Chapter 21: Wings of the Dragonlord (5)

Casval was a shadow of his sister.

Simon could tell the difference in the way she quickly absorbed the incredible news of his father’s death and regained her composure, her thoughts immediately turning back to practical matters.

“If your father is dead, who rules in the capital?”

“Euphemia and Louis,” Simon replied. He knew his retainers might take it the wrong way, but the more sensitive information he shared with Vouivre, the more she would trust him and lower her guard in return. “They have something of a truce until they find the new Overlord.”

“Which of them killed Balzam?”

“I don’t know,” Simon replied. “Honestly, I thought you might have done it.”

His response seemed to amuse Vouivre. “I would be sitting on the Crimson Throne if that were the case,” she replied, her brief smile fading into a thoughtful expression. “I had a plan to strike him down should he dare to take the field against me, but I suppose I will use it against his spawn and wife instead.”

She made no mention of Firewand, which told Simon two very important things: one, that she had likely counted on luring Father out of the capital by forcing a crisis in Telluria; and two, that she had no ally in Frightwall who could have relayed orders to Firewand or informed her of Father’s passing.

Father also didn’t mention Firewand in his list of deaths, Simon recalled. He probably never knew she was compromised because she had never been used against him, or it did happen in one of the deaths he never wrote down.

“This situation serves us well nonetheless,” Vouivre decided, a predatory smirk stretching on her lips. “I can imagine the state of those weaklings in the capital: confusion, bickering, and recriminations. This is the perfect opportunity to strike. The beastmen will flock to us once Telluria falls and no Overlord comes to defend it.”

She had immediately analyzed the situation and figured out how to exploit it. Vouivre was no brute drunk on her own power, and that made her even more dangerous than Simon assumed.

“Simon, you will reveal to me all you know about Beleth’s defenses.” Vouivre glanced at Eole. “I will take the kish as well.”

Eole, who had been trembling like a leaf without a word, now froze in place to the point Simon couldn’t hear her breathe. She didn’t understand the common Endymian tongue, but she could tell the dragonlord wanted her.

“What?” Simon asked, though he had heard her well enough.

“I require her,” Vouivre stated flatly. “You will be compensated for her loss. You will have your pick of slaves to choose from.”

Simon had expected the dragons to request Eole’s assistance—the whole reason he brought her along was to use her as a lure—but he thought they would at least let him keep her rather than resort to blatant extortion. Simon sent a sideways glance to Eole. She dared not meet his gaze, but he could see the sweat dripping down her forehead, her trembling fingers grasping the grass, and the shivers of dread. She was begging all the gods she knew for mercy.

“No,” Simon said.

The word escaped his mouth before he knew it. Perhaps it was Eole’s obvious pain and despair tugging at his heartstrings that pushed him, or the fact that he too had lived in fear of stronger people too long not to sympathize, or just distaste of Vouivre’s brutality that compelled him. Whatever the case, it caused the air to grow heavier.

“No?” Vouivre repeated, her voice sharper than a sword. Casval shook his head behind her, as if to convince Simon to shut his mouth.

“I said no,” Simon replied. It was too late for him to back down. All he had read on dragons and scalefolk taught him they only respected strength. Giving in now would only make her greedier later. “Eole’s my property. I’m not giving her away.”

Vouivre laughed at him. “Man’s only property is what he can defend by force, and I could kill you where you stand easily enough. You are not that valuable.” She dismissed his defiance with a wave of her hand, like an adult ignoring a child. “Now quiet with you. I will take her.”

“Do that and I will trigger her slave crest,” Simon replied. “She’ll die.”

That threat took Vouivre aback. Her condescending behavior gave way to confusion. “You would kill your slave rather than let me take her with me?” she asked in utter disbelief. “Why?”

“Because what’s mine is mine.” Simon dared to meet the dragonlord’s gaze. “No one steals from my hoard. No one.”

The comparison with a hoard was calculated to appeal to Vouivre’s frame of mind. The only thing that matched a dragon’s power was their legendary greed, and to steal from their hoard was the ultimate insult none of their kind could let go unchallenged.

Of course, Vouivre was likely to consider a human’s attempt to compare himself to her draconic ancestors an insult, but it was the only way Simon could phrase his refusal without inviting violent reprisal.

She stared at him without a word, her gaze steely, her expression unreadable. Simon didn’t give an inch, even as he felt his heart pounding so hard in his chest it began to hurt. It was like staring at a hungry lion.

Vouivre was strongly considering killing him on the spot.

The moment seemed to stretch on forever. Simon’s own retainers had their hands on their weapons and clearly expected a violent fight to break out, and Casval had taken a step back. Simon half-prepared himself to meet the Crimson Throne again…

But then Vouivre cracked a small smile.

