The Hundred Reigns 269: King of Spiders (11) (Patreon)

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They stayed together until morning. 

Simon could tell that while Velvet had plenty of experience—she was an artist with her hands—she had never actually been with a decent partner. The way her confidence turned to puzzled confusion when he actually focused on taking it slow and pleasuring her was a dead giveaway. 

To put it crassly, she had only ever fucked, but never made love; and it fell on Simon to teach her the difference. He spent hours worshiping her with his hands and lips, holding her, caressing, kissing her. He helped her feel desired, honored, and cared for. He even took a page out of Remedia’s book and teleported them across his manor during their coupling, taking her in a bath, then while basking in the warmth of a firepit. 

He became her slave for a night, her lover, her creature, living only for her before carrying her back naked to his bedroom as if she were his wife. 

“I didn’t expect you to be so… thorough,” Velvet admitted as she cuddled up to him beneath the bedsheet. “You didn’t have to.”

“No, but I thought you deserved it.” He stroked her hair. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“A bit.” She had too much of a feline nature to say yes. “But it was a bit too plain for my tastes. You don’t even have rope available.”

“I don’t usually plan to strangle my partners,” Simon replied. Though his ‘wedding night’ with Euphemia had come close. 

“You could have at least used the fire poker then.” Simon’s shocked look appeared to amuse her. “You’ve never tried one?”

“No,” Simon replied, slightly disturbed. “What kind of people use that in a bedroom?”

“The kind who knows how to have fun.” A dagger flashed in her hands out of nowhere, and she traced a line with it along his chest. “Pain and pleasure are like mana and miasma. They magnify each other, if you know how to handle them.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you like pain?”

“I do. I like giving and receiving it. It makes me feel alive.” She played with her dagger. “You feel the same, don’t you?”

“It depends on the people I’m hurting,” Simon admitted. A part of him rejoiced when destroying his enemies. “I’m trying to find healthier hobbies.”

Velvet snorted. “Like what, theater?”

“Actually, yes. I like opera.” He wrapped his arms around her back. “What do you like, besides pain and murder?”

“Gold and treasure for a start, since I’m half a Rogue myself,” Velvet replied with a smirk. “I do enjoy visiting a little Musan cabaret from time to time, too.”

“We could visit one for our next meeting.”

She laughed in his face. “What makes you think there’ll even be a next time, Simon Magnos? We both blew off steam, and that was it.”

“It’s up to you,” Simon replied. He had no illusions that their relationship was anything other than transactional at the moment, and a moment of shared affection didn’t erase everything else. “I could drown you in Valnean jewels, or take you to any place you want to see.”

“Are my ears deceiving me?” Velvet moved onto his chest and looked into his eyes with a cat-like look of curiosity. “Are you suggesting we go on a date?” 

“Yes,” Simon replied bluntly. Somehow, he had the feeling they would both find it enjoyable. “If you want something deeper, that is.”

Velvet pondered his proposal for a moment before the bedroom’s door slammed open so hard it nearly broke off its hinges. 

“Are you kidding me?!” Silk asked her sister with rare fury when she walked into the bedroom. Their situation left no room for interpretation over what happened between her and Simon. “What are you thinking? Or rather, not thinking?”

“Good morning, sister.” Velvet’s arms suddenly coiled around Simon’s neck. “You’re welcome to watch, or even join us. Unlike you, I know how to share.”

Silk looked at them in disgust. “I’m thankful Valravn purged me of those urges of yours.”

“Our urges,” Velvet replied with a glare. “I think you would enjoy it. You still have a functional woman’s body. You lack the desire, not the capability. Maybe it would even improve your disposition.”

“First you accept his brand, and now you crawl into his bed like a whore. What are you planning to do next, marry him?” Silk sneered. “Don’t you realize what kind of position you’re putting us in?”

“Oh, now there’s an us?” Velvet returned her sister’s contempt. “You’re usually pretty happy when I swindle rich men out of their money and favors while keeping your hands squeaky clean.”  

“You usually don’t give them power over us, or do it behind my back!” 

“See how it hurts when you scheme behind my back?” 

