The Hundred Reigns 247: The Workshop of Wonders (6)

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Euphemia had utterly outplayed Louis. 

Of course, all the information Simon provided certainly made that possible, but the empress had acted superbly. She had confronted Dassein and Lauriane with her accumulated evidence on the crown-prince to shake their faith in him, then set up a public confrontation to try him while her own forces moved to secure his secret airship fleet.

“Her Grace produced House Malphas’ testimony alongside our evidence, then demanded Prince Louis unveil his Armory’s contents and submit to interrogation, to prove he didn’t keep the Mana Sword inside it,” Shabram informed Simon through telepathy. “His refusal was an admission of guilt in itself.”

“I take it he didn’t go to custody peacefully.”

“No. He and supportive generals attempted a coup at that moment, which makes me believe Louis expected an ambush of some kind.”

Simon squinted on his end of the telepathic line. “He was tipped off?”

“I am certain of it, but the lack of assistance from his shaken siblings tipped the scale. His Excellency’s presence and the Commander’s assistance ensured that Her Grace prevailed. Prince Louis barely managed to avoid capture, but even Duke Barbatos will hesitate to shelter him now that most of the War Party has abandoned him.” 

“Especially if Euphemia goes through with our suggestion and offers to broker a marriage between Isabelle and Dassein.” A second son was a downgrade from a crown-prince, but a better party than a disgraced, kinslaying fugitive. “How did Louis avoid capture?”

“Through one of the Attic doors we were monitoring. His supporters stayed behind to give him a few minutes' head start, which allowed him to flee through it and vanish. Both mundane and magical attempts to track him down have failed since.” 

“As I anticipated.” Simon had avoided condemning the Cobweb doors in Frightwall this time around to avoid tipping off the organization that someone was after them and focus his resources on Louis. “This confirms beyond the shadow of a doubt that the Cobweb and Louis have been in contact for a while.”

“It would appear so. The Cobweb must have informed the crown-prince beforehand and set up the escape route ahead of the confrontation.” 

It was easy to figure out that Valravn had eyes on recruiting the crown-prince for a long time. A disgraced Louis was prime host material to merge with the Lion. 

Louis had denied Valravn’s recruitment offer back then, and he looked down on demonic possession as false strength, but the situation had changed. Euphemia was in control of Endymion, not the Overlord. Would Louis remain loyal to House Magnos in those circumstances? Would he find the resolve to hold true to his beliefs after losing everything? 

Either way, Simon had anticipated this possibility and prepared accordingly. 

“Monitor Duke Barbatos,” Simon ordered Shabram. Confirming whether or not the latter would accept a compromise and drop Louis once properly motivated would greatly affect Simon’s strategy in future reigns. “Watch over known Attic doors and Cobweb hotspots in case Louis appears there, and start dripping information about the Cobweb to Euphemia according to our schedule. Now that Louis is allied with them, she can direct her full attention to the organization.”

“We would have an easier time finding him if we captured Cobweb operatives or entered the Attic ourselves.” 

“I don’t want to alert them that we can access their base of operations yet.” Displaying his hand too fast and too much was what caused the Cobweb, Louis, and Vouivre to form an alliance upon realizing they had a hidden enemy targeting them all. Thankfully, he had a plan to stop that from happening… “We must boil the frog and make it believe the water warms naturally, or else it will realize it has a hidden foe. Move more agents to Cocagne too. I suspect the Cobweb might increase its activities there in the near future.”

Remedia’s castle and the demon within would become a prime target if Louis decided to join the Cobweb. He couldn’t do more than share some intel without risking tipping his hand more, but he could at least keep a close watch on this region. 

For now, Euphemia would be busy solidifying her power, hunting down Louis’ supporters, and dealing with Vouivre. Simon would check how Illusea reacted to this development and adapt accordingly. As much as Velvet’s interference didn’t sit well with him, her opposition to Bert and Verney’s side of the Cobweb might give him an opportunity to monitor their activities… whether she liked it or not. 

“I’ll move on with the next part of the plan,” Simon decided. “Have you finished sowing the false paper trail?”

“Yes. Your sister has been pushing me for answers about your current location.”

“And you will give them soon.” It annoyed Simon to deceive Lauriane this way, but better safe than sorry. He couldn’t risk anybody tracking him down to Muse. “I’ll contact you again before long.”

