The Hundred Reigns 284: The Five Sovereigns (1) (Patreon)

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After much hesitation, Simon decided to play it safe and reengineer the conditions that led to Cocagnian reign, with a few changes. 

First of all, he petrified House Malphas and surrendered them to Shabram as usual to ensure they wouldn’t trouble him, while keeping the Merchant Crestone in his Inventory. This would ensure they wouldn’t interfere with his other plans for Belzemine, and further distract the parties at court since their disappearance on the day of Balzam’s death would immediately cast heavy suspicions on them.  

Second, he named Laurent Linconnu as their father’s heir rather than Vouivre to prevent the formation of a vast coalition against him. This would guarantee a civil war a few months down the line after a time of respite, but Simon was considering a novel strategy to prevent that outcome: a distraction that would hopefully keep the imperial parties busy. 

And if it failed… if it failed, he would at least ensure the Fleshplague disaster never came to pass. 

Finally, he assigned himself his pick of slaves rather than a Crestone as his ‘inheritance.’ This would allow him to bring Belzemine to Cocagne for some time without arousing suspicion and learn Prayers like Aegis from her. He would only need to return to Frightwall in a month’s time to prevent the bombardment, which he could easily justify. He would also deal with Eole and keep Lorimor on hand as an additional assistant. 

Going to Cocagne would be his best option for now. While he didn’t feel ready to confront Remedia again so soon after Elsa, she remained his best bet to unlock Teleport should Norbelle refuse to help him. 

“I can’t fathom why Father would send you to Cocagne,” Lauriane admitted after they left their father’s quarters. “I swear, if anything happens to you because of Euphemia’s scheme—”

“I’ll be safe,” Simon reassured her, a chill traveling down his spine. He had always treated Lauriane’s words as hyperbole, but now that he knew the lengths to which she would go to avenge her siblings, they sounded more ominous than comforting. “Lauriane?”

“Yes?”

“There may come a time when you hear of my demise,” Simon said. This remained a key possibility, even if he wasn’t entirely sure yet. “It’ll be a lie. I intend to fake my death and desert the empire.”

“What?” Lauriane blinked in surprise. “What are you saying?”

“I was planning to disappear as soon as I went to the Academy,” Simon said, which wasn’t a complete lie. “Father’s last joke on me complicates matters, but I have no intention of getting involved in our family’s intrigues.”

“I… I can understand that, but… faking your death?” Lauriane looked rather disturbed. “That sounds rather extreme, and how would you even pull that off?”

“I think Lady Firewand can help me there.” That ought to reassure her. “We’ll find a way to stay in touch if I go through with it. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I think you should reconsider, since Anna and Dassein will mourn you a great deal, but… I understand.” Lauriane sighed. “It might be for the best, too. I don’t know what will become of our family without Father to guide us.”

I do, and that’s why I’ll have to step in someday. Simon gathered his breath. “Lauriane?” 

Her head perked up. “Yes, Simon?”

He did the thing he had failed to do in the previous reign: hugging his sister and squeezing her tightly. She gasped in surprise at the strength of his grip and his boldness. 

“I love you, Lauriane.” There, he said it. “Whatever happens, I will always love you. I want you to know that.”

“I…” Lauriane blushed a bit at his bluntness before returning the hug. “I love you too, Simon. I just wish I could do more to protect you.”

No, you don’t. “Everything will be alright, my sister. I promise you that.”

After bidding goodbye to Lauriane, Simon braced himself for another and far less pleasant meeting. He waited in his bedroom as one of his newly selected slaves entered it with a grave expression. 

“Eole,” Simon said as he closed the door behind her. “I want you to know that what’s going to happen to you, while painful, comes from a place of love.”

The brief look of shock on her face at him being able to speak the Kish language swiftly turned to utter disgust, as she likely imagined he intended to have his way with her. “I will rip off anything you try to put in me, bastard.”

“I doubt that.” Simon mustered all of his courage and told himself it was for her own safety. If I bring her with me to Cocagne, it’ll put the Cobweb on her track; if I leave her here, Louis will kill her for experience or Mastemo will get his claws on her; and if I send her back to the Sanctuary without oversight, she’ll join Alcyone and might cause me trouble down the line. “I’m sorry.”

He turned her flesh to gold. 

She looked so beautiful and unbending in this state, an imperishable gilded statue frozen in one last final moment of defiance. A collector would have likely paid a great deal of money for her. 

This is for her own safety, a stopgap measure until I find a more elegant solution, Simon told himself as he teleported with the statue back to Shabram’s office. His spymistress awaited him there obediently, ready to stash Eole the moment he arrived. 

“Store her in a safe place for the time being,” Simon ordered. “I’ll likely release her in a year or so.”

“As Your Majesty wishes,” Shabram replied. Seeing her so soon after he watched Algozoa pulverize her bothered Simon. “Is Your Majesty building their own stone garden?”