“Why are you here, Silk?” Simon cut in before their argument spiraled out further than it already did. He felt like a man caught between two lovers who cheated on each other just to make their partner jealous. “Certainly not to check on your sister.”

Silk glared at him. “I came to pick you up. Vouivre is waiting for us, and she has your brother Dassein with her.”

“Dassein?” Simon’s head perked up so fast it disturbed Velvet. “Did she capture him?”

“No, I think they arranged a meeting of their own free will. My guess is that they’re negotiating a joint takeover of Telluria.”

That… that never happened before. Vouivre and Dassein almost always came to blows over Beleth at one point or another, though which of them prevailed depended on various factors. Why would Dassein meet with a direct threat to Endymion peacefully?

Because Louis is dead, and he wants to avenge him, Simon guessed. The War Party had been marginalized, but unlike the previous reign, Louis’ death had further radicalized them on top of it. Allying with Vouivre made sense to upstage Euphemia. Lauriane has to be behind this. Dassein is too much of a follower to come up with the idea on his own.  

Such an alliance would inevitably lead to civil war, which might explain why the Oracle had remained deaf to Euphemia’s entreaties. She might not expect the Church Party to last long in power. 

This changed things for Simon. He had planned to let Vouivre overreach, come to her as a savior to better make her dependent on him, and then seize the Two-Tailed Fish, but an alliance with the War Party’s remnants would give her the firepower to push into Endymion proper. She wouldn’t need him.

He would have to adapt his strategy; secure a commitment on a certain matter in exchange for a future favor, lay some seeds, and then see how the flowers bloomed. 

“Let’s go,” Simon decided. It was nothing he couldn’t recover from. “We’ll need to make a stop at Verney’s castle first.”

“You won’t be going,” Silk immediately told Velvet.

“A shame.” Velvet swiftly grabbed Simon’s cheeks. “Here’s something to keep you up when dealing with lizards.”

She passionately kissed him, his own hands reaching for her back… but she wasn’t staring at him, no. Her eyes were for a disgusted Silk only, taunting her, daring her to do something like a teenager challenging their parents. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” Velvet informed him through telepathy when letting go of his lips. “Take me on a date. She’ll hate it.”

These two had issues. 

“Get dressed,” Silk all but ordered Simon, her tone dripping with annoyance.

Simon did so, settling on a mix of dark clothes and Fiendmask to change his facial features a bit—Vouivre’s potential alliance with Dassein meant he couldn’t risk word of his survival reaching House Magnos—and then followed Silk through the Attic door. They took two turns before Silk suddenly closed the path behind them in the middle of a corridor, and then flashed a dagger at his throat.

“This will not happen again,” Silk threatened him. 

“Or what?” Simon replied, unimpressed. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I see your game now. You’re trying to set her against me like Valravn before you, so you can control the both of us. I’m sure your brand must be influencing her.”

“You’re alienating your twin on your own,” Simon countered. “You should treat her better. All she wants from you is a little trust and respect.” Or self-respect, in this case. 

“I treat her like she deserves to be,” Silk replied, unrepentant. “Like the impulsive child she is.”

“Valravn put more than your flaws and trauma in her,” Simon pointed out. It didn’t surprise Silk that he knew everything about their situation. “He split off the qualities he feared without a rational mind to temper them, like your courage. You’re only hurting yourself by putting her down.”

While Simon still loathed Silk for her treacherous nature and constant betrayals, he was also starting to have mixed feelings about her now that he understood her true nature. Valravn had poured into her all of the original’s trust issues, paranoia, and ruthlessness, with no positive emotions to balance them out. 

She was literally made of fear, and thus emotionally incapable of escaping her self-destructive tendencies. 

“You know nothing,” Silk replied. “What qualities does she have? Recklessness? Spite? An appetite for recognition? I’m better off without them.” 

“If that were the case, then you could have dealt with Valravn on your own,” Simon pointed out. “Don’t you ever think you would be better off reuniting?”

“No.” Silk sheathed her dagger. “I warn you this once because of our alliance, but if you try to harm me through her—”

“I don’t need her to destroy you, should I ever decide to,” Simon cut in, much to his annoyance. “Have I not given you enough proof of my goodwill? Zodiac crystals, treasure, power? What more do you need to trust me?”