Simon cut off the telepathic contact and returned back to Duchar’s lair, to find himself staring at his own corpse.

It was perfect, down to the last minute detail; a perfect copy only a man of Duchar’s talent could craft. He had even reproduced old bruises Thalas had inflicted on Simon and that never healed properly, and the enchantments Belzemine wove into the flesh would fool attempts at divining the corpse’s true nature. 

However, his work paled compared to their other project. Simon had teleported to the archive the moment Duchar informed him they were nearly done, and he wasn’t disappointed. The golem body they had crafted for Hector was truly terrifying, a great colossus of black steel and spikes, with a cloak of miasma trailing down from his shoulders and eyes burning with hellfire runes.

In short, he looked every bit like the Overlord he would pretend to be. 

Although his family was currently chasing a ghost, the missing Simon Magnos might become an obvious suspect should they fail to find a Laurent Linconnu with the Overlord Class… so Simon would give them one. Shabram had already planted false evidence about one such individual’s presence in one of Telluria’s frontier towns. 

“Now that you have joined my party, Hector, my Anathemic Secrecy will ensure you can trick divinations. This should fool any observer when combined with your new armor’s ability to mimic some of my Perks. You are now my body double, my…” Simon chuckled to himself. “Fakelord.” 

Duchar scowled. “I would rather not put my son at risk.”

“We won’t. I have selected a few areas for him to publicly devastate without consequences.” This included hostile shifter tribes' encampments, monster dens, and other areas Simon knew neither Vouivre nor Endymion had much of a presence in. “When rumors of the Overlord being in Telluria reach the various factions’ ears, they will move their forces into the region… at which point you’ll disappear, leaving behind a mystery that will never get solved.”

“Until… I reappear elsewhere…” Hector guessed. “Far, far away.”

“Yes. We’ll make it look like you’re traveling around in an attempt to level-up. I’m thinking of Uyo or Scaland next, to muddy the trail.” 

“But why?” Duchar inquired, likely out of paternal worry. “Your Majesty is clearly mighty indeed. Why weave such a complex web of deceit and secrecy?”

“Because it will confuse and disorient my foes. The more they believe in an Overlord Linconnu, the less likely they are to see me coming when I am finally ready to strike.” Meanwhile, Simon’s ‘corpse’ would be planted elsewhere to make it seem like he had been assassinated on his way to the Academy weeks ago. “There is still time for you to back out of this plan, Hector, if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

His retainer dutifully shook his head. “No… I owe Your Majesty a debt for restoring my mind to me.”

“Then I assure you your loyalty won’t go unrewarded.” There might come a day when Simon could give him a living body of flesh and allow him to reunite with Lauriane. “I look forward to hearing your exploits in the newspapers.”

—-------

The month of Pluviose passed without incident. 

Simon alternated between working on the pictobox, hanging out with the Coil couple, and practicing his Techniques in secret in his underground lab. He had almost entirely mastered both Arrow-Snatcher and Lightning Hammer by now, which should free up some time for him to finally explore his new Devil Forgemaster crafting options. 

He actually managed to complete a working pictobox prototype within two weeks, though it didn’t entirely capture colors yet and required manalith sheets to work. Taking the shape of a black box with a manalith eye, it channeled light into a dark chamber inside and ‘printed’ it on a fine sheet of mana-powdered metal. 

Diamante had been extremely pleased with the prototype. “So clients will need to buy those manalith sheets to print more images?”

“Yes,” Magda confirmed. “We haven’t found a good name for them yet.”

“Pictopies? Pictosheet…” Diamante snapped his fingers. “Pictures. Now that’s catchy.”

“After Pictomancers?” Simon guessed. 

“Yes, yes, people love Pictomancers. They’re all the rage in the capital. Pictomancy with the press of a button… art in the palm of your hand… they will sell like honeycakes.” Diamante rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “We’ll begin production of the monochrome pictobox immediately.”

“But why?” Magda asked in disbelief. “Simon should have a finished colored version by the time the Exposition arrives. Why sell an incomplete product?”

Diamante’s smile had all the sweetness of rancid butter. “Because that way, we can reveal the colored version at the Exposition, and sell it all over again at an inflated price.”

Diamante might not have been an engineer, but he was a true master at parting people from their money. Simon would bet he could become a terrific Merchant. 

