Simon felt uneasy the moment he put the outfit on. The enmity between the Paladin and the Overlord had apparently partly transferred to the former’s Vassal in spite of its lack of sentience. Putting on the Templar armor felt like putting on a mantle of needles. It itched all over as the mana coalesced into a gilded plate armor bearing the emblem of the sun on its chest.
It closely resembled the Paladin one, even including a pavise shield and sword, but heavier, bulkier, and thicker. Its cylindrical helmet had a slit for a visor, and a crimson cloak fluttering from his shoulders. In short, where the Paladin had been surprisingly fast and agile, this Class was definitely designed for slow, steady defense and intimidating strength.
Quite like the Overlord, ironically enough.
You have unlocked the Templar Class.
Templar: A holy warrior versed in both swordcraft and scriptures, dedicated to serving a divine will and wiping out the Dark.
Strength B, Vitality A, Agility D, Perception C, Magic C, Intelligence D, Charisma B, Luck C.
Innate Perk: Darksense (Passive): You gain a sixth sense to detect the presence of the Dark–like miasma, Dungeons, or demons–nearby.
Innate Perk: Smite Evil (Passive): When using weapons in which you have a proficiency, your attacks against creatures of the Dark, like Undead and Demons, always gain a Slayer Effect (x3 Supereffective Damage).
Level 1 Perk: Melee Master 1 (passive): Can wield all melee weapons with medium proficiency (x1.5 damage).
So that’s how Alphonse sensed my presence in Rosanne, Simon thought as he read over the Perks. Thankfully, it seemed to have weaknesses, or else Mastemo’s bodyguards would have immediately noticed the aura of malice around Simon back in Frightwall. I guess being in a wellspring of the Dark shrouds their sight. It must have been like looking through black smoke.
“I must say it looks good on you,” Lauriane complimented him. “How does it feel?”
Horrible. The Overlord in him was urging him to tear the armor apart and paint it black. “I feel… stronger all around.”
“That would be the stat boost. It always does something when you put on a Class for the first time.” Lauriane watched on as Simon cancelled the Class outfit. “I do think a more academically minded Class would suit you better.”
“Like a dark wizard Class?” Simon mused as a question suddenly crossed his mind. “Come to think of it, why did nobody else try to make an original Dark-aligned Class? Surely the Overlord can’t be the only one, and they wouldn’t be limited by the lack of blueprints.”
“We’ve tried, but encountered two insurmountable issues.” Lauriane gazed at the Templar Crestone in her brother’s hand. “First of all, the lack of a prototype. We can create Vassal Classes because we can base our designs on the original Noble Crestones, but only elven archmages know how to create those in the first place, and none of them have managed to shape a new one in many centuries. No new archetype has yet to emerge, though that will probably change one day.”
“And the second issue?”
“The lack of a proper conduit makes it impractical,” Lauriane replied. “Creating a new theoretical Dark-aligned Crestone would require a miasma crystal, and those are extremely rare. They only coalesce in Dungeons or from the corpses of extremely dangerous entities like archdemons, liches, or ancient vampires… and even then I have yet to see any with the degree of purity required to carve a Crestone out of them.”
“How did Mardok create the Overlord Class then?”
Lauriane smiled at him. “That’s the mystery since the Overlord Class doesn’t even have a Crestone as far as we can tell. I suspect he found a way to turn the Crimson Throne into an alternate conduit between the Overlord archetype and its user, but this still doesn’t explain how or why it doesn’t require physical contact.”
Interesting. All Zodiac Fiends appeared to be sealed in potent miasma crystals. Could Mardok have created the Overlord Crestone from his own Serpent-Bearer crystal? But if he did, it would have surely been found by now.
“What about the Crimson Throne?” Simon asked. “Maybe it contains a miasma Crestone.”
“Father ordered us to dissect it a few years back, but we failed to open it up,” Lauriane admitted. “The Crimson Throne is both immune to divination and completely indestructible as far as we can tell. It is a mystery wrapped in an enigma. I don’t think even Father fully understood how it worked.”
Simon had the feeling Balzam Magnos had spent many reigns trying to figure that out, only to run out of time. All paths to the Crimson Throne’s secrets led back to Elios Magnos, and convincing the lich to cooperate would be a difficult proposition.
“I have arranged for carriages to transport you to the town of Whispermire and a shipment of manaliths for Firewand’s use, as you asked,” Lauriane said. “It is where Lorimor was arrested, if I recall.”
“Yes indeed, and his wife and child still live there.” Simon doubted they would be happy to see him again, but they should provide key intel. “I figured it would be a good place to start the investigation, especially since it’s right next to the Darkwood.”
“A wise and sensible approach.” Lauriane stared at him fondly. “You have grown into a fine and mature young man, Simon. I keep forgetting that sometimes.”