Silk met his gaze, a foul look in her eyes. “I will never trust a man again.”

“Then you’ll die alone,” Simon warned her bluntly. “It’s your lack of trust in her that pushes your sister away.”

Silk glared at him while he opened the door leading to Verney’s dining room. He found Hector there, alongside two identical copies of Simon’s own Overlord armor. 

“We’ve just safely returned from our latest excursion, Your Majesty,” Hector greeted him through Verney’s lips, though he spared a glare for one of the impostors in the room. “However, I would have preferred if one of us did not.”

“This is humiliating,” Bert complained inside his fake Overlord armor. “Playing a body double for my own puppeteer…” 

“I personally find it an amusing game,” Agrat mused as she dispelled her Fiendmask and returned to her normal form. Hector’s disdain for her was palpable. “I do wonder how long it will take for people to catch on.”

“Some already have, but that’s no issue for us,” Simon replied as he removed the two from his Party for the time being. Running a shell game of cycling through Anathemic Secrecy-shielded impostors had managed to confuse even the Oracle so far. “Have you found the person I was looking for?”

“Yes, I purchased him during a transfer from Telluria to Valne.” Hector clapped his hands. “Come out now.”

A certain albino bat-shifter walked into the room, his eyes set on the floor rather than any of the people present. No doubt he expected the worst, considering everything he had gone through so far. It had been many reigns since Simon last saw him, and his heart overflowed with concern and nostalgia. 

“Hello, Pallian,” Simon introduced himself to the bat-shifter, who looked up at him in shock when he patted the boy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Your life is about to change for the better.”

—---------------------------------

Simon walked into Vouivre’s pyramid with Silk and a fake Kish in tow. 

Convincing Pallian to accept his Devil Brands and go along with his plan to shapeshift into Eole by using her feather had been painfully easy. The bat-shifter was eager to seize any opportunity to shake off his slave status and avenge himself on his tribe that sold him out. 

Simon had hoped to bring the real Eole in his stead, but covering his bases with a backup plan had paid off. 

Two scalefolk guards guided them through the building and onto the terrace outside, with Pallian meekly avoiding their gazes. They walked across a garden overlooking the flooded Kish Empire’s capital, and found Vouivre discussing with Dassein at the platform’s edge while in her human form. The latter’s manticore mount slouched on stone, its paws holding a sealed metal canister as if it were a dragon’s hoard. 

Simon’s heart skipped a beat when the two looked at their group. The lack of recognition in Dassein’s gaze confirmed he couldn't see past his disguise, while Vouivre… it had been so many reigns since they last interacted, and she was exactly like he remembered her: cold, imperious, and utterly self-assured of her invincibility. He used to fear and hate her, and part of him still considered her an enemy to destroy, yet somehow the memory of her kissing him in front of a bombarded Lighthouse was the first thing that crossed his mind.

Okay, maybe he had issues too…

“Silk, there you are. I was starting to wonder if you had lost your way.” Vouivre squinted at Simon next, her body language that of a predator tensing up at the approach of another. “Who are you?”

Her instincts are even sharper than Voltobauta’s, Simon thought as he casually introduced himself. “I am Belias, the Prince of Spiders.”

Vouivre remained still as a statue, her stare unblinking, whereas Dassein frowned in confusion. “The Prince of Spiders?”

“You could say I’m the Overlord of the criminal underworld,” Simon replied calmly. He would have introduced himself otherwise had Vouivre not allied with the War Party, but he wore new identities like clothes off a wardrobe nowadays. 

“Is this what we’ve been reduced to these days?” Dassein wondered with a heavy sigh. “Allying with dragons and crime lords?

“I’m no mere crime lord, Rider Prince,” Simon replied with a thin smile. “I’m a thief of souls who has done great and terrible things in the pursuit of power and profit.”

“So you say.” Vouivre warily glanced at Silk. “Yet you remain silent.”

“Lord Belias is indeed my superior,” Silk lied easily.

“Or he could be another decoy mandated by your master to protect himself.” Vouivre crossed her arms, her eyes sharply squinting at Simon. “That, or you think I cannot harm you. Your heartbeat does not waver.”

