The Hundred Reigns 253: The Workshop of Horrors (12) (Patreon)

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The picture felt soft to the touch.

Simon couldn’t quite describe it. Its surface should be as flat and solid as a regular sheet, yet it had the texture of mud when he pressed his fingers on it. The image undulated at his touch like liquid mercury.

“There’s…” Simon’s hand pushed against its surface, and he felt an emptiness behind it; a depth vaster than the frame holding this strange, haunting image. “Something on the other side…”

“The other side?” Agrat feverishly wrote down her observations in her journal. “Could the pictobox have pierced the veil of space and pictographed another plane of existence?”

“I don’t know, but the more I look at it with my Dark Visionary senses, the deeper it feels.” Simon pushed harder with his fingers, the picture rippling like a disturbed lake. He sensed pressure building up on the other side. “Can I reach thro—”

The picture snapped apart in his hand, his fingers tearing through it. Miasmic smoke erupted from the sheet and then swiftly vanished into the air. He had pushed too hard. 

“Summon an imp,” Simon ordered Agrat as he moved to take a second picture of the wall. “We need to run more tests.”

The second picture was a near-perfect replica of the previous one, portraying the same golem on its pedestal among the clouds… with one subtle detail having changed: it had raised one of its arms as if to fire at something on the edge of the frame, right where Simon’s thumb had once touched it. 

The third picture, where an imp agreed to serve as the model, showed the machine back in its original position. “This picture is fake!” the demon commented upon seeing his picture. “I’m much prettier.”

“Did you see anything during the flash?” Simon asked as he pressed his thumbs on both pictures, their surfaces rippling like water. “Horrific visions of the Abyss?”

“Should I have?” the imp asked, scratching the back of his head. “The blackness tickled a little, but that’s all.”

“I cannot detect any change in his morphology besides a recent exposure to intense miasma,” Agrat said after casting various analysis spells. “My divination spells constantly fail whenever I apply them to the photos.”

“They’re covered by Anathemic Secrecy?” Simon guessed. 

“Possibly. The intense miasma used in their creation or the Isolator’s influence might simply disrupt any attempt at analysis.” Agrat studied the pictures more closely. “The intense miasma clouds would suggest this is a region of Hell, though I do not recognize it.”

“And the golem?”  

“I have never seen such a device. The miasmic crystal serving as its eye would suggest it was either created by a powerful archfiend, or someone capable of harvesting one's core.”

Could this be the Crafter’s creation? Carlo of Muse managed to craft a miasmic puppet like Bert, so building such a golem shouldn’t be beyond their means.

This still didn’t explain why all pictures showed the golem. Was it connected to the Crafter’s conspiracy in Muse? Or to the fact that the Musan Sniper ended his previous reign? Moreover, he felt he could enter these pictures somehow, like a portal, if they would simply stop breaking at his touch…  

They ran a few more tests, but learned little. The pictures didn’t react to Agrat’s own touch, nor that of any creature besides Simon himself, and pushing to enter one always caused the sheets to break apart. 

“Using other Zodiac Fiend crystals might yield new and better results,” Agrat suggested. “Since the pictures only react to Your Majesty, then I would assume the place shown on them is connected to your Class. I wonder what would happen if we took a picture of you.”

“I will avoid that for now,” Simon decided. He had no idea what impact it would have considering how he showed up in colored pictures. He couldn’t risk an early end to this reign or Lotan somehow attacking him through the pictobox. “Let’s switch to using pure manalith sheets for the pictures, and observe how it interacts with Lotan’s crystal.”

They first tested this process on another crystal ball, which yielded little results beyond shattering it from excessive miasma radiation. The printed picture, however, actually displayed the ball before its destruction in full color rather than a bizarre hellscape. 

The second test was done on an imp, and it caused the demon to vanish. He disappeared the moment the black flash illuminated him, and Simon failed to find any trace of him when he checked the empty spot his model used to occupy. “Is he dead?”

“I don’t think so,” Agrat replied. “My divinations indicate he was targeted by some kind of enchantment.”

Simon examined the printed picture. It showed the imp standing in the middle of the room, looking confused and staring back at—

“Hey!” 

Simon blinked as a voice came out of the picture, its contents animating on its own. 

“Help!” the imp in the picture snarled as he punched the frame he was now trapped in. “Let me out! Let me out of here!”

What the? Had he trapped the imp in the picture? 

“Fascinating… this resembles a soul-binding spell…” Agrat put notes to paper. “Is it the result of the Isolator’s influence, or the pictobox’s basic function?”

“I can’t interact with the picture’s contents,” Simon noted. Its surface wouldn’t ripple as he pressed his finger on it. “Is there a way to extract him?”

“If it works like a common seal, then simply tearing the picture apart should release the prisoner. If not, he will die.”

