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The Hundred Reigns 76: The Elf Conspiracy (3)
🕑 Added 2026-01-02 15:10:02 +0000 UTC------
True to their standing, Simon’s retinue and the Malphas were introduced to the decrepit ruin they called Duke Eligos in his private quarters.
The palace’s pomp and splendor contrasted terribly with the ruinous state of the master of the house. Already pushing eighty, the man was a bedridden, wrinkled living corpse unable to string two words together. Simon almost mistook him for a reanimated zombie when he first saw him.
Meanwhile, his grandson Henry was a pale, scrawny little boy with curly blond hair and big blue eyes. He was dressed in mourning black and clutched a stuffed bear toy as if his life depended on it. Simon could feel an eeriness radiating from the toy, which Belzemine and Meredith seemed to pick up on as well.
“Henry dear, please greet our guests,” Justine said with a tone that could almost pass for motherly, if not for its slightly sinister edge.
“Hello,” the boy said shyly, his smile reserved for Elaine alone. “Hello, Elaine.”
“Greetings, my lovely little cousin,” Elaine replied by kissing him on the forehead. “How fast you grow. You’ll be taller than me at this rate.”
“Only if he eats well,” Justine replied before taking her husband’s hand into her own without eliciting any reaction. “As you can see, my poor husband has been bedridden for some time. I have been doing my best to alleviate his burden.”
I doubt that, Simon thought before answering outloud, “Mayhaps Lady Firewand can help? She is the world’s foremost healer and used anti-aging spells to keep my father vigorous.”
Justine gave him a sly smile that sent chills down his spine. “She is welcome to try.”
Belzemine quickly cast a few analysis and healing spells on Duke Eligos, frowning in disgust as she did. Whatever she gleaned didn’t please her in the slightest.
“This is an empty shell,” she commented, “The man’s soul has departed, leaving only a breathing corpse and vessel.”
Patriate shifted uncomfortably at her words. “Forgive me for doubting you, Lady Firewand, but I was told no life could survive without a soul.”
“This puppet does,” Belzemine replied bluntly. “He would be better off buried.”
“It is not for you to decide whether my husband lives or dies, Lady Firewand,” Justine said, her smile unblemished. “The thought of being separated from him is unbearable, and I would rather keep him at my side for as long as possible.”
Simon studied Patriate and Elaine’s expressions. Although Patriate kept his disgust and unease carefully under wraps, his less experienced daughter scowled in true distaste. Neither of them seemed to get along with Justine.
Were there cracks in the elf conspiracy? Simon would assume so. He had learned with his cult that any sufficiently large secret organization had leaks, traitors, and weak-points… and he had the sneaking suspicion Justine Eligos might be the key to unraveling this one.
“My guards will see to your accommodations,” Justine declared. “I am organizing a masquerade ball at the stroke of midnight tomorrow, preceded by an opera three hours earlier. Attendance is mandatory, of course.” She gazed at Simon, her fan coyly hiding her mouth. “Preparations will take up much of my time beforehand, but I can make some room to finish our earlier conversation in private, Lord Simon.”
Elaine scoffed. “Are you trying to lure away my fiancée, dear aunt?”
“I would never dare steal one of yours, my dear niece,” Justine teased her back. “Though I do admit he is a handsome and well-bred young man.”
“It is fine, Elaine,” Simon replied, knowing how the game was played. “Your aunt is right, she did pique my curiosity earlier. Lady Firewand and Meredith can be my chaperones.”
“I would rather have the handsome young Decarabia behind you,” Justine quipped, licking her lips at Leonard. The Dreadnought flatly ignored her, which only seemed to amuse the duchess. The mere fact that she dared to flirt with him in front of her catatonic husband spoke volumes about her utter lack of concern for him. “Very well. If he prefers the company of luggage to my own, I shall indulge him.”
Simon noticed a brief flash of annoyance in Patriate’s eyes. The man clearly wanted to invite himself to the conversation, but doing so would have been both inelegant and suspicious. He simply excused himself while Justine invited them to a private yet opulent study. A roaring fireplace kept ablaze by a small fire elemental lit up high-backed leather chairs and a wooden desk nearby. A cadre of winged demonesses with red, bloody wings and crimson bows kept watch over the area. Simon might have mistaken them for kish if not for the two black holes weeping blood they had in place of eyes.