“I do not fear you, that is true.” Simon had grown out of that long ago, though he did still respect her power and the danger she represented. “I came in the flesh to discuss a certain proposition directly with you, Your Majesty.”

“A proposition?” Vouivre smirked at the shapeshifted Pallian. “I see. She’s a gift.”

“My subordinate here can open the door to the Two-Tailed Fish’s prison, and we have the magitechnology to bind it to an item capable of harnessing its power,” Simon explained. He knew Vouivre would refuse the latter out of paranoia and trust her own methods to bind the Zodiac Fiend, but he still presented the lure just in case. “In return, I’ll need your strength to assault a certain fortress as part of a heist.”

“Which place?” Vouivre asked cautiously. 

“The Crafter’s Tower.”

Vouivre pondered his blunt answer for a second, then burst out laughing. “Well, aren’t you a bold one?” she commented with a smirk on her face. “You intend to steal the Crafter’s Crestone like my father tried before you, don’t you?”

“What can I say?” Simon returned her smile. “I’m the king of thieves.”

“This is madness,” Dassein commented. “Endymion has tried to infiltrate that tower for many years without success. How could a mere thief succeed where we didn’t?”

“Because there’s nothing ‘mere’ about me,” Simon replied confidently. “I am already laying the groundwork for our operation, and I intend to strike in a few months.”

“But you need power as well as guile.” His boldness amused Vouivre to no end. “I intended to conquer Muse sooner or later to subjugate their industrial capabilities, so depriving them of their greatest asset would play right into my hands. I see no issues with that, assuming the plan is good and my crystal is handed over to me.” She crossed her arms. “But you wouldn’t come all the way just for that.”

Simon nodded slightly. Here came the hard part. “I also need access to the Chest of Worlds.” 

Vouivre’s face lost all color, her expression instantly souring with possessive fury and hostility. “No,” she said, all but hissing the word. “Mine.”

“If it will reassure you, I can swear a binding oath that we won’t steal any of the treasures within.” This reign at least. “I simply need to confirm whether or not certain items are stocked inside where no one else can touch them.”

“No thief would agree to such terms without a trick up their sleeve,” Vouivre correctly guessed, her jaw tightening. “What items?”

“A certain book and bottle that belonged to Your Majesty’s father.” Vouivre was too composed to show any hint of whether or not she recognized these artifacts, but Simon didn’t care all that much. With some luck, piquing her curiosity would lead her to do some legwork for him. “In exchange, I will increase my support of your army with Crestones, and teach you how to obtain the Beast.”

“I already know how to do that.”

“You think you do, but you don’t actually need to conquer Telluria to obtain it.” Which was why Vouivre always mysteriously unlocked it whenever Simon took the Crimson Throne. “There is a shortcut.”

“You bluff,” Dassein said immediately. “There is no way a thief wouldn’t have claimed the Crestone yourself if they knew how to access it.”

“I find secrets and favors more valuable than mere Classes,” Simon replied. “Those can’t run away.”

Dassein squinted at him. “You’re the long-lost Rogue we could never track down,” he said, which was both utterly wrong and closer to the truth than most guesses. “Of course your kind would come out of the woodwork once our father passed away.”

Simon simply smiled, while Silk deftly hid her amusement. 

Vouivre didn’t bite either. “I refuse your offer. To let a thief such as you run around in my birthright would be like inviting a fox into a henhouse, and I will unlock the Beast’s secrets on my own in time.” 

“Suit yourself. I don’t expect an answer now, so think about it.” Simon put a hand on his waist. “I do, however, require your commitment for the Crafter’s Tower heist.”

“You can have that, if your Kish pawn can unlock the palace’s vault for me.” Vouivre turned to Dassein. “Once I obtain the crystal, we’ll have the strength to push south once you surrender Beleth to me. We can test your weapon next.”

“I refuse to have it used anywhere north of Valendre,” Dassein insisted. “The risk that it harms our own men and followers is too great.”

Simon didn’t like the sound of that. “The weapon?”

“A poisoned gift from the Alchemist.” Vouivre laughed sinisterly as she pointed at the metal canister. “Living death.”

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