Convenient.
That was the only thought crossing Simon’s mind when he received Shabram’s report. It was awfully convenient that Vouivre would choose to attack Beleth with an army of scalefolk and shifters right when the new Overlord had begun to secure their power, when the Rider was away, and right before they launched their own campaign against her.
It could have been a stroke of bad luck on its own at first glance, since it was Simon’s first reign openly acting as the Overlord and with Dassein far away from Telluria. Vouivre could have plausibly sensed an opportunity to strike early… but there was one tiny detail that immediately aroused Simon’s suspicions.
Vouivre already had the Beast Crestone.
“A five-headed dragon?!” Dassein choked in surprise upon hearing Shabram’s report. The High Council was in uproar. “Does such a creature even exist in this world?!”
“One leads the siege of Beleth, though it might be better to call it a sack at this point,” Lady Beatrice explained. “The beast set the city ablaze while a horde of beastmen and scalefolk slew all those who fled by foot.”
But they couldn’t pursue airships or block teleportation, Simon thought. The army that attacked Beleth in this timeline was much smaller than the one he led, owing to its lack of polymorphed dragonkin and demon shock troops. Shabram had learned of the attack from a mix of their agents on the ground and lucky Academy students teleporting back home since Vouivre failed to secure the site in time. Still, something is wrong.
It had taken Vouivre much longer than a month to obtain the Beast Crestone, even with Simon’s help and mind-controlling fake kish. She couldn’t have possibly enslaved all the tribes required to fulfill the Oracle’s prophecy in such a short amount of time without heavy support.
Or maybe he was viewing it the wrong way. Maybe Vouivre had begun to enjoy greater support from various factions since the very day Simon declared himself Overlord, and he was only now seeing the results of those machinations.
Either way, someone had offered Vouivre much needed help. Verney? The Cobweb had acted boldly against him by evacuating Louis and Simon had all but declared war against the organization. They could have simply offered Vouivre a lot more support than they did in previous reigns when faced with the existential threat of a new Overlord.
Or could it be the Oracle, feigning friendship and diplomacy while stabbing him in the back? It wouldn’t surprise Simon, considering how devious she had proven to be at fostering the Endymian civil war. Propping up a local warlord threatening the new Overlord’s hegemony would fit her usual pattern.
Whoever was responsible for this fiasco would pay.
“The creature is Vouivre Ashmodai, empowered by the Beast Crestone,” Simon declared, eyes turning his way. “She is a fearsome foe, but still a mere shadow of her father Gargauth.”
“We cannot allow Beleth and Telluria to fall on the very first month of our new regime,” Euphemia said immediately. “The mere fact that we allowed such an attack in the first place harms our credibility.”
Which was no doubt our unseen mastermind’s goal, Simon thought as he turned to Maublanc. “What are your recommendations as Commander?”
“Since our troops in Beleth continue to hold out and the airships are ready to deploy, we can proceed with a quick counterattack,” Maublanc said. “We can teleport over elite troops to reinforce our soldiers and then march on.”
“Your Majesty could lead those forces,” Mastemo suggested. “This would assert their authority to the realms.”
“No, this matter is beneath my dignity,” Simon decided. By challenging Vouivre himself rather than delegating, he would make her a rival and a threat in the eyes of others. Sending his subordinates indicated this incursion was no cause for panic. Moreover, he had the sneaking suspicion this attack was a trap of some kind. “My wife, Lord Paimon, and Lady Beatrice will be enough to deal with this rabble and confiscate the Beast Crestone. They will kill Vouivre, capture her brother Casval, and secure the Chest of Worlds. Thalas and Dassein will assist them.”
This had been the group that put an end to Simon’s alliance with Vouivre, which fielded better troops. They should have no issues crushing her forces.
And if they didn’t… then this would be a great cause for concern.
“I sense a hidden hand at work in this matter,” Maublanc said, voicing Simon’s own concerns. “Our enemy strikes right when our forces are stretched thin hunting down Prince Louis.”
“This is an Illusean hand,” Lauriane insisted. “The Oracle and the elves have been propping up warlords to take down the Overlord since Mardok’s era.”
