Chapter 42: The Stone Muse (2)

“No.”

Eole’s refusal rang through the room, dashing Simon’s hopes.

Once again, he had brought her to his side and emancipated her. Once again, he had offered his friend to work with him, promising to protect her against the threat of Vouivre, to ensure her freedom and safety… only to be met with refusal.

“Why?” he asked. “As I said, while following us to Telluria may endanger you and attract Vouivre’s attention, we can ensure your safety so long as you stay close to us.”

Or at least, Belzemine could. She was stronger than Thalas, and even if a pyromancer was relatively disadvantaged against a dragon, Simon had ensured Shabram would guide the imperial factions towards hunting down Gargauth’s heirs. Vouivre would likely spend this reign on the back foot as the likes of Dassein relentlessly hounded her.

Hopefully. The way she had thrived during the civil war and survived the Zodiac Parade—which was what Simon had started to nickname the awakening of the fiends in his head—pointed to her being frighteningly resourceful. Taking Eole with him to Telluria was a gamble, and deep down he knew it was an unnecessary one… but he had to try.

He wanted to preserve their friendship.

“You are not convinced of it yourself. I can hear it in your voice.” Eole shook her head. “I am sorry, I… I am well and truly grateful beyond words for your act of kindness, Lord Simon, but if I ever return to Telluria, it will be to free my people from your empire’s slavery. You may be a good person, but you remain a prince of this rotten state.”

“A bastard, with no lands to call his own,” Simon insisted. She’s slipping away.

“A bastard with retainers, and who will indirectly profit from this nation’s resources… and thus my people’s exploitation.” Eole remained resolute. “I am sorry, but I cannot forgive your empire.”

Eole would not trust a prince of Endymion, not even a bastard.

As much as he hated it, Simon understood why she felt that way. She didn’t know him. All their months of struggle and friendship had been erased alongside her memories of their bond. From her point of view, he was a strange and mysterious figure who, while kind enough to free her, remained associated with the state she had come to loathe. She had been willing to take a gamble when he shed his imperial allegiance, name and titles included, but it would take more than a single conversation to change her mind.

He would not win her over in this reign; not if he wanted to keep using imperial resources, even for the greater good.

“I… I understand.” It killed Simon inside to say so. “It is… unfortunate, but I understand.”

Eole bit her lip, a flash of compassion passing over her gaze. “This saddens you.”

Simon didn’t deny it. “I had hoped we could become friends. I know you are a good person, Eole.”

“So are you.” She shifted in her seat. “You should come with me to my people’s sanctuary. This land of darkness will wear down your spirit and gnaw at your soul with bitterness.”

“I know, but too much depends on me,” Simon said with a sigh. “I can’t follow you now, but… I hope to see your homeland one day.”

“So do I, Lord Simon.” Eole plucked a feather from her wings. “Here, take this.”

“A gift of friendship?” Simon guessed, having already received the feather in a past reign. “Thank you, Eole. I shall cherish it dearly.”

“May it remain with you until we meet again, Lord Simon.” She smiled at him. “I hope we shall.”

So did Simon… but as he watched her fly away from his window to her freedom, he had the rather sharp suspicion they would not see each other again for the entire length of this reign. Opening some doors closed others.

Would it feel as awful to see Anna again? To realize the person he had cherished for months was gone, replaced with an unknowing stranger? It didn’t hurt Simon that much back when reigns were so short he didn’t have time to build much of a rapport with others, but the loss now stung like a scorpion’s tail.

This is for the best, he tried to tell himself. Vouivre walked through Belzemine’s ring of fire without taking damage, so even she might not be enough to hold that dragon back… unless my plan works.

A knock on his door drew him out of his dark thoughts. “Come in.”

Lauriane opened the door and walked into the room with a pile of books under her arm. She only had to take a glance at the open window and the red feather in Simon’s hand to guess what had happened.

“You are too much of a bleeding heart, brother,” she said with a hint of fondness. “It is your greatest weakness, and your most endearing quality too.”

