The darkness welcod him once again.
As Mardok warned him, it would be a long ti before Simon would et the three bastards again. The single Crimson Throne facing him was empty and unoccupied; the triad that made up its spirit remained invisible to his Dark Visionary senses.
All of that pain, all of that anguish and suffering, and he was still hardly any closer to getting his hands on Gargauth’s Abyssal Chronicle and understanding the true nature of the reigns. He had gotten a tiny bit closer to his objective by locating the Chest of Worlds, but the fact that its guardians could wound a Beast Crestone-powered Vouivre—whom Simon had seen matching Euphemia herself in battle—clearly told him he was nowhere near ready to tackle that particular challenge yet.
It all felt like such a waste.
This is the twentieth of your Hundred Reigns.
You have gained the Title of Simon the Dragonrider.
The Dragonrider: You have learned that dragons make better mounts than horses. Your phantom steed will now take the form of a mighty dracozombie, gaining a wretched breath attack and greater strength. The associated Perks remain otherwise unchanged.
Was this the Overlords’ way of twisting the knife when it ca to Casval’s death, by reminding Simon of it every ti he summoned his steed? Or was it Gargauth’s attempt at insulting his spawn for letting themselves be ridden by a human? Learning that Casval could experience human feelings and be turned to Simon’s side was precious information, but the fact that the dragon was the only one to fight with him to the very end after losing Anna and everyone else left a bitter taste in his mouth.
This isn’t , Simon told himself as he woke up in his bed more tired than he went in. I have work to do. I have to power through.
Simon was only a fifth of the way through his reigns; which had felt both terribly long and horribly short. He had so many issues to handle: ambushing Silk to take the Rogue Crestone and devour its ability to bypass teleportation wards, reuniting with Redia, finding a way to avert the imperial civil war, saving the world from the Zodiac Parade, exploring Frightwall, finding whatever the deal was with Mastemo’s crystal, helping Belzemine recover from her brainwashing, learning why Verney and the others wanted Anna so much, finding a way to infiltrate the Chest of Worlds to recover Gargauth’s Abyssal Chronicle, avoiding being killed by Vouivre, the Oracle, Elios Magnos, the White Unicorn and everyone who wanted the Overlord’s head on a spike, ensuring his friends and retainers lived happily…
Simon thought about everything he had to do… and failed to rise from his bed. His body was heavy like a stone.
Simon wasn’t feeling sick like at the start of his previous reign. His soul wound had healed and his power had returned, yet he lacked the will to get out of his bed. The re idea of tackling the imnse number of tasks ahead of him drained him of his strength.
The world beyond his bedroom now looked so… overwhelming.
No, no, I have to rise up, Simon told himself. There were only two hours before his father’s death was discovered, and he had to change the will before his family started fighting over the inheritance. “Keeper.”
The Keeper of the Throne’s shadow materialized at his side in an instant, ready to fulfill his every wish. “What is thy bidding, Your Dark Majesty?”
“I want you to modify the will to na…”
And then Simon fell silent as he failed to conjure a na. Casval? Should he na Casval, ignoring his sacrifice to save Simon to ensure he wouldn’t kill Anna and Tiella down the line? No, no, he couldn’t; no more than naming Vouivre would end well from his experience in Cocagne. Pointing fingers at Verney would unite his family in a brutal overseas conquest rather than maintain peace…
What was he going to do? What was the plan?
“How can you say the end will be worth it, as you say, if you don’t even know what the end is?” Vouivre’s words echoed in his mind, taunting him. “How do you expect to win if you don’t even know what you want?”
What am I aiming for? Simon suddenly wondered. Not just for this reign, but for all of them?
Simon was now a fifth of the way through his Hundred Reigns, and he still struggled to imagine an endstate. Saving the world and those he loved from death and destruction was a goal he strived to achieve, as was surviving as long as he could… but just as Vouivre said, those were re plans rather than a true vision of the future.
“Na Laurent Linconnu as the Overlord’s heir,” Simon decided, more because it was a relatively ‘safe’ option that would win him more ti to think than anything else. “And…” He turned in his bed. “Fetch sothing to drink. Sothing that will give energy for the day.”
Simon half-expected the Keeper to return with sothing ghastly, like a cup of human blood, but it instead brought him a delicious cocktail of fruit juices, sweets, and potions. It was tasty, but failed to give Simon the boost he needed. He rewrote the will to split his father’s inheritance between Balzam’s children and assign himself slaves, rested in his bed, and did nothing productive for the next two hours until his sister slamd his door open.