“It might be the Cobweb as well,” Shabram pointed out. “They have been collaborating with Vouivre for years and perhaps provided their support now that we declared war on them.”
“Either possibility is plausible,” Simon said. A similar situation had caused the War Party, the Cobweb, and Vouivre’s group to coalesce into a unified front in his Cocagne reign, but he wouldn’t let their alliance pick up steam. “What bothers me the most is that unlocking the Beast Crestone requires the allegiance of all of Telluria’s tribes. We must assume Vouivre either enslaved or successfully convinced them to join her doomed assault.”
“Having all Tellurian military forces gathered in one place works to our advantage,” Euphemia pointed out. “This is an opportunity to deal with them once and for all.”
“And an opportunity for House Magnos to grow stronger,” Lauriane argued. “Simon can empower a set number of individuals to increase their experience yield. Thalas and Dassein could benefit from it.”
“At the cost of sharing their System information,” Euphemia pointed out with a scowl.
“Norbelle told me she already agreed to share her own, so why not Thalas?” Lauriane replied to the empress’ surprise, before glancing at her brother. “What do you say, Dassein?”
Dassein shrugged his shoulders. “If Simon thinks I need it.”
Ah, Dassein. Always the kind to follow orders first and question them second. His quick acceptance also caused Euphemia to waver in her resolve, since she wouldn’t allow a potential rival to get an edge over her son.
“You do need an edge considering the foes you will face, and so does Thalas,” Simon confirmed. “Euphemia, do you think you could convince him?”
“I…” Euphemia’s jaw clenched. “I will do what I can.”
Accepting help from his hated half-brother would be a bitter pill to swallow for Thalas, but Simon knew he would yield to his mother’s judgment. He would always yield in the end.
It always took a common enemy, but House Magnos was finally starting to work towards a common purpose.
—----------
Thalas did not accept Simon’s offer lightly. His jaw clenched so hard Simon thought his teeth would break, and the resentment in his eyes matched a Zodiac Fiend’s hatred. His bitterness over being forced to answer to his bastard half-brother—now his stepfather by marriage—was brewing and might eventually spill out to complicate matters.
Simon wondered how to deal with this. Beating him up and teaching him respect by force wouldn’t sit well with Euphemia. Anna had been something of a good influence on him too, but Simon would rather keep her close for her own safety. This only left one more potential lever…
“This is what Father wanted, you know that?” Simon asked him once they met in private.
The question took his half-brother by surprise. “What did you just say?”
“Our father left a coded letter for you among his belongings, in case you ever became Overlord instead of me. I can send you a translation of it if you would like.” After many revisions. “‘All my life, I’ve tried to make a man out of you, my son.’ He believed to the bitter end that you had untapped potential.”
Thalas’ inferiority complex and desperate need to please Balzam Magnos had always been his core flaw. He deeply wanted to believe his father cared deep down, the same way Maublanc deluded himself into thinking their friendship was mutual.
“But can you imagine yourself defeating Louis as you are now?” Simon pushed. “Can you even picture it in your head?”
Thalas scowled and glared at him venomously, but even he wasn’t arrogant enough to deny the truth. “No.”
“Yet our father thought you had it in you to surpass him,” Simon lied easily. “He wanted his successor, whoever they were, to help you live up to his expectations, and while I disliked our father, I intend to fulfill that last request of his. Are you going to spit on it?”
It annoyed Simon to feed Thalas a half-lie and to portray their father as anything else than the purely malevolent monster he truly was, but he needed his half-brother firmly focused on the enemy. He was better off channeling that rage to productive purposes rather than aimless resentment.
The sweet lies mollified Thalas a bit and eased his bitterness towards him, enough that he accepted the party request with a grunt. Simon took it as another sign that they might one day bury the hatchet without coming to blows.
Simon’s Party system confirmed that Thalas started out the reigns as a level 66 Berserker and Dassein as an impressive level 77 Rider, which probably made him the fourth most powerful person in the empire behind Euphemia, Louis, and Maublanc. No wonder he always sent Vouivre packing and crushed Simon so utterly when they fought. Still, having full access to his build, stats, and elemental affinities would no doubt provide a welcome edge one day…
Otherwise, Simon assigned the last two spots to Uruk Leraje and asked Anna to take the last one, to her surprise. “Aren’t there better candidates?”
