As a level fifty Warlock with a quicker spellcasting progression than the Overlord Class, Duchar knew quite a few Tier VI spells.

“While I would advise against practical training during Your Majesty’s recovery period, here is a copy of my personal spellbook for you to study until then,” Duchar explained as he handed Simon a small journal. “Please familiarize yourself with its contents during the next few days and choose the ones you would like to focus on after you have fully rested.”

Simon nodded and browsed the spellbook. Duchar had once saddled Cassandra with the duty of teaching him spells, but now that Simon could cast spells of the same maximum tier as him, he was now more than happy to take on that duty. Simon’s promise to help transfer Hector’s soul into a new body had no doubt improved his disposition towards him as well.

He had quite a few miasma enchantments to teach Simon: Death X, an instadeath, single-target spell that could kill anyone 10 levels below the caster; Putrefy, which he used to rot Antonine de Shax to death in a previous reign; and Gigatox, an improved version of his already potent Megatox spell. His spellbook also contained mana spells like Recall—which worked as the basis of teleportation gems—or the ever useful Dispel—used to strip a target of buffs and debuffs—both of which Simon could adapt to use miasma.

The most potent and versatile tool he could offer, however, was the Demonbinding conjuration spell; something Simon had been looking forward to for quite some time.

“I would like to master Demonbinding first,” Simon informed his tutor.

“This spell allows the caster to summon forth demonic creatures of the Abyss into a binding circle,” Duchar explained. “While it cannot summon more potent entities like archfiends, all lesser and medium entities in the extraplanar bestiary can be targeted, such as imps, furies, succubi, legions, grotesqueries, watchers...”

Simon wondered if this spell was how he had met Cassandra’s mother, but wisely kept that thought to himself. “Is there a way to call a specific entity?”

“Using an extraplanar creature’s true name allows the caster to summon that individual being and grants some advantages in the following negotiations,” Duchar confirmed. “The spell otherwise will summon a random specimen of that demon’s category. Be mindful that the target can ignore or refuse the summon too, and that only a fool calls up what he cannot put down. Not all demons are eager to be trapped in a circle and forced to bargain with a summoner.”

Simon resolved to test the spell further when he had recovered enough strength to overpower whatever he called. He was confident Unquestionable Ruler would help with negotiations, but Duchar was right, bargaining with demons was always fraught with peril.

“If I may ask, Your Majesty… how did you reach such a high level in such a short amount of time?” Duchar inquired suspiciously. “Being capable of learning Tier VI spells would put you at least at my level, assuming the Overlord Class functions like spellcasting ones.”

“The Overlord has a secret Heir Vassal Class,” Simon lied, using the same excuse he used for the Cobweb. “I’ve been secretly shoring up experience for years until I could inherit the Crimson Throne.”

“I see…” Duchar stroked his beard, and then nodded slightly without asking any further questions. “Interesting.”

He believes I murdered my father, and that he shouldn't push further. Simon had spent enough time in the old Warlock’s company to read his facial cues and guess his true thoughts. The only things stronger than Duchar’s curiosity were his caution and love for his family. He doesn’t want trouble or to jeopardize his son’s recovery.

Simon was starting to wonder if he shouldn’t just claim he had committed patricide from now on. His excuses were growing flimsier and more unbelievable the more he grew in power, and he had the nagging suspicion his other retainers had assumptions of their own.

Known father-killers had few friends though, even if said father was Balzam Magnos.

After leaving Duchar, Cassandra, and Lorimor to their studies, Simon returned to the Academy with his other retainers. He gathered his breath when he reached out for his bedroom’s doorknob, knowing who would await him on the other side.

As he had expected, Anna was having tea with Tiella, as she always did… alongside two unexpected figures. Simon had already met with Lady Isabelle Barbatos before, so her presence here wasn’t too surprising, but the Magnos sitting next to her wasn’t her fiancé.

“Welcome, brother,” Dassein greeted him with a wide, warm smile. Even though he had swapped out his armor for a red, manticore-embroidered mantle, the Rider remained an imposing presence towering over all other guests. “How was your flight?”

“Dassein?” Now this took Simon slightly aback. This never happened before. “What are you doing here?”

