The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 163: The Sanctuary in the Sky (12)

“–so Vouivre’s supporters were kicked out of Telluria?” Simon’s hands sank into his iron throne’s armrests in the depths of the Forbidden Keep’s cathedral. “And the Necromancer’s fleet was repelled?”

“Voltobauta himself escaped, but Valne’s forces were almost entirely crushed,” Shabram confirmed. “Princess Lauriane used the miasma crystals we confiscated in Bujan, Magvolia, and Telluria to fuel the creation of new warbeasts that devastated the Valnean League’s military forces. It is only a matter of time before we retake Scaland and push into Lore.”

Simon was now certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that Vouivre’s bid for the Crimson Throne was doomed the moment House Magnos decided to unify against its common enemies rather than fall into civil war. Though she still might have been able to salvage the situation had Simon not shared the demonbarrows’ locations with Shabram.

It didn’t surprise him that Lauriane would find uses for the Zodiac crystals. The Alchemist could create wonders just like the Crafter, and Simon’s Devil Forgemaster Perk let him use miasma to create devastating weapons or automatons. Endymion’s forces and advanced facilities could churn out more of those than he could produce on his own.

The War Party benefits the most from this, Simon thought. Endymion will survive, but at the cost of Louis taking the throne… no doubt as Shabram planned. Euphemia will be backed into a corner soon.

“What about Fablan’s demonbarrow?” Simon inquired. “Did you find anything in the Royal Mausoleum?”

“We confirmed that a miasma crystal was sealed there, but stolen by intruders before we could force our way in.”

“The Cobweb’s doing,” Simon guessed. Their plan to put one of their agents in the Monk’s inner circle after slaying his apprentices must have succeeded and granted them access to the mausoleum. “Still nothing on that front?”

“The organization has unfortunately proved to be excellent at tying up loose ends and covering its tracks. My spies in Lore also indicate Count Verney has vanished.” Which at least suggested that Alphonse’s group had investigated him. “I suspect they had a hand in the failed Goetia Research Facility break-in last month, but nothing conclusive.”

“Those cowards must have fled to Lore and Muse.” The bulk of the Bert Trading Company operated in those regions. “At least the war seems to be going well so far.”

“So far,” Shabram repeated with pessimism. “Prince Louis is on the ascendancy. I fear Empress Euphemia will either strike soon to prevent him from gathering too many military assets, or that she won’t to avoid a defeat and let him drag the empire into one unsustainable conflict after another. Lord Maublanc spent the last council meeting arguing that our current advance into the western continent is unsustainable, and will drag both Muse and Illusea into the war.”

“He’s probably right, but he’s preaching to the wrong crowd,” Simon commented. “Louis only cares about levels, not territory.”

“I am starting to believe he would rather rule a battlefield than an empire,” Shabram admitted with a mental sigh. “I pray Princess Lauriane and Prince Dassein will help him see reason, or that Your Majesty will reconsider their stance and return.”

Simon considered her plea. It had been half a year since he moved to the Sanctuary after sharing information about the Zodiac Fiends with the world’s major factions, and they had proved more interested in weaponizing those baleful demons and continuing their petty feuds rather than dealing with the upcoming threat. Louis’ wars would soon engulf nations that had so far avoided a direct confrontation with Endymion like Muse and Illusea, truly turning the entire world into a battlefield. Sensible heads failed to prevail.

Simon had considered strife an inevitability of human nature, but seeing the Sanctuary with his very own eyes had made him reconsider. A certain question had been nagging him for some time now…

“How would you make our empire a sanctuary, Shabram?” Simon asked.

“A… sanctuary, Your Majesty?”

“Imagine a land free of conflict, where there are no slaves nor nobles, and where every man eats his fill. A country whose citizens can live in peace and contentment.” Simon clasped his hands. “How would you turn our empire into this?”

