The Hundred Reigns 227: The Land of the Warlords (7) (Patreon)

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Making love to Anna had been like returning home after a long absence. There was some dust and hiccups, but everything still fell into place just right. 

Their first night together lacked the raw drive of their time in the Berwick Islands, because Simon had grown more mature and Anna was a bit more dutiful than passionate this time around, but he did hold true to his vow to make her feel like the only woman in the world. 

“That was… something…” Anna admitted once they were finished, with her pressed against him. “How many girls have you been with?”

“Uh…” Simon wondered if past Anna would count in this particular case. “Well…”

Anna squinted at him. “You’ve been the Overlord for less than a month, and you already have to count?”

“It’s not what you think!” Damn it, the way she looked at him, as if his words validated all of her worries… he couldn’t exactly tell the truth without violating the Overlord's safeguards either. “It’s… complicated.”

”Alright… I guess I can’t complain about having a husband with experience.” Anna thankfully let it go for now and climbed on top of him. “Why did you use a protection spell though?” 

“To spare you the use of a contraceptive.” It had caused Tiella some issues back in the Berwick Islands. “Don’t tell me you’re sad about it?”

“No, but my father had some expectations when he put me into your bed. We both know all of an empress’ duties come second to that whole ‘giving birth to an heir’ business.” 

Simon winced. “I don’t think now is the right time to think about that, Anna. The comet will be upon us in a year.”

“You’re wrong, Simon. It’s specifically when we’re at the greatest risk of dying we should think about the succession.” Anna stroked his hair. “Though I suppose we’re not married yet, so the discussion is besides the point.”

Simon remained silent. Anna would have been very right under normal circumstances. The emperor and empress ought to have successors ready in case anything happened to them during the Zodiac Parade to ensure the empire wouldn’t fragment into civil war.

However, the truth was that time would end with Simon’s own end, and he still had so many lives ahead of him. He didn’t wish to carry the grief of losing a child for dozens of lifetimes, as much as a part of him craved fatherhood. 

Maybe in his later reigns, once he was closer to his final victory… 

“We can hold the wedding soon,” Simon said. “Do you have anything particular in mind?”

“I would have preferred a private ceremony, but we need to open it up a bit.” 

“A religious double coronation?” It had worked well for him and Euphemia.  

“No,” Anna replied, much to Simon’s surprise. “No, we keep the wedding and the following ball as a connecting event following your actual coronation. Something exclusive where all the empire’s elites can meet together and curry your favor.”

“You… don’t want us to be crowned together?” Euphemia would have thrown a fit if he suggested it. 

“I mean, I would love the pageantry, but I think it would send the wrong message that you need my family to stay in power. It would be better if we tied it to your father’s funeral, especially if war is inevitable. That way you can use it as a way to rally popular support.” Anna laughed at Simon’s expression. “Did you forget I was trained all my life by the Commander to rule the Berwick Islands? I understand how the game is played.”

“But you’re not putting yourself forward,” Simon pointed out. Euphemia had been very careful to ensure they were always seen as equals and jealously hoarded her power. Anna’s approach to rulership appeared quite different. 

“I promised to support you, didn’t I? I think the first thing I’ll do once we get out of bed–”

“If we get out of bed,” Simon teased her, which caused her to laugh. It was still a delightful sound to hear, even after all the reigns he had been through.

“Once we get out of bed,” she insisted, “I think I’ll start with a charm offensive to reassure all the girls you scared away earlier.”

“Why? Everything I said was true.”

“Maybe, but you frightened them. As much as I hate to quote Antonine, we are among the empire’s most powerful women. You don’t want them to think you're a lunatic, or worse, Balzam the Second.” 

“You wish to be the velvet glove to my iron hand?” His hands moved to grab her behind. “I guess you do fit me well, but you still ought to punish your half-elf handmaiden for her insolence.”

“I’ll have Elaine change our sheets.” Anna’s expression turned serious. “I’ll also approach His Excellency about what you told me.”

“Are you mad?” Simon scowled. “Mastemo will never believe you about Helel.”

“I’m not stupid, Simon. I’ll just show him my power and about your suspicions that I may be connected to Saint Pharis, then let him connect the dots himself.” Anna caressed his chest. “Think about it. I could convince the Church Party to fully support us rather than keep their forces in reserve.”

“It’s true… if we can prove you’re indeed Pharis’ reincarnation, then Mastemo would be dutybound to lend you his aid…” Simon nodded. “Be careful, still. People will be after you.”

“I’m your empress, Simon. I’ll always have to watch my back.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “Unless you have it, of course.”