Agrat’s tone implied she would be delighted with either possibility, so Simon simply tore the manalith sheet in two. A burst of miasma erupted from the torn pieces and swiftly manifested back into the imp.

“That was scary!” the imp complained. “I was trapped in a box, and not the sexy kind!”

“What did you see?” Agrat immediately asked him. 

“Nothing! Nothing but a wall and a framed window!” 

“Fascinating.” Agrat turned to her master. “Could Your Majesty take a picture of me?”

The suggestion left Simon aghast. “You want to be trapped in a picture?!” 

“It ought to be a suitably interesting experience.”

She was truly Duchar’s match when it came to research. Simon indulged her and successfully captured her in a picture—in more ways than one—before releasing her an hour later when she failed to escape on her own. According to Agrat’s report, the picture had created a miniature demiplane incorporating everything the flash recorded. 

They ran a few more tests on other living test subjects, which yielded various results. Whereas demons were quickly captured inside the pictures, using the pictobox on rats and slimes caused the miasma flash to slay them both. Their picture selves continued to move inside their frames, and Agrat confirmed their spirits were now trapped inside. 

“The pictures likely trap the targets’ souls in a small demiplane should the flash successfully kill the target,” Agrat concluded. “A spiritual being such as myself is eminently vulnerable to its effects.”

“Do you believe it could capture a Zodiac Fiend?” Simon wondered. He found it interesting how the pictobox technology resulted in various effects based on certain material combinations. 

“Unlikely, since they use a crystal as a physical medium to interact with this reality. The flash’s power is also likely based on the Isolator’s own, so any creature stronger than him should be able to resist the effect.” Agrat studied the photos with morbid curiosity. “I must say, this is a wonderful breakthrough. What would happen if we kept the body alive and then damage the picture? Would the soul return to its flesh, or wander the void?”

“Stick to tests on animals for now,” Simon ordered. Besides the fact that human subjects would run against his self-therapy rules, it might draw unwelcome attention. “Confirm whether the demiplanes can be interacted with, or broken out of, without snapping the picture sheets. Check if they can hold more than one subject as well.”

Simon could find many uses for this technology. 

—-----

Simon lost contact with Belzemine soon after the treaty’s signing.

He had put her in his Party prior to it, using Anathemic Secrecy’s falsify stat feature to hide the presence of his Devil Brands and ensure no one could discover them. His plan was to remain in telepathic contact with her in Illusea to better spy on them.

Elven archmages and seers arrived in Endymion to sign the treaty on the Oracle’s behalf, cementing peace between the empire and Illusea in return for various concessions. They teleported away with Belzemine and House Malphas, at which point Simon lost telepathic contact with his retainer.

Their connection wasn’t broken, but it had become muffled. His telepathic entreaties were met with silence, and if Belzemine attempted to talk to him, he received no feedback. The situation immediately called to mind the Sanctuary.  

Illusea’s defensive barrier interfered with telepathic connections. 

So much for that plan, Simon thought. At least he hadn’t received any attack through his invisible brands yet, which suggested they had remained hidden for now thanks to a combination of Party System and Anathemic Secrecy. If the Oracle fails to locate me through Belzemine, then infiltrating Illusea in future reign might prove feasible. 

Otherwise, Coil stayed true to his word and dedicated more time to Magda, which did wonders to restore their marriage. Magda could tell her husband was trying to be a better and more supportive partner, however clumsily, and it gave her hope. Simon shuddered to think of what would have happened had he not intervened.

In sadder news, the Cobweb’s theft of the Lion went off without a hitch. Poor Filip was slain by Louis while trying to defend the castle, which ended up falling on Fabliau without Mithras to keep it afloat. Security enchantments thankfully kicked in and guided the fortress to the nearest lake to ensure it wouldn’t destroy the capital. 

Remedia was obviously furious at the terrorist attack and her husband’s death, causing her to call upon Cocagne’s mutual defense pact to request Endymion’s help in punishing the responsible party. The Cobweb’s theft of the Ranger Crestone could not go unpunished either.

The spiders had made a powerful enemy.

“Here are the books you asked for,” Silk said when they met again, before delivering to him a pile of grimoires. “Mithras has taken over the Cobweb.”

“Has he merged with Louis?” Simon inquired. 

“No, but Valravn follows his commands, and Chrom Cruak believes he can provide him with a temporary host.” Something that might cause Simon trouble if true. He didn’t need more Zodiac Fiends running around free. “Mithras ordered me to accelerate our infiltration of the Church of the Light. He believes the reincarnation of Saintess Pharis must be hiding among them.”

“A good guess.” But a wrong one. “And Vouivre?”

“She wants to capture Eole, but she’s friends with the Adventurer and security is tight in Muse with the upcoming Planetary Exposition. I doubt she’ll try anything until it passes.” 