Shabram remained silent for a moment, either because she was genuinely considering his question or trying to find a way to tell him nicely that such a thing was impossible. Simon didn’t expect a correct answer, having failed to come up with one himself so far. He was just interested in hearing her approach to the problem.

“I would eliminate anyone who doesn’t fit Your Majesty’s chosen mold,” Shabram replied bluntly, before outlining her plan. “Strengthen imperial intelligence to better isolate and reeducate dissidents before they become a problem, restrict the spread of disruptive ideas through careful censorship and public education programs, and either ensure peace with our neighbors or their subjugation to ensure they do not finance subversive elements.”

In short, she suggested doubling down on imperial oppression and oversight. “You wouldn’t let our people have ideas?”

“Ideas can be more dangerous than weapons, Your Majesty, since the former lead citizens to take up the latter,” Shabram replied. “Creating the heaven you seek within a lifetime would require extreme measures. The truth is that many powerful parties in our empire profit from our wars and inequalities. They will mistake expanding the rights of others as an attack on their own, and react with force.”

“Yes, I assume they would.”

“Moreover, ensuring the economic well-being of all of Your Majesty’s subjects without leading to social stratification would necessitate extremely advanced logistics and a bureaucratic state even more extensive than our empire’s current configuration. This would require purges and aggressive reforms.” Shabram marked a short pause. “I would leave Your Majesty to assess whether the future benefits would outweigh the short-term costs.”

“Yes, that would be my purview.” Simon alone had the privilege of peering into the future to confirm whether his hypothesis was correct, alongside the Oracle. “Thank you for your answer, Shabram.”

“I live to serve.”

“Between us, did my father ever discuss that subject with you?” Simon half-joked.

“No,” Shabram replied with a deadpan tone. “The well-being of his subjects never entered your father’s mind, beyond the use of incentives to fuel internal stability and further conquests.”

Of course Balzam Magnos wouldn’t care about the common good, when he didn’t even care about his own family. His dream was for House Magnos to rule the world. He would have been satisfied planting the manticore flag over a pile of ashes.

“Is Your Majesty contemplating their return?” Shabram asked with a slight dash of hope.

“You have given me much to think about,” Simon admitted. “I cannot return until the Goatfish’s light has gone out of the universe, but… I will consider what to do next.”

Vayan and the council had put him on a forced vacation for that very purpose, after all. He might as well put it to use.

Vayan was right, the Sanctuary was at its most beautiful during the summer.

The tropical heat was such that Simon was forced to mostly go shirtless when not using a Ring of Cursed Flame, with the bright sun illuminating the flying islands, its blooming flowers, and its sparkling lakes. It was truly a brief glimpse of paradise.

“It’s the perfect time of the year to go diving,” Lady Junon informed Simon as she visited him in his home. “The light illuminates the underwater reefs all the way to the depths. You would love it.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Simon replied. He and the girls had planned to take it easy today and rest near the water, so he might as well take it a bit further. “Any spot you would recommend?”

“I would suggest a cove to the west of Boreas.” Was it Simon’s imagination, or did Lady Junon seem a little more impish than usual? “Eole knows the place.”

“I will take your word for it.” Simon crossed his arms. “Might I ask you a personal question, Lady Junon?”

“Certainly,” the dryad replied. “What do you want to know?”

“I’ve been wondering why this place is such a paradise, while the rest of the world isn’t?” Simon admitted. “Being hidden from outside threats is one thing, but the seeds of ambition bloom yet in the likes of Zeal. Why hasn’t any would-be warlord risen to endanger your home?”

“Well… we did have a handful of troublesome cases, especially in the first century,” Lady Junon admitted. “Vayan would give them a stern warning if we couldn’t talk them out of their madness, and sometimes, he had to act with force to maintain peace.”

“I see.” Simon stroked his chin. “Yes, I see how it is. The Sanctuary is a carefully curated garden, and you do need a gardener to pull out the weeds before they ruin it all.”