“There are,” Simon admitted, “but as far as I can tell, this magic lets me assess your location with perfect accuracy, regardless of anti-divination measures. Considering the people after you, it will let me track you down should the worst happen.”
“I don’t know whether I should be flattered by the attention or offended that you expect me to be kidnapped.” Anna smiled as she put her hands on her waist. “Unless this is an excuse to check me out or leer at my perfect Charisma stat?”
“I’m sure it’s through the roof,” Simon teased her. “So? Will you accept it?”
“Mmm… I will, on one condition,” she said with a mischievous smirk. “Since my plans to return to the Academy are literally going up in smoke as we speak, I expect you to ease my boredom by opening up a new one here in Marthrone.”
Simon chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Truthfully, opening a new branch of the Academy in Marthrone wasn’t such a bad idea. His father always moved it to the latest frontline to encourage students to join the army or bleed out enemy resources; moving it back to the capital would send the signal that Endymion’s days of conquest were over and that they could move on to a more peaceful future.
After adding Anna to the Party and confirming she indeed had quite the higher-than-usual Charisma for a level 37 Lord, Simon realized that the information provided by his Perks still had holes in it. Yes, it provided a view of the stats, Class intel, and elemental affinities of the members, but Anna’s mysterious affinity for the Light didn’t show up anywhere, and while Norbelle’s screen listed her contracted eidolons—which included the Phoenix, Azulbolla, and nearly a dozen other creatures whose names he didn’t recognize—it didn’t give him any information on them. In short, he could access his allies’ stat screens, but not other information they might have access to. He needed time to fully map out this Perk’s limits.
Otherwise, the armies of the empire departed Marthrone on airships and trains in a glorious ceremony which the various foreign delegations attended. Simon gave a speech to the troops about Endymion’s duty to restore peace to the continent, then solemnly entrusted his wife with the army’s command.
“For once, I am thankful for these machines,” Euphemia mused to him prior to her departure. No doubt this war made her nostalgic about the Reformation. “These airships would have been very useful against Gargauth.”
“You should have no issue crushing his daughter and conquering Telluria with this armada, then,” Simon replied. “I will handle things here in your absence. My branded demons will let us stay in contact at all times.”
“Yes, we shall.” Euphemia nodded to herself. “Maublanc expects a four-month long campaign, but the Light be willing, I shall return in three.”
Simon wished her luck on that front. “Perhaps you could show me Agares once you finish pacifying the region.”
“Perhaps…” Euphemia scowled and changed the subject. “Be wary of Lauriane. I am not yet convinced she didn’t assist her brother in his escape, and he will likely reach out to her sooner or later.”
Simon knew Lauriane wouldn’t betray him like that, but he feigned assent with a nod. “Take care.”
Simon watched his empress depart on her airship for what should no doubt be a successful campaign, and then bade farewell to the various foreign delegations afterwards. Norbelle had to return to Cocagne with Remedia for the time being, much to her chagrin, and Lauriane would leave for Magvolia to secure the Minotaur. Alone.
“You’re not coming with me?” Lauriane asked, frowning. “I thought you wanted to bury your mother in Magvolia.”
“I have decided to delay it for some time,” Simon replied. He could only truly ensure his mother rested in peace by burying Gourmand’s strangled corpse with her skull, and he still needed his services. “Have you found any trace of the Biographer project?”
“I’m afraid our father confiscated every blueprint of the Crestone, and neither Shabram nor I could track down the scholars involved in it,” Lauriane admitted. Simon had the nasty suspicion that their father decided to silence them permanently to keep his secret project under wraps. “However, I may have a lead.”
Simon’s head perked up with interest. “What kind?”
“Before you… earned a Class of your own…” Lauriane cleared her throat in slight embarrassment. “I was planning to offer you a Crestone incorporating elements of the Librarian and my own Alchemist Class.”
“For which I am grate–” Simon froze as he put two and two together. “Is the Librarian side of it related to the Biographer?”