Dassein chuckled, as if that was a stupid question. “Greeting my younger brother on his first day of school, what else?”

“And making up for constantly standing me up a dozen times,” Anna quipped, her laughter both comforting and unsettling to Simon. “I should chastise you for keeping us waiting for so long too. What punishment does he deserve, Tiella?”

“Maybe we should listen to his excuse first,” Tiella suggested. Simon could have sworn they already had this conversation.

“Right, that. What do you have to say in your defense, Simon?”

“I was sick,” Simon replied naturally. He thought seeing them again would hurt more, but he had time to process his feelings and anguish over the past few reigns. He had grown used to seeing people forget him by now, even old friends and lovers. “Still am.”

“Mmm… I can see that, so I’ll forgive you.” Anna crossed her arms. “You’re not contagious, are you? I wouldn’t want Isabelle and Tiella to catch something.”

“I am more solid than I look, Anna,” Isabelle replied with a faint smile, before she assessed Simon. “You look mana-deprieved, Prince Simon. Did you exhaust yourself casting spells?”

“No, I just had a nightmare and woke up like this,” Simon replied, though he was slightly impressed she got so close to the truth with a mere look. He had only heard rumors about Isabelle Barbatos’ proficiency in spellcasting, but had never really looked into her background all that deeply before. “Lady Firewand believes it might have been a failed attempt at demonic possession in Frightwall.”

“Seriously?” Dassein stared at him with concern. “I’ll have a chat with Louis and Lauriane about this. Our arcanists and priests must be slacking on the job.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Tiella asked shyly.

“I’m told I should simply rest and…” Simon scoffed. “Have fun.”

Anna grinned wickedly. “Then you’ve come to the right place! I’ll register you for all the best classes, you’ll love them.”

“Sure.” Simon frowned as he picked something in Anna’s aura. “Mmm…”

Anna raised an eyebrow. “You don’t believe me?”

No, there’s just a halo of light around you. It wasn’t nearly as bright as Belzemine’s, but it more than matched Euphemia’s own radiance in spite of Anna’s lack of a third eye. She nonetheless bore the shroud of the Darkblood too, which surprised Simon. Did Maublanc’s ancestors fool around with a demon too? Or did his and Father’s blood pact stain his soul?

Either way, Anna was both a Darkblood and… something else. Something that belonged to the Light, even though she lacked the third eye, and which had no doubt caught Verney’s interest. Simon recalled that Anna always picked Divine Mysteries as a course in spite of not being too religious either. Did it have something to do with that?

And of course, Dassein showed the same Darkblood potential as all of his siblings. Simon would need to check all of his family’s birth signs to ensure they never crossed paths with their associated Zodiac Fiend across the reigns.

“Surprise me,” Simon dared her, right before the door opened again behind him. As expected, Thalas walked into the room like he owned the place with Antonine de Shax in tow.

“Anna, Dassein,” Thalas said without sparing Simon a glance, his Darkblood faint yet noticeable. “Don’t you have better things to do than hang out with our father’s mistake?”

Thalas is here, but Louis didn’t recall his fiancée to the capital, Simon noted. Odd. Does it mean Louis doesn’t feel threatened by the Church Party this time around?

“What are you doing here, Thalas?” Anna asked with slight surprise.

“I’m attending this year.” Thalas gave Simon a baleful glare. “And you better stay out of my way.”

“That’s uncalled for, brother,” Dassein scolded Thalas with a frown. “Simon’s mother may not have been of noble blood, but he’s your sibling still. You should try to get along with him.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Unlikely, Simon thought as he studied Thalas, which caused him to sneer in disdain. “Why are you looking at me like that, bastard?”

Our father said you were a lesson in abstinence. Remembering those words left Simon with conflicting feelings. On one hand, he hadn’t forgotten the years of bullying he endured from his half-brother, nor gained any respect for him across the reigns; on the other hand, he had learned their father more or less set him up to be murdered by his more competent siblings, and he had been willing to fight at Simon’s side in Cocagne for Norbelle’s sake. I don’t know whether I should despise or pity him.

“Nothing,” Simon replied evasively, which caused Anna to frown at him. “Doesn’t matter.”

Maybe he should listen to Dassein and try to get along with his family for once. That would spite his loathsome voyeur of a father fiercely.

