Chapter 76: The Elf Conspiracy (3)

True to their standing, Simon’s retinue and the Malphas were introduced to the decrepit ruin they called Duke Eligos in his private quarters.

The palace’s pomp and splendor contrasted terribly with the ruinous state of the master of the house. Already pushing eighty, the man was a bedridden, wrinkled living corpse unable to string two words together. Simon almost mistook him for a reanimated zombie when he first saw him.

Meanwhile, his grandson Henry was a pale, scrawny little boy with curly blond hair and big blue eyes. He was dressed in mourning black and clutched a stuffed bear toy as if his life depended on it. Simon could feel an eeriness radiating from the toy, which Belzemine and Meredith seemed to pick up on as well.

“Henry dear, please greet our guests,” Justine said with a tone that could almost pass for motherly, if not for its slightly sinister edge.

“Hello,” the boy said shyly, his smile reserved for Elaine alone. “Hello, Elaine.”

“Greetings, my lovely little cousin,” Elaine replied by kissing him on the forehead. “How fast you grow. You’ll be taller than me at this rate.”

“Only if he eats well,” Justine replied before taking her husband’s hand into her own without eliciting any reaction. “As you can see, my poor husband has been bedridden for some time. I have been doing my best to alleviate his burden.”

I doubt that, Simon thought before answering outloud, “Mayhaps Lady Firewand can help? She is the world’s foremost healer and used anti-aging spells to keep my father vigorous.”

Justine gave him a sly smile that sent chills down his spine. “She is welcome to try.”

Belzemine quickly cast a few analysis and healing spells on Duke Eligos, frowning in disgust as she did. Whatever she gleaned didn’t please her in the slightest.

“This is an empty shell,” she commented, “The man’s soul has departed, leaving only a breathing corpse and vessel.”

Patriate shifted uncomfortably at her words. “Forgive me for doubting you, Lady Firewand, but I was told no life could survive without a soul.”

“This puppet does,” Belzemine replied bluntly. “He would be better off buried.”

“It is not for you to decide whether my husband lives or dies, Lady Firewand,” Justine said, her smile unblemished. “The thought of being separated from him is unbearable, and I would rather keep him at my side for as long as possible.”

Simon studied Patriate and Elaine’s expressions. Although Patriate kept his disgust and unease carefully under wraps, his less experienced daughter scowled in true distaste. Neither of them seemed to get along with Justine.

Were there cracks in the elf conspiracy? Simon would assume so. He had learned with his cult that any sufficiently large secret organization had leaks, traitors, and weak-points… and he had the sneaking suspicion Justine Eligos might be the key to unraveling this one.

“My guards will see to your accommodations,” Justine declared. “I am organizing a masquerade ball at the stroke of midnight tomorrow, preceded by an opera three hours earlier. Attendance is mandatory, of course.” She gazed at Simon, her fan coyly hiding her mouth. “Preparations will take up much of my time beforehand, but I can make some room to finish our earlier conversation in private, Lord Simon.”

Elaine scoffed. “Are you trying to lure away my fiancée, dear aunt?”

“I would never dare steal one of yours, my dear niece,” Justine teased her back. “Though I do admit he is a handsome and well-bred young man.”

“It is fine, Elaine,” Simon replied, knowing how the game was played. “Your aunt is right, she did pique my curiosity earlier. Lady Firewand and Meredith can be my chaperones.”

“I would rather have the handsome young Decarabia behind you,” Justine quipped, licking her lips at Leonard. The Dreadnought flatly ignored her, which only seemed to amuse the duchess. The mere fact that she dared to flirt with him in front of her catatonic husband spoke volumes about her utter lack of concern for him. “Very well. If he prefers the company of luggage to my own, I shall indulge him.”

Simon noticed a brief flash of annoyance in Patriate’s eyes. The man clearly wanted to invite himself to the conversation, but doing so would have been both inelegant and suspicious. He simply excused himself while Justine invited them to a private yet opulent study. A roaring fireplace kept ablaze by a small fire elemental lit up high-backed leather chairs and a wooden desk nearby. A cadre of winged demonesses with red, bloody wings and crimson bows kept watch over the area. Simon might have mistaken them for kish if not for the two black holes weeping blood they had in place of eyes.

“Make yourself at home, Lord Simon,” Justine said upon slouching in her seat, her towering ogre bodyguard looming behind her. “Would you like a refreshment?”

“No, thank you,” Simon replied after taking a seat, his own retainers eying the guards. He didn’t trust anything this woman had to offer him.

“Your loss,” she said upon snapping her fingers, one of her eyeless creatures quickly serving her a cup of wine. “What a strange boy you are.”

“How so?” Simon inquired.

“Both your retainers are sensible enough to be wary in a room full of demons, yet you seem neither concerned nor bothered. The thought that they could harm you at all never crossed your mind.”