“It’s true I’m no Louis.” I don’t order my own populations bombed for a start. “Did you ever own slaves, Lauriane?”

“Not personally, though I did oversee workers in Crestone factories.” Lauriane directed the empire’s magical research and development as part of her duties. Her secondary Spellblade Vassal Class was the result of her work, an attempt to blend Mage and Warrior-type crestones into a harmonious whole. “I do not trust people whose loyalty is compelled by chains and magic in my household. They are only one step away from rebellion, and only the Overlord’s marks can compel absolute loyalty.”

If only she knew… “Are these astronomy books?”

“All those I could obtain. Astronomical and astrological research mostly falls under the Church of Light’s purview, and High Confessor Mastemo jealously guards this knowledge.”

The Church? Huh, why did imperial knowledge have to be split between so many parties and factions unwilling to work together?

Because Balzam Magnos didn’t want his underlings to band together against him, Simon thought grimly. I wonder if he came up with that strategy after suffering from that death via a military coup.

Lauriane frowned as she put two and two together. “Is this sudden interest in constellations connected to your dreams?”

“Yes,” Simon confirmed. He wasn’t entirely sure if warning the War Party about the Zodiac Fiends was the right decision, considering their atrocities during the civil war—he feared they might try to exploit the miasma crystals like Vouivre rather than destroy or seal them away—but he could remain evasive. “I keep having dreams about a black comet in the sky, among… other things.”

Moreover, he was beginning to wonder if astronomical events somehow influenced the reigns’ duration. Elios Magnos had told him to come back in ninety reigns or so, which meant he knew Simon would suffer through a hundred with a mere glance when his own archdemon master only had six. The old lich had a hand in crafting the Crimson Throne so he might have had a way to check that number at will somehow, or there was a reliable way to guess. One of the first things the lich did was to ask for the year to calculate the comet’s return, so there had to be a mechanism that Simon could hopefully reverse-engineer somehow.

Lauriane nodded in understanding. “Well, you will have time to tell me everything about them. Louis wants to see you and discuss them.”

I know, Simon thought. I was counting on it.

Louis’ eyebrows curved upward slightly. “Vouivre, you said?”

“That was the dragon’s name,” Simon said. “She announced herself as Vouivre when she slew Thalas in my vision. She devoured him and then spat out the Berserker Crestone.”

“A sight I’m sure delighted you,” Louis quipped, and Simon couldn’t resist smiling in response. Yes, part of him had relished Thalas’ defeat and death. “An interesting tale nonetheless. The information hasn’t been made public yet, but Lady Shabram informed us a scalefolk warlord with that name has been making waves in Telluria lately.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“I didn’t know,” Simon lied, having shared that intel with their spymistress to relay to the various imperial factions.

“The reports didn’t mention a dragon, but considering how this Casval transformed into something suspiciously similar to one and fled when we tried to apprehend him, she is likely to be one as well,” Lauriane hypothesized, a scowl forming on her face. “To think Gargauth left heirs to pick up the family feud…”

“And Thalas’ presence in Telluria lines up with what my spies gathered on Euphemia’s intentions to recruit supporters among the academy,” Louis said. “Considering this Casval was set to infiltrate it, Vouivre likely has other spies in its walls. Our fool of a brother will fall into a trap without even realizing it.”

Louis rested his head on his fist and studied Simon in silence for a moment. There was something deeply unsettling about that sharp, hawkish gaze of his, like being judged by an inflexible force that would see through all lies. Simon had seen enough of the War Party’s atrocities in past reigns to tell Louis was as ruthless as the tales said, and more.

“I believe Lauriane is correct, Simon, in that you do possess latent prophetic gifts,” he said. “However, fate exists to be challenged. I have no love for our half-brother, but we cannot let the enemy obtain his Berserker Class, nor risk seeing the Overlord’s power go back to a rival line. This vision of yours shall not come to pass.”

“Should we send Dassein after her?” Lauriane asked.

“No need.” Louis waved his hand. “I will hunt this Vouivre myself.”