Good. Not having to deal with Vouivre would spare Simon many headaches, and the Cobweb’s theft of the Ranger Crestone would cause many factions to hunt them down. 

Otherwise, studying Cocagne’s books lent credence to Magda’s theory. Some of the first editions of famous philosophy texts did reek of mana, though Simon lacked the Perks to cast Libromancy spells from them. A combination of Adaptive Spellcasting and Devil Forgemaster might let him work around that limit by creating miasmic copies of the original books, but he might be better off making his own custom Grimoires.   

However, one of the books—A Plague’s Year—proved to be soaked in miasma instead. This Grimoire was the journal of an unlucky alchemist who recounted his experience with a deadly disease in the town of Hero’s Rest, which culminated in the death of everyone there. There was nothing evil about the book itself, nor in its contents besides the grim subject matter, yet the surrounding tragedy had soaked its pages with the Dark. A test confirmed it could cast the equivalent of a Tier VI spell that turned the caster into an asymptomatic vector of an airborne pathogen, spreading the Disease ailment to anyone close by; a welcome addition to his collection.

Simon was more and more tempted to craft his own custom Grimoires and test how much control he had over the resulting spells. It would take months, but it might let him replicate badly needed abilities like Teleport.  

Unfortunately, time flew by fast, and the month of Floreal was soon upon them.

—--------------------------

The Planetary Exposition literally began with a blast.

Guests from Fablan opened up the exhibit with a show of fireworks that rivaled that of Norbelle’s birthday in splendor, and Eole sang on a floating airship stage in front of hundreds of thousands of onlookers. It was quite the spectacle. 

It had taken a full district to host all fifty-thousand—half of which came from outside Muse—exposants, and every single inn or hotel in the city was fully booked. Bert and other organizers expected millions of visitors by the time the exposition wrapped up. This Planetary Exposition might prove to be the biggest one yet.

And what a delight it was.

“Whoa!” Aegio’s eyes widened with wonder as he looked upon the pavilion the organizers had justly called the Rainbow Gallery. The glass and metal ceiling reached nearly three hundred feet in height, with magical holograms causing the panels to shift in color in a dazzling dance of lights. “It’s so pretty!”

“It is,” Shabram said. Like her son, she had come with a magical disguise involving dyeing her hair blonde and hiding her shifter features beneath a hat and ample clothes. Her elegance caught a few onlookers’ eye. “Those windows must have cost a fortune.”

“Seven times more to build than the Golden Champion itself, from what I gathered,” Simon mused. The three of them stepped onto a floor that moved forward on its own, allowing them to lazily glance at the displayed machines. “Engineers call this a horizontal elevator.”

“They would be very useful in Marthrone,” Shabram mused, her arms wrapping around Simon’s own as her son peeked over the guardrail. “Dear, be careful or you’ll fall.”

“Yes, Mom,” Aegio replied obediently. His excitement swiftly returned when he spotted an orchestra of Turks playing various instruments on a stand. “Wow, the puppets are singing!”

“They can do more than that,” Simon replied with a thin smile. He couldn’t help but wonder how many attendants were Turks in disguise.

Simon was nonetheless quite pleased that Shabram and Aegio had taken up his offer to visit the Planetary Exposition with him, albeit in disguise and for a single day—lest Euphemia notice her spymistress’ temporary absence. He hadn’t spent as much time with his half-brother as he would have wanted across the reigns, and the boy very much enjoyed the event so far. 

This would make for a good and cherished memory.

True to its name, the Planetary Exposition hosted a mix of pavilions showcasing cultures from all around the world alongside the newest breakthroughs in science and magic. Exhibits ranged from steam machines and single-person airship prototypes to advanced music boxes capable of immediately recording someone’s voice on ‘soundstone manaliths’ and new maritime navigation devices. Improved Bert Trading Company lightshows were plentiful, alongside new Turk models.  

“Is this your first time visiting Muse?” Simon asked Shabram.  

“It is. My agents’ reports do not do it justice.” Shabram looked at each invention with a curious and calculating gaze. “I admire their approach. Endymion’s research and development almost entirely focuses on warfare, with civil applications being merely an afterthought.”

“I’m thinking of importing a few of these inventions once I’m ready to return,” Simon mused. He had actually briefly discussed with Coil about how to develop electricity in Endymion during their pauses. “Devices that could improve the lives of our citizens.”

“Lights all across Marthrone would be a very good start,” Shabram replied once they reached the end of the gallery, and the beginning of the Coil Futuristics-Land of Toys stands. 

The two companies had reserved a rather vast space including a picture gallery, various pictobox designs on display, and even given space to Aleph so the golem could wave at onlookers. A vast line of people waited to fill rows upon rows of seats facing a large stage on which stood two metal towers and a mechanical glass lamp. Jym was busy tinkering with the machinery’s controls to ensure there wouldn’t be any issues. 