“Make yourself at home, Lord Simon,” Justine said upon slouching in her seat, her towering ogre bodyguard looming behind her. “Would you like a refreshment?”
“No, thank you,” Simon replied after taking a seat, his own retainers eying the guards. He didn’t trust anything this woman had to offer him.
“Your loss,” she said upon snapping her fingers, one of her eyeless creatures quickly serving her a cup of wine. “What a strange boy you are.”
“How so?” Simon inquired.
“Both your retainers are sensible enough to be wary in a room full of demons, yet you seem neither concerned nor bothered. The thought that they could harm you at all never crossed your mind.”
A sharp one, like her brother, Simon thought as he smiled innocently. “I’ve grown up in a castle full of fiends, including a skull-juggling demon, and I can tell a diabolist of your renown must keep a tight leash on them.”
“Vile flatterer, but you would be right. A wise diabolist does not call what they cannot put down.”
Belzemine squinted at her in disdain. “There is no such thing as a wise diabolist.”
Simon had rarely seen Belzemine speak up so much without invitation. She had voiced some disdain for Duchar’s studies of the Dark in past reigns, but Justine Eligos truly seemed to annoy her.
She had a point, though. Simon had learned from experience that while powerful spells could bring mighty creatures under control, magically-compelled loyalty was only a single spell away from turning into treachery. Justine Eligos would better sleep with her door locked at night.
“I would have thought living with demons for so long would have taught you otherwise, Lady Firewand, but it seems your current master is more open-minded,” Justine said, her eyes staring at Belzemine coldly before moving on to Simon. “Were you aware of your status as a Darkblood?”
“I don’t even know what that term even means,” Simon admitted.
“Darkblood is an archaic elven term for people with demon blood in their ancestry,” Belzemine informed him. “Either through direct lineage or a blood pact.”
Simon raised an eyebrow. “A blood pact?”
“Powerful demons ritually seal pacts with mortals by sharing their blood, infusing their contractors with otherworldly abilities,” Justine explained. “Descendants of people with blood pacts often manifest demonic features.”
“I’ve heard rumors that my ancestor Elios Magnos once served Overlord Mardok,” Simon noted, which surprised Meredith. The news that Elios Magnos had been working for Mardok wasn’t common knowledge. “You think those two formed a blood pact?”
“Possibly.” Lady Justine sipped from her cup. “That or a succubus frolicked with him.”
Simon knew from his father’s genealogical research that no demon had found its way into the family tree, so he learned towards the blood pact possibility. One of his Perks also caused Simon to be treated as a demon for the purpose of magical effects, and his ‘The Delicious’ Title turned his blood poisonous, so the ogre might simply have been smelling that…
No, I had strange dreams long before inheriting the Overlord Class, Simon thought. Lauriane was convinced I had minor foresight for years, too. There’s something more to it. This also fits Asterion’s claim that his kind can only merge with individuals marked by the Dark.
“Darkblooded families often manifest latent powers down the line, usually in the form of minor demonic traits like forked tongues or horns, or an aptitude for diabolism,” Justine Eligos explained. “Darkblooded people are not uncommon in the empire, but Visionary descendants are rare, and unions between the two are almost unheard of. I believed only Prince Thalas and Princess Norbelle could boast such a unique lineage, and only the latter became a true Visionary in spite of her paternal handicap.”
“Handicap?” Simon noted. What an odd choice of words. “Is being a Darkblood and a Visionary mutually exclusive?”
“They are,” Belzemine confirmed. “Visionaries draw their power from the Light, which reveals the future, whereas Darkblooded people bear traces of the Dark, which shrouds it. That is why the most powerful demons possess innate resistance to divination magic.”
“The two do not mix well.” Justine Eligos flapped her fan. “If I had to compare it, it would be like putting on a blindfold.”