A sharp one, like her brother, Simon thought as he smiled innocently. “I’ve grown up in a castle full of fiends, including a skull-juggling demon, and I can tell a diabolist of your renown must keep a tight leash on them.”

“Vile flatterer, but you would be right. A wise diabolist does not call what they cannot put down.”

Belzemine squinted at her in disdain. “There is no such thing as a wise diabolist.”

Simon had rarely seen Belzemine speak up so much without invitation. She had voiced some disdain for Duchar’s studies of the Dark in past reigns, but Justine Eligos truly seemed to annoy her.

She had a point, though. Simon had learned from experience that while powerful spells could bring mighty creatures under control, magically-compelled loyalty was only a single spell away from turning into treachery. Justine Eligos would better sleep with her door locked at night.

“I would have thought living with demons for so long would have taught you otherwise, Lady Firewand, but it seems your current master is more open-minded,” Justine said, her eyes staring at Belzemine coldly before moving on to Simon. “Were you aware of your status as a Darkblood?”

“I don’t even know what that term even means,” Simon admitted.

“Darkblood is an archaic elven term for people with demon blood in their ancestry,” Belzemine informed him. “Either through direct lineage or a blood pact.”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “A blood pact?”

“Powerful demons ritually seal pacts with mortals by sharing their blood, infusing their contractors with otherworldly abilities,” Justine explained. “Descendants of people with blood pacts often manifest demonic features.”

“I’ve heard rumors that my ancestor Elios Magnos once served Overlord Mardok,” Simon noted, which surprised Meredith. The news that Elios Magnos had been working for Mardok wasn’t common knowledge. “You think those two formed a blood pact?”

“Possibly.” Lady Justine sipped from her cup. “That or a succubus frolicked with him.”

Simon knew from his father’s genealogical research that no demon had found its way into the family tree, so he learned towards the blood pact possibility. One of his Perks also caused Simon to be treated as a demon for the purpose of magical effects, and his ‘The Delicious’ Title turned his blood poisonous, so the ogre might simply have been smelling that…

No, I had strange dreams long before inheriting the Overlord Class, Simon thought. Lauriane was convinced I had minor foresight for years, too. There’s something more to it. This also fits Asterion’s claim that his kind can only merge with individuals marked by the Dark.

“Darkblooded families often manifest latent powers down the line, usually in the form of minor demonic traits like forked tongues or horns, or an aptitude for diabolism,” Justine Eligos explained. “Darkblooded people are not uncommon in the empire, but Visionary descendants are rare, and unions between the two are almost unheard of. I believed only Prince Thalas and Princess Norbelle could boast such a unique lineage, and only the latter became a true Visionary in spite of her paternal handicap.”

“Handicap?” Simon noted. What an odd choice of words. “Is being a Darkblood and a Visionary mutually exclusive?”

“They are,” Belzemine confirmed. “Visionaries draw their power from the Light, which reveals the future, whereas Darkblooded people bear traces of the Dark, which shrouds it. That is why the most powerful demons possess innate resistance to divination magic.”

“The two do not mix well.” Justine Eligos flapped her fan. “If I had to compare it, it would be like putting on a blindfold.”

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Her ogre smirked at Simon. “You would have sprouted a pretty little eye without your demon blood.”

Simon’s heart skipped a beat. Was that the reason for his dreams? That he would have been born a Visionary if not for the demon blood in his veins suppressing his third eye’s growth and leaving him with diminished prophetic abilities?

That would explain why he saw what he assumed were echoes of his father’s past reigns. The Overlord’s power was born of the Dark, not to mention that Elios Magnos helped create the Class, and Simon’s foresight gifts had been tainted by it since birth. It could have let him glimpse events related to his father.

“How do you explain Norbelle then?” Simon asked Belzemine. “The Magnos Darkblood should have inhibited her Visionary gifts.”

“When Prince Thalas failed to come into the world with a third eye, His Majesty had me cast spells on Empress Euphemia while Princess Norbelle was still in the womb,” Belzemine admitted. “This allowed her Visionary gifts to express themselves, granting her both a third eye and enhanced magical aptitude. Even so, I don’t think she would have grown a third eye if her mother didn’t have one already.”

Simon scowled. On one hand, it horrified him to learn his father hadn’t been above experimenting on his own children in the womb; on the other, it also amused him that Balzam’s lineage was to blame for his difficulties in siring Visionary heirs.

“Spells in the womb, you said?” Justine licked her lips. “You intrigue me, Lady Firewand. Would you kindly share those with me? For academic purposes, of course.”

It was a blatant lie which Belzemine didn’t dignify with a response, though the whole matter piqued Simon’s interest. If spells could allow Norbelle to grow a third eye in spite of her Darkblood’s inhibitions, could it be possible for Simon to unlock or strengthen some of his latent Visionary abilities?