Afterwards, Simon sleepwalked his way through the exact sa morning routine he had gone through nearly two dozen tis by now. The sight of Thalas sneering at him almost brought him comfort—it was sohow easier to hate that bastard than see him turn his life around—yet Simon struggled to care. He felt like a corpse walking among ghosts rehearsing the exact sa play, which Lauriane picked up on.
“Simon, are you well?” she asked him with so concern.
“It’s just… a lot to take in,” Simon replied. It wasn’t even a lie.
Lauriane put a hand on his shoulder. “The future is more than uncertain with Father dead, but I promise you no harm will co to you.”
Simon forced himself to smile, but his sister’s affection and reassurance failed to alleviate his mood. Just the idea of tangling with Thalas, Vouivre, and their kind again sucked all motivation out of him… as well as the fact that he would have to talk to Eole again.
I have to power through, Simon told himself. Man up, Simon. It’s just another reign.
After settling their father’s inheritance, Simon invited Eole to his chambers to talk to her like he did many tis in the past. Seeing her distrust him as a slaver at first sight was as displeasing as it was appropriate; he had spent so many reigns winning her over with his deeds and kindness, only to erase all that progress in the last one.
Eole had ended up in the sa place as where she began: hating Simon for all that he represented.
Not this ti, Simon told himself. He didn’t have the heart to put her through another betrayal again, so he simply showed her her emancipation act.
“What is this?” she asked him warily.
“Your freedom,” Simon replied as he removed her slave brands, much to her surprise. “Go back to your people’s Sanctuary, forget this world below, and never return.” He sank into his chair. “It’s just a ss from start to finish.”
His exhaustion must have shown on his face, because Eole’s surprise and caution turned into concern. “Who… who are you?”
“A prophet who has seen too much,” Simon replied bluntly.
He gave her a quick rundown of Vouivre’s intentions for the kish and Telluria, the fact that the Cobweb and the Necromancer were looking for the Adventurer who had crashed down on her ho, and that her Sanctuary housed a dangerous archfiend who would break out of its prison in a year. Eole took all the information with a blank face.
“I’ll make sure nobody can find your ho,” Simon concluded. “So just go, be free, and never return. You will be a bane on your people even if you try to save them.”
Eole shifted in her seat and t his gaze. “As will you?”
Simon didn’t answer.
“You have seen terrible things, prophet,” Eole guessed. “It is written all over your face.”
Simon sighed. He couldn’t speak about the reigns, but he could at least share his burden by voicing it as visions. “There’s just… just so many moving parts,” he admitted. “Everybody’s selfish and pulling things their way until they break. I have no idea where to start anymore, or where this all ends. It’s exhausting.”
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“I have heard one of our elders say prophecies were as much shackles as they were blessings,” Eole muttered. “The gods are unkind to put that burden on you.”
“The gods had nothing to do with it.” Simon only had his predecessors to thank for the Curse of the Hundred Reigns. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just a problem I have to solve. I’ll find a way to save the empire.”
Eole scowled. “Why?”
Simon squinted at her. “Why what?”
“Why do you have to save this rotten land of evil, oppression, and slavery?” Eole argued. “It doesn’t deserve your help.”
“Because I live in it,” Simon replied, though her question rattled him sohow. “Because soone has to do it, or many innocents will die.”
“Soone will rescue this land, if they must… but you are not the Paladin, Lord Simon. You are just a man. No one expects you to save anyone.” Eole took a deep breath. “You advised to abandon a dood battle. Perhaps you should do the sa.”
“And go where?” Simon pointed out. He had learned to his detrint that the likes of the Oracle and Cobweb would always find him eventually, and the Zodiac Parade would engulf the world in ti.
Eole stared at him and hesitated an instant, before saying, “You could co with .”
It wasn’t the first ti she suggested it, but it truly caught Simon’s attention this ti. “Leave? With you?”
“We could go to my people’s Sanctuary. This empire is rotten to the core, and its Overlord is a demon wearing human skin.” She bit her lip. “I can tell your gift and its expectations gnaw at your heart like a worm. Staying here will only lead to your suffering.”
She was right, and it did eat at him… but to leave now? Could he actually do that? Abandon the empire, his family, and the entire surface?
