrontation. 

We’re approaching the tipping point, Simon thought as he waited inside the butcher’s shop with his two newest demonic recruits. Once the plots clash, bloodshed will follow.

Eole eventually knocked on his office’s door and walked in, a scowl forming on her face the moment she spotted his demonic recruits. 

“Eole, let me introduce you to our new legbreakers, Grimm and Gregory,” Simon explained. They didn’t have the experience they had accumulated from murdering countless adventurers, but turf wars should help them sharpen their claws. “They’ll be escorting us to our destination.”

Eole bit her lip. “Will they help?”

No. “We don’t need an escort, but bringing demons to a negotiation sends a message in itself.”

“You’ll have nothing to fear with us, ma’am,” Gregory said professionally while cracking his fingers. “Anyone trying to ruffle your feathers will become the star of our freakshow.”

“First we amuse them, then we slice their throats while they’re laughing,” Grimm added. “The blood comes out like a fountain every time.”

“I’ll vouch for their comedic routine,” Simon replied before sending Eole a telepathic message through her brand. “I will ask you one last time, but are you certain you wish to proceed? There’ll be no turning back once we cross that door.”

“We passed that point the moment I sang my people to sleep,” Eole replied with a forlorn yet determined look on her face. “I will see this through.”

“In that case, let’s face the music.” Simon walked into the Attic and then up to the second door on the right, guiding his crew through twists and turns towards their destination. 

He had no doubt both Verney and the sisters would observe these proceedings, and in fact, he was counting on it. Simon wanted them to know what kind of weapon he would bring to the table, to better put them on edge. 

The Attic’s pathway opened up into a small, windowless room guarded by two scalefolks armed with tridents. They both assessed their visitors with their cold reptilian eyes, paying more attention to Eole rather than the demons; much to her barely concealed disgust. 

“The goddess has been expecting your visit on the hanging terrace, Lord Goldenhell,” one of them said with a monotonous tone. “Follow us.”

Simon walked after them confidently, with his allies following closely. The two scalefolks guided them to a terrace located atop a very tall structure, likely a pyramid, which offered a splendid view of the flooded Kish Empire’s capital. Flowers produced a delicate fragrance into the air, as did the trees, yet Simon noticed neither a bug nor bird around them. They had all been scared away. 

Vouivre stood on the edge in her human form, as if she were ready to take flight.

“Goldenhell,” she said, arms crossed, her back turned on her visitors in a supreme display of confidence. She only had eyes for the kish palace in the fading sunset. “I’ve been waiting for your arrival.”

“You know my title?” Simon asked. Though he kept an even tone, his surprise was genuine. He hadn’t shared that information when he organized the meeting through intermediaries. 

“Infiltration goes both ways. The funds I raised from slave sales weren’t half as important as the connections I forged inside your own organization.” Vouivre finally turned to face them, a glint of pleasure flaring in her eyes when she spotted Eole. “It is good you brought her to me this treasure. Had you delayed any longer, I would have come for her.”

Simon could sense Eole’s unease and tension through her Brand of Sloth, though she straightened up in an attempt to remain confident. She held Vouivre’s gaze with dignity in spite of the overwhelming difference in power between them. Showing weakness in the dragon’s presence meant death. 

Moreover, Simon noticed that while she kept an eye on the Cobweb’s activities, his true Class eluded her. Vouivre would have attacked him on the spot had she known he was the Overlord. 

“Yes, I’ve heard of your interest in kish culture,” Simon said calmly, taking hold of the conversation. “Let’s skip the formalities then: how much will you pay for my slave’s service?”

“I promised your organization a valuable reward for bringing me a live kish, and I shall abide by it,” Vouivre replied. “I will buy her for her weight in gold, and your pick of a hundred slaves.”

“I think you misunderstood. We’re not discussing a sale of my property here.” Simon smiled at her. “We’re negotiating a lease.”

The air grew heavier all of a sudden, with Vouivre’s gaze and voice both sharpening. “A lease?” she spat the word as if it were an insult. “You forget yourself, thief. I do not borrow, especially not from your kind.”

“Then you better learn,” Simon replied without a care in the world. “My property is not negotiable.” 

Vouivre snorted in disdain. “Man’s only property is what he can defend by force, and I could kill you where you stand in a blink of an eye.”

“You can try.” Simon knew he was many levels away from challenging her in a head-on fight, but he could teleport away with Eole in an instant, or at least hold his own for a while. “It won’t end well for you, and your dream to use the Two-Tailed Fish to raise an army of dragons will go up in smoke.”

His words and knowledge took Vouivre aback, her eyes widening in genuine surprise. “How did you learn that?”

“You’re not the only one who did research on the other party, Lady Vouivre.” Simon walked up to the terrace’s edge with absolute confidence and stood right next to the dragonlord like an equal partner. “I have only one question that remains unanswered, and that will determine how far we can take this association.”

Vouivre stared at him for a while with a steely, unreadable expression, while Gregory and Grimm tensed up. Simon had spent enough time matching wits with his dragonlord rival over the reigns to tell she was considering throwing him off the edge, the way Simon was subtly challenging her to; yet she was pragmatic enough to take his inexplicable knowledge and iron confidence with caution. A man so bold had trump cards up his sleeve.

