Chapter 102: The Cocagne Affair (2)

“So your grand plan to take over the Queendom…” Simon shuddered, “Is to pimp me out?”

“Pimp out?” Norbelle raised an eyebrow. “Who said anything about you getting paid for your good work?”

Simon resisted the urge to facepalm. “That cannot possibly be your plan…”

“My ideal plan would be to push a young, handsome prince with superior Magnos blood into Remedia’s bed,” Norbelle replied. “Dassein would have been my pick, maybe my dear brother Thalas if all else failed. We could have then presented Cocagne with the same tributary vassal deal we offered Fablan, Scaland, and Bujan beforehand.”

“And you could break off your engagement with Prince Puppy.”

“That is a sacrifice I am ready to make, and for which I will be eternally thankful for.”

“That plan is doomed to fail from the start,” Simon argued. “Only Cocagnian citizens can become the Queen’s consort, which means we imperial foreigners are excluded. Moreover, I am a bastard without a Noble Crestone. I am no match for a queen.”

“Simon, my poor, naive Simon, you don’t understand.” Norbelle smiled smugly. “We don’t need a marriage, or even for someone to seduce Remedia. We just need to make Filip feel threatened enough that he will slip up and do something stupid.”

Simon’s eyes widened as he put two and two together. “Ah, I see. You plan to sideline the Militarists.”

Norbelle nodded, her wicked grin widening. “I have been watching Filip closely since the moment I arrived. The man may project an image of strength, but deep down, he feels deeply insecure about his position. He has failed to sire a daughter to keep the royal bloodline going, and I hear the royal couple hardly shares a bedroom nowadays. I’ve also caught Remedia paying close attention to the more handsome members of her Wildguard when she thought no one was looking, though she stops just shy of acting on her whims.”

Times like this reminded Simon that Norbelle was truly her father’s daughter. And she also shared Louis’ uncanny perceptiveness when it came to detecting human weaknesses.

“Since Cocagne is a Queendom, all criticisms are pointed Filip’s way,” Norbelle concluded. “He has no shortage of competitors inside the country lusting for his throne and wife. The mere threat of the queen entertaining an affair with a foreign imperial… now that will drive him up the wall.”

“You’ll plant evidence of an affair even if nothing happens, to ensure a scandal and further drive a wedge between the factions,” Simon guessed.

“Either Filip will walk away shamed by horns too big for his head, or the Militarists will do something stupid that will give us an excuse to sideline them,” Norbelle confirmed. “We’ll see if Remedia takes a liking to you. Failing that, Cocagne has a few ‘moderate’ noble houses unaffiliated with either the Militarists or Autonomists, and who could swing our way with the right incentive.”

“Like a marriage to a Magnos prince.” Simon scoffed, his arms crossed. “A pity I was born on the wrong side of the blanket.”

“We’ll give you some piece of land to call your own, name you a baron or count, and call it a day. Cocagne’s nobles don’t put as much weight on birthright as those in Endymion.” Norbelle played with her hair. “It could be your best chance to leave the empire and House Magnos behind. You can thank me for it later.”

Did she honestly think that would sweeten the deal for him? Then again, Norbelle only knew the Simon Magnos who had wanted nothing more than to get out of Frightwall and vanish. That boy was gone the day he became the Overlord.

This implied she didn’t know the truth, or at least hadn’t dreamed of it yet. Simon guessed his best bet to get a handle on Norbelle would be to bait her. She hadn’t actively tried to kill him in any reign—besides that time when they ended up on opposing sides of the Goetia Research Facility’s siege—and she was the kind of person who liked to poke things with a stick to see how they reacted.

“What can you tell me about Remedia as a person?” Simon inquired.

“She’s a wise woman, wise enough to see the writing on the wall,” Norbelle said. “She has watched Father topple one kingdom after another until Cocagne became a fortress surrounded on all sides, and she has no daughter to take over after her. She knows we could conquer her land too, even if it would cost us, and that her demise might throw the country into civil war; so she tries to placate us without surrendering her crown.”

Which explained her support for the Church Party when all hell broke loose. Leaving the War Party in power meant Cocagne would face an invasion the moment their own civil war concluded. A plan began to form in Simon’s mind, though it would mean altering his anti-elf conspiracy plot.

“What of her faith?” Simon inquired. “I know Cocagne is multicultural, but what of her private beliefs?”

“She is a follower of a syncretic, polytheistic branch of the Holy Orthodoxy that puts the Light as the supreme deity and eidolons such as the Phoenix as lesser gods, though her faith is secondary to politics.” Norbelle raised an eyebrow. “Why that question, silly brother of mine?”

“I may have an idea on how to get in her good graces,” Simon replied with a thin smile. Her belief in the Light, however grounded in practicality, opened up an opportunity. “Can you arrange an audience with her?”

Now he had aroused her curiosity. “What do you have in mind?”

“No, no, it wouldn’t be any fun if you knew beforehand, sister,” Simon teased her. “I can guarantee you it will be very funny.”

