The Hundred Reigns

The first week at the Academy was rather peaceful.

Simon thought he would be bored with the courses, having gone through most of them half a dozen times by now, but he somehow found the feeling of settling back into a peaceful routine almost enjoyable. He could just sit next to Anna and Tiella without worrying about the looming threat of the Zodiac Parade, assassins, the upcoming civil war, and even Vouivre.

Simon had forgotten the taste of normalcy. It felt almost new after so many reigns spent fighting for his life.

Of course, he didn’t waste time and spent most of his secondary courses reviewing Duchar’s spellbook or reading the dragon literature Casval suggested to him. He had learned quite a great deal from both, though his current side-project was trying to create a miasma-based version of Remedia’s flight spell. The Monster Anatomy instructor informed him that vampires used a similar ability to levitate, so he knew it was possible.

Simon was better off knowing how to fly by the time he met Vouivre again.

“Are you okay, Simon?” Anna asked him in concern as she and Tiella sat next to him before the Divine Mysteries course’s start.

“Mmm?” Simon’s head perked up from his notes on his flight spell. “Oh, I’m much better. Firewand said I should fully recover from my illness soon.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Anna replied as she studied him for a moment. “There’s something different about you, and I’m not talking about your illness. You’re more…”

“Mature?” Simon suggested with a chuckle.

“Wearier,” Anna replied bluntly, “More distant too. On one hand, every girl loves a brooding stoic, but on the other hand, you look so unhappy with yourself. You’re daydreaming half the time, and I haven’t heard you curse Thalas once since you arrived.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Simon replied. Thalas hadn’t really gone out of his way to pick on him yet at least, likely because he was too busy impressing his small court of followers. “Being angry at him is a waste of time.”

“That’s exactly what bothers me,” Anna said. “You are actively wasting your time. I have the feeling you would be better off doing something else, yet you choose to be here even if it doesn’t matter to you.”

“You matter to me,” Simon replied, with Tiella giggling in the background. “I am attending this course for your sake.”

“Then gossip a little, or at least smile for real when I talk to you. What weighs so much on your mind?” Anna crossed her arms and peeked at his notes. “What’s that? A love letter to your new boyfriend?”

“Casval is not my boyfriend,” Simon replied calmly. He’s not even my friend. “These are notes on spellcasting.”

“Not even a blush,” Tiella mused, “You’re losing your touch, Anna.”

“That’s not it.” Anna scowled at Simon in displeasure. “You just don’t care about any of this, do you?”

Something in her tone annoyed Simon. “I’m here for you as you asked, am I not?”

“That’s the thing, you’re not here for me, not really. I dunno how to explain. You feel like a bored eagle on his perch looking down on the mice below because it’s vaguely distracting and you’re not hungry yet.” Anna shook her head. “Something has changed about you, and I really don’t like it.”

Simon fought back his rising frustration. Maybe the reigns had changed him, yes, but he was still fighting so hard to reconnect with her and save her from being killed by a dragon. Didn’t that count for something?

“And why are you even attending this course, Anna?” Simon replied, trying to change the subject. “You’re not all that religious.”

“You wound me, I am a woman of faith.” Anna straightened up in her seat. “A good lord must know his subject’s religion, silly. The Berwick Islands have a big underground cult problem.”

“That’s not all.” Simon squinted at her. “You’ve prayed to the Light Megalith, haven’t you? And you wonder why its magic shone brighter for you.”

Anna wore her heart on her sleeve, so he could read the truth written all over her surprised face. The Light Megalith had responded to the glow he saw in her, and she took this course to learn more.

“It shone for you too, didn’t it?” Anna guessed, squinting at Simon. “Since when did you become knowledgeable in Megalith-related theology anyway?”

“From the start?” Simon quipped, trying to change the subject. “You just never asked.”

“You lie.” Anna gathered her belongings and rose up. “Let’s go, Tiella.”

“What?” Both Tiella and Simon wondered at the same time, with the former adding, “Where?”

“Next to someone who won’t lie to his beloved cousin’s face.” Anna looked at Simon with sorrow and concern. “There’s just something unsettling about you, Simon. A coldness I don’t like at all.”