Her ogre smirked at Simon. “You would have sprouted a pretty little eye without your demon blood.”
Simon’s heart skipped a beat. Was that the reason for his dreams? That he would have been born a Visionary if not for the demon blood in his veins suppressing his third eye’s growth and leaving him with diminished prophetic abilities?
That would explain why he saw what he assumed were echoes of his father’s past reigns. The Overlord’s power was born of the Dark, not to mention that Elios Magnos helped create the Class, and Simon’s foresight gifts had been tainted by it since birth. It could have let him glimpse events related to his father.
“How do you explain Norbelle then?” Simon asked Belzemine. “The Magnos Darkblood should have inhibited her Visionary gifts.”
“When Prince Thalas failed to come into the world with a third eye, His Majesty had me cast spells on Empress Euphemia while Princess Norbelle was still in the womb,” Belzemine admitted. “This allowed her Visionary gifts to express themselves, granting her both a third eye and enhanced magical aptitude. Even so, I don’t think she would have grown a third eye if her mother didn’t have one already.”
Simon scowled. On one hand, it horrified him to learn his father hadn’t been above experimenting on his own children in the womb; on the other, it also amused him that Balzam’s lineage was to blame for his difficulties in siring Visionary heirs.
“Spells in the womb, you said?” Justine licked her lips. “You intrigue me, Lady Firewand. Would you kindly share those with me? For academic purposes, of course.”
It was a blatant lie which Belzemine didn’t dignify with a response, though the whole matter piqued Simon’s interest. If spells could allow Norbelle to grow a third eye in spite of her Darkblood’s inhibitions, could it be possible for Simon to unlock or strengthen some of his latent Visionary abilities?
“The same thought crossed both of our minds, Lord Simon,” Justine said with some amusement. “There’s power in your blood, my dear. Latent power. I always theorized that a child of Darkblood and Visionary descent would inherit a diminished, subconscious version of the latter’s gifts, either in the form of dreams or uncontrollable visions.”
“I have dreamed of someone’s violent death since as long as I can remember, until they actually perished,” Simon admitted. “Do you think I could refine that gift?”
“Of course. Maybe you could form pacts with Eidolons, or access enhanced magical abilities, or unique mutations. You are quite the rare creature.” Lady Justine chuckled. “I could help.”
“But not for free,” Simon guessed.
“I am the Merchant’s sister.” Lady Justine covered her mouth with her fan. “The spells Firewand used on your sister will be a start, alongside a pint of your blood. It should serve as a powerful magical reagent for demonbinding rituals. Exclusive access to Whispermire’s Darkwood and any elven artifacts you find there will also smooth things over, I won’t lie.”
Such naked, unabashed greed. Simon had to admit he found honest avarice somewhat refreshing when compared to her family’s constant lies. “What’s in it for you? Forgive me, but you don’t sound like the academic type.”
“And you don’t seem like the dangerous type, Lord Simon, but appearances can be deceiving.” She met his gaze, her eyes cold and piercing. “A normal boy your age wouldn’t so readily join someone like me for a private chat in a room filled with demon guards. It is not that you think I cannot harm you; you know it. You are nowhere near as harmless as you pretend to be.”
Simon smiled thinly. “You would have learned to hide your strengths too, if you had a family like mine.”
“Probably,” Lady Justine conceded. “What of my generous proposition?”
“I’ll think about it.” Besides the fact that Simon didn’t trust her in the slightest, working to unlock demonic powers would clash too much with the image he wished to send for this reign. “All of this is very new to me, you understand.”
“Of course. My door is always open… if you dare to step through the threshold.” She waved at herself with her fan, squinting. “What are your intentions with my niece?”
“None so far,” Simon replied. “I have just learned about this engagement.”
“I suspect she will bore you out of your mind before long. Her father fumbled her education and turned her into a mockingbird. Good for singing and little else.” Lady Justine waved her fan at him. “Now shoo, shoo. Off you go. One of my guards will see you to your quarters.”
