Chapter 86: Mask of the Jester King (4)

The first thing that crossed Simon’s mind was: Fuck.

The second thing was: How did she figure it out?

The third was: I can salvage this… somehow.

“What are you talking about, my daughter?” Simon lied at first, hoping she was only bluffing somehow.

“Please, Simon, Mom’s good at picking mana up in the air, but I’m better. So much better, I can see through miasma too.” She ascended up the dais and walked up to him with a wicked smirk on her lips. “Fiendmask is one of my favorite spells too, so I would recognize it anywhere. I can see the tiny miasma vibrations and recognize your magical signature.”

Norbelle leaned forward until he could feel her breath on his face.

“And since you can sit on the Crimson Throne without being thrown off it or smote, then this means you’re the Overlord now,” she said, grinning wickedly. “You’ve killed our father, haven’t you?”

…

Okay, this was bad.

Of course the family’s magical prodigy with both Visionary and Darkblood powers would be able to see through the Fiendmask in spite of his Anathemic Secrecy-powered immunity against divination magic. Visionaries were said to be capable of seeing the faintest traces of mana with their third eye, and Darkbloods were probably more sensitive to miasma in general. Norbelle was capable of seeing through the Dark in a way her mother couldn’t.

He should focus on keeping his Overlord armor on at all times should he try to impersonate Balzam again in a later reign, so no one capable of piercing through the Fiendmask could see his true face.

Simon considered either teleporting away to his Dungeon safehouse or taking Norbelle by surprise with a spell, hoping that Frightwall’s buffs would help him close the gap in power between them, but she had to be on her guard if she suspected him of having killed their father.

“But… if you were strong enough to kill Father, why would you use something as simple as Fiendmask to hide yourself rather than a more powerful ability, or use a Rogue Vassal Class? Not to mention I’m pretty sure you’ve never learned magic in your entire life.” She put a finger on her lower lip. “How do you explain this conundrum?”

This is my chance. Simon feigned a sigh, “Promise me you won’t laugh.”

“No,” Norbelle replied flatly, her lips stretching wide.

This bitch. “You’ve heard about Louis attempting to kill our father in his bedroom, right?”

“Yes, I heard he killed a body double and–” Norbelle suddenly stopped herself, before exploding into laughter. “Wait, did Father pick you as the replacement body double now that the old one died?! Is that why you can sit on the throne?!”

“This is not funny at all!” This only caused Norbelle to laugh louder, which both annoyed and relieved Simon. “I didn’t ask for this! He used some of his stupid brands to put an illusion over me, told me he would eat me if I messed up, and then bailed out!”

“And of course he puts you ‘in charge’ right when he recalls me to the castle… poor Overlord, more afraid of his own children than his enemies.” Norbelle put her hands behind her back. She studied him for a moment before asking, “Where is he right now, Simon?”

“Some Dungeon in the Berwick Islands, from what I gathered,” Simon replied evasively in case she went off to investigate. He couldn’t tell whether she bought his far-fetched lie or if she was just humoring him, but hope gave him life. “He didn’t tell me when he would return.”

“Interesting…” Norbelle’s grin only widened. “So if he put you in charge… then that means you’ll bear the blame if you mess up.”

Simon didn’t like her tone. “Are you thinking about blackmailing me, Norbelle?”

“I wouldn’t call it blackmail since you’re at my complete mercy right now. Extortion would be the more accurate term. Plus, you started it by trying to take my Crestone.” Norbelle met his gaze with a pained expression. “Father wouldn’t trust you with it, which meant you tried to rob your dear little sister like a thief. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I confess,” Simon ‘admitted’ his crime. “I… I read something in the library about demon blood suppressing Visionary powers. I thought it might be why I keep having strange dreams.”

“Too bad, my Crestone wouldn’t do anything to help you on that front even if I were stupid enough to lend it to you. Visionary powers are in the blood, dummy, not a Crestone. It’s a divine right only the likes of me were born with.” The worst part was that she sounded like she actually believed it too. “But you’re correct, I think you do have latent powers. I give Dad a fifty-fifty percent chance of either slotting the Oracle Crestone into your forehead once we slaughter all the elves, or sacrificing you to summon up a demon lord.”

“Charming.” Simon clasped his hands in annoyance. He hadn’t given up on obtaining the Summoner Crestone and seeing the truth for himself, but that plan was more or less ruined for this reign. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me and forget this all happened?”

“Maybe, if you make it worth my while…” Norbelle lightly swung from left to right, as if studying Simon from all angles. “Mmm…”

Then she suddenly turned and sat on him as if she owned his lap.

Norbelle was rather thin, and Simon had gained immense strength from the Overlord Class over his reigns, but the sheer abruptness of the gesture surprised him anyway. He sensed the Crimson Throne stirring, like an annoyed tiger hissing threateningly. It did not appreciate a non-Overlord taking up its space.

“I knew it, sitting on the ‘Overlord’s’ lap protects me!” Norbelle slouched on him, her feet and head on the throne’s armrests. “I wonder if having a cushion would achieve the same result… I could get used to this.”

“Norbelle, what are you doing?!” Simon protested.

“Sitting on our daddy’s lap where he deals out judgment, which that ass never allowed me to do. He sure does love burdening me with nonsense though.” Norbelle did her best impression of Balzam, which happened to be comically bad. “Norbelle, go burn that man alive to practice your spellcasting! Norbelle, go bind that Eidolon for me! Norbelle, go marry this guy so I can steal his family’s Crestones, take his lands, kill his father, and add his mother to my harem!”