—-------

Anna’s rulership style differed greatly from Euphemia's.

She took her duties seriously by showing up at the High Council meetings on time, and always after studying reports in detail first. She took over the redistribution of the purged nobles’ assets, alongside the scheduling of the regime’s new web of weddings—from her own father’s union to Euphemia to Louis and Isabelle’s one—and the organization of multiple social events before the coronation.

“Do we truly need to organize so many balls, theater performances, and jousts prior to the coronation parade, Lady Anna?” Odette inquired after reading the proposals. “They’ll be costly distractions.”

“They’ll be smart investments,” Anna countered. “We’ll be very selective about our guests, which will ensure nobles and officials will compete for an invitation and the right to petition His Majesty. Now, if we only send those invites to generous patrons of the army or shifter abolitionists, then much funds will move to where we want them to.”

“We could simply raise taxes.” 

“You’re the Merchant, Lady Odette.” Anna gave her a knowing look. “Have you ever been happy to foot a bill?”

“Point taken.” Odette smiled at that. “It is quite the insidious approach. We blame taxes on the sovereign, but we will curse our rivals for offering bigger bribes.”

Anna’s strategy would yield results. Simon had proclaimed decrees officially ending shifter slavery in the empire and forbidding racial discrimination at Louis’ demand, but it was one thing to declare a thing and another to enforce it. Besides rousing the quiet ire of the nobility and powerful factions that thrived on such slave labor, many freed shifters were in a similar situation as those he had freed in Valne with Eole many reigns back: lost in foreign regions miles away from their home without any money or chance at integration. They were easy prey for unscrupulous individuals, or criminals hoping to sell them to Valne’s slave markets.

One couldn’t change an entire economy overnight, not even the Overlord. Not without massive bloodshed he couldn’t afford, at least. 

“Such events can be a double-edged sword,” Shabram warned. “On one hand, I could keep our nobles under close surveillance and gather blackmail material; on the other hand, it may present an opportunity for enemy spies to infiltrate Frightwall.”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” Anna replied. “Our foes will always find cracks to exploit. I would rather make it easier for us to have friends, than make it more difficult to have enemies.”

Simon nodded sharply. “We have dealt with most of our internal security problems now that we’ve purged the Cobweb and the elf conspiracy. It will take time for either to recover, so we should be relatively safe for now.”

And so, Simon left Anna to play the courtier and empress game on his behalf while he focused on more martial matters. Euphemia and Maublanc captured the old kish capital just in time to attend the coronation together, having secured the area from Vouivre; but unfortunately not the dragon herself. She had completely avoided engaging the empress-dowager after their first clash near Beleth and abandoned her holdings rather than hold her ground. 

Simon was now convinced the dragon queen prioritized her own safety over everything unless the Beast Class’ power went to her head. He knew from experience she would likely flee to Scaland to raise a rebellion, and he had agents in place to report her presence the moment she tried to make waves there; assuming the Oracle or Cobweb didn't recruit her first. 

The true and most bothersome consequences of their takeover came on the coronation’s morning, when Muse, Lore, and Valne all abruptly terminated their diplomatic relationships with Endymion, evacuated their embassies, and left a single joint declaration behind them. 

“Gentlemen, gentleladies, we are officially at war with the entire western hemisphere,” Louis said as he dropped the scroll onto the High Council’s table. “And if you ask me, it was about time.”

Euphemia glared at him. “Of course you would be happy about this disaster.”

Lauriane gave Simon a sympathetic look. “It was inevitable, Simon.”

“Was it?” Simon replied with frustration. All those efforts to avoid a pointless bloodbath, and for what? The first world war? “I offered them an open hand and they spat on it.”

He had had Shabram secretly share information to other nations about the Zodiac Parade, the Cobweb’s true nature, and the Oracle’s plans. Had they all fallen on deaf ears, even among the White Unicorn’s skeptics? Or was their fear of Endymion so entrenched that they had given up on the idea of peace long before he took power? 

“My spies in Valne, Lore, and Muse inform me that our warnings about the Zodiac Parade were taken somewhat seriously,” Shabram said, having guessed what was on his mind. “However, the truth of the matter is that the remaining crystals are all in our territory, so they do not consider it an immediate threat to them.” 

“As the Oracle planned.” Simon grunted in annoyance. “Our unified empire appears to be the greatest and most immediate threat.”