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Lady Junon smiled sheepishly. “I wouldn’t be so extreme as to call our wayward children weeds, Simon. Such decisions were always taken communally to ensure fairness, and we gave troubled souls all the guidance and chances we could.”

A kind way of doing things, but Simon had the intuition Endymion’s weeds would require a firmer hand to pull out. Still, he banished those thoughts from his mind as Belzemine and Eole finally walked out of the dressing room.

“You took your sweet tim–” Simon froze, his words dying on the tip of his tongue.

Belzemine had always been a lovely woman, but she never particularly took care of her appearance. It was amazing the change that more form-fitting clothes could induce. A crown of bright flowers bloomed atop her braided hair, making her look like a refined artist’s muse.

However, it was Eole that truly left Simon speechless. She had switched out her practical clothes for a white wool bathing gown that showcased her curves, put on golden bracelets that glittered on her arms and legs, and wove her hair with amethysts. He had grown so used to hanging out with Eole as a friend that he had almost forgotten how lovely she was…

“What’s wrong, Simon?” Eole chuckled lightly, while Lady Junon stifled her laughter. “Has our beauty left you speechless?”

“A bit,” Simon admitted. “You both look splendid.”

“Your Majesty is… very kind,” Belzemine replied, holding her hands shyly. Simon had begun to realize her true personality beneath the stoic, emotionless slave mask she had to wear for so long was that of a shy and demure woman, easily embarrassed and always fearful of bothering others. “Lady Eole did most of the work.”

“Nonsense,” Eole replied, “I only revealed what was always there.”

“You look healthier too,” Lady Junon complimented Belzemine. “Your skin is lusher now that you thrive on our mana rather than on foul miasma and depleted manaliths.”

Belzemine avoided the dryad’s eyes and stared at her feet. “His Majesty’s miasma has always been enough to sustain me… I owe him my life…”

“You owe me nothing, and you owe yourself your own happiness,” Simon reassured her. “Shall we go then?”

“You should go to the western cove,” Lady Junon told Eole before winking at her. “I will ensure you have it all for yourself.”

“Thank you kindly, milady.” Eole grabbed Belzemine’s and Simon’s hands. “Let’s go.”

A few hours’ flight later, and the trio found their way to perhaps the most beautiful place Simon had ever laid his eyes upon.

It was indeed technically a cove, but what Lady Junon failed to mention was that the lake was located at the bottom of multiple water-filled calderas forming a stairway of basins feeding each other through waterfalls. The island’s heat warmed up the uppermost ones into steamy baths, while those at the bottom were encircled by a beautiful beach of black sand. A deep diving well surrounded by pale rock covered in shiny corals also caught Simon’s attention.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Eole asked as Simon summoned their belongings from his Inventory, from towels and chairs to their food. “It’ll become awfully crowded in the following weeks, but we can enjoy the quiet for now.”

“It’s beautiful,” Simon conceded. Even the strange fish swimming in the water appeared to greet them with a spectacle of iridescent scales glittering in the sunlight. “But it’s a bit too quiet for my taste.”

Thankfully, Simon had come prepared. He waved his hand and brought out a miasma-powered music box nearly identical to the ones Bert and Verney used against him, the device playing one of Eole’s melodies.

“What a strange and wonderful device,” Eole said, smiling with wonder. She had never seen one before. “Is it copying my voice?”

“I recorded one of our sessions without your knowledge,” Simon said. His Devil Forgemaster Perk had proved surprisingly flexible. All he had to do was approach the music box’s creation as if it were a weapon—which it could serve as, as Bert and Verney proved during their confrontation—for inspiration to strike him. “It’s for you, Eole, if you would have it.”

“Of course I will have it.” Eole kissed him on the cheek, causing Simon’s blood to flush. “It is sweet of you, Simon.”

“Always.” Simon stared at the water basins. “Which one shall we try?”

“I…” Belzemine shifted in place. “I would prefer to rest on the beach if Your Majesty does not mind it…”

“No worries,” Eole reassured her. “I asked Simon to bring along books.”