It took a rather inflated sense of one’s self-importance to send off a Magnos with an elven archmage at his beck and call away, but Simon simply thanked her and departed. He also noticed that Lady Eligos had never actually answered his question about what she would gain from gaining access to Magnos blood and other spells. She could have wanted it as a reagent to summon more demons, or more likely as a tool to strike at the Magnos family or at least influence them. Cassandra’s fetishes required body parts like hair, nails, or skin to sympathetically affect their targets, and blood formed the strongest connection of all.
It can’t be all acting, Simon thought when his group walked through gilded corridors adorned with mirrors on their way to their destination. Either this Justine is a better comedian than her brother, or she has genuinely taken a liking to imperial intrigue.
“What do you think of her, Meredith?” Simon asked his retainer. She had spotted Vouivre flying from a very long distance, picked up on the fact that Elaine’s footsteps didn’t produce any noise, and other details which had come in handy over his previous reigns. If anyone could notice something Simon had overlooked, it would be her.
Meredith scowled and hesitated for a moment before answering, “There is something wrong with House Malphas, Your Highness. I would tread carefully in their company.”
“Was it the naked greed and demons everywhere that tipped you off?” Simon quipped.
“There is more to them than meets the eye,” Meredith replied with a frown. “Have you noticed that Lady Eligos keeps calling Your Highness and Ser Leonard young, when she is not that much older than either of you?”
No, Simon hadn’t noticed that detail. It was indeed strange now that he thought of it. It could simply be an expression without any substance, but his gut told him there was more to it.
Meredith was right; something about the Malphas’ had rubbed him the wrong way the moment Simon met them. Their duplicitous nature, the lack of records on their origins, the fact they played such a long game his time-traveling father had failed to pick up on them…
Elaine could be older than she looks, since half-elves lived longer than humans from what Simon had gathered, but… no, Patriate would have had to sire her while young, if they were even related at all.
Come to think of it, each Malphas took care to incinerate their own corpses in previous reigns, not just Elaine, Simon thought. Why would Patriate be so thorough? It would make sense if he was a half-elf like his daughter, but many end up sterile like mules, and I've heard those who aren't can only reproduce with pureblooded humans or elves anyway. Could it be to hide the fact he’s not related to Elaine, or not human at–
Simon stopped in the middle of the corridor, as the truth hit him like a military train. Meredith nearly bumped into him.
“Your Highness?” she asked with concern.
“I, uh… I felt something foul in the air,” Simon said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. A dark and novel idea had crossed his mind.
No… No, that would be insane, Simon told himself once they resumed their walk. A spell ought to have revealed their true nature if that were the case… but it would explain their patience, their willingness to risk everything to save Belzemine, Patriate’s secret elf name, and the Oracle’s belief they could infiltrate the empire for a very long period of time. They would just need a steady supply of manaliths a Lord-Treasurer and two spellcasting duchesses could easily afford.
Simon had seen two goddamn dragons walk among humans undetected, so it was entirely possible. So much would make sense if the Malphas family were like Casval or Vouivre. The how they achieved it and avoided detection for so long remained a big question mark, but one of Simon’s own passive Perks caused him to be treated as a Demon for the purpose of magical effects.
Why couldn’t there be one that treated its wearers as human?
Simon put those thoughts aside when they reached his luxurious private quarters on the second floor, with the Malphas and his other retainers already present. Elaine was showcasing noble robes to Eole in an attempt to find one that fit her, whereas Lord Patriate was putting on various masks.
“Tell me, Lord Simon,” he said, switching from a pearly domino mask to one that covered his entire visage. “Which of these suit me best?”
You mean the mask on your face, or the one that is your face? Simon wondered before answering, “Both fit you well, Lord Malphas, but you are easily recognizable with the former.”
“Yes, I thought as much,” the man replied with a small, genial sigh.
“I hope my aunt didn’t frighten you, Lord Simon,” Elaine teased him. “She is quite the eccentric personality, I’m sure you’ll agree.”
“She was as charming as she was frightening,” Simon replied, “She welcomed us in a room filled with demon guards.”
“My sister does that often. It amuses her to frighten newcomers.” Patriate gave him a smile of feigned sympathy. “I hope it did not unsettle you too much.”