His own stone garden? Oh right, his father kept a vast collection of petrified foes. Simon had never really looked into that, but now he wondered what kind of people this private gallery included… Were they all Balzam Magnos’ foes, or did they include people he had needed out of the way as part of his plans? 

Simon was at least certain his father wouldn’t have kept any loved ones in that collection, since he was utterly incapable of affection. 

“Do you have any information on the statues’ identities?” Simon inquired. 

“Some, but not all,” Shabram admitted. “Your Majesty’s father often brought in new trophies without seeing fit to inform me of their origins.”

“Could you give me your reports on the victims whose identities you do know?” Simon asked. He might as well check it out during the flight to Cocagne. “Also…”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way, but why are you at such a low level?” The question bothered Simon, since he was growing sick of losing her. She needed more strength if she was going to survive the Zodiac Parade. “I would expect you to be much stronger considering how long you’ve had your Crestone.”

“The Dancer Class covers activities such as personal seduction, assisting other Class users in a fight, public spectacles, artistic pursuits, and courtesan work,” Shabram explained. “I earned most of my levels from completing honey pot missions, or giving your father and certain officials private shows, but my current tasks limit my opportunities for growth.”

“So you’re out of tune with your Class.” The fact that her Crestone hadn’t tried to abandon Shabram yet meant she still retained vast potential. “I need you to become stronger in it, so please set some time aside for Dancer activities. My Party System and Brand of Sloth should help expedite your leveling.”

“Organizing such activities will be difficult with my current duties, especially with Your Majesty not in control of the capital, but I will see what I can do.” Shabram stroked her chin. “It is a shame Your Majesty will soon leave the capital. My dances could have refreshed you during your training and provided me with a steady stream of experience.”

“Is that so?” That gave Simon much to consider. “I’ll think about it.”

—-------------------

Simon spent most of the trip to Cocagne consumed by guilt and remorse. 

He had planned to practice Prayers with Belzemine and read Shabram’s reports on his father’s stone garden during it, but his thoughts began to return to Eole the moment he stared out the window at the sky. The thought of his friend being prevented from soaring through the clouds crossed his mind and then wouldn’t leave it. 

What he had done to Eole… it might have been necessary and temporary, but that didn’t make it right. The mere fact that the Overlord Class rewarded him the first time he had petrified her was a warning in itself.

But what was he supposed to do? Petrifying her was the only way to reliably keep her out of trouble, and it was a kinder solution than branding her. What else could he do besides keeping her close to him at all times?

“Your Majesty?” Belzemine asked him, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Is something the matter?”

Simon stared at her for a moment. The sight of Gargauth’s tattoos on Belzemine’s skin and her anxiety at receiving no orders from her master bothered him. He had more or less paused his attempts at curing her of her brainwashing besides experimenting with Memory Snatcher in the recent reigns, and even her year-long therapy in the Sanctuary had yielded mixed results. 

He had put his attempts at self-therapy aside in the last reign in order to complete his objectives, but now that he had achieved them, he should focus back on fighting off his Class’ influence over him. 

Continuing Belzemine’s mental health treatment would be a start. It wouldn’t make up for what happened with Eole, but… it would matter. 

“I was considering how to make you happy,” he said. 

“Serving you is my purpose, Your Majesty.”

But it shouldn’t be. “I find it unsightly that you bear one of my predecessor’s markings,” he replied. “I will remove them and add you to my personal Party System, so I can always keep track of you.”

While being deprived of the Brands never failed to cause Belzemine some mental distress, being added to his Party and knowing she still belonged to him ought to mollify her somewhat. It should make for a smoother transition towards full independence down the line. 

He heard a knock on the airship salon’s door, and Meredith’s voice came through. “We are approaching Fabliau, Your Highness.”

Simon looked through the window at Fabliau’s flying castle. This wonder used to fill his heart with awe, but it failed to elicit much emotion after visiting the Sanctuary and lifting Frightwall into the sky. 

You could get used to anything. 

Their airship landed at the royal palace’s landing pier, where Simon and his retinue were welcomed by Norbelle, Prince Verdis, and a host of golems and guards. 

“My dear half-brother, how nice to see you again!” Norbelle greeted him with a smile that faded away the moment she took a good look at him. Her back tensed up like a bowstring. “Mmm…”

She can tell something is wrong with me at a glance. Simon should take acting classes. His body language had changed too much over the reigns for astute individuals like Norbelle or Voltobauta not to pick up on it, and not everyone was blinded by love like Lauriane or contempt like Thalas. I guess playing pretend will be a waste of time.

“You as well, Norbelle,” Simon replied before greeting her fiancé with a nod. “Prince Verdis, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh?” The prince smiled back innocently. “You recognized me at a glance, Prince Simon?”

“My sister spoke of you at length in her letters home,” Simon lied. “She is rather pleased with you.”

