Chapter 5: The One Act Play (3)

True to Lauriane’s warning, the High Council of Endymion summoned him to the war room on the second floor of Castle Frightwall to check on his progress.

‘Come find me in Telluria… if you wish to secure your inheritance, that is.’ Those words annoyed Simon more each time they echoed in his head. He might as well have asked me to find a needle in a haystack.

Telluria was the northern and largest region of the eastern continent, which Endymion dominated, often called ‘the Bat’ due to its shape. The empire had taken over most of its western half under Balzam Magnos, but the rest remained savage plains dominated by barbarian tribes and beastmen warlords. Finding a single person there would be difficult; doing so with no other details would be near impossible. The stranger had unfortunately refused to provide any more information until Simon reached the region, which he was unlikely to do while under house arrest.

Then again, Father moved the Imperial Military Academy and Dassein to Telluria so future officers could earn their stripes fighting beastmen, Simon thought. Was that a coincidence?

Simon banished those thoughts from his mind once he and Lauriane reached the council room. It was finely decorated, with padded silk cushions on top of each chair, tapestries embroidered with red dragons dating back to Overlord Gargauth’s days, and various statuettes taken from the empire’s colonies. Stained windows representing the glowing sun of the Light of Pharis cast a golden glow onto the long table within.

Most councilors were already present. Louis, as the Empire’s Marshal, was discussing matters with the Lord-Treasurer, Patriate Malphas; Empress Euphemia was doing the same with High Confessor Mastemo, his face hidden beneath the gilded, crowned star-shaped helmet of the Church of the Light; and Lady Shabram mildly smiled at Simon when he entered, though it had an edge to it. The real surprise was the presence of Simon’s ‘uncle’ and Imperial Chancellor, Maublanc Paimon, who watched him sternly.

“Uncle?” Simon asked in disbelief. “I thought you were in the Berwick Islands?”

“I was last night, nephew,” he replied. Maublanc Paimon, viceroy of the Berwick Islands, where the late emperor was born, cut an intimidating figure. Towering over everyone present, he was a large man with muscles chiseled by a lifetime of military service. His face had all the coldness and rigidity of a glacier in stark contrast with his balding, graying strands of red hair and beard. His white tunic and red cloak boasted the golden griffin of House Paimon, and the Commander Class Crestone glowed on his sheathed sword’s pommel. “And if the Light is merciful, I shall return by sunset.”

While he wasn’t related to House Magnos or even noble-born, Maublanc had been Balzam’s blood-brother and most trusted vassal during the rebellion against Gargauth. For his loyalty, friendship and service, the new Overlord had raised him to the rank of prince and granted him ownership over his old fief in the Berwick Islands. All of the Magnos children considered Maublanc and his daughter Anna part of the family, to the point of calling them uncle and cousin.

“Such are the wonders of our new airships,” Louis commented. “They can cross the straits of Endymion in a day’s time.”

“When they do not crash and sink,” the empress commented dryly. “Those new technological terrors of yours are a fearsome drain on our budget from their maintenance alone.”

“Only a small mind would look at a ship soaring through the sky and think of the cost,” Louis replied with amusement before glancing at Simon. “Please take a seat, brother. We will begin shortly.”

“Aren’t we waiting for the generals?” Lauriane inquired as Simon and she sat near the table’s head. A slave cupbearer quickly served them wine.

“This hydra has too many heads as it is,” the empress replied, her gaze turning to Simon. “They will do what he asks, and he will do what we want. This should simplify things.”

Louis smiled at Simon. “Forgive our stepmother. She is deathly afraid you might become another player in this game.”

So many eyes warily turned to Simon. He could read the question written all over them: did he intend to become a player, with all the risks that entailed? Or was he content being a puppet?

Truth be told, he would rather be anywhere else than in this palace, but he lacked the strength and connections to truly assert himself. Everyone in this room could probably kill him with a wave of their hand at his current level.

At least his ability to control the generals and Father’s slaves allowed him to become a nuisance for the court’s power players if he wished to. This should let him win some concessions.

“I never asked for this Class, and I have no designs on the Crimson Throne,” Simon replied. “Look, all I wanted was a life of normalcy.”

“A most unlikely prospect now,” the empress pointed out dryly.

“I know,” Simon replied with annoyance. “But that’s what I would want.”

“Truly?” Louis raised an eyebrow and studied Simon with skepticism. “I thought you would have reconsidered after gaining Father’s Class. Surely the rush of power appeals to you.”

“Not everyone is foolish enough to fall for the Overlord’s temptations,” High Confessor Mastemo said. “Your humility does you credit, Lord Simon.”

In other words, stay in your place if you know what’s good for you. Simon wondered what to make of Louis’ remarks. Was he trying to win him over by encouraging him to exploit his newfound power? He could never get a read on that man.

“What you call humility, I call weakness of resolve and a lack of ambition.” Louis waved his hand. “I suppose this suits our needs anyway. Our stepmother and I both know one will kill the other before the year ends, so it would be easier for the both of us if we could avoid as much collateral damage as possible.”

Simon had to give it to Louis, the crown prince always said what was on his mind, no matter how shocking.

