The Hundred Reigns 288: The Five Sovereigns (5)

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Filip’s decision was nothing less than a political earthquake.

The Ranger’s role was to defend the Mage and her Queendom from threats. They were expected to stay within Cocagne’s borders at all times to help against potential invasions, not to leave on a world tour. The news occupied all public discourse during the ball, to the point of it overshadowing Norbelle’s betrothal. 

Reactions were decidedly mixed. Some nobles argued that this was a strong message of appeasement from the royal family’s part, in that they considered the Queendom so safe through its alliance that they could afford to send one of their Nobles Heroes beyond its borders. Others believed it was instead a show of distrust from Remedia, that Filip was being sent into temporary exile after displeasing his wife one too many times. 

Considering how uneasy she had looked with the decision, Simon leaned against that hypothesis for a much simpler one: distrust.

“My guess is that he fears Verdis won’t survive the trip without his presence,” Norbelle confirmed when they discussed the matter in private after the ball concluded, though she immediately dismissed Filip’s presence as unimportant. “He is wrong. I’ll wait for our first child’s birth before I plan his ‘accident.’ One year tops, give or take.”  

“How very patient of you.” 

“Thank you. Besides, it’s not like Filip could stop us anyway.” Norbelle played with one of her curls. “I’m more annoyed that this two-bit dog keeper dared to steal our thunder. Everybody forgot your demon date after her five minutes of infamy.”

Simon had to agree that the ball surprisingly concluded without any large incidents. Alphonse and Satine hadn’t tried to approach Belzemine during the ball, likely out of fear of exposing themselves. 

But they know she’ll likely take part in our world tour, Simon thought. The Oracle will likely try something then. I should expect an ambush of some kind at one point or another, especially since Alphonse loathes me. A pity my Spider Title isn’t selective…

Simon could prepare himself for an inevitable confrontation down the line, where Alphonse’s party would have grown into a dangerous threat throwing everything he had worked for off the rails. 

Or…

“Norbelle.”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to beat up the new Paladin?”

—-----

Lesson number one: Frea could set up nice teleportation wards in a pinch.

Lesson number two: Norbelle could shred through them like tissue paper.

She teleported them—alongside Shabram and Agrat—into the old Magvolian embassy under the cover of Anathemic Secrecy, causing them to appear in the middle of Alphonse’s party discussing the events at the ball. Only Ser Richard was missing, likely because he was too busy impersonating the Paladin in Valne. 

Simon opened hostilities by knocking Frea unconscious with a punch that nearly tore her head off, and it got worse from there. 

Simon would have loved to call it a fight, and to his credit, Heroic Destiny had allowed Alphonse to grow exponentially stronger in a short amount of time. He had become hardy enough to tank a Nova spell from Norbelle and survive… but he had lacked the time to snowball into a real threat. Actually knocking him unconscious without killing had been more of a challenge than their entire physical encounter. 

No wonder the original White Unicorn managed to duel Gargauth for days. Paladins had so many defensive abilities it hurt. 

Thankfully, a Noble Class user only retained passive Perks once separated from their Crestone, and the Paladin’s blanket immunity to physical ailments was an innate one. This meant Simon could easily petrify Alphonse after storing his gear in his Inventory. 

“I have finished charming the guards,” Agrat informed him once they finished Memory-Snatching all the witnesses. “They will believe that the Paladin’s party left the country in a hurry after the ball ended.”

“As nice as it was to relive Dad’s old gardening days, you’re not going to leave them like this, are you?” Norbelle asked.

Simon frowned. “Why?” 

“Hello?” Norbelle raised her thumb at the party of gearless and petrified White Unicorn members in the living room. They looked rather precious, so coated in gold. “They’re still alive, and we don’t get the exp if they survive.”

“I need them alive,” Simon replied. Well, not really, but he didn’t see any point in killing Alphonse’s party when keeping them petrified did the job just fine. Frea might be instrumental in Belzemine’s recovery, Satine could be used to pacify Magvolia’s royalists, and leaving Alphonse alive ensured his Crestone wouldn’t empower someone else. 

Why did Simon never think of just petrifying troublesome people before? It just solved so many future issues, and he could always bring people out of storage when the danger had passed or when he needed them again. 

It was a pity dragons were petrification-proof, or he would have collected Casval and Vouivre too. 

“Come on, Simon, be a good older brother.” Norbelle hopped onto his shoulders, her arms coiling around his neck. “Louis would let me kill them…”

“And that’s why I’m the Overlord, because I think before I kill.” Usually. 

“But since you can raise them as undead right after I’m done, you can have your blood-baked cake and eat it too.”

“That would ruin their value as hostages against the White Unicorn, and cause the Paladin Crestone to move on to another wielder.” Simon looked at his nails the way Norbelle often did. “And here I was considering telling you about that other powerful eidolon in Uyo if you behaved. I guess I’ll have to keep that secret for myself…”

“You’re mean, but that’s why you’re the best too.” Norbelle lightly kissed him on the cheek. “Fine, but don’t forget your bribe or I may have to prune your gold garden.”

