The Hundred Reigns 144: Vouivre Delenda Est (10) (Patreon)

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Simon ended up spending most of the diplomatic trip taking private musical lessons from the Bard. 

Though he had received some musical education in his youth, Simon never really delved into those studies in adulthood. He was rediscovering a certain affinity for keyboard instruments and blowing horns, and his Overlord Perks could make him a fantastic conductor with the right ensemble. According to Melusine, the most powerful performances usually required an orchestra and multiple participants to perform; miasma variants would be no different.  

The real surprise came when he tried to change his Overlord scepter into a conductor’s baton and succeeded. Further experimentation showed that his Warmonger Perk treated all ‘instruments’ as weapons, so he could also turn his own into a flute, an oud, a fan, and even a small piano. That ability might prove more versatile than he expected. 

“I could infuse the pipe organ with souls,” Simon informed Melusine as he completed a rehearsal of Your Lord Knows Best. Experimentation showed that it worked as a Tier VI performance, compelling both the living and the dead to join in the song at the exclusion of any and all other activities. “It would enhance the song.”

“I wonder if it would give the music more emotional depth,” Melusine said as she sat next to him, observing his performance. “Do you enjoy the pain of others, Overlord Belias?”

“Only those who have angered me,” Simon replied, frowning behind his helmet. “Why the question?”

“I would have thought the Overlord wouldn’t be so picky.” She smiled, and though she managed to mimic human facial expressions well enough, it still reeked of emptiness. “Fascinating.”

“Can scalefolk not feel malice?”

“No, not really,” Queen Melusine replied as she raised her hand. “We can feel contentment and aggression, but those come and go. They do not linger and fester in the garden that is the human heart. For us, enmity is never…” She searched for the word for a moment. “Personal.”

In short, if they decided to kill him, it would be quick and carried out with as much emotional weight as taking out the trash. “I assume you don’t feel sorrow either?”

“That emotion is very curious one. Sailors call some of our songs ‘mournful,’ but we eat our dead and we do not miss them. Nor do we feel emotional pain when we harm one another, though we can feign it well.” She crossed her human legs. “Do you feel guilt when you hurt someone?”

Simon frowned. “I have felt guilty, yes.”

“Even when you have felt malice towards that person in the past?”

Simon’s jaw clenched as he recalled the likes of Thalas and Elaine. As much as he loathed them for opposing him, a small part of him still pitied them for the circumstances of their enmity. 

“Yes, sometimes,” Simon confirmed evasively. 

“So very interesting…Many outsiders I sang to say that while my performances are beautiful, they lack ‘depth.’ I think that’s what I lack… those flavors of sorrow.” She put a finger on her chin, a thoughtful look on her face. “You could stay here, Overlord Belias. I could teach you how to sing, and you can inspire me until I can caress the depths of the soul. A fair exchange, wouldn’t you agree?”

It was an interesting proposition, and one that appealed to him—music soothed his soul and miasmic performances could prove useful—but Simon had too much on his plate for now. 

“You will find inspiration by following me into battle,” he replied professionally. “Can I trust you to join our coalition?”

“Yes, of course.” Melusine nodded happily. “I hope Lady Vouivre’s coronation and the ensuing carnage will inspire a great ballad.”

She didn’t enjoy the suffering of others, yet hoped to find inspiration in their demise. There was something uniquely unnerving about the cold-blooded mindset, so close to human cruelty and yet eerily detached. 

Moreover, she was willing to throw her people into battle for the sake of writing better songs. She would certainly negotiate some terms with Vouivre, like the right to prey on the coasts beyond Bujan, but as she said earlier, she had little to win that she didn’t already get from her current agreement with Endymion. 

She said it herself, Simon thought. Her kind doesn’t feel guilt or remorse. They cooperate for survival’s sake and nothing more.

“What do you know of Vouivre?” Simon inquired after glancing at Casval. The dragon was exchanging words with some mermaids and Belzemine—they were discussing cooking, from what Simon could overhear—while waiting for his ‘friend’ to conclude negotiations. Either way, he looked too busy to listen in. 