Lauriane nodded sharply. “I think at least some of the arcane scripts we used derived from that project, so we might be able to reverse-engineer at least some of the Vassal’s Perks and figure out what Father was up to. I will ship you the finished Crestone as soon as we complete its development.”
“I would love to check it out,” Simon confirmed, smiling. “You were the only one who ever cared when others did not, Lauriane.”
“And that will never change, Simon. I promise you that.” Lauriane smiled back as she put a motherly hand on his shoulder. “Don’t forget to practice your Techniques while I’m gone, alright? I will be back soon.”
—---------------
Three days remained until the Thirtieth of Nivose, when the elves originally planned to strike Frightwall.
Simon was hopeful Illusea wouldn’t try anything with Belzemine inside the castle and House Malphas within reach of their executioner’s swords, but he would take no risks. Elaine and her aunts would remain under close surveillance. If the elves cancelled their attack and agreed to peaceful negotiations, then he could focus his full attention on the Cobweb and Zodiac Parade.
Meanwhile, although Simon had many administrative duties to focus on and a Quickdraw Technique to master, he wouldn’t neglect the spellcasting side of his repertoire. Gourmand’s presence opened up a certain opportunity he couldn’t let pass.
“How kind of you, Your Majesty, to welcome the good Gourmand in private!” the jester rejoiced as he waltzed into Simon’s quarters. Their last discussion had made him even more servile. “What will it be tonight? Your father was especially fond of sword dances before bed!”
“I didn’t call you to entertain me, Gourmand, but to hunt,” Simon replied. He summoned the Warrior Crestone to his hand, the stone nearly escaping his grip. “You recognize this, yes?”
“Yes, the Prince’s true love,” Gourmand mused. “Poor Lady Isabelle. No woman can compete with War for a man’s heart.”
“I have often seen memories of previous Crestone holders when I consumed them, and this one clearly retains some sort of metaphysical connection with my brother,” Simon said. “Considering your aptitude for extracting information from souls, I wondered if you had insight on the matter.”
“Your Majesty is most wise, for the kind and knowledgeable Gourmand has the solution.” The jester smelled the Crestone like a hunting dog. “It has the scent of the mad prince’s soul and many others.”
“The scent of his soul?”
“All souls have one, each unique in its flavor. Though it gets a good cleaning every death in a while, it never loses it, and Crestones get soaked in it.”
“I think I understand.” Simon squinted as he recalled his failed attempts at reactivating Classes he had leveled up in previous reigns. “Crestones notice this scent and use it to connect the holder’s soul to the Worldsoul’s System information, and dryads can use it to track Remembrances.”
“A deduction worthy of the most cunning of minds, Your Deviousness!”
“Can you do the same?” Simon inquired. “Could you use Louis’ Crestone to track his scent?”
“Ah, alas, the good Gourmand has no nose, only an empty belly and a kind mouth!” Gourmand pointed at his skeletal face. “The only smell he can enjoy are those that he eats raw!”
This disappointed Simon, but didn’t surprise him. Gourmand was a demon with no innate connection to the Worldsoul, so he couldn’t track down faraway souls; he only extract all available information by devouring them.
This creature was truly an anomaly as far as demons went. In spite of having a personality, the jester was an utterly empty and soulless entity, to the point he couldn’t even be branded; even the Brand of Pride treated him like an object rather than a living being. Duchar theorized that his mind was a mere shell or mimicry created from assimilating multiple victims’ souls, like a mindless golem emulating life by repeating pre-recorded lines.
This warranted further study.
“If you speak true, then you should be able to absorb the memories of a Crestone’s former wielders the same way I did,” Simon guessed.
“Crestones are empty calories, but yes, the good Gourmand will gladly taste all their flavors. All their memories, their secrets…” The jester grinned wickedly. “All their spells and Techniques…”
Simon’s eyes widened, a vicious idea forming in his mind. “You can learn those from the souls and Crestones you devour?”
“How else did the good Gourmand learn so many tricks, Your Majesty? The good Gourmand might not necessarily be able to emulate and reproduce all that he eats, but he remembers and understands them all.” The demon bowed to his master. “Shall I show you a handful?”