“Duly noted,” Simon said before turning to Shabram. “Transfer them to Frightwall’s vaults next to House Malphas. The castle’s miasma will shroud the Oracle’s divinations and obscure their location.”

That should take care of the problem for a while. Since the Paladin Crestone had a nasty tendency to try to escape whenever he opened up his Inventory, Simon intended to run an experiment: seal it inside a summoned creature, then banish them to his torment demiplane. Seeing how long it would take for the stone to escape that dimension and return to Alphonse, if it ever did, would provide valuable intel. 

They could leave with his peace of mind intact. 

—--------------

They left Cocagne in the first week of Pluviose.

The elven bombardment had been successfully averted thanks to Belzemine’s brief return to Frightwall to answer public questions about Balzam’s death, and the disappearance of Alphonse’s party didn’t raise any alarms in Cocagne. It was frighteningly easy for Charm and hypnotic suggestion spells to fill empty holes in a person’s memory. 

A small court thus boarded Norbelle’s personal airship, the Legendary, for the tour with great fanfare. Simon’s sister had skillfully played her cards to ensure the noble houses of Cocagne sent their most promising young daughters and sons on the trip alongside important dignitaries, so she could win them over during the trip for Endymion’s benefit. 

They had a lot of activities planned, from a safari in Uyo as their first stop, to a visit to the empire’s various tributaries and monuments. Norbelle even intended to run a ‘murder mystery’ game sometime during the trip, and blithely refused to confirm to Simon if she would actually kill someone as part of it. 

“Our itinerary will take us to Scaland, Fablan, the Berwick Islands, the Lighthouse, Bujan, Magvolia, and finally back to Cocagne,” Simon informed Belzemine after take off. He had been afforded a small suite he could share with his retainers during the trip. “Is there any place you would like to visit?”

“I will go wherever Your Majesty wishes me to go,” Belzemine replied stoically. “I will enjoy any place you—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Simon cut in with a sigh. It saddened him how Belzemine constantly regressed each time the reigns restarted. Any progress he made with her kept getting erased. 

Artisan of Wonders might provide a solution to that issue. The Crafter had come up with a primitive way of copying memories and emulating personalities with its living dolls, and that technology could combine well with Duchar’s own mind-overwriting helmet. Somehow copying Belzemine’s mind and transferring it to her past self would go a long way towards ensuring her therapy stuck. 

Unfortunately, besides the issue of actually transferring the information across the reigns, Simon doubted the Crimson Throne would allow him to succeed in this endeavor since it would reveal the time-loop’s secret to outsiders. This plan remained safe within the confines of his mind until he could find a way to implement it, if at all. 

“How about meeting an old friend, like Frea?” Simon suggested. The mention of her old friend caused Belzemine to tense up. “Would you like to see her?”

Simon could simply brand Frea to compel her to go along with the therapy without causing a ruckus, though the ghastly irony of enslaving one elf to free another wasn’t lost on him, nor desirable. Artisan of Wonders and Devil Forgemaster immediately suggested modified versions of the Crafter’s own bomb implant as an alternative, which Simon wasn’t sure was actually an improvement over the Brand of Pride besides the fact they could be surgically removed.

The more he thought about it, the more it sounded like a bad idea. It would just teach Belzemine that she and Frea could only be together as slaves. That would be counterproductive for her therapy.

“I…” Belzemine shifted in her seat uneasily. “If Your Majesty wishes it.”

Simon already knew the real answer. Part of her wanted to meet with her old friend again, and another was too ashamed to do so after everything she did under Mardok’s influence. He cast Heart’s Desire on her after a moment’s hesitation in order to get a better hold on her true wish, in case he could reach her this way. 

He half-expected to see Belzemine with her revived family, all the trauma she went through erased from existence; but another part of him feared he would see her worshiping the Overlord as the great god around which her existence revolved.

He was wrong. The reality was much simpler and more horrifying: Belzemine’s desire took the shape of her own corpse, lying at her master’s feet. 

Her truest wish was for the Overlord to give her his permission to die. 

Oh, Belzemine… The depth of her sorrow and despair never failed to wound Simon deeply. You deserve life more than you think. 

Simon had done many terrible things across the reigns, but when future generations would judge his actions, he hoped they would say mending her mind was his greatest and most selfless triumph. 

“Do you want me to take it away?” Simon asked. “The pain?”

Belzemine frowned. “Take it away?”

“Your memories. Those awful horrors Mardok, Gargauth, and my loathsome worm of a father put you through.” Simon took a deep breath. “Do you want me to take them away?” 

“I… I would not want to become useless—”

“You won’t,” Simon reassured her. “I will leave your skills untouched, so that you may continue to serve me. I’m talking about taking away the pain that troubles your mind.”

There was nothing inherently noble about trauma. It did not build character, or make someone a better person down the line, nor did it serve a higher purpose. Misery was just misery, nothing more.  

