Chapter 3: The One Act Play (1)

The Imperial Family hadn’t yet begun to tear itself apart by the time Simon and Lauriane reached the Emperor’s chambers. He wasn’t sure whether he should count himself lucky for it, or not.

“Is there no other way?” Simon wondered out loud, though he already knew the answer.

“I’m afraid so,” Lauriane confirmed. “Anyone with an information-gathering Class or sufficient mana-sensitivity will learn the truth the moment they pay any attention to you. I know Father had an Anathemic Secrecy Overlord skill, making him impervious to divination magic, but I can’t say which level you have to be at to unlock it.”

Simon scowled. Come to think of it, would levels carry over from one reign to another? Would he be able to avoid this entire charade in the future, or would he have to suffer through it again and again?

Whatever the case, he was now within minutes of confronting a bunch of overpowered murderous relatives about to start a civil war. Saying that he was on edge would have been an understatement.

“I believe your plan will work, at least for a time,” Lauriane reassured him, though the last part didn’t exactly put his heart at ease. “It is quite the bold and cunning one, if I say so myself. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Just because I didn’t want to participate in local intrigues doesn’t mean that I never pay attention,” Simon replied, his hands clenching into fists to hide the shaking. He had picked up a few things about the palace’s power blocs and how they operated.

Would that save him? He had to hope for the best.

They entered their father’s quarters right as Louis began to question the empress. “–ouldn’t happen to know how the assassin sneaked into father’s chambers undetected, stepmother?”

“Your father and I have slept apart for years now, boy,” Empress Euphemia replied with an acerbic tone.

“It is no wonder why,” the crown-prince replied mockingly. “Father would have died of fright much earlier otherwise.”

Like a rehearsal to slaughter. Simon grit his teeth as everyone reached out for their swords, having already heard this conversation once before. His gaze lingered on his father’s corpse. Though his final expression was that of a scowl, he wondered if the bastard had planned all of this as a final curse upon his own house. Did you hope we would all kill each other, Father? What did we ever do to you to deserve this?

“Your Grace!” one of the ministers protested. This time, Simon identified him as Patriate Malphas, the empire’s Treasurer. “Please calm down–”

The Keeper of the Throne appeared at this point, right on time to interrupt the inevitable bloodshed with his testament in hand.

Simon feigned passivity as he and Lauriane hung in the back of the room. He paid more attention to the people present rather than the Keeper’s announcement, especially the empress.

Euphemia Magnos-Agares was often described as the empire’s most beautiful woman, and lived up to the tales. A tall and curvy lady with a long braid the color of dark honey falling to her waist, she possessed the demon-tainted golden eyes of the empire’s heartlands. Unlike most noble ladies, she was no doll or princess caked in makeup and jewels; she was a retired commander who favored embroiled black dresses and a gilded torc encrusted with the Judge’s Crestone.

Her ownership of one of the original Classes from which all others derived made her fearsome enough, but Simon also knew that a holy third eye dwelled hidden beneath the golden tiara on her forehead. It allowed her to see mana, and most importantly, summon sacred eidolons into battle. She was probably the strongest person in the room, except maybe Louis himself.

She should have been able to notice Simon’s new Class with a glimpse had she paid him any close attention, but he remained beneath her notice… until the Keeper completed its reading of the testament.

“I do hereby bequeath my Class, throne, and titles to my chosen heir,” the Keeper said, before moving on to the additions to the text. “Simon Magnos.”

Although he had ordered the Keeper to add these words himself and mentally prepared himself for what came next, Simon couldn’t help but freeze in place as the entire imperial court suddenly remembered his presence. Individuals wielding the most powerful Classes in the land suddenly focused on him, frowning, scowling, gawping in disbelief, or chuckling in Louis’ case.

“Is this a joke?” Thalas asked what everyone had on their minds, while his mother finally focused on Simon. No doubt she was trying to sense his Class. “The bastard, the new Overlord?”

“Do you see the Class icon, brother?” Louis asked Simon. He had never called him brother before—because he usually never paid attention to him—but he managed to make it sound pleasant enough. “Check the edge of your gaze.”

“I…” Simon gulped, which was in no way faked. He could almost taste the tension in the air. “I think I do…”

“Activate it,” the empress ordered with a tone that brooked no opposition. “Now.”

Well, if she asked so nicely… “Overlord.”

Simon transformed the moment he uttered the word, a cloak of miasma swirling around him and summoning the Overlord armor. Thalas’ astonished face filled him with immense pleasure, but the moment lasted until he caught onto Louis’ undecipherable gaze and the dark scowl forming on the empress’ face. The generals present also exchanged glances. Each of them had sworn allegiance to the Overlord, and a specific brand enforced their loyalty to the Crimson Throne. Simon had no idea if that oath of service extended to him as father’s successor, and he was pretty sure the generals themselves didn’t know either.

“You…” Thalas’ expression turned from shock to baleful fury. “Murderer!”

He closed the gap between them in a flash and tossed Simon against a wall.

Simon’s vision briefly went white as Thalas’ arm pressed against his throat and lifted him up. The Overlord armor offered a measure of protection, but Thalas had so many levels and skills to enhance his strength that he didn’t need to transform to choke him.