“I did more than that,” Simon replied as he summoned another item from his Inventory: a small, human-sized miasma-powered golem based on the same model as the ones Boreas’ elves used for hard labor. “Rocky here will fulfill all commands to the best of its ability. Please set up a lounge chair for Belzemine and fan her while she reads.”

“That… that is not necessary…” Belzemine replied uneasily, gulping. “Unless Your Majesty insists…”

“It’s fine,” Simon said as he brought out the books he borrowed from Anaximander. Elven literature was a bit slow to his taste—the romances in particular took forever to resolve—but Belzemine seemed to like it. “Take your pick.”

One hour later, Belzemine managed to relax enough to read Beyond Destination’s End while Rocky fanned her. Simon and Eole went for a quick dive, with the kish proving a surprisingly good swimmer in spite of her wings, before settling in a hot bath basin a few steps above the cove. The warmth and the music box’s songs eased Simon’s nerves and cleared his mind.

“Did you notice, Simon?” Eole peeked at Belzemine below. “She confessed her discomfort rather than immediately going along with your suggestion.”

“Yes. It’s not much, but she’s starting to find her own voice again.” Simon rested his head against a warm rock, staring at the setting sun reddening the horizon. “Mmm…”

“You’re wondering why you didn’t take a break earlier, aren’t you?” Eole guessed with a small grin. “You’re spending most of your time either practicing your magic or brooding in your dark castle–”

“I’m not brooding, I’m crafting,” Simon protested.

“That’s what a brooder would say,” Eole teased him. “Even our band sessions have an ulterior, utilitarian motive in teaching you Performances.”

“I would still hang out with you even if I had nothing to learn.”

“I know, but I don’t think you would like it as much.” Eole rested her head on her hand. “You’re addicted to your Class, aren’t you?”

“I admit I do enjoy the power it gives me,” Simon confessed. He couldn’t exactly deny it anymore. “I do like growing my strength, but I wouldn’t call it an addiction.”

Eole seemed a little concerned, if not a tiny bit disappointed. “I guess I have my answer then,” she said quietly. “You wouldn’t agree to let go of your Class even if we found a way to destroy it.”

The Mana Goddess might beat us to it either way, and I am in no position to stop her if she tries to destroy my Crestone, Simon thought. He wasn’t sure it would even work, considering Noble Crestones could reform from their source archetype.

“I don’t think I would abandon my Class, no,” Simon admitted. “In spite of its cost and the burden it puts on me, I think I’m in a unique position to do incredible good with it.”

“You could also do good with another Class that isn’t evil incarnate, Simon.”

“There are no Classes like the Overlord,” Simon replied. He gazed at his palm and clenched his fist. “Do you understand how fantastically powerful I am, Eole? Gods and demons bend to my will. I can craft machines that know neither pain nor fatigue, weave magic like music, raise the dead to serve the living, and put the wicked in their place.”

And then there were the reigns. Simon could reshape history and the very fate of the world towards the outcome he desired. He had agonized over what that end would be for some time, beyond vague goals like ensuring the world survived the Zodiac Parade and that Belzemine could find happiness, but staying in the Sanctuary had opened his mind to a new possibility.

“I’m just wondering, if your people created a paradise here, why couldn’t I make one down below?” Simon let himself wonder about the future. “I could field armies of golems to take over all of our population’s cruelest labor, freeing peasants from short lives of hard toil. I could abolish slavery for shifters, annihilate the likes of the Cobweb and ensure they can no longer threaten innocents, force demons to serve the common good rather than let them fester like diseases. I could do much with this power.”

“You could, but should you?” Eole looked away, scowling. “I tried to do good on the surface too, thinking I could make a difference as well, and you see how that went.”

“I know, but still, part of me feels I’m avoiding my responsibilities,” Simon replied. The likes of Pallian suffered in slavery, war had come to the empire in spite of his attempts to provide knowledge to various factions, and the Zodiac Fiends were poised to cause untold destruction upon escaping. “No one is stepping up as much as I had hoped.”