—--------

And so Simon began attending another semester of the Imperial Military Academy.

Things were both ungodly familiar and slightly different this time around. For the first time in nearly twenty reigns, Dassein actually gave the introduction speech. His words were a lot more energetic than the headmaster's, with Dassein both warning new students of the challenges they would have to tackle—the empire’s extension into Telluria, the threat of the White Unicorn abroad, a slight increase in monster attacks—and professing his faith in them to carry on the older generation’s torch.

Elaine Malphas was otherwise absent, which indicated she would only attend the Academy in the scenario where Simon both claimed Belzemine and caused Louis to visit it. It would appear only the crown-prince’s presence in Telluria would motivate the Oracle’s agents to move there; that, or the news about Verney had caused Patriate to adapt his plans. Dassein’s greater involvement in the Academy’s affairs also suggested that naming a Lorean count as Overlord didn’t add to his workload in Telluria, since he didn’t have to look for Casval or a mysterious Laurent Linconnu.

Interesting how small changes snowball down the line… Simon thought. Let’s see how things develop before I hit the Frightwall attack deadline. I can always send Belzemine back a few days earlier to cancel the bombardment.

Simon picked courses like Tribal Studies, Magical Theory—Isabelle would apparently attend those too—and Divine Mysteries to keep an eye on Anna. He also added Monster Anatomy to the list to learn more about demons, dragons, and other creatures he might encounter in the future.

He also compared his family’s birthdates to learn their Zodiac signs. Louis was a Lion, which he had already guessed from the Cocagne debacle; Dassein belonged to the Ram, Thalas to the Archer, Lauriane to the Crab, and Norbelle to the Scorpion. He also checked Shabram’s sign and confirmed she was born under the auspices of the Twins.

And Anna…

Anna belonged to the Maiden sign.

That can’t be a coincidence, Simon thought as Mr. Adrissant arrived for their Tribal Studies lesson. The Maiden was one of the few Zodiac Fiends whose location Simon had yet to identify, and one that the likes of Asterion and Elios Magnos himself had deemed more important than the rest. Did Verney kidnap her because she could become its host? Is it connected to her inner light and ‘divine power’?

He sensed a familiar presence nearby and looked up to find Casval pointing at the nearby seat right on time. “Can I sit here?”

“Sure,” Simon said. He couldn’t help but smile upon remembering how he had slain him in Cocagne, and looked forward to doing it again.

“Thank you,” Casval replied upon returning his smile the same way a mockingbird would mimic another bird’s cry. His soullessness reminded Simon of the Cobweb’s fetches, and not in a pleasant way.

Simon wasn’t too worried about the dragon for now. Anna’s drinking game only took place over a month into the reign, after the aborted attack on Frightwall. This should give Simon a few weeks to recover from his Dark Visionary transformation without fear of Casval killing his former lover or starting a mess.

In the meantime, he would cultivate that connection to reach Vouivre.

Simon quickly got bored with listening to Mr. Adrissant’s lecture for the fifth or sixth time—he had lost count by now—and raised his hand when a certain subject came about.

“Mr. Adrissant,” Simon asked upon raising his hand, “You say that academics aren’t sure where dragons come from, but you say all life on this world derives from the manatrees. How do academics reconcile that paradox?”

“I said that all natural life derives from the manatrees, since extraplanar lifeforms like demons have no ecological niche to speak of,” the teacher corrected him. “But you are right dragons and their derivatives are something of an enigma. The first major theory about their origins is that they started out as extradimensional monsters accidentally summoned to our world in ancient times by elven archmages, which lines up with records of draconic entities having been called from other planes before. The second possibility considered by academics is that they originate from a ‘secondary’ branch of life that split from the manatrees during Brimir’s primordial days, only to be supplanted.”

Casval looked rather annoyed and quickly spoke up. “Yet dragons can adapt to anything.”

“True,” Mr. Adrissant concurred. “Unborn dragons undergo significant mutations when in the egg depending on their environment. Leviathans, for example, started out as dragons whose eggs hatched underwater and thus developed fish-like characteristics; and scalefolk adapted humanoid characteristics in order to lure in human or elven prey. Monster researchers have often called these beasts perfect predators.”