“She is atypical, as far as dragons go. She is willing to barter with me even when I rebuffed her earlier threats, and she sent you there with limited oversight. I think she has discovered… respect.” Melusine turned her head in Casval’s direction. “That one is even stranger still. Very different from his sister.” 

“How so?”

“Unlike us, dragons are solitary by nature,” Melusine explained. “They do not truly raise their young. Hatchlings either learn to hunt on their own, or they are taken care of by their parents’ minions until they are driven out of the nest. Dragons do not need the presence of others to thrive, nor do they seek it… Yet that one appears to desire your company and approval.”

He wants a friend, though I’m not sure he understands what that truly is… or why, Simon thought. Was Casval simply curious about the novelty of the concept, since it was unknown to dragons? Or did he want to find someone who wouldn’t betray him to his sister when he finally began to scheme to break her hold on him? “Yet you scalefolk build cities.”

“Because we had to. Our ancestors were cast out by dragons for being deficient. Only by relying on each other can we survive.” She let out a chuckle that actually sounded natural. “We learned that from you.”

—---

After securing Melusine’s agreement to participate in Vouivre’s ‘coronation’ and pledge to send her forces to assist them in their future takeover of Endymion, Simon, Casval, and Belzemine left Kitezh in short order. 

However, they didn't immediately return to Telluria.

“You want to visit Mount Perun?” Casval asked, taken slightly aback by the request. 

“Yes,” Simon confirmed. “There is something there I need to recover. It’s only a short flight away, and it won’t take long.” 

Casval tilted his head. “You didn’t tell my sister about it.”

“No. Your sister is an ally, but she is not a friend.” Simon smiled at him. “Can I trust you, Casval?”

“Yes, of course.” Casval blinked a few times, as if to reassure him. “I would rather have a friend than an ally, too.”

The fish is hooked. “Me too, Casval,” Simon said as he bound his rahab to a ring until he had need of it again later and then summoned his phantom steed. He would rather avoid burning through his miasma reserves by using Darkflight, and Belzemine needed a flying mount to travel anyway. “Let’s go.”

The group took to the sky soon after, flying under the cover of dark clouds and through the rain and mist. While the journey took nearly half a day, during which they were battered by the winds and storms alike, it was still more pleasant than the time Simon had to climb up the whole mountain with Beatrice and the other Templars.

Eventually, the clouds cleared up to reveal the icy, flattened mountaintop. They landed at the end of Exodeos’ frozen abode and its frosty pillars, its surface so flat and so smooth the moonlight reflected on it like a mirror. Their arrival hardly shook the eerie, ambient quietness of the place. 

Casval tensed when he spotted the thin miasma coalescing around the central pillar entombing Exodeos. “Is that–”

“Indeed,” Simon said after stepping down from his mount. He removed his Overlord armor to ensure his aura wouldn’t cause Exodeos to mistake him for Mardok and used Anathemic Secrecy to blanket himself in a false aura of Light. “Agnes, can you buff us? I hope to resolve this without bloodshed, but you never know.”

“As Your Majesty commands,” Belzemine agreed before she began casting. “Aegis.”

Once Belzemine finished empowering everyone present and Simon cast his own buffs, he stepped forward toward the central pillar. 

“Do you have a plan?” Casval asked behind him. “A master plan?”

“Indeed,” Simon replied before clearing his throat and addressing the fiend frozen in the ice. “Exodeos, Scales of Emptiness, can you hear my voice?”

The response came, calm and chilling. “–have you come to die, mortal?”

He mistakes me for a mere human, Simon thought as he recalled his last visit. Exodeos only mistook him for Mardok after he put on his Class outfit. Then again, Anathemic Secrecy can deceive even the Light Megalith. It must blind demons too. 

“No, not yet,” Simon replied with the same tone. He had gotten stronger since their last confrontation, and Belzemine and Casval would be powerful allies, but he still had no wish to confront Exodeos if it could be avoided. “I know you have been stockpiling miasma in an attempt to break out of your seal early, so you can bring oblivion to this world.”

“It is the righteous nature of all things to return to the nothing from which they first arose, and to hasten this end is my nature.”