Belzemine remained quiet for a moment, a haunting shadow passing over her face before the answer came so low as to be a mere whisper. 

“Yes.” She gulped and stared at the ground to avoid meeting Simon’s gaze. He could hear the suppressed sob in her voice. “Yes.”

“Very well.” Simon had mastered Memory Snatcher enough for him to be confident in his ability to psychically cut out traumatic moments without causing too much damage to her mental health. “Since a mind tries to quickly fill any void, we’ll start removing those awful thoughts one at a time during the trip so the loss doesn’t overwhelm you. I’ll have Lorimor constantly document your situation and recovery to ensure everything goes perfectly.” 

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” There was no gratitude in her answer, only defeatism and resignation. 

Belzemine had confessed so many horrors to him during their stay in the Sanctuary that it might be difficult to know where to even start, but there would come a time when he looked into her heart to find only joy.

He would cut out everything else. 

A telepathic signal intruded upon his thoughts. “Your Majesty.” It was the spirit he had sealed into Laurent’s ring. “You should come over. Something’s weird going on with my wearer.”

—----------

The Legendary made its first stop at an Uyo border port, where Norbelle, Verdis, and Filip went on a grand hunt. Endymion kept a monster reserve here for safaris, though only Louis and Dassein made much use of it. 

Instead of joining in, Simon had one of his minions use Overlord Call to summon him to Telluria, where Laurent had established a base in the last few weeks. He and his cattle-warrior had been quite busy, having promptly pressganged Palian’s bat-tribe into their army and then having them abduct human caravans across the region. 

It only took a single step inside the shifters’ old cave and a glance at the things within to realize that the situation had indeed taken a weird turn.

“So, let me get this straight,” Simon said, trying to put his thoughts in order. “After preliminary analysis of your current situation, you realized you lacked the numbers to challenge Vouivre or Dassein and went on an enslavement spree.”

“Laurent does not enslave,” his golem corrected him, “he conscripts.”

“Uh huh, so you came upon the brilliant idea of brewing a Chimera-type mutagen—” Information that Simon would remove from all following Overbot iterations, “—to merge captive human merchants with cows.”

“Laurent is making progress.” The golem proudly pointed at a misshapen spider-shaped creature with eight human hands and a cow head, then to a minotaur with hands for feet and human eyes for nostrils. “Every mutagen dip brings our test subjects closer to bovine perfection.”

“Uh huh, uh huh, which begs the question.” Simon cleared his throat. “Why? Why cows?”

“Humans are unruly and treacherous; cattle are full of love for their shepherd; Laurent is the world’s shepherd, and Brimir is his farm.”

Simon wasn’t sure he wanted to ask, but did it anyway. “And?”

“Thus world peace will be achieved once Laurent turns every man, woman, and child on Brimir into a COW!”

…

…

…

Well… that was an insane and absurd plan, if somewhat… if somewhat grandiose in its lunatic ambition… and clearly the result of a deep, deep malfunction with its personality. Some wrong patterns must have slipped into the memory core and polluted Simon’s thoughts with some dark, corruptive force. Such a mad scheme would never cross his mind. 

That was no different than Vouivre’s deranged plan to build a dragon army or Lauriane’s Fleshplague, and it shamed Simon that one of his own creations would copy it. He clearly needed to add more ethical parameters. 

And why was everyone obsessed with making bioweapons? It was the third time this had happened!

Simon considered triggering Laurent’s failsafe and scrapping it so he could build a saner version of the Overbot, when he glimpsed the bliss in the bovine abominations’ gazes; the way they looked at him not as a man, but as a god.

I mean… there are clear incremental improvements, Simon thought as he studied these creatures. His crafting Perks immediately suggested many ways to correct their flaws, like mechanical implants or demon-infused grafts. A few more tweaks might result in a functional minotaur…

Obviously… obviously turning everyone into cows would be a horrible outcome for the world, which ran contrary to his self-therapy, but for some people… For some people, becoming a cow would be a major improvement. 

Someone like Filip would certainly be happier as a full bull than half a man…

“No, no, no, this is a bad idea!” Simon said, both to himself and his golem; which caused the cow mutants to moo in disappointment and made rejecting them all the harder. He couldn’t allow another Chrom Cruak situation. “Scrap this plan and go back to the drawing board!”

“Reassessing priorities…” Laurent immediately came up with a counterproposal. “What about goats? Are goats allowed?”

“No, they aren’t!”

“What if it is consens—”

“Turning people into animals, bad! Uplifting animals, good!” Simon explained in very simple terms. “I’ll brand your victims to ensure they can transform back and then wipe their memories, but you better come up with a better plan.”

“Reassessing priorities… coming up with a new plan…” Laurent turned to his minions. “Fetch me the beasts of this land for immediate domestication.” 

“How many, oh great metal shepherd?” 

Laurent clenched its fist and raised it dramatically. “All of them.”

Simon Magnos was starting to think Overbots weren’t such a good idea, after all...