“Your Highness!” Patriate protested while the empress gave Louis an icy glare. “Do we not have enough kinslaying under this roof?!”

Uncle Maublanc’s eyes burned with fury. “Your father’s body is not even cold yet, and his assassin is still on the loose, yet all you can think about is to kill each other?”

“Your bloodlust will be the death of you and the doom of this state, cur,” High Confessor Mastemo said, his white gauntlets gripping his chair’s armrests. “We need not tolerate your insolence.”

“I am simply laying down the facts,” Louis replied with immense aplomb. “If you haven’t picked a side yet, now is the time.”

“Enough of this,” the empress said, watching Simon’s helmet. “The plan was a success. I cannot divine his true identity.”

“The helmet muffles his voice as well,” Lauriane replied. “I do not think anyone will be able to tell.”

“For now,” Uncle Maublanc said with a snort. “The truth will come out sooner or later, whether when Simon acts out of character or when someone talks. Someone always talks.”

The High Confessor thoughtfully intertwined his fingers. “While I pray that His Majesty finds peace and rest, we only need to keep up this charade until we conclude the negotiations with the Queendom of Cocagne and suppress the beastmen in the north. A long peace will be upon us once we secure the rest of the continent.”

“I am almost done securing a match between my daughter Norbelle and their boy prince,” the empress said with a sharp nod. “This will put the queendom squarely into our hands.”

Lauriane glared at her. “You mean in your hands?”

“I do not recall Father ever mentioning a match with our half-sister.” Louis turned to Patriate. “Did he, Lord Malphas?”

“I…” Lord Patriate cleared his throat and earned himself a glare from the empress for it. “I do not recall.”

“If you are so intent on a wedding, why not propose a match with dear Anna instead?” Louis cunningly suggested, his gaze meeting that of Uncle Maublanc. “Your daughter is of marriageable age, is she not?”

“She is,” Uncle Maublanc replied warily. “I have been looking for a suitable match. The prince of Cocagne would suit her.”

That didn’t please the empress in the slightest. “The Queen of Cocagne and I agreed on Norbelle. They will not agree to change the match.”

“Perhaps you should try harder then,” Louis said.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Simon listened without a word. The Queendom of Cocagne was the only unified nation on the continent that had yet to bend the knee to the empire—besides the beastmen and clans of Telluria—owing to its powerful mages. He didn’t know they had been in discussion with them for a treaty.

Two major parties ruled at court: the War Party led by Louis, who advocated the continued expansion of the empire’s borders and a tighter integration of ethnic minorities into the armed forces; and the Church Party under Empress Euphemia, who wished to focus on peace with neighbours and consolidation of power around the Light of Pharis’ faith within their own borders. Simon knew that High Confessor Mastemo and Lord Patriate supported the latter, while Lauriane and Lady Shabram were Louis’ creatures. Maublanc could lean either way, and he had a vast army at his back.

Was that the purpose of this meeting? To delay the inevitable conflict while each side worked towards winning them to their cause? Louis was clearly trying to sow discord between the empress and Maublanc by suggesting she would rather place her own brood than give a close ally a good marriage.

Ah, I see, Simon thought. Since I’m supposed to impersonate Father, I’ll have to validate whichever marriage they settle on. I could use that.

“I have also heard concerning rumors,” Lady Shabram said. “My spies in Telluria report that a beastman ‘High Lord’ has been working to unify the tribes in the north, possibly with the help of weapon shipments from our enemies from across the Dragonsea.”

“If so, then we should speed up our timetable for an invasion of the western continent,” Louis replied. “Once our airship fleet is completed–”

“Are you insane?” The empress sneered in disdain. “You want to start another war, you ogre? We haven’t even finished assimilating Telluria nor consolidated our gains!”

“I would agree with Her Grace,” Lord Patriate said. “We need to complete the economic integration of Scaland and Magvolia before we can even think about adding new colonies! Our supply lines are stretched thin as it is!”

“Have you been paying any attention to the outside world?!” Lauriane asked. “The western continent’s nations are in talks to unify against us! Any day spent waiting is time for them to consolidate their defenses!”

Simon watched them argue about whether they should attack the western continent or not. He gathered that Father had been drafting plans to do just that before his demise and that Louis remained determined to spearhead the invasion, which the empress categorically rejected.

They’ll play nice until they can secure the Cocagne wedding, but then the knives will come out, Simon noted. He figured he should probably try to align with the War Party, if only because Lauriane supported Louis and the latter was at least willing to let him run around without a chaperon.

Simon glanced at the wine cup in front of him and grabbed it. The liquid was thick red, almost like blood. He wondered if it was poisoned.

Did Unyielding Essence I protect him from that? Simon focused on his Class Icon and managed to open his stat screen. He quickly confirmed that the Perk shielded him from the Instadeath, Petrify, Polymorphy, and Curse ailments, but Poison was conspicuously absent from that list.

It would be very stupid to drink this right now, Simon thought upon putting the cup back on the table. I should probably find myself a food taster or keep Firewand close.

Simon decided to make a move and cleared his throat. “If I may–”

“You may not,” the empress cut in before he could even begin.

“Let him speak his mind, stepmother,” Louis replied. “Go on, brother?”