“Your heartbeat hasn’t wavered in the slightest. Either you do not fear me, or you hide it very well.” Vouivre cracked a smile with a faint hint of respect. “Your confidence is misplaced, not to mention foolish.”

Were her senses keen enough to sense someone’s heartbeat? Simon would keep that in mind for the future. 

“No, I do not think so.” Simon put his hands behind his back, his gaze settling on the kish palace. “I know you require a kish to access the miasma crystal, but do you need one to use it?”

Vouivre pondered his question for a moment before answering, “No, I do not. There are ways to harness the Zodiac Fiend’s powers without a flesh vessel, though a living host alone can tap into its full abilities. Owning a pliable kish thrall would be ideal, but unnecessary.”

Simon knew she would never agree to tell him how she intended to weaponize the crystal without a host, so he didn’t bother asking to better retain his illusion of omniscience. He suspected it was likely the same trick that allowed Silk to bind the Crab to her grimoire, and he would learn that secret either way. 

“Good. Then my concubine can open the palace’s vault and let you recover the Two-Tailed Fish for your personal use.” Something which Simon knew he might regret one day, but this reign was nothing if not an experiment bound to come crashing down at one point or another. “She will use her voice to bind Telluria’s shifters to your will, and raise an army on your behalf. This should let you take Beleth and the rest of the region without issue.”

Vouivre raised an eyebrow. “And what will that cost me?”

“I offer two different deals, so I will ask for two different prizes,” Simon replied, waving a hand at Eole. “In return for lending you my kish concubine’s voice, I want you to name her as your vassal governor of Telluria once you conquer the region, so that I might rule it through her.”

Vouivre let out a cold laugh. “You would raise a slave queen to rule a slave nation?” she mused with a smirk. “You would be better off ruling directly as my vassal.”

Was that an indirect recruitment offer? Simon was touched. 

“I do my best work in the shadows,” he replied calmly. “Besides, placing a kish ruler in power would add a certain… legitimacy to your control of the region.”

“It would be a valid reason… but it’s not the real one, is it? You would not risk lending me a slave I could free if she wasn’t loyal to you even without her chains.” Vouivre smiled at Eole, then switched from the common Endymian tongue to the kish one. “He owns your body, but you own his manhood, isn’t that right?”

The fact Vouivre had learned her language rattled neither Eole nor Simon, who had expected as much considering her research into the lost civilization… though her insight bothered him. He thought a dragon wouldn’t catch on to their relationship, yet she proved as sharp as Louis. 

Eole took a deep breath and answered Vouivre in her native tongue. “You will find no weakness or wedge between us to exploit, dragonlord,” she said. “I will lend you my voice and help you win your war, so long as you let me rule my people in your stead once the dust settles.” 

“Eole, is it?” Vouivre assessed her like a crocodile with a lamp daring to approach the water. “I have heard of you. You fought to free your fellow shifters from bondage once… yet here you stand, offering me to enslave them yourself on my and your owner’s behalf. Why the change of heart?”

“Because it is the best option,” Eole replied bluntly. “I loathe everything that you represent… but you are still the best path forward. I will do what I must to ensure the Shifter Tribe retains at least hope of a better future, even if that means allying with you.”

Vouivre’s smirk only kept widening. “And what if I simply take you for myself? What will you do then?”

“Then he will kill me with a killswitch included in my slave tattoo, or I will slit my own throat,” Eole replied, “And my voice will be lost to you.”

“You would wager your own life, or trust him to follow through?”

“Yes,” Eole replied without hesitation. “I told you. You will not find a wedge to exploit.”

Vouivre studied Eole for a very, very long moment, then nodded in appreciation the same way she once consented to Simon’s demands after he showed backbone. “Your resolve impresses me, kish,” she commented, “But I notice nothing in your promise mentions the miasma crystal.”

“This, I will trade for something else,” Simon replied in kish. He had been sorely tempted to ask for Gargauth’s Abyssal Chronicle, but the risk she connected the demand to the missing Overlord was too great. “There is someone I want dead. Someone I think only you can defeat.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere… but you would be right. I can defeat anyone.” Vouivre nodded to herself with confidence. “Swear fealty to me here and now, kish. On your knees.”

Eole obeyed, her head lowering in submission. “I, Eole, voice of the kish people, shall swear to serve you so long as you abide by our agreement.”

“Then you may become my Vicequeen of Telluria once I reclaim my birthright.” Vouivre turned to Simon. “I will kill her if you countermand my orders. Remember that.”

“I shall,” Simon replied, having expected as much. 

“You would do well to think about the day when I ask a similar oath of you, Goldenhell, because it will come sooner than you think.” Vouivre clenched her fist, scales forming around her eyes. “Now… who do you want me to kill?” 

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Next Chapter

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A/N: we're approaching the violent climax of this arc soon, so I'll probably post the next poll tomorrow or Friday after some twists come up ;)