“Then I have come to offer you a proposal.” Simon opened his Inventory and brought out a miasma-charged pair of scales he had crafted back in Telluria. “I will transfer you and your seal into this object. You will then be moved to another area, and released at a later date.”

His words intrigued the bound fiend. “You do not intend to reinforce my seal, mortal?”

“As you are now, you could break it already and escape… but you haven’t, because what would be the point? You would be weakened and stuck atop a mountain far away from all life, left to wait for Abraxas’ blessing. Why exert effort when you can simply wait?” Simon raised the scales. “But what if you could be released in, say… a crowded city?”

“It is not oblivion you seek, but devastation. To use me against your enemies.” There was no amusement nor disdain in Exodeos’ voice. He was merely stating a fact. “As you said, I can simply wait here in quiet meditation for Abraxas to empower me enough to shepherd this world to its end. Why should I do your bidding?”

“I will not force you to do anything… but Valravn will soon,” Simon replied. “The demon of the Twins is free and seeks to bind you, as he did Lotan the Isolator. Unlike me, he will tighten your seal to bind you to his will.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. While the Cobweb was investigating Mount Perun, Silk and Velvet had allowed Mastemo to secure it in a previous reign rather than let Verney claim it. He didn’t think the count would be in any position to capture Exodeos this reign… but he didn’t need to know that.

“So Mardok’s greed has infected another of our own,” Exodeos mused. He didn’t sound very surprised. “He must seek to ensure Lotan and I cannot oppose Helel’s foolish ambitions.”

“Helel?” Simon repeated, being unfamiliar with the name.

“The Maiden. Strongest among us, brethren of the Dark, yet foolish in her desire to dominate all things. Where the likes of the Water-Carrier and I seek to bring blissful destruction to all, she would rather keep existence languishing under her control.”

Interesting… Simon already knew from Asterion that the Zodiac Fiends often pursued different agendas, but it seemed they were divided between two major factions: one gathered around the Maiden, which sought to take over the world of Brimir for their own, and the more destructive kind that reveled in pointless annihilation. 

Exodeos pondered his proposal before deciding to humor Simon. “Once unleashed, I will slay anyone present, summoner and foe alike; for my justice is pure and does not discriminate.”

“Yes, I assumed as much,” Simon replied. “All I ask is that you wait for our signal. Then you may have your fill of carnage.”

Exodeos was too regal to scoff, but Simon did sense a hint of amusement in his response. “It does not matter. In the end, nothing matters.”

Simon pressed the scales against the icy pillar, causing Exodeos’ seal and entombed body to swirl and gather inside the device. The demon’s crystal soon escaped its prison to find a new home in the fulcrum, waiting to be unleashed upon the world. 

That was easier than expected, Simon thought. In spite of what Exodeos said, Silk and Velvet were right about one thing: the Zodiac Fiends were most cooperative when offered the chance to hurt people. Could he actually destroy the world if empowered by Abraxas, or is that an idle boast? The Noble Heroes did stop him once, but there were twenty-two of them and they were all united… 

“Is that your plan to break my sister’s chains, friend Simon?” Casval asked, his eyes leering at the scales with greed. “A demon of your own?”

“You’re half right.” Simon walked up to the dragon and presented him with the artifact. “This is for you.”

Casval froze in place like a statue, completely taken aback. “For… for me?”

“It is a gift from a friend to another.” A poisoned one. “I couldn’t simply stand by and do nothing after seeing how your sister so cruelly denied you the Two-Tailed Fish. It is unfair for one sibling to hoard all the demonic crystals for herself.”

“That is true…” Casval said warily, staring at the scales with a mix of greed and caution. He wanted the power the crystal represented—an ambition which led him to merge with the Goatfish in Cocagne—yet he feared betrayal. 

“I must warn you that this demon is not as… well-behaved as the Two-Tailed Fish, but he remains a potent weapon nonetheless. Break these scales, and the demon inside will be unleashed, bound to cause destruction upon the world.” Simon smiled. “I know you will be wise enough to understand when to use it best.”

Casval hesitated, then tentatively raised his draconic hand. The dragon’s claws closed the moment Simon placed the object in his palm and quickly drew it to himself, as if he was afraid his ‘friend’ would change his mind at the last second. 

