Chương 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. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. 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?"

"Thank you." Simon took a deep breath as the ministers looked at him.

"For the beastmen problem, I could visit the Imperial Military Academy and our colonies in Telluria in father's guise, so as to remind the beastmen that the empire will not–" And then he knew something was wrong. A numbness traveled up his arm and reached his chest, like ants crawling up his shoulder. First, it was only bothersome, but then came the sharp pain and the shortness of breath. Dizziness seized him and blurred his vision.

His other hand instinctively began to scratch his chest as his muscles began to tense beneath his Overlord armor.

"Simon?" Lauriane asked with a hint of concern. Maublanc squinted at him in suspicion.

"Are you feeling unwell?" Simon tried to answer, but he spat out blood from beneath his helmet rather than words. He had already collapsed to the ground by the time the others bolted out of their seats in alarm.

"Call Firewand immediately!" the empress all but shrieked at someone Simon couldn't see.

"Don't let him die!" High Confessor Mastemo and Lauriane immediately laid Simon down to the ground, the former's hands glowing with holy light. He applied them to Simon's chest, but it only worsened the pain rather than soothing it.

"The bloody…" Uncle Maublanc overshadowed them all.

"The cupbearer! Find the cupbearer!" I'm burning… Simon's thoughts faded away into an ocean of pain. His blood was pounding in his ears, and he could feel his heart struggling to keep pounding. I'm burning on the inside…

"Poison," the High Confessor muttered in horror.

"By the Light… there's an anti-heal effect laced in it!"

"But he should be immune…" Lauriane gasped.

"He's… not immune to poison."

"He cannot die now!" The empress snarled in genuine panic.

"If he dies, the Overlord–" Simon didn't hear the rest. His ears had become bloody drums, and when the darkness claimed him to relieve him of the pain, it almost felt like a relief. He was back at the Crimson Throne. The bloody chair didn't seem surprised to see him again… which was weird, now that Simon thought about it. Thrones shouldn't have feelings, even demonic artifacts crafted by the worst tyrant the world had ever seen. Did it have a will of its own?

Or did the spirits of past Overlords taint it with their malice? Whatever the case, the judgment was swift. This is the fourth of your hundred reigns. You have earned the title of Simon the Poisoned. The Poisoned: You have been poisoned by one of your courtiers—truly a rite-of-passage for all Overlords. You gain Resistance to Poison. Poison. He had been poisoned. How? How?! He hadn't drunk the wine, or even touched it! And if a drop had spilled, it should have hit his Overlord armor!

Not to mention that other councilors had tasted the wine. They should have noticed it even with their ailment resistance or immunities on! It was with all those questions in mind that Simon woke up in his room, his half-sister shaking him like a tree.

"Simon–""Father's dead," he said immediately. This routine was already growing tiresome.

"Gutted open like a fish." Lauriane's eyes widened in surprise.

"Did you see it happen?" Simon wondered what to say before clearing his throat again. His arm still recalled the numbness of the poison traveling through his veins.

"Lauriane… what's an anti-heal effect?"

"Was it related to Father's murder?"

"I've… heard the term in my dream." Which wasn't a total lie.

"I think it's linked to Father's death."

"I see…" Lauriane stroked her chin.

"An anti-heal effect inverts all attempts at magical regeneration. It causes healing spells to damage the target rather than mend their wounds." So the High Confessor had been trying to save him, only to make things worse. This probably eliminated him from the list of suspects, although he could have simply been trying to save face or kill him quicker.

"We can discuss it later," Lauriane decided.

"Put on your pants and come with me."

"Go… go on ahead," Simon said.

"I… I need to clear my mind to recall what I saw… and I already know what we'll find in Father's bedroom." Thankfully, she didn't argue.

"Very well, but be quick. Your absence will be suspicious, and everyone's on edge already." Simon nodded and watched his half-sister leave with her knight. Once she was gone, he sat on the bedside and tried his damndest to recall any detail he might have missed. The pain began with the same arm that touched the cup, so it had to be the source of his death. He was certain he hadn't touched the wine, though. Could the cup itself have been magically poisoned?

But then, how did it affect him through the Overlord armor without skin contact? That had to be the result of an advanced spell or a Class Perk of some kind. He remembered sitting between Lauriane and Patriate Malphas, though it could have been the cupbearer too, or anybody else. He had no idea what the councilors' respective Classes allowed them to do. For all he knew, one of them could turn any object into a weapon. But why kill him at all?

His scheme had convinced them that his demise would cause the Overlord Class to incarnate in a stranger at random. None of the Magnos would gain anything from it, unless… Unless that's exactly what the assassin wants, Simon realized, much to his dread. Lady Shabram voiced the possibility that an outsider had murdered Balzam Magnos. Nobody believed it, but who would benefit from the Overlord leaving the dynasty? They want to topple us.

Whoever the killer was, they were still in Frightwall Castle and determined to finish the job. Moreover, they were high enough in the hierarchy to know of the limits of the Overlord's defensive Perks and brazen enough to kill him in a room filled with high level councilors. Simon wouldn't tempt them again. Here goes nothing, he thought as he focused on the icon at the edge of his vision, praying the Light to shine on him with all of his strength. Menu, open. A screen showed up and filled him with delight.

Simon Magnos Level 8 Overlord Humanoid/Demon Reign 4/100 The rest showed his stats, including the Titles and the Perks he had already obtained. Simon couldn't suppress the giddy grin stretching on his face. Levels did carry away from one reign to the next! This changed everything. No one would be able to identify him as the Overlord with Anathemic Secrecy I on.

He could fly under everyone's notice, feign normalcy, and finally leave for the Imperial Military Academy; maybe contact the stranger in Telluria and learn more about whatever was going on. Still, they're going to kill each other soon if no Overlord shows up. Simon couldn't let Lauriane die nor risk getting caught in the fireworks. I need a distraction. A shiny lure to keep away from both each other and myself. He had an idea how to achieve that.

Simon joined the others in his father's quarters just like in the last few loops. Hardly anybody noticed his presence, and events proceeded as they did last time… until the Keeper of the Throne showed up to read the emperor's testament.

"I do hereby bequeath my Class, throne, and titles to my chosen heir," the Keeper read, the entire audience holding its breath.

"Laurent Linconnu." Simon struggled very much to hide his smile of satisfaction at the befuddling silence that followed the declaration. Everyone exchanged mystified gazes until Thalas asked the question in everyone's minds.

"Whom?" And when no one managed to answer, all these vipers immediately began to wonder.

"Could it be a hidden bastard?"

"Is there a noble family with that patronym?"

"Why would his Majesty choose a stranger?!" Simon observed everyone with satisfaction. According to the books he had read, Linconnu was one of the most common family names among the empire's plebes and Laurent had grown quite popular among would-be parents in recent years. It would be like searching for a needle in a haystack, except the needle didn't even exist. Simon knew his plan had worked perfectly when Louis and his supporters stormed out of the room with scowls, and no bloodbath ensued.

All the palace's factions would spend the next few weeks trying to locate Father's heir, the assassin included; plenty of time for him to leave the capital for Telluria. He hoped to find answers there, and if not, it didn't matter all that much now. He would be out, out of this viper's nest for the rest of his reign. And they would never pull him back in.