In spite of the tension in the air, Simon couldn’t resist a grunt of annoyance. “Don’t tell me that was his reason for shipping you off to Cocagne…”

“I swear to you, Dad lusts after Queen Remedia almost as much as the Mage Crestone. I mean, sure, she’s beautiful and powerful, but come on, he should just grab some whore and cast a polymorphy spell on her.” Norbelle stroked her curly hair. “That’s something you should have had cast on yourself, by the way. I would have had a harder time seeing through your disguise.”

Simon could already tell this was going to be a long day. “Can you at least tell me what else gave me away, besides the spell?”

“The fact I called you ‘Daddy’ in public and you didn’t immediately look at me as if I were the scum of the earth, for a start.” She stroked his cheek as if he were the younger sibling. “Don’t feel shame, Simon. I’m a genius. If whatever Dad cast on you can fool Mom, they’ll trick anyone short of the Paladin or the Oracle.”

Simon wasn’t sure whether he should feel reassured or offended by her condescending tone. “Get off my lap, Norbelle. I’ve got Dassein, Uncle Maublanc, and the generals waiting for an audience, and our father ordered me to deal with them.”

“Yes, I know, I saw them on my way here.” She didn’t get off him. “Call them in.”

Simon’s eyes widened in horror at her proposition. “No, absolutely not!”

“Come on, I swear I won’t tell them the truth. I just want to have some fun with my big brother.”

“You’re lying.”

“It will be fun, I promise you.” Norbelle put a finger on his lips, her whimsical tone suddenly a lot more threatening. “It’ll be our… little secret.”

What a bitch. And here Simon thought she was slightly better adjusted than Thalas. Simon strongly considered using Lord of the Demon Castle to teleport and trap her in an underground vault in order to get rid of her, but Thalas and Euphemia would quickly investigate her disappearance. Silencing her permanently wasn’t an option.

Although… Maybe he could turn this to his advantage.

“You know what? Fine, I’ll play your game and indulge you.” Simon smiled back at her. “For a price.”

“Are you seriously trying to haggle with me, Simon?” Her smile began to remind Simon of a viper baring its fangs. “You forget yourself. I could blow the whistle on you at any time.”

“You don’t seem to realize how unique the current situation is,” Simon replied. “There’s no way our father is going to look over all of the decisions I make in his name. The small stuff will fly beneath his notice.”

Now he had her full attention. “Are you suggesting we go behind Dad’s back?”

“I’m just saying I could fulfill some of your requests, but you know… family sticks together. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”

“What an intriguing concept…” Norbelle considered the proposal and found it to her liking. “Now I’m curious. Since when have you become such an interesting person, Simon?”

“I’ve always been, you just never noticed.” Simon pushed his advantage. “I want to better understand our line’s latent powers, and I think you could help me with that.”

“You think?” She seemed almost offended that he doubted her. “You wound me, Simon. Of course I can help you… and I will, if you entertain me today.” Norbelle chuckled. “Shall we?”

Although he knew better than to trust her, Simon relented. The Keeper soon announced the arrival of his next visitors.

“Prince Dassein Magnos,” it said. “Lord Chancellor Maublanc Paimon; Admiral of the Fleet, Mizuko Vepar; Imperial Wings Commander, Marquis Ronah Andras; General-in-Chief Marquis Uruk Leraje.”

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Simon straightened up in his seat as the dignitaries entered the throne room. Although the empire had plenty of generals, the imperial army was broadly organized into four major branches: the ground army, the navy, the growing air force, and law enforcement. The first three were led by a trio of generals answering to the Marshal, whereas Maublanc Paimon commanded the latter as the realm’s chancellor.

The three generals that followed Dassein and Maublanc into the room all bore brands binding them to the Overlord, and had been present when Balzam’s corpse was found in previous reigns. Lord Ronah Andras was a tall and handsome young human knight with blonde hair, blue eyes, and an aquiline nose typical of the imperial heartland. Some said he had ice in his veins, and Simon was tempted to believe them when he saw his cold expression. Something about the man reminded him of Louis.

Admiral Mizuko Vepar cut a very different figure. A cousin of Fablan’s tributary viceroy of thirty-two years old, she was rather plain with long black hair flowing down the back of her coat and sharp dark eyes assessing everything in the room. All of her movements seem poised and calculated. She had served on ships long before her country even surrendered to the empire, having been something of a privateer before she enlisted into Endymion’s navy and quickly rose through its ranks.

Uruk Leraje was the only nonhuman among them. A brownish, bald, and imposing orc with cruel red eyes and four arms—the result of having a demon blood somewhere in his family tree according to Shabram’s intel—he towered over his colleagues and matched Dassein himself in height. He was the most recent of Balzam’s appointments, having taken the post last year after his predecessor perished in Magvolia. Uruk was both the shining personification of Endymion’s efforts to incorporate goblinoids into the armed forces and an exemplar of brutal effectiveness from what Simon learned from Shabram. His new marquisate had been carved out from Telluria in blood.

Although Simon hadn’t interacted with them much, their allegiances remained clear. Uruk and Ronah had consistently sided with the War Party in Simon’s previous reigns—likely due to their pro-tribal integration agenda pleasing Uruk and Louis’ airship fleet being tied to Ronah—whereas Mizuko joined forces with the Church Party.

And all these officials walked up into the throne room to see the Overlord’s daughter slouching on her father’s lap. Simon could almost taste their confusion and discomfort at the sight. All of them wanted to ask what was going on, but they lacked the actual courage to do so. Simon died a little inside.

“Father, Norbelle,” Dassein said dutifully as he bent the knee. Maublanc and the generals followed suit, keeping their heads down. Simon let the silence hang in the air for a while, to better let them stew in their unease.

Then Norbelle gleefully worsened the situation.

“Off with their heads!” she shouted, waving her hand at the generals.