“I had a good sister to show me the way.” Simon clutched the Templar Crestone. “Thank you, Lauriane. Your help means the world to me.”
“I wish I could have helped more. The situation between Euphemia and Louis has us on edge.” Lauriane’s smile faded away. “Do not hesitate to retreat here or to call on us for reinforcements if you find anything too dangerous in the Darkwood. My door will always be open to you.”
And Simon loved her for that.
After they departed the facility the group took the train to an army relay station and then boarded the carriages taking them to Whispermire. Simon ended up sharing one with Cassandra and Belzemine, which suited him just fine. He wanted to clarify a few things with the former before they reached their destination.
“My apologies for what happened at the Goetia Research Center,” Simon told her. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It was a spur-of-the-moment improvisation.”
“Was His Majesty actually courting me?” Cassandra’s head perked up with curiosity. “I have never been courted by living people before, so I cannot tell.”
Why did she have to specify ‘living’ people of all things? “I was simply improvising to keep my sister off our backs.”
“Oh, so that wasn’t serious.”
Simon couldn’t exactly tell whether she was offended or relieved. The girl was so calm and unexpressive that he could hardly get a read on her. “For what it is worth, I do find you charming and attractive,” he replied, trying to make sure she wouldn’t be offended. “I am sincerely sorry for the deception. We’ll have to keep it up should Lauriane visit us, but I’ll make it up to you and Duchar for the inconvenience.”
“My father does not care about such things.” Cassandra studied Simon for a moment before asking, “Does Your Majesty want to have sex with me then?”
She said that so calmly, so casually, that it took Simon a moment to register her words. “What?”
“I asked if Your Majesty wants to have sex with me,” Cassandra replied flatly, completely ignoring the fact that Belzemine was sharing a ride with them.
“What, like right now?!” Simon blinked in shock. Is she serious?
“Yes.” Now she sounded almost confused. “Is that not how courtship works?”
Simon suddenly realized that having a back-alley necromancer like Duchar for a father might not have been all that good for socialization. “There are a few intermediate steps before that one, like dates and kisses.” Or a drunken game with Anna. “Sex is usually how courtship ends.”
“Yes, that would make sense.” Cassandra nodded in understanding. “Must we go through those steps for your sister’s sake?”
“You don’t sound as opposed to the idea as I would have expected you to,” Simon noted, slightly taken aback by her reaction.
“I am Your Majesty’s servant and I find you pleasing to look at too,” Cassandra replied with a shrug. “I wouldn’t mind you courting me.”
Truly? Simon guessed that she probably didn’t have many opportunities for dating in Beleth, considering her secretive nature, interests, and family. He might have indeed been the first living person to make a pass at her, however unwittingly.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Simon wondered how to deal with Cassandra. He did find her attractive, and she seemed mature enough, but he never dealt with her for long beyond spellcasting sessions. He knew precious little about her. Maybe he could be pleasantly surprised…
No, I’ve no time for romance, Simon told himself. He still wasn’t over Anna or the loss of Eole’s friendship, and the idea of getting overly attached to someone else only for the end of a reign to cut it short was gnawing at him. I should focus on leveling-up and the Zodiac Fiends rather than women.
“I have too much on my plate for courtship at the moment,” Simon said evasively, “But I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better, Cassandra.”
“If Your Majesty wishes it.” A small smile formed on Cassandra’s lips. “It will be nice having a living friend.”
Belzemine, who had remained dutifully silent so far, began to shift uncomfortably in her seat. Simon felt at ease all of a sudden, nay, at home. He could sense a presence calling out to him in the distance, so faintly he barely noticed.
He opened the carriage window and got his first look at the Darkwood.
It could have been mistaken for a vast and dense rainforest at first glance, filled with black alders, hornbeams, and birches… if not for the fact that they were all black, gnarly, and twisted with little to no leaves on their branches. Mushrooms and purple moss covered the ground like a purulent infestation, while a thorny undergrowth and foliage formed a near-impenetrable barrier. A mist of purple miasma visible to the naked eye hovered over the woods, so thick one couldn’t see farther than a few feet deep, and yet Simon spotted shadowy forms moving inside.
Two features immediately caught his eye. The first was the rotten husk of an alder manatree, dark, hunched over, and leafless. It loomed over the entire region like a mountain while shrouded in a veil of miasma oozing from its bark. The second feature was the great stone spires rising hundreds of meters over the forest floor all across the landscape like a great beast’s fangs. It didn’t take long for Simon to realize they were fossilized roots from the dead manatree.
“What a ghastly sight…” Simon commented. “Is this what happens when a dryad perishes, Agnes?”