The idea sounded absurd considering the looming threat of the Zodiac Parade, not to ntion the civil war, Vouivre, and the Cobweb… yet Simon didn’t feel ready to tackle any of these threats right now. Especially not so soon after everything that happened in his previous reign.
Most importantly, according to Eole, the Sanctuary’s inhabitants had never interacted with the surface since the Doom. They knew nothing of the Overlord, of Endymion, of the wars below. No one would raise an eyebrow at Simon’s presence except the Adventurer’s crew, and none of the people there had t him before the reigns. They would have no expectation of how he should behave, unlike Anna. He could just be himself there, at least for a ti. No hiding, no acting, no looking over his shoulder for assassination attempts or danger.
He could rest at last…
Simon thought back to the previous reign and those that preceded it, to the exhaustion he felt, the friends he had lost, the battles he had waged… and the answer ca clear and quick, almost like a relief.
“Yes,” he decided, imdiately sensing a weight lift off his shoulders.
“Yes?” Eole repeated, her head perking up with surprise. She must have expected him to say no.
“Give a few days to settle my affairs here and ensure the likes of the Cobweb never find out about your ho,” Simon said. “I would like to bring along soone else as well; an elf slave who dearly needs a place to belong.”
“That would be very kind of you, prophet, and we will house you both.” Eole nodded, a faint smile on her lips. “I promise you that my people will welco you as an honored guest. I will repay the kindness you showed .”
“You owe nothing, Eole.” Especially not after how the last reign went. “Still, I look forward to seeing your ho, especially if it is as beautiful as you say.”
“It is,” Eole replied fondly. “I swear it.”
She’s right, it shouldn’t be my burden to carry, Simon thought. His family, who needed a common enemy not to kill each other, the Oracle that would never stop interfering with his activities, the Cobweb and Vouivre… Simon was sick of them all, and he didn’t feel ready to tackle any of the countless problems he needed to address right now. Let sobody else bear that responsibility.
The world was full of self-proclaid heroes.
Let sobody else save the world for once.
For the first ti since he departed for Valne, Simon was set on following his first instinct: leaving this viper’s nest without looking back.
Of course, he wasn’t selfish enough to just depart without taking so precautions. Neither did he ignore the fact that the Goatfish archfiend sealed in the Sanctuary would have to be dealt with at one point or another.
Moreover, Eole had suggested her ho could be a place where Belzemine could peacefully reconnect with other elves and slowly break away from her brainwashing in earlier reigns, and Simon intended to put that theory to the test. Taking her along might guarantee an elven attack on Frightwall, but Simon would take precautions to minimize the damage.
Simon thus spent the day writing letters and reports, before asking for a eting with Shabram and presenting her with a pile of docunts; a treasure trove of information gathered across the reigns and copied from his Abyssal Chronicle in a way that wouldn’t trigger the Crimson Throne’s failsafe.
“What is this, Your Majesty?” Shabram asked as she reviewed the files, her eyes widening slightly. “Are these…”
“Prophecies,” Simon confird. “Intel about the threats to the empire, nation-shattering secrets and visions of what is to co, alongside the locations of safehouses and bunkers to ensure you and Aegio can survive the chaos to co. These docunts now make you the most powerful woman in the entire empire, because the future is now yours to shape.”
“?” Shabram frowned at him, perhaps because he had ntioned Aegio as well. “Your Majesty, I do not understand.”
“I intend to leave the empire,” Simon admitted. “I lack the strength to do as I want–” Whatever it is I want. “–and I may not return. You are free to do as you wish with this intel.”
Her eyebrows furrowed deeper. “Why?”
“Because you are the most responsible person I can think of, and my father and I owe you for your dutiful service.” Shabram was one of the few people who had never failed Simon nor betrayed him in any of the reigns, and her loyalty would pay dividends. “You and your son will be on the winning side, because you’ll be in the position to pick it. All I ask in return is that you deliver a handful of letters and protect a few people of interest.”
Shabram looked over the letters, each sealed with a na on it. “Princess Lauriane, Lady Anna Paimon, Alphonse of Lore, Duchar Honorius, and… Queen Redia of Cocagne?” The last one puzzled her the most. “What do these letters contain?”
“Farewells, and information,” Simon replied.