Euphemia clasped her hands, being one of the very few people in the room who actually still wanted to give peace a chance. “We could propose that Telluria be administered by a multinational force rather than us specifically, defuse tensions—”

“Appeasement now will seem like weakness,” Maublanc cut in grimly. “They will try to enforce territorial concessions upon us at best.”

“It would still be better than a worldwide conflict,” Euphemia replied, but quickly realized her words were falling on deaf ears. She turned to her last ally in the room. “What about you, Your Excellency?”

To the former empress’ surprise, Mastemo voted in favor of the conflict. “We must always give peace and mercy a chance whenever possible… but the Light is like a burning sun to those who defy its will.”

Dassein’s head perked up in surprise. “The Church of the Light would support a war?”

“Would the Light bless so many at this table if our cause was unrighteous?” Mastemo glanced at Euphemia, Anna, and Simon himself. “When the false persist in their error, the true faith must answer with strength and unity.”

“Even the High Confessor is talking sense for once, stepmother,” Louis said. “The truth is that this world is awash with weak, greedy, and cowardly souls. They would rather see others torn down than to rise themselves.”

“Our neighbors mistake peace overtures for weakness, and weakness will invite attack,” Simon confirmed. He knew that from experience. “Prepare our armies for immediate deployment. I want war plans on my desk by the next morning. Louis, bring your fiancée.”

Louis immediately caught on. “You want to weaponize her research.” 

“There’s a plan I’ve been considering for a while.” Ever since the Oracle stepped on his face, in fact. “I didn’t want to resort to this, but those fools have chosen war.”

Thus the first steps toward Operation Meteor were taken, and its name would live in infamy. 

—------

The coronation parade was a terrifying display of power.

Marthrone’s main street was cleared to let the immense procession through. Simon’s organizers went for a military triumph in the style his father loved to use to celebrate his conquests. Simon was, after all, the first Overlord to preside over an entirely unified continent now that all of Telluria had fallen and Cocagne’s royal family would join House Magnos. 

The Unifier was a title that suited him well. 

The great procession entered the city’s gates and advanced towards Frightwall to the tune of songs, trumpets, and applause. All of Marthrone’s million-strong population had come to witness chariots filled with loot taken from conquered foes, the stolen standards of defeated nations, animated Pictomancer paintings depicting famous Endymian victories, and decorated soldiers. Old processions used to include slaves, but Simon decided to go with something more in line with their new abolitionist policies by having Patriate Malphas paraded in chains alongside other conspirators condemned to death. 

Many other members of his family were invited to participate. Louis rode with Isabelle on a chariot ahead of one carrying Euphemia and Maublanc, Lauriane traveled in a miniature manatrain, Dassein rode his manticore with a handful of beasts walking after him—including Casval in his dragon form. Gourmand ran a traveling circus performance with his imps, but Norbelle stole the show by summoning miniature versions of the Phoenix and Azulbolla to enter their flaming rings. Even Thalas appeared happy and content as he saluted the crowd with Antonine from atop their own chariot. 

Whereas his father used to direct these events from a chariot as well, Simon decided to ride on his dracozombie in his Overlord armor. The sight of the undead beast drew fear and awe alike in the heart of onlookers, as did his elite guard of axe-wielding, armored demotaurs and flying mephisgoats. He had offered Anna a ride, but his future empress preferred to ride on the ground with representatives of the Church of the Light on great white horses. She wished to ensure he retained the entire spotlight, and he would.

Once they reached Frightwall’s bridge, Simon landed his dracozombie and ascended up a mechanical stand specifically built by Lauriane for the occasion. Powerful glyphs across the city reflected a picture of his face over every roof in the city and let his voice carry far. 

Simon rose to face a crowd of millions. He would have been anxious once, before the Overlord Class merged with him, but he had grown so in tune with the spirit inside him that they might as well be one. He basked in the fear and adoration of his subjects until he drew strength from them. He opened up his mouth, and his words resonated across all of Marthrone. 

“I am Simon Magnos, Fourth Overlord of Endymion, and I came to you with a heavy heart. We have lost a dear leader to treachery. My beloved father—” He had to suppress a snort at that part, “—and predecessor, Balzam Magnos, was murdered in his sleep by elven infiltrators and knaves! But witness how easily the wicked are felled by the breath of the righteous!” 

Moved by the power of his will, his dracozombie unleashed its fetid breath on the stand carrying the captive Patriate and other conspirators. They screamed as noxious fumes consumed the flesh off their bones and their souls sealed in gemstones, but those were swiftly drowned by the vicious shouts and bloodthirst of the crowd. 

There was a part in every being’s heart that craved death and domination; a part that fueled the Overlord’s existence. Simon leaned into it as he continued his speech.