Neither Coil nor Magda had been too thrilled about the plan, but Diamante swore he would pay them all their royalties for any version of the device and give Coil Futuristics its share of the credit. They couldn’t exactly say no to more cash flow. 

Velvet had yet to show up again, and Diamante said she was busy on the eastern continent when Simon asked him about her whereabouts. Simon guessed the new developments in Endymion monopolized her and her sister’s attention in the short-term, though he knew she would inevitably visit him again.  

News about the chaos in the east slowly trickled down to Muse. Euphemia had assumed power in Endymion and issued a colossal bounty on Louis, who remained unaccounted for. Duke Barbatos had folded and agreed to betroth Isabelle to Dassein instead, causing the War Party to more or less collapse. 

The Fakelord strategy had otherwise worked perfectly. Rumors of a Laurent Linconnu Overlord active in Telluria drew imperial scrutiny and caused Vouivre to grow a little too bold by half in her attempts to track ‘Laurent Linconnu’ down. A conflict over Telluria was now all but guaranteed. 

Meanwhile, ‘Simon Magnos’ received a small funeral only attended by Anna, her father, Lauriane, and Dassein, according to Shabram. His sister had apparently cried over his coffin, which saddened Simon and caused him some concern. He knew firsthand how Lauriane could… overreact in such circumstances. Shabram had muddled the waters to avoid fingering a single suspect—at least until it became convenient to frame Vouivre, the Cobweb, or anybody else—but he hoped his sister wouldn’t act on any assumptions. 

Simon hoped he could eventually contact Lauriane and tell her everything in time, and that her grief would die out. 

“Have you seen this?” Magda asked as they read the day’s newspaper over a cup of warm tea. Hanging out at a teashop near the Blackmill had become something of a weekly ritual for them, and become all the more appreciable in these cold winter days. “Illusea has reopened diplomatic communications with Endymion.”

“I’ve seen,” Simon replied with slight annoyance. “I don’t know what to make of it.”

According to Shabram, Euphemia had taken a leaf out of his book and sent Elaine to act as an ambassador to Illusea… except the Oracle actually replied rather than spit in her face like she did with Simon. An elven-White Unicorn joint delegation had arrived in Endymion to discuss a potential peace treaty; a potentially historic development.   

Of course, the Oracle had also kept quiet about the Zodiac Fiends so far, and the concessions she asked for ranged from releasing House Malphas and ending persecution against dryad cults, to hunting down the current Overlord and returning Belzemine to Illusean hands. 

Negotiations would be slow since Euphemia couldn’t accept most of these terms without offending Mastemo, but Simon knew all of them were mere diversions from the Oracle’s true plan. No doubt that treacherous seer would agree to a ‘compromise’ on religious issues so long as House Malphas and Belzemine were returned to her, at which point she would leave Endymion in peace until the Zodiac Parade rained fire upon the empire.

Although it annoyed him to his core, Simon was tempted to let negotiations unfold for now. If the Oracle remained silent about her evacuation plan even after Endymion abandoned the Overlord and its warlike ways, then any attempt at peace was indeed doomed; if she spoke up, then there might be a possibility for a settlement in the future. 

“I don’t know either,” Magda admitted. “On one hand, a peace treaty would prevent Muse from being dragged into a worldwide war, but on the other hand… we’ll be rewarding Endymion’s aggression. They don’t even mention your home country in the news.” 

“Yes… I don’t think I’ll return to Magvolia anytime soon.” 

Simon heard a familiar click nearby and looked up from his paper. Snow had begun to fall on Lampwick in Pluviose and now blanketed the city in white in these early Ventose days. A well-dressed man was taking pictures of his family posing in front of a rather whitened Blackmill with his pictobox. 

“Seems my invention has found some success,” Simon mused. He usually saw one or two ‘pictotakers’ a day when walking down the street, as locals had begun to call them. 

“You don’t know half of it.” Magda grinned ear to ear. “I’m told the first batch has sold out and that people in the capital all want one. We’ll have recouped our advance by next month.”

“That’s wonderful news.” Simon hadn’t expected the device to catch such popularity so quickly. “We can use the royalties to pay back Coil Futuristics’ debts.”

“What, no!” Magda shook her head. “You should get the lion’s share of the money, Simon, not our usurers. The pictobox was your idea.”

“My idea, our device. The pictobox was a Coil Futuristics project and we all did our part.” Besides, these two deserved to get out of poverty. “Just give me a raise and better equipment once we’ve finished.”