Most precisely, the letters to Alphonse and Redia included the location of all known Zodiac Fiends and their vessels—except for the Sanctuary—alongside intel on the Zodiac Parade, warning about the Cobweb’s intentions, and the Overlord’s sworn promise to disappear. If the White Unicorn and Oracle were serious about protecting the world from evil and saving innocents, then let them prove it. This would also let Redia deal with the Cobweb in Cocagne before it could threaten her or the Sanctuary.
Duchar’s letter was a bit different in that it contained intel on how to safely transfer Hector’s soul. It would be harder without Simon’s Perks to ease the process, but he had no doubt a sorcerer of Duchar’s skill could replicate the feat.
Finally, Simon also bade goodbye to Anna and Lauriane in the letters. He wasn’t emotionally ready to confront them directly again, and he knew they would investigate his disappearance. He hoped his words would at least give them closure.
Shabram gave the docunts another look, then sat on her desk. She was clearly biting her tongue and trying to think of a way to word sothing very unpleasant without offending Simon.
“You are free to speak your mind,” Simon reassured her.
“Your Majesty, while I am very honored and pleased by the trust you put in … the empire needs an Overlord,” Shabram declared as she put aside the file. “This information will certainly help profit from the chaos to co and ensure my son’s safety, but thousands will die no matter what I do with it.”
“Thousands will die even if I stay,” Simon countered. He had lived through that ss before.
“Not necessarily,” Shabram replied. “I would suggest you ally with one of the parties at court using the information contained in these files. It will certainly cost a few political concessions, but the other group can be contained and our nation will not tear itself apart. You may even avoid another foreign venture if you ally with Empress Euphemia.”
Simon crossed his arms. “You would suggest I ally with a party that disdains shifters?”
“A bad peace is always better than a civil war,” Shabram admitted. It surprised Simon that she would push for civic duty over her own personal interest, or she thought a united empire served her better than a crumbling one. “My sympathies go to the War Party, but Prince Louis will push for an attack on the western continent in return for his support.”
“I don’t want to sacrifice thousands of Valneans and Loreans just because my people cannot make peace without a common enemy,” Simon said bluntly.
“Then you should form a power block with Empress Euphemia, High Confessor Mastemo, and Lord Paimon,” Shabram suggested, “Princess Lauriane and Prince Dassein will hesitate to oppose you, which will force Prince Louis to bide his ti rather than force an unfavorable confrontation. This would be the optimal scenario for imperial succession.”
“At the cost of becoming Euphemia’s puppet.”
“She will extract concessions,” Shabram admitted before waving the files, “But so can you. While Your Majesty may only have obtained the Overlord Class, the information you have gathered here is more than potent enough to force a compromise.”
Simon considered Shabram’s words. It was true he had significantly grown in power since he first attempted to rule in his own na, and learned quite a few damning secrets like Mastemo’s ownership of a Zodiac crystal. He did have levers to pull and press to his advantage.
However, it would an spending the reign playing Overlord and peacemaker in Frightwall, and he was utterly sick of that viper pit.
“Not now,” Simon decided. The re idea of getting back into the political arena tired him. “I’m… not in the mood nor shape to keep the peace.”
“You know you cannot run from this forever, Your Majesty,” Shabram argued. “The Crimson Throne chose you for a reason, even if you cannot see it yet. Your path will always lead you back to it in the end.”
“‘In the end’ can be a very long ti, Shabram.” Simon had learned that truth to his sorrow. “Until then, I’ll leave the empire in your capable hands.”
A few days after settling his affairs and branding Shabram to ensure they could stay in contact in case of ergencies, a disguised Simon, Eole, and Belzemine boarded a mana-powered train in the dead of night, as they did twice before to travel to Valne.
Their new destination would be far closer to ho, naly a tall mountain near the border between Endymion’s heartland and the Valendre region, where they could simply fly up to the Sanctuary once it flew over the area. Simon intended to reveal his true identity to Eole during the trip, to ensure he would be as truthful as possible with her.
“Do you have any regrets, Simon?” Eole asked him once they sat into the train’s passenger car. “It will be a long and difficult journey. Once we depart, there will be no turning back.”
Simon looked at the window, staring at the looming shadow of Frightwall in the distance beyond Marthrone’s lake. He could feel the Crimson Throne within its walls calling out to him, yearning for a master to sit upon it, and yet patiently waiting for his return.
They both knew he would be back one day, in this life or the next. Even this journey would be little more than a temporary respite.
“No,” Simon said, “None at all.”
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