“Even now, the cowards who were too frightened to fight my father in the field plot our demise beyond the sea!” He pointed west, challenging his empire’s foes. “I have just received word that the failed Theocracy of Illusea, the fractious League of Valne, the heretical Kingdom of Lore, and the oligarchic Republic of Muse have declared war upon us, children of Endymion!” A chorus of boos answered Simon. “Why? For ending centuries of conflicts and bringing unity to a divided continent? For mending the wounds of the Doom into a land without borders nor territorial conflicts? For bringing down warlords consumed by greed and abolishing the frontiers between Tribes?”

He had tried again and again to find a better way, to ensure everyone worked together towards surviving the Zodiac Parade, pardoning traitors, offering second chances, and trying to broker fragile alliances. No more. 

“Is this the end? No, it is a new and glorious beginning for Endymion!” Simon felt the pride of the crowd flowing through him, as if he were the very incarnation of the state itself. “Our great empire has never ceased to grow since its foundation. We have risen from a backwater country to the supreme superpower of our time, and why is that? It is because the heavens have chosen us to rule Brimir! Our cause is a divine one, a righteous one! Our lives may end swifter than those of elves, but they burn all the brighter for it!” 

Now, he would only negotiate his enemies’ surrender. Now was the time for war. 

“We have wasted too much time with words, when our foes only offered us contempt and steel in return! Never forget the times of the Doom, when the elves retreated to their island and left us to burn! Never forget our struggles, for they are what made us a great nation! I tell you now, let us end those meaningless battles for control once and for all!”

He summoned his Crown of Pain and let it flare above him. His coronation dazzled his subjects, and wove their hate with a conductor’s grace. The passions of men were his symphony to command. 

“This world needs only one nation! One flock for one shepherd! One empire on which the sun never sets, one Tribe of Endymion, and one Overlord to lead them all! One peace for all living beings!”

Bleats and moos and shouts and applause answered him. It became clear to Simon now where the Overlord’s true essence lay; not in its overwhelming power, not in its ability to turn back time, but in the sins and dark passions of mortals. Their desire for a leader who put into words their shameful feelings and fears, their craving to put down others to feel greater themselves, their deep-seated fascination with war and violence… His Class embodied all those urges into a single ideal of evil. 

“Let me make a vow to you all today!” Simon raised a finger. “I will never tire! I will never relent! I will never show mercy! And I shall not stop until each and every one of Endymion’s enemies are dea—”

The shot hit him in his third eye, in the middle of his forehead.

Simon barely had time to see it coming from a roof far away from him. The projectile—a manalith glowing bright—was akin to a shooting star flying across empty air and striking with stardust light. 

Countless buffs cast by many allies protected Simon from any harm, but a rune in the projectile attempted to unravel his defenses to ensure it would blast him at full power and tear off his head. 

It almost worked.  

Almost. 

Dispelling Shot absorbed by Rune of False Weakness!

Medium Metal and Light damage!

The projectile hurt, but failed to draw blood, and the crowd erupted in screams and shouts. House Magnos’ members immediately put on their Class outfits and their flyers rushed to the roof alongside a fearsome flock of furious mephisgoats.  

More shots followed, with one missing Simon’s head by an inch and Louis deflecting another aiming for him with his sword. His coronation threatened to descend into chaos, and the mob was about to disperse. 

But Simon sensed an opportunity and seized it. 

“You think you can silence me? You are no closer with those metal sticks of yours than children with slingshots!” He raised his hands to the sky. “I will not run away or hide, for my resolve can lift mountains! Witness it for yourself!” 

Simon activated Lord of the Demon Castle, and Frightwall unveiled its true form. 

All of Marthrone trembled, and Simon’s subjects temporarily forgot the assassination attempt as a far more terrifying sight seized their attention. The castle around which they had built their entire city began to rise up into the sky. The moat’s water level descended to fill a growing hole as a needle of stone and terror arose. All could see Frightwall’s true figure, of which the castle itself was only the top. 

A miles-long black tower of spiraling floors and tunnels; a nail that was once hammered into the world’s skin and that now floated atop the shrinking lake in Marthrone’s center. 

Simon needed to sit on the Crimson Throne to direct its movements… but not for takeoff.

“All of my foes, cower and beware!” Simon shouted to the awe of all onlookers. “For an age of dark wonders gazes upon you!” 

This was the land of the warlords, where the Overlord ruled absolute.

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A/N: phew, we're finally done with the arc's setup! Now comes the Warlords part XD