Magda wouldn’t hear any of it. “You’ve a kind lad, Simon, but you don’t know what you would be giving up on by surrendering your royalties. I know, I’ve been there.”

“Then let’s split them three ways after our debts are covered,” Simon suggested. “Would that be agreeable?”

Magda gave him a smile full of warmth and affection. “Jym and I are lucky to have you, Simon. If we ever have a son one day, I hope he’ll grow up to be like you. You’re the best thing that happened to us in a very long time.” 

There was something enchanting about a kind woman looking so blissfully happy with her teacup in hand, steam rising out of her warm drink into the cold winter air. Simon felt… inspired.

“You know what, Magda, would you like to be in the world’s first colored picture?” Simon asked as he brought a pictobox out of his bag; a red one, bulkier and heavier than the others. “For posterity’s sake.”

“Have you and Jym found a way to render colors already?” Magda mused. 

“Yes and no. This version captures colors perfectly, but we can’t commercialize it.” Too many curses woven in its mechanism. “You know miasma and mana synergize when used together, right?”

“I do. One of my biggest regrets about my chicken studies is that I couldn’t check what happens when they’re exposed to both miasma and mana for a long time.”

“Uh? Why?”

“Because mana and miasma can’t coexist in an environment for long. One eventually overtakes the other until it creates a uniform environment. We couldn’t reproduce a long-term equilibrium in our labs.” Magda studied the device. “Does this pictobox use both?”

“Yes. The crystal producing the light is a manalith piece, but it imprints the picture on a miasma-tainted sheet instead. I’ve only tested it on objects and animals so far—” If slimes and giant rats counted as such, “—but the early results are pretty good.”

“And I would be the first human picture?” Magda chuckled. “Trying to steal my soul, are you?”

“You know that’s nonsense.” A soul-stealing pictobox only existed in Simon’s imagination for now, and he had no intention of building one yet.

“I’m teasing you, Simon.” Magda posed with her teacup. “Anytime.”

Simon pointed the pictobox at her and took a picture. The device clicked as it immortalized the memory on a metal sheet, rendering it perfectly. Magda was the perfect representation of the Musan lady, wise and fashionable. 

“I didn’t remember being this…” She frowned all of a sudden, her stare lingering on something in the background of her picture. “Elegant…”

Simon blinked as he followed her gaze. The pictobox had caught a few tables behind Magda in the picture, showcasing clients sipping their tea or looking at the snow. Most looked entirely normal, so much so that he almost missed it.

The man with a face of wood.

One of the customers had an eerie white mask for a visage, lacking ears and a nose, yet having steel teeth and glass eyes. Only his chic suit helped identify his gender. 

Simon glanced at the table in question and quickly identified the man by his clothes. He looked utterly normal, sipping his tea while reading his newspaper. If he had noticed Simon’s gaze, he pretended otherwise. 

“Is… is this an error in the picture?” Magda asked, her voice a little quieter than before. “A miasmic impurity?” 

No, it’s Bert. Simon’s blood ran cold. That man is Bert in disguise, stalking us.

Or so he thought at first glance before studying the picture more closely. Bert’s true form had teeth and black buttons for eyes, not glass. If his picture had pierced through his flayed skin disguise, then it should have perfectly represented those features too. 

Doubt gnawed at Simon’s heart. “Stay here,” he told Magda as he rose from his seat and grabbed the pictobox. “I need to check something.”

“Alright…” his friend replied, her smile long gone. 

Simon moved onto the street and raised his pictobox to take a landscape shot of the entire teashop. Dozens of clients were gathered on its terrace tables, a few of them smiling or waving at him once he pressed the pictobox’s button. 

Checking the picture confirmed two things. First of all, the man from earlier once again showed up on it as a mechanical creature rather than a being of flesh and blood, confirming this wasn’t an error in the picture. 

And second, he wasn’t the only one.

Another person in the crowd, a woman, was smiling at her husband with golden teeth while holding his arm with porcelain fingers. She looked no different from the Turks used to advertise the Blackmill, except she looked utterly normal when Simon stared at her real self. Not even an anti-illusion Prayer like Clear Eyes changed that after he muttered the incantation under his breath. 

“Simon?” Magda asked with a deep frown. She could tell something was very, very wrong. “What’s going on?”

Simon Magnos was wondering the exact same thing.

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