“Anna, wait–” Anna left with an apologetic Tiella in tow, leaving Simon’s words wasted. They settled a few rows away without a word.

What did… What did I do wrong? Simon wondered, feeling both angry and sorrowful. He guessed Anna would pick up on the way the reigns had changed him first, since she had been one of his oldest friends and loved ones. She probably took his attempts at keeping her out of his troubles as lying or deceit rather than caution. Maybe I should tell her. She kept my secret before.

Simon could salvage this. He knew her better than anyone. He just had to tell her what she needed to hear before she slipped away, and then everything would be fine again.

“It’s not wrong to be an eagle,” he heard Casval speak up behind him. “I’m sure the mice would rather fly.”

Simon glanced at the dragon while suppressing his annoyance, only to blink when he saw that Casval wasn’t alone.

“I’m sorry,” Isabelle Barbatos said, pointing at the two now empty seats next to him, “Can we?”

“Yes, of course,” Simon replied with a slight nod. What is she doing here?

Isabelle Barbatos didn’t usually attend many courses outside of Magical Theory, and mostly because she served as the teacher’s research assistant. Why did she even bother attending an Academy she was blatantly overqualified for?

Simon had Shabram dig out the file on Isabelle Barbatos, and it turned out there was a damn good reason why she and Louis were engaged. Besides being the daughter and heir of one of the empire’s most powerful dukes, with resources to spare, she was also a magical prodigy in the same league as Norbelle. Imperial Intelligence assessed her to be a level 68 Arcanist—–higher than Duchar in spite of being less than half his age. Her main claim to fame was refining the powerful Light-aligned Beam spell into elemental variants that had grown popular among artillery mages in recent years.

Her engagement to Louis didn’t really surprise anyone. Louis trained under her father during his youth and the two had remained close even in their adult years. Simon strongly suspected his brother also appreciated her for her personal strength on top of her grace and connections. A man like him would never settle for a woman who couldn’t fight by his side. Ironically enough, though, Shabram’s file described Isabelle Barbatos as a pleasant and kind woman well-loved by her subordinates. She had none of her fiancé’s appetite for war and bloodshed, even if she had supported the War Party in all prior reigns. Her loyalty was entirely personal.

“I’m surprised to see you here, milady,” Simon said. “I thought you didn’t attend Divine Mysteries.”

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“I do not,” Isabelle admitted with an embarrassed smile. “I came here to see you.”

Simon tensed up. “See me?”

“She’s researching levitation magic too,” Casval explained. “I thought you should trade notes.”

“Too?” Simon glared at Casval. “Did you peek at my notes?”

“Of course I did,” Casval replied, sounding more surprised than anything. “Friends look out for each other.“

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t restrain my curiosity,” Isabelle apologized. “Are you truly interested in miasma-based levitation magic?”

“I am,” Simon admitted, being slightly on edge. He didn’t recall Isabelle ever approaching him outside their introduction, so he had no idea how to handle her. “It’s a fascinating subject. I know there are mana-based flight spells, but the way creatures like vampires and demons can use miasma to levitate remains something of a mystery.”

“It would be easier to learn a spell to grow wings,” Casval mused. Like a dragon, went unsaid.

“Not if we want to lift more than people,” Isabelle replied with a pleasant smile. “Levitation is currently my main field of interest.”

“Is it?” Simon asked with a frown, a troubling possibility crossing his mind. “Is that why you are attending the Academy?”

Isabelle gave him a sharp nod. “Large chunks of Telluria were thrown into the air by manalith veins during the Doom.”

“The old Kish Empire,” Casval added. “We were both at the library researching the subject, so we struck up a conversation and one thing led to another.”

“Most scholars believe they eventually fell back into the sea during the disaster,” Isabelle said, “But some of my experiments show that certain manaliths can produce a kind of magical field keeping matter afloat for relatively meager mana cost.”

“Like Cocagne’s flying castle,” Simon guessed, his heartbeat quickening.