“Not at all,” Simon replied with a shrug. “It’s just demons. I’ve watched Gourmand’s spectacles since I was eight. His kind does not frighten me.”
“You were braver than me then, Lord Simon,” Elaine flattered him. Her father nodded in confirmation, though Simon caught a glimpse of wariness in his eyes.
For now, Simon had decided on the image of ambivalence. Trying to look harmless would both fail because he would give himself away and appear deceitful at worst, or just be dismissed outright otherwise. No one brought a craven weathervane into a conspiracy. Simon had instead settled on appearing just a bit more confident and braver than he appeared at first glance, but not too much as to arouse suspicion. He would have to be very careful so as not to arouse Patriate’s suspicions while still giving off the feel of someone who could become an asset if properly motivated.
Simon’s gaze lingered on Eole’s current dress. She had to settle on a lovely gown that left the shoulders exposed to let her unfold her wings.
“I don’t think Eole’s identity will remain a secret for long,” he pointed out.
“I’m planning to wear fake wings, to help with the mystery,” Elaine mused with a thin smile. “Lady Firewand and Lady Meredith should join in on the fun. I could commission wings of different colors.”
“That might start a fad,” her father said. “My sister plans to invite over a thousand guests, Lord Simon.”
“Any particular guest I should look forward to seeing this night?” Simon inquired, although he already had a pretty good idea of the kind of people who would attend it. “Thalas isn’t on the invite list, I hope?”
Elaine let out a laugh too high-pitched for it to be genuine. “He and Lady Shax are in Telluria right now, but we will have other honorable figures,” she said, “Duke and Lady Flauros, the Lord-Mayor Amenadiel, half the Magvolian old aristocracy…”
All of whom either rose in rebellion against the War Party or planned to in support of the monarchy, Simon recalled. Lady Eligos should have called it the Traitor’s Ball.
Simon could see the writing on the walls thanks to his foresight. Malphas planned to gather the entire conspiracy in one place in order to relay the all-important information that Balzam Magnos had been slain and their plans for a war would proceed apace. That was something he simply couldn’t afford to trust to messengers, lest he start a leak.
Neither was Simon’s invitation an accident. Masquerades were a golden opportunity to hold secret gatherings while incognito, or isolate specific individuals. If everything unfolded as Simon suspected, Patriate Malphas would try to approach Belzemine, lure her away from the rest of the group, and then either break her slave brands or try to exfiltrate her. Giving her a set of wings of a specific color ensured the Malphas could keep track of her in the crowd and easily provide an excuse for her ‘disappearance.’
It was a clever plot, and one that Simon would happily subvert.
“Shabram,” Simon telepathically contacted his spymistress. “Have you placed spies in the Flauros entourage, as I have asked of you?”
“Yes and no, Your Majesty. Infiltrating their inner circles has proven extraordinarily difficult, but some members of their staff answer to me.”
“That will suffice. I just need to know about the Flauros family’s costumes so I can identify them.” If everything went according to plan, Simon should uncover all the major figures involved in the elf conspiracy at the ball and infiltrate its higher echelons. “I will keep you informed.”
“What of you, Lord Simon?” Patriate asked him with a honeyed smile. “Do you already have a disguise in mind?”
“All I can say is that you won’t see it coming,” Simon replied with a wicked grin on his lips. I can promise you that, you treacherous, shapeshifting elf bastard.
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A/N: and since we're resuming updates at normal pace, next chap will be on Monday ;) hope you're enjoying this new arc so far.
Comments
Owen
Suddenly this feels like that one level in Dishonoured where you're at a masked ball and have to figure out what mask your target is wearing so you can assassinate them lol
Pradian
I seem to remember something about the opera... Hmm
Alibhai
Sure, it would make sense if the Archfiends had a limited impact. But as it stands, the zodiac parade affects the entire world, so even if the Oracle couldn't directly observe the zodiac bros, she should be able to observe the impact that they will have.
Myrdin
I wonder if the Oracle simply doesn’t know about the Zodiac parade coming up. The archfiends might be immune to her powers.