“Of course I am, my dear Verdis is so charming,” Norbelle said with fake charm as she grabbed his arm so tightly it hurt. “Let me introduce you to your quarters. I promise you Fabliau will feel like a second home.”

“I could show your brother around too,” Verdis helpfully suggested.

“You know your father will complain if you skip training again, Verdis,” Norbelle said. “I won’t be long.”

She didn’t suggest I spar with him this time around, Simon noticed as she all but dragged him away. Things won’t go as they did last time. 

Norbelle slammed the door of her expensive bedroom shut behind them the moment they stepped in, then immediately put on her Summoner outfit. A yellow, circular forcefield surrounded Simon. 

“Is this truly necessary, sister?” Simon asked with a thin, confident smile. “I have no intention of taking you from your fiancé.”

“Who are you?” his sister asked sharply, magic coursing through her fingers. “Are you even Simon?”

“In a matter of speaking.” Simon swiftly put on his Overlord armor, with Norbelle taking a step back in surprise. “Hello, sister.”

“No way…” Norbelle’s shock turned to mirth. “Did you kill Father?”

“No, Louis did, but I still inherited the Overlord Class and most of our father’s levels with it.” Simon squinted at his sister. “You don’t look surprised.”

“I always expected you to hasten our inheritance sooner or later,” she admitted, “Though I didn’t think you would immediately decide to visit your little sister after framing some poor schmuck for the deed. Have you come to save me from that bore Verdis and take me as your queen?” 

“No.”

“Pity.” Mana swirled in her fingers. “Then, can you give me a good reason why I shouldn't be a good daughter and immediately tell Mother about this?” 

“Several.” Most involved deadly force, but Simon would rather avoid that outcome for now. “Namely, what would be the fun in that?”

“Mmm… you don’t even pretend to look nervous.” Norbelle sat with her legs crossed, a finger on her cheek. “You think you can take me out in an instant if it comes to that. I’m wounded by that lack of respect, Simon, I truly am. I’m very tempted to prove you wrong.”

“I haven’t come to fight, Norbelle.” While Simon was reasonably confident he could quickly dispatch her at the start of the reigns due to their vast difference in levels and his foreknowledge, all she had to do was teleport back to Euphemia and report his true identity to cause him many headaches. “I have an offer for you.”

“Ah, you’ve come to bargain. You need something from me.” Norbelle clasped her fingers with interest. “Do tell, I’m curious.”

Simon pointed at the yellow forcefield. “Can you drop this first?”

“No,” Norbelle replied coyly. “I don’t remove my chastity belt when ruffians walk into my bedroom, especially under my fiancé’s roof.”

Simon had known her to be bolder, but allowed her to retain the illusion of safety and control for now. “Suit yourself. I know you’re on the verge of breaking into Tier VIII spellcasting or already have, and I want to master Teleport.”

“Which implies you are at least level 70, if not 80… or bluffing.” If that knowledge intimidated her, Norbelle showed no sign of it. “Suppose I could teach you that, Simon, what would make me foolish enough to share such a powerful secret rather than immediately rat you out?”

Simon took the fact that she was open to negotiation as a good sign. “I can teach you a secret summoning technique in return. Something only I have ever achieved.”

“A very bold statement, and an interesting one…” Norbelle put a finger on her lips. “Alas, it’s not enough. I’m your dear little sister, so you’re supposed to spoil me.”

Of course she would haggle. “I have valuable knowledge—”

“Boring!” she cut in and stared at her nails. “I’m a genius, Simon. There’s nothing you know I can’t learn by myself.”

She managed to say those words with such casual confidence that Simon was tempted to believe them; and considering her innate gifts, she was likely right to boast. It had only taken her a look to understand how to corrupt an eidolon after all.

Simon considered his options. Norbelle might be a spoiled brat desperate for stimulation, but she was no fool either. She wouldn’t surrender her knowledge and keep his secret unless he had strong leverage. He needed something she wanted, and that he alone could provide.

An idea suddenly crossed his mind. “You have contracted Azulbolla, and are in the process of binding the Phoenix. That’s nearly half of the Five Sovereigns.”

“Please tell me something I don’t know.”

Simon went for the killing blow. “If you teach me Teleport, I can bring you straight to Shura’s doorstep.”

“Shura the White Tiger?” Norbelle laughed in his face. “He’s in Lorean territory far beyond our reach. Even our father’s influence didn’t reach that far.”

“That will be no issue for me.” Simon summoned his Overlord scepter to his hand. “Magic Eraser.”

He smashed her forcefield into oblivion with a single swing. It startled Norbelle, but she was too good to rise up in surprise and instead faked confidence. 

“There is no door I can’t bring down, sister, and I know you dislike leaving things half-finished.” Simon moved closer to Norbelle and leaned over her. “If you work with me, then I can help you complete your eidolon set. You might become the very first Summoner to bind all Five Sovereigns to your will.”

“Mmm… you had my interest…” Norbelle’s smirk widened with curiosity. “Now you have my attention.”

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