“You are well-learned, Prince Simon,” Isabelle confirmed. “I have been looking for the remains of those floating pieces of continental crust to learn how long they remained in the air, but I have yet to find any geological traces. I am beginning to wonder if they might still be floating up there somewhere.”

Simon didn’t like that train of thought, nor the flash of curiosity in Casval’s eyes. “Surely floating islands would have been discovered by now,” Simon said in an attempt to defuse the situation. “They would cast a shadow or be visible from the ground.”

“Not if the manalith field distorts space around them and keeps them hidden,” Isabelle countered. “Either way, I am certain this is the key to understanding how the royal line of Cocagne can keep their castle afloat. Imagine if we could replicate that spell and create floating ports for our airships.”

“Or floating fortresses,” Simon replied warily. He could see why Louis would be interested in that line of research, considering its military applications. Is that how he and Vouivre found the Kish Sanctuary? By comparing notes and guessing it had to exist somewhere?

Casval’s question immediately proved him right. “Do you think the kish could still exist on flying islands somewhere?”

“I don’t think so,” Simon lied, “The one I met told me she was born and bred in Telluria.”

Casval immediately stared at him with interest. “You’ve met a kish?”

“I have. It is she who told me of the lost kish treasure.” This should both throw Casval off a dangerous train of thought and ensure he could later set up a meeting with Vouivre. “Either way, Lady Barbatos, I would love to compare notes with you. I have done research of my own on levitation magic.”

“That would be with pleasure. The more minds on a task, the quicker the progress.” Isabelle’s smile reminded Simon of Lauriane, and maybe a bit of Remedia too. “Prince Louis told me you have a lot of untapped potential, and I am glad to see you match his assessment.”

“He exaggerates,” Simon replied with a faint smile, despite knowing Louis never did. He'd better be wary around Isabelle.

Her fiancé would learn everything she did in time.

After trading notes with Isabelle, getting Casval off his back, and ending the school day in a fouler mood than expected, Simon walked back to Duchar’s archive for their first spellcasting session. He was pretty confident he could gather enough intel to develop a miasma-based Tier VI flight spell emulating vampiric levitation, though it might take some experimentation.

Otherwise, he practiced Demonbinding under Duchar’s direction. The spell came easily to him since it followed the same principle as his Overlord Call spell. It simply required materializing a summoning circle with miasma, calling the kind of creature he sought from the Abyss—or using a true name to contact a specific one—and then providing the energy required for them to cross over. The more powerful the demon, the more miasma its summoning and binding required.

The spell’s real difficulty was in both luring in the creature and negotiating their terms of service afterwards. Demons had different needs—imps were happy to serve and cause mayhem, succubi wanted to feed on a lover’s energy, and so on.

“It is easier to convince demons to answer the spell’s call when one gives a specific offering fitting their nature, usually in the form of a sacrifice inside the circle,” Duchar taught Simon. “Considering Your Majesty is the Lord of Dark, I suppose you will have an easier time calling the right creature without the need of a tribute.”

“You suppose?” Simon inquired.

“Truth be told, I have only ever seen your father summon succubi or furies for… unchaste purposes.” Figures. “Once the demon is summoned, it will fall on Your Majesty to hammer out an agreement and terms of service with them. Should negotiations fail, they will be sent back to the Abyss.”

And I have a Title that lets me violate such terms, Simon thought as he cast Demonbinding in the archive. “Denizens of the Abyss, heed my call!” he intoned, his words reverberating through the Dark, “From pitch black depths I call thee, Gazer!”

A magical circle appeared in the center of the room, black smoke and miasma gathering in its center. A lidless eye with squirming red tentacles sprouting from the back of its pupil appeared, floating in the air without help. It observed Simon warily, ignoring Duchar.

Gazers, unlike their much more powerful Watcher counterparts, were the equivalent of a level 10 Vassal Class user according to the imperial bestiary, so nothing they couldn’t handle. They were demons who fed on paranoia and shame, usually by stalking their targets and making them feel constantly watched at all times.

A voice came out of the gazer, uttering words in a demonic tongue that Simon’s Perks swiftly translated. “How may I serve thee, Lord of Dark?”