“Thalas!” Lauriane immediately changed into her Spellblade Class outfit, a white, rounded helmet, a black mouth veil, and a dark cloak, appearing in an instant. A fencing silver sword coursing with magic materialized in her hands, its blade pointed at her half-brother. “Unhand him now!”

“He murdered Father to steal his Class!” Thalas snarled back. “He’s a bastard through and through!”

The tension only grew heavier as everyone reached out for their weapons. Simon held his breath as the bloodbath he had tried to avert seemed back on its tracks…

At least, until his precautions unfolded.

“Should my heir perish before three years of rule from my death, then his Class shall pass on to a citizen of my empire chosen at random, which the Crimson Throne will deem worthy,” the Keeper continued reading the edited testament while ignoring the ruckus around it. “Otherwise, the Class shall pass on through the appropriate Overlord tradition. This clause shall last until three years have passed since my heir assumed the throne.”

The shock of the announcement froze everyone in place and briefly delayed the chaos. The empress and Louis’ eyes widened in surprise at the same time, while the room erupted in whispers and chatter. “A random pick?” “Someone outside the royal family?” “Is this a joke?”

“What do you mean, a citizen chosen at random?” Lauriane asked the Keeper, who remained mute. She feigned frustration before turning to Louis. “Can Father do that?”

“I cannot say,” Louis replied, his expression thoughtful.

The empress suspiciously squinted at Simon. “The Class seems to have passed on to him through your father’s testament… unless he killed his own father and ordered the Keeper to put on a show.”

“I did no such things!” Simon half-lied. “How was I supposed to approach Father?! I wasn’t allowed into his quarters as a bastard, and I was denied a Class until I attended the Military Academy!”

“Liar!” Thalas snapped in fury, a gilded spear materializing in his free hand. Simon’s heartbeat skipped a beat as his half-brother prepared to skewer him where he stood. “You murdered your own father to steal–”

Agnes Firewand suddenly raised her palm close to Thalas’ face, searing blue flames swirling between her fingers. “Your Grace,” she said very calmly. “I must ask you to release the Overlord.”

Thalas grit his teeth. “You dare threaten me, slave?!”

“I have no choice.” Agnes unveiled a bit of her robes covering her neckline and revealed a bloody slave tattoo burning against her skin. “My brand compels me to protect the Overlord from all threats, whoever he might be.”

The slave mark hasn’t faded away? Simon glanced at Firewand and then the generals, who all seemed ready to transform at a moment’s notice to defend their new liege. Father’s orders and oaths endure beyond death.

Unfortunately, Thalas seemed very determined to go through with killing him from the way he clenched his spear. Lauriane and the others would no doubt intervene, but Thalas could kill Simon with a single blow. He was only level 1 after all. He had to think fast.

An idea crossed Simon’s mind. Here goes nothing.

“Slaves, generals,” Simon said. “If anyone kills me, I want you to slay them and all their accomplices at any cost.”

“Understood,” Agnes Firewand immediately replied, even as gasps of shock spread through the room.

“What did you say, bastard?” Thalas asked, straining the word as if it hurt to hear it.

“You heard me, Thalas.” Simon faced his half-brother with all the weight of his contempt for the arrogant asshole. “Firewand and the others are still compelled to defend me, which means an Overlord’s commands carry beyond his death. They will have to fulfill my wish even if you kill me now.”

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Thalas glanced at the generals readying their swords with disdain. “I’m stronger than any of our father’s slaves.”

“But all of them together? In a closed room with all your supporters within reach?” Simon scoffed. “With Louis’ group nearby?”

That did it. While Thalas was confident he could take out the generals if need be, the thought of leaving himself open to Louis instantly put him and his supporters on edge. The empress herself shifted her attention to the crown prince as he observed the scene with pure amusement.

“That’s right, maybe you’ll win, but certainly not unscathed. What do you think the other side of the family will do next?” Simon pointed at the Keeper. “Not to mention the fact that you’ve heard Father’s testament. Our family will lose the Overlord Class because of your rashness!”

“It’s an empty bluff,” Thalas replied coldly, though Simon could tell his words had shaken his confidence.

“Really?” Simon leaned forward to better glare at his half-brother through his helmet’s slits, then mustered all of his courage. “Then go ahead, try to kill me. See how it goes for you and everyone else.”

He matched Thalas’ gaze, trying to show no fear. Even though Simon was in no hurry to die again, he knew deep within his bones that death wouldn’t stick, and it gave him strength. It gave him confidence, and that shook Thalas to his core.

The deathblow never came.

Louis exploded into laughter all of sudden, breaking the silence and catching everyone’s attention.

“You find this funny?” the empress asked dryly while glaring at the crown-prince.

“Don’t you understand, stepmother?” Louis taunted her after calming down. “This is Father’s foolish attempt to keep the peace between us. He knew we would come to blows should he choose either of us, so he put forward a spare.”

A spare? A shiver traveled down Simon’s spine. Would Father do that? Of course he would do that, the bastard.

“True…” Lauriane muttered to herself. “Picking Simon would ensure a transition period until we can settle our internal issues.”

Simon growled in outrage. “You’re saying I’m a sacrificial placeholder? A seat warmer?”

“What other explanation can you think of?” Lauriane pointed out. “You have no allies at court, no major faction’s backing, and no other high-level Class to defend your newly-won title with. Why pick someone like you except to buy time?”