“No, Your Majesty,” Belzemine replied, a hint of sorrow breaking through her cold exterior. “Naught but stone, dust, and fossilized crystals remain in the wake of a manatree’s death. This is not death, this is…” Her tongue clicked in her mouth. “Corruption.”
Corruption? Wait, was she implying that the manatree was still alive?
“I sense you… you scion of the Minotaur.”
Then he heard her in his mind.
It was a woman’s voice calling for him from the woods, clear like a waterfall and melodious like Eole’s, so pleasant and enchanting to listen to. However, the way the words echoed in Simon’s head reminded him of another such occurrence half a continent away.
A Zodiac Fiend was calling out to him, just like how the Twin-Tailed Fish had tried to tempt him in the Kish Palace and the Scorpion had called out from the depths of the Poison Gardens.
“Did you come here seeking power? Seeking me?” the voice asked, purring with delight. “Come unto me and let us be joined. I shall wait for you at my temple, in the Halls of the Minotaur… waiting for our wedding of flesh and soul.”
The mental connection ended as abruptly as it came as the carriage continued to travel along the woods’ edge to their destination. Simon glanced at his companions and realized that both of them had perked up as well.
“Did you hear that too?” Simon asked in concern.
“Yes, I think so,” Cassandra confirmed. “It was an invitation.”
“It is her,” Belzemine said. “The Darkwood’s dryad. I am certain of it.”
What? Simon blinked in surprise. Not a demon? “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. We elves can hear their calls from birth.” Belzemine's scowl deepened. “But she sounded… wrong.”
What was going on here? Simon had assumed the dryad had perished and the Zodiac Fiend was sealed within her tree in some way, but could she have been corrupted by it somehow? The mention of the Minotaur would point to the Darkwood housing that particular demon.
However, another detail bothered him. Simon could hear the Zodiac Fiends through his connection with the Dark, and Belzemine was sensitive to a dryad’s voice, but why would Cassandra be able to hear the entity, too? It could be a feature of her Witch Class, but Simon had another, likelier, possibility in mind.
“Cassandra, what is your birth sign?” Simon inquired. He had guessed the likely answer, but demanded confirmation.
“I was born on the 20th of Floreal, so…” Cassandra looked up as if trying to remember. “The Minotaur, I think?”
Eole had briefly mentioned her birthdate in the previous reign, and Simon confirmed she was a Twin-Tailed Fish; the same sign as the Fiend sealed in the Kish Palace. He was starting to notice a pattern.
“Whatever this entity promises you, do not listen to it,” Simon warned her as the village of Whispermire came into sight. “Its only desire is to take your body as its own.”
“Your Majesty need not worry, I know demons and I have seen Lorimor,” Cassandra reassured him. “She will only be another voice among many.”
Simon wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but that could wait for another time. The carriage slowed down and then stopped as it reached their destination.
Located between the Darkwood’s edge and a nearby river, Whispermire was a small town of roughly four thousand inhabitants according to the latest imperial census. While somewhat backwater even before the conquest of Magvolia—no king of the region had ever visited it in over a century, according to Lorimor—and mostly subsisting on fishing or woodwork, its economy had been bolstered in recent years by down on their luck ex-soldiers, mercenaries, and adventurers looking to make some coin by plundering the elven ruins inside the Darkwood or harvesting monster parts. Lorimor’s own wife had made a small fortune catering to that particular clientele and even leveraged it to become the town’s mayor.
Her establishment, the Midnight Market, oversaw the Darkwood from a hill directly facing the forest. A five-story tall estate with various secondary facilities of solid black stones and sturdy timber frames, the compound cut an impressive figure compared to the more rustic houses spread across the town. A tall hedge wall and a gatehouse controlled access to the area, though the guards let the carriages in without a fuss. Lauriane had apparently sent a messenger bird ahead to alert them of their arrival.
Simon climbed down from his vehicle to find a woman matching the description of Lorimor’s wife awaiting them in front of the estate’s gates alongside two guards. Her dark skin marked her as a Uyo native, with short white hair and pale grey eyes. She looked to be in her thirties, wearing a masculine blue velvet doublet, gloves, and a small cape, showcasing her wealth. The calculating way she appraised Simon vaguely reminded him of Silk and Casval.
“Your Highness,” she said in perfect Endymian and with a short bow. “My name is Odette Kano, mayor of Whispermire. I will be hosting you–” Her eyes widened with a mix of fear and fury when she spotted Lorimor, her courtesy gone in an instant. “What is he doing here?”
“I was sent to investigate the demon case,” Simon replied. Apparently, Lauriane hadn’t informed her of Lorimor’s presence. “I figured he would be useful in the search.”
Odette’s hands clenched into fists. “He is not staying here or anywhere near my son.”
“Our son,” Lorimor replied with a baleful glare. “Benjamin is mine too.”