Eole turned her head to look at him, her lips pursing into a small smile that betrayed fondness, sorrow, and a tiny bit of hope.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Simon asked with an arched eyebrow. “You think it’s a silly goal?”

“No, because I thought the exact same thing once,” Eole admitted. “I felt a responsibility to our people on the surface, in spite of the fact that my voice is a wicked power. I thought I could… maybe not use it for good, but compensate for it.”

“I think you still can,” Simon encouraged her. “Doing so earlier would have spelled Telluria’s destruction, but Vouivre is on her way out, and the world will change in a way I haven’t foreseen yet. We can write a better future.”

Eole beamed. “You truly think so?”

“Yes, I do,” Simon confirmed. “You’ve risen past level forty in your Songstress Class since we began training, and you might reach fifty by the time we confront Nodens. You have strength now.”

“It’s true I’m no longer the weak girl I was back then.” Eole chuckled to herself. “Shall we depart back to the surface after we slay that Goatfish then?”

“I don’t know,” Simon admitted. “I will make my decision after we defeat Nodens. I love this place, and I could spend a lifetime here, but I still feel an obligation to many on the surface. I guess it’ll depend on how we deal with the Goatfish and how Belzemine recovers.”

“I think I will follow you whatever you pick.” Eole nodded to herself and pulled out of the water. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

A curious Simon followed her to the diving well he had spotted earlier, then followed Eole as she swam headfirst inside. He chased after her underwater and quickly realized the pit wasn’t as deep as it looked. Its shallow bottom opened up on a tunnel which he and Eole dove through before emerging on the other end.

As it turned out, the tunnel opened up into a cave not so different from the one holding Bujan’s mermaid city. Glow-worms provided a measure of soothing light reflecting on red coral paving the walls, enough that Simon could see Eole’s face peeking out of the water.

“What is this place?” Simon wondered, his hand rising out of the water. The glow-worms gathered at his fingers’ approach as if reaching back to him. He could barely hear the music box’s song from here. “It’s beautiful.”

“We call it the wishing well,” Eole said. “Tales say that when two people gather here, they can make a wish that will come true.”

“Two people?” Simon smirked as he suddenly realized why Lady Junon kept this place private for them, and that the well was just barely large enough for two people to fit in. “Is this a couple’s hotspot?”

Eole smirked back at him. “Maybe…”

Simon stared into her silver eyes, then moved his hands to her back. Eole immediately moved up closer to him—having clearly been hoping he would make a move for some time—and put her arms over his neck.

A brief memory of the look of hatred she sent him in the last reign flared in his mind when the light reflected on her face, followed by brief glimpses of the time she tried to make a move on him in Valne and then the moments they shared when infiltrating the Cobweb.

“What’s wrong?” Eole asked, picking up on his hesitation. “If you already have someone–”

“It’s not that,” Simon reassured her. “It’s just… some of the visions I had of you didn’t go well. While we became friends in some, you came to hate me in others.”

“Didn’t you convince me to return home so we could avoid those visions coming to pass?” Eole briefly stroked his hair. “I don’t think we will regret it, Simon.”

“All I’m saying is that I’m not a safe bet,” Simon warned Eole. “This may not end well.”

“Or it will work so well, we’ll wish we had started it earlier,” Eole countered, her wings unfurling to surround him into an embrace he wouldn’t swim away from again. “Either way, if you are right and we only have a handful of months before we must wage a terrible war… then I would rather spend them in bliss.”

Her words spoke to Simon. He was sick of overthinking things. All the Eoles he knew were dead, but the person in front of him was different, alive, and willing. He wanted her too, to seize the moment and ensure they would both enjoy the brief time of respite they had left.

“Yes.” Simon leaned forward to kiss her in the water. “Me too.”

In the end, they completely forgot about their wish.