“I’m impressed. Here I thought you were a weathervane and a weakling, but you do have a backbone.” Vouivre shrugged her shoulders. “Very well, I will allow you to keep the kish.”

Simon’s immense relief was immediately followed by the discreet thrill of a level-up.

Overlord Level 15 Perk: Devil Brand II (Active): You can mark a willing target with the demonic Brand of Gluttony. This brand magnifies the bearer’s senses, including feelings of pleasure, allows them to consume and survive on any food or drink with no ill effect, and grants them immunity to Poison, Disease, and Fatigue; in return, you can also drain the target’s mana from any distance at will. You may remove the brand at will, inflicting heavy damage on the subject while you do.

Simon guessed that impressing a vicious dragon into sparing his life would count as a heroic feat. He thanked the Light that outsiders could not see his System notifications, or else Vouivre would have likely changed her mind. Eole let out a heavy breath, though she was still too frightened to show relief.

“Now, for the rest of your retinue.” Vouivre forgot about Simon’s existence and turned to his bodyguards. “I believe your names are Leonard and Meredith? Raise your heads.”

Leonard and Meredith exchanged a wary glance, then obeyed.

Vouivre waved her hand, and two heads rolled to the ground in a shower of blood.

The attack moved so fast that Simon could hardly catch a glimpse of it. He saw a blade of sharpened wind escape Vouivre’s fingers and travel across the air at blinding speed, then the rain of blood staining the grass. He gasped in shock and horror as his retainers’ corpses hit the ground behind him with a thump.

“I could smell their doubts from here, and your brother Dassein will be suspicious of your survival unless he finds a few corpses,” Vouivre said with the blood of Meredith and Leonard dripping from her hand. Her tone hadn’t changed, nor had her expression. The act of killing aroused no emotion from her. “It will serve me better if the world believes you dead and buried.”

Simon trembled with impotent rage upon glancing at his allies’ corpses. Leonard, who had given his life for him once before, had perished in an ignominious end for no other reason than someone stronger wished for it. Meredith’s head was forever trapped in a silent scream of horror.

“What is yours is yours… but do not challenge me again, or things will not end well for you.” That was no threat, but a statement. Vouivre had spared Simon this one time, and would never do so again. “Do you understand me, human?”

Simon’s jaw clenched in frustration. “Yes, I do.”

“Good. Now you are going to tell me everything you know about Beleth’s defenses, then follow my brother east to claim a certain artifact for me. Complete this task, and you will stand among my commanders when I take Telluria.” Vouivre’s fangs peeked through her lips. “Welcome to the winning side, Simon Magnos.”

Simon would watch Vouivre’s head roll on the ground one day.

He promised himself that.

Vouivre ‘magnanimously’ allowed Simon to keep both Leonard and Meredith’s Crestones, then grilled him extensively on what little he knew about Beleth’s defenses—showing particular interest in the academy’s layout—before finally giving him standing orders.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“A potent relic hides within the kish palace’s ruins,” Vouivre explained to Simon. “My troops have excavated most of it and cleared it of monsters, but the deeper levels are sealed by vexing spells. Only a true-blooded kish like your slave can break them open.”

“What’s this relic’s power?” Simon asked.

“You don’t need to know that yet. You wouldn’t be able to use it anyway.” Vouivre smirked. “Prove yourself by bringing it to me, and you’ll see it in action soon enough once we march upon Beleth.”

She didn’t trust him with such information yet, but she implied it would ensure their victory against Dassein. Most troubling.

“What is this artifact like?” Simon questioned her. “I’ll need a description to identify it.”

“Fair enough.” Vouivre raised her thumb and finger. “There should be a miasma crystal roughly this size, bearing the constellation of the Twin-Tailed Fish carved on its surface. Its exact shape is uncertain, but even a non-Class user should be able to sense its power.”

A miasma crystal bearing a zodiac constellation? Simon had a pretty good idea what this ‘relic’ might be, and what the kish palace had turned into. “You want us to fetch a Dungeon crystal?”

“You know about them?” Vouivre raised an eyebrow. “I am impressed. Yes, I am looking for a particular Dungeon crystal.”

“Then that means the place will be crawling with monsters.”

“As I have said, my troops have cleared most of the palace, and even my weakling brother should be more than enough to handle whatever might lurk behind the remaining seals.” Vouivre’s lips stretched into a vicious smirk. “Besides, you now have two new Crestones to level-up with. You should welcome the experience.”

This dragon bitch.

“That’s quite the important task you entrust me with,” Simon replied with skepticism. “What’s the catch?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Simon. The only reason I’m sending you is because the kish slave belongs to you.” Vouivre scoffed. “Moreover, your loyalty is ensured.”