Simon smiled thinly. “You ask for no price?”

“To serve the Lord of Dark is a great honor, and much fear and terror I shall spread in your name,” the demon replied obsequiously. “All that I ask is to stay on this plane forevermore, so that I might drink the fear of the living.”

Well, Unquestionable Ruler and Land of Darkness made binding weaker demons pathetically easy. “Very well,” Simon decided. “Agree to serve me loyally and without fail, and I will grant you leave to stay in my dungeon.”

The gazer agreed immediately, with Simon sensing the contract binding them forming. The circle collapsed and allowed the demon to float out of it.

“My first orders will be for you to patrol this Dungeon and sound the alarm at any unauthorized entry,” Simon ordered as he proceeded to brand the demon. “I will provide you with a list of people allowed inside these halls to serve me. Anyone else is an intruder who must be dealt with.”

“Your Majesty’s Dungeon should sustain any demon living on the premises without the need for human souls to consume,” Duchar pointed out. “The creature could linger on this plane forever so long as they do not leave the premises.”

I could raise a small army, given enough time, Simon thought. “What other creatures could I summon?”

“I admit my expertise lies with the undead, not demons, so my guidance on the matter will be superficial at best.” Duchar hesitated. “I know a demon who could help Your Majesty, but I am leery of summoning her.”

“Her?” It didn’t take Simon long to guess who he was speaking about. “Do you speak of Cassandra’s mother?”

“I am surprised you could tell of my daughter’s origins with a single look,” Duchar commented, with Simon leaving him to make his own assumptions. “Yes, I speak of my ex-companion. Agrat is her name, and while she is a knowledgeable and curious creature, she lacks both empathy and wisdom.” And that was saying something coming from him. “She is powerful and a scholar of the Abyss, but I please ask Your Majesty not to summon her in my family’s presence. We did not part on good terms.”

“I will abide by your wishes,” Simon reassured him. He recalled Cassandra telling him that her mother tried to murder her to test if she could feel something from it, and he wouldn’t revive that memory. “I will experiment with summoning lesser fiends for now.”

Duchar thanked him for his understanding right when Simon sensed Lorimor sending him a telepathic message. “I have brought you the specimen, Your Majesty.”

“Wonderful. I will come upstairs immediately.” Simon then turned back to Duchar. “Please introduce our new guard to everyone. We don’t want any incidents.”

Afterwards, Simon walked upstairs to find Lorimor waiting in the Honorius family’s dining hall with a stranger: a small, slightly effeminate albino shifter with messy white hair, pale skin, and crimson eyes. He was thin beneath his rags, almost painfully so, with batlike wings merged with his arms and a slave collar wrapped around his neck. He couldn’t be older than eighteen, and he stared at Simon with wariness.

“Here is your new slave, oh master,” Lorimor said proudly. “It wasn’t easy to find a bat shifter for sale, but the funds you provided me were more than sufficient.”

“A bat shifter?” Simon replied with slight distaste. “Aren’t they a Beast type?”

“Only in beast form,” Lorimor insisted, “In human form, their typing is Avian and Humanoid, Your Majesty.”

Is that so? Simon faced the boy. “What’s your name?”

“Pallian,” the shifter replied warily. “Are you my new master?”

“That I am, yes, though that may not need to last for long. Do as I ask and you will soon be free before the year is done.” To his surprise, the boy bit his lip anxiously rather than rejoicing. “Is something the matter? Do you not desire freedom?”

“I… I have nowhere to go, Master,” the boy admitted. “My tribe sold me off because my white hair fetched them more. They will not take me back.”

“Is that so? Then what do you desire if not freedom? A warm meal and a roof over your head? Wealth? Power?” Simon smiled in sympathy when the boy’s head perked up at the word. He could see an echo of himself in his gaze. “Power it is. The strength to never be weak again?”

Pallian scowled, but nodded slightly.

“Serve me well, and I swear to you that even your former tribe will tremble upon hearing your name.” Simon smiled and offered the shifter his hand. “Let us make a deal, you and I…”