As he guessed, Norbelle couldn’t resist the lure of novelty. “What has changed about you, Simon?” She asked, a finger on her lower lip. “Since when have you become interesting?”

“You will find out soon enough,” Simon replied, smiling ear to ear. “Can it be arranged?”

“Maybe… Remedia often visits her son’s training sessions, which is why I planned to showcase you then… see if she liked the goods.” Norbelle bolted out of her seat and then leaned in close to Simon’s ear. “For our sake, I hope she likes what she sees…”

She will, sister, Simon thought. I guarantee that.

Cocagne’s royal family loved to train in the palace’s royal gardens.

According to Norbelle, part of the King-Consort’s duties was to lead the Queen’s personal guard, the aptly named Wildguard; each of whom carried a Ranger Vassal Class. That responsibility fell to the eldest prince should his father ever be incapacitated.

Simon and Norbelle arrived to find Verdis sparing with his father under the watch of royal bodyguards and an enormous silver wolf bigger than a warhorse. Simon immediately spotted the family resemblance between them: same brown hair shaved on the sides, same aquiline nose, except that Filip had a goateed face and a handful of fierce scars. He looked vigorous, especially in his wool and leather ensemble that fit a hunter better than a king. He easily disarmed his son with a swing of his curved wooden waster.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Verdis? Control my central line,” the King said before spotting the Magnos siblings. “Princess.” His shrewd, brown eyes squinted at Simon. “Lord Simon, I presume?”

Simon had spent enough time around the likes of Thalas that he could tell that the man had taken an immediate dislike of him, which was solidified when the silver wolf spoke up.

“That one is a trained killer, brother,” the wolf said. “I can see it in his eyes and he walks like a manticore on the hunt. Don’t drop your guard around him.”

Nobody reacted to those accusations except for Filip, who nodded to himself. Simon guessed the Ranger gained a Passive Perk similar to the Overlord’s ability to understand all languages.

“A pleasure to meet you, King Filip,” Simon said with a polite bow and a smile, his eyes turning to the wolf. “Is this your animal companion?”

“Chastel has been my blood-brother for over sixteen years, yes,” Filip said while assessing Simon the way a huntsman would size up a deer. “Why have you come here?”

“To help Verdis’ training, Father,” Norbelle replied sweetly, though Filip scowled when she called him that. “My brother was trained in Endymion’s style of combat. I thought he could become a great sparring partner.”

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“Of course!” Verdis replied eagerly, swinging his training sword at Simon. “Do you know how to handle a sword?”

“I prefer the morning star myself, or a mace,” Simon admitted, “But I can handle myself with a sword.”

“We shall see about that,” Filip said sharply, nodding at a guard who then tossed a waster to Simon. “Begin.”

The ‘spar’ lasted less than a minute, which was roughly the time it took for Verdis to run at Simon while screaming like a berserker, tripping when Simon dodged and kicked him in the leg, and then having a waster pointing at his throat.

“Ouch!” Prince Verdis complained with a grin. “You could have gone easy on me in front of Norbelle!”

“I doubt an enemy will go easy on you, should you have the misfortune of facing a foe seeking your life,” Simon warned him before offering his hand. “You rushed in too fast. Try to size up the enemy and wait for an opening.”

“Wise words,” Filip said, though his compliment had no warmth to it. “You have been well-trained, Prince Simon.”

Norbelle smiled mischievously. “I dare say even you would be no match for him, Father.”

It was a lie, and obviously a trap, but Filip couldn’t exactly take that not-so-subtle jab lying down in front of his son and guards. “Is that so?” he asked, readying his own training waster. “I shall be the judge of that.”

Simon exchanged a glance at Norbelle, who winked and briefly looked up. He followed her gaze to a balcony on the fourth floor.

A goddess stood there, watching with two golems standing side by side behind her.

Simon was briefly at a loss for breath when he saw the ethereal, divine creature observing him from above. Standing nearly six-feet in height with a curvaceous body that put Euphemia, Cassandra, and Anna combined to shame, she had pristine skin and a lush figure that her silken dress and purple-blue regal mantle revealed and covered in just the right ratio to inflame desire. Her lilac eyes were like stars fluttering above her fan, her long purple hair tied into an elegant bun held by a crystal tiara, and her unblemished face the fairest Simon had ever seen. A necklace of over a dozen Crestones bound together glittered around her neck beneath two golden manalith earrings.

She has to be using a spell to bolster her beauty, Simon thought, though no notification warned him that his Indomitable Crown had stopped an alluring enchantment or glamour. No wonder Balzam was obsessed with her.

“My queen,” Filip said with a bow, quickly imitated by everyone present.

“Mother!” Verdis sheepishly scratched the back of his head. “Did you see me?”

“I did, Verdis. There is no shame in yielding to a superior opponent, so long as you learn from it.” Damn it, even her voice had a seductive, feline quality to it, and her smile had a genuine warmth to it. “Please, do not let my presence distract you.”