“You lost any right to him when you…” Odette’s expression turned into a scowl of fury. “You belong in a cell or a ditch, not in my house.”
“Benjamin was chosen!” Lorimor ranted, his fragile mask of sanity fraying away. “Even now, the Muse beckons me from the–”
“Silence,” Simon said sternly, the cultist immediately falling quiet. “My apologies, Lady Odette. I assure you he is well under control.”
She didn’t believe him. “Two more kidnapping attempts have been made on my son since his departure, and he is still under that… that thing’s influence. He will do something stupid.”
“We’ll arrange other accommodations for him,” Simon promised, his eyebrows furrowing. “I wasn’t informed of any more kidnapping attempts.”
“I did not wish to bother authorities or to bring publicity to my establishment, so I settled on dealing with the matter as mayor myself,” she replied sternly. “I had them hanged to a tree to deter further attempts.”
This one is cut from steel rather than velvet. “Was your son born sometime in the Floreal month?”
“He was.” Odette squinted at him with suspicion. “Did his genitor tell you?”
“It was just a hunch. I suspect the demon in the woods is specifically looking for someone born under the Minotaur sign.” Simon stretched his back. “But we can discuss that after my companions and I have settled in.”
“Of course. My staff will see to your accommodations…” Odette glared at Lorimor. “And they will find some hole for this worm to crawl in.”
Simon didn’t oppose her and telepathically ordered Lorimor to go along with it for now. His wife was reacting with extreme restraint, considering what he had done, and Simon didn’t wish to alienate her.
Odette proceeded to give him a brief rundown and tour of her facilities. Besides the main building, the estate included a bathhouse, stables, and storehouses. The first floor hosted a feasting hall and bar for adventurers, the second floor a shop full of various kinds of equipment and magical items, the third private bedrooms for visiting adventurers, the fourth was dedicated to administration, and the fifth covered Odette’s personal solar and guestrooms, where the group would stay.
In short, this place catered to all of an adventurer’s needs.
“This place is a guildhall in all but name,” Simon noted as Odette personally invited him to her private study on the fourth floor to discuss the investigation in private.
“Magvolian guilds have been either dissolved or tightly regulated since the conquest, but we do offer similar services,” Odette explained as she guided him through several hallways. “We buy monster carcasses and process them into parts we sell back or repackage into magical items, and hand over the elven historical artifacts adventurers find in the Darkwood to the central government against proper compensation.”
“Quite the fruitful business from what I see,” Simon noted. “Who were the kidnappers?”
“A tanner and a drunk, neither of whom had any criminal history before the incident,” Odette replied. “We always had fools stumbling back from the Darkwood after being bewitched or driven to madness by fiends, but such incidents have increased in the last months. Graffiti caked in blood, animals found mutilated in the morning, and what happened with my ex-husband. I am starting to suspect a cult has taken root in town.”
“And of course, you didn’t warn the authorities.”
“I am the local authority… but I won’t lie, I had hoped to solve these incidents without involving the central government,” Odette admitted as she unlocked a door that probably led to her private study. “Your help is welcome.”
Odette opened the door, and they found Silk waiting on the other side.
The Cobweb emissary was there, slouching on a chair facing a wooden desk without a care in the world, her gaze turning from the bookshelves and window to the newcomers. She wore a simple dress rather than her usual roguish clothes and looked more like a commoner lady than the criminal she was, but it was her, unmistakably her.
Simon froze in place the moment he saw her, as did Odette. He fought the temptation to summon the Overlord Class outfit and throw the traitor through the nearest window, but multiple reigns of constant deception had sharpened his self-control.
“Am I interrupting something?” Silk asked as she rose to her feet, feigning innocence even though she had been waiting in a locked study. Quite the ominous warning.
“My apologies, I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” Odette replied after regaining her composure, though she remained noticeably wary. “This is His Highness Simon of House Magnos. The central government sent him to deal with a local matter.”
“Elsa Nightingale,” Silk lied easily as she shook Simon’s hand. His grip was tighter than he would have hoped, but the memory of the Cobweb’s betrayal remained too raw. “Have we met before? I seem to have startled you.”
“I mistook you for someone else for a moment,” Simon lied back. She should be on the other side of the Dragonsea these days. “Who are you, might I ask?”
“I represent an import-export consortium from Valne.” Which… was technically correct. “It would be unbecoming to let a member of House Magnos wait, so I shall take my leave for the night and discuss business with Miss Kano later.”
“I will send someone for you as soon as I am finished here,” Odette promised. The cautious, respectful way she addressed the Cobweb representative raised all kinds of alarm bells in Simon’s head.
“Take your time.” Silk gave Simon a sharp nod as she walked out. “Your Highness.”
Simon watched her leave without a word, his jaw scowling.
What did the Cobweb want with this place?
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