“Simon!” Magda greeted them at the entrance, blinking when she noticed Shabram. “Wait, did you bring another date?”

“Lady Shaa and little Gio are friends of mine,” Simon said. 

“Enchanted,” Shabram said with a perfect Musan accent and a graceful bow. She had truly become the picture of a high-society socialite. “My dear Simon spoke so much of you. He said you were one of the most brilliant managers and biologists he had ever encountered.”

“He said that, huh?” Magda’s gaze lingered on the way Shabram’s arms coiled around Simon’s own. “I admit I didn’t take you for such a charmer, Simon… or into older women for that matter…”

“What’s a charmer?” Aegio asked his mother. 

“A well-liked person, dear,” Shabram quipped.

“I hope I’ll grow up to become a charmer then!” Aegio replied innocently, to everyone’s amusement. “Hey, is it true you’ve put lightning in a bottle?”

“We did,” Magda replied. Nobody could resist smiling at Aegio for long. “I’ll give you front row seats for our demonstration, and you can skip the line.”

“Awesome!” Aegio grabbed his mother’s hand and all but dragged her towards the stage. “Come on, come on!”

Simon and Shabram accompanied the overeager Aegio to the audience’s front rows, which were soon filled up. Simon found himself sandwiched between Shabram and an older, well-dressed gentleman. The room was packed and abuzz with excitement.

“Thank you all for joining us today at Coil Futuristics’ first demonstration of purely nonmagical electricity production!” Magda greeted the crowd on the stage. Being much more charismatic than her husband, she would speak up while he focused on the machinery. “Prepare yourself to witness a wonder of nature, tamed by man!”

The claps were deafening, with Magda inviting Aleph to move near the stage. The automaton carried a pictobox in its hands. 

“Moreover, this presentation—and you—will be immortalized in the very first colored, yes, colored, picture in the world by our golem assistant!” Magda waved her hand at Simon. “A product of our esteemed apprentice, Simon Belias! A round of applause for his invention!”

Simon smiled and politely waved at the cheering crowd, then sank back into his seat. His advanced version of the color pictobox used sheets of chemical substances capturing the red, green, and blue spectrum of light. The result wasn’t as accurate as the miasma-manalith hybrid box, but accurate enough for mass production. 

It also didn’t pierce through the puppets’ disguises, which would spare them many headaches. 

The show began with Coil casually pulling levers and causing lightning to course from one metal tower to another, with the lamp caught in the middle. The electricity ignited its light, much to the crowd’s amazement. 

“It is a neat invention, that pictobox of yours,” the gentleman to Simon’s left whispered in his ear while Magda went on a tirade about electricity. “Almost as much as this mechanical lightning. Astonishing work for someone so young.”

“The pictobox was a group project,” Simon replied politely. 

“Was it? I would not imagine that one—” The man raised his chin at Coil, “—working on anything magical unless forced to. He shouldn’t do that, no.”

Shouldn’t? Simon frowned and glanced at the man, studying him closely. He was a positively ancient gentleman, probably in his late eighties or so, with a wizened white beard and hair. He was dressed in a black coat with a yellow scarf and a bowler hat, dark gloves and clean shoes covering every inch of his body except for the face. His skin had the pallor of someone who hadn’t gone outside in many years, and a mechanical monocle covering his right blue eye. 

The same hue as Jym Coil. 

“I see in your gaze that you recognize me,” the man said with a familiar, unblinking stare.

“I do not,” Simon admitted, with Shabram pretending to stare at the show while listening closely. He did resemble the man in Bert's mental landscape, albeit older... “Though I have my suspicions.”

“I haven’t left my home in so many years, most people have forgotten how I look. I like that. I dislike fame and crowds. Takes too much energy and brainpower, social interaction. Too much.” The man—whom Simon was certain was Carlo of Muse—studied him with an almost reptilian coldness. “I assessed that you wished to see me.”

“I did,” Simon replied with a smile. “It’s an honor to meet you in the fle—”

“It would be easier if you did not insult my intelligence with deceit. You have taken away two of my field test units and meddled with a third. You have… interfered.” The man’s head tilted slightly in a deeply uncanny way. “Still, your talents have caught our attention. I extend to you an invitation.”

“Our attention?” Simon squinted at him. “You’re not even here, are you? You’re one of them.”

“We will be at the tower.” The man blinked slowly, as if suddenly remembering it was something humans did. It reminded Simon of Casval in the worst possible way. “Come see me there once this presentation ends. An airship awaits us. I will show you the truth you have stumbled upon.”

“Alone, of course?” Simon pondered the offer before asking, “And suppose I say ‘no’? What then?”

“Then you can take a picture of these two with your true pictobox.” Carlo of Muse motioned at Magda and Jym with his chin. “See what became of them when you were not looking.”

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