After realizing Simon wouldn’t take it back, Casval clutched the scales close to his chest and studied it closely. The glint in his eyes was almost childish, or perhaps akin to a magpie fascinated by a shiny object. 

“It will look good on top of your hoard,” Simon said. 

“No… No, my sister would take it from me.” Casval’s voice brimmed with frustration. “She takes what she wants, when she wants, because she is bigger and older. She would even take my life if I were to disobey her, the same way she killed the others.”

Simon frowned. “The others?”

“We were more numerous when we were born,” Casval admitted. “My siblings fought for our father’s Chest of Worlds, and my sister killed all the others.”

Of course Vouivre would have blood on her hands from birth, Simon thought grimly. “What’s this Chest of Worlds? I’ve never heard of it.”

Casval hesitated for a very long time, constantly glancing at the scales and then back at Simon. 

“Friends keep each other’s secrets,” Simon lied. “I will not repeat what you say to me, the same way I trust you not to tell your sister about those scales.”

Casval nodded slightly, with Simon’s words untying his tongue. “Our father’s hoard was too big for any cavern to hold, so he created a demiplane to hold it: the Chest of Worlds.”

“Gargauth created a demiplane?” Simon choked in surprise. “Can a dragon do that? I thought only archfiends could manifest Domains, and those collapse after their creator’s demise.”

“It must be a pocket dimension,” Belzemine replied. “Those aren’t Domains connected to a powerful demon’s lifeforce, but rather separate pockets of space capable of holding miniature worlds. Only the greatest of mages or crafters can create one, and their existence is usually tied to an artifact serving as its key and anchor.”

“Did you see Gargauth make it?” Simon inquired, Belzemine shaking her head. He kept that secret from everyone outside of his kin. 

“The Chest of Worlds is contained within a treasure chest my sister has hidden somewhere,” Casval said, his head lowered in frustration. “I alone was spared, because I was too small and fearful to fight my siblings for it. My sister said I belonged to her now, that all I have was hers to dispose as she sees fit.”

Ah, there’s the issue, Simon thought. He had read that a dominant dragon would often steal from their siblings’ hoards when establishing their power, which must have inspired much resentment. 

“That was cruel of her,” he said, “Was that why you sought a friend?”

Casval nodded slowly. “I heard from a minion that friendship is something that once given, cannot be taken. Friends do not lie to each other, and live for the other. That is something my sister cannot take from me.”

“That is true enough.” If we were actually friends, of course. “I swear your trust in me will not go unrewarded. Let this gift be a symbol of our unbreakable bond.”

Casval clutched the scales against his chest, then stared at Simon for a moment and then towards the sky. 

“Since…” Casval actually sounded embarrassed for a moment in a strange, reptilian way, and then extended his wings. “Since no one can see us here, I will… allow you to ride me. Only this once. Because that is what friends do.” The dragon squinted at Simon. “But neither you nor your elven slave must say a word of it, and she will have to use your horse.”

“It is a great honor you do me, Casval,” Simon replied, smirking in slight jubilation. “I swear I will keep this a secret.”

Casval nodded slightly in what could pass for anxiety, offering his back for Simon to climb on like a wyvern ready to take flight. His Warmonger Perk guided him well enough and magically anchored him to the dragon’s back. No amount of force could throw him off. 

“This is… new, but… not unpleasant,” Casval admitted. 

“You have seen nothing yet,” Simon replied before testing the telepathic link. “Can you hear me, Casval?” 

The dragon’s head snapped up. “You’re in my head?”

“My Perk lets me form a telepathic connection with any creature I mount and trust,” Simon replied. The last part was a lie, but it sweetened things for Casval. “It lets us combine our powers, too.”

“Enough to–” Casval didn’t finish that thought, though Simon already knew he was caressing the hope of fighting Vouivre.

“Perhaps, but we aren’t ready yet,” Simon replied, patting his warm scales while Belzemine climbed atop the phantom steed. “Let’s practice first.”

“Yes, of course.” Casval extended his wings. “Ready?” 

Simon nodded, then they flew. 

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