The teacher glanced at his students and sighed upon seeing that most of them didn’t appear to take the threat seriously.

“Let me make this clear to all,” Mr. Adrissant said sternly. “For every song of a brave dragonslayer killing one of those beasts, there are thousands of reports of foolish adventurers being burned or devoured alive. There are five creatures in this world you’ll be allowed to run away on sight from without a direct order from your superior, and dragons are one of them for a damn good reason. They’re not slightly bigger than average wyverns, but intelligent killing machines with enough strength to shatter castle walls, innate spellcasting abilities, and a breath weapon packing more firepower than an airship’s artillery. A single adult can lay waste to a town on its own. You see one? You sound the alarm and you retreat.”

“If they adapt so well to anything, why haven’t they conquered the world?” one of the students inquired nonchalantly.

“Two factors,” Mr. Adrissant replied calmly. “The first is that all dragons are solitary predators at their core. They have no society or civilization outside of cults, villages, or minions pressed into servitude, and they do not cooperate outside of mating seasons or extremely small family units. A lone dragon may be extremely powerful, but other Tribes have hunted dangerous monsters to extinction through superior numbers and organization.”

The rise in Class users mustn’t have helped, nor infighting, Simon thought. Gargauth himself had likely killed more dragons during his purge than all human dragonslayers combined.

“The second reason is that they are victims of their own success,” Mr. Adrissant said. “Dragons are apex predators that continuously grow as they age. Since they require ever increasing sustenance and eventually depopulate their own territory, they have developed a lifecycle where they periodically hibernate for decades or centuries until the area recovers. It is estimated that nine dragons out of ten are actually sleeping at any given time, to everyone’s relief.”

Simon subtly studied Casval’s reaction to this. The dragon’s displeasure was written all over his human face, and he was clearly holding back the urge to speak up again. His draconic pride clashed with the need to keep a low profile. Simon redirected the conversation to the Kish Empire to ensure Casval would speak with him after class, and then pretended to listen through the lecture.

“Mr. Adrissant is wrong, by the way,” Casval told him once the course concluded. “The first dragon came from the stars.”

Simon’s head snapped at him in genuine surprise. “What did you say?”

“It flew from distant stars and crashed onto what is now Scaland, beneath which it is now entombed to this day,” Casval replied before adding, almost as an afterthought. “Or so a scalefolk told me once.”

“Wait, you say they are not native to this world?” Simon had never heard of this in any of the dragon documentation he had browsed so far. “They are entirely unrelated to the manatrees and the Worldsoul?”

“Yes. Dragons do have souls that produce mana, but they don’t work like those of lesser Tribes.” Casval’s smile now felt almost natural. “Do dragons interest you?”

“They do,” Simon admitted, though not for the reasons Casval imagined. Still, the young dragon appeared rather flattered by his curiosity. “I find them fascinating.”

“Me too,” Casval said with a pleased smile. “They are superior creatures that combine strength, intelligence, and beauty in a perfectly proportioned scaled form.”

More like unbearably arrogant monsters in love with themselves. Sensing an opportunity, Simon quickly prodded Casval’s ego to fish for information. “I agree. It’s amazing how they seem to never run out of mana.”

“It’s because they don’t,” Casval boasted. “A dragon’s heart produces as much mana as a manatree’s seed and nearly instantly crystallizes into an exceptionally pure strain of manalith called dracolith upon death. They house the dragon’s entire soul and memories inside them.”

I’ll keep that in mind the next time I drive a sword through your heart. Simon wondered how it would interact with his Deathmastery Perk, since he was too low-leveled to trap Casval’s soul when they came to blows in Cocagne. “If a dragon’s soul remains trapped inside their dracolith, then that means they don’t return to the Worldsoul upon death.”

“They do not,” Casval confirmed. “Scalefolk souls do join the Worldsoul because they have degraded so much from their nobler origin, unless they can convince a dragon to devour them so they become part of their mana. It is a great honor most minions would die for.”

As it turned out, Simon barely needed to do anything to convince Casval to speak up about his Tribe. The dragon-in-disguise simply loved to talk about the ‘world’s most magnificent creatures’ to a captive audience.

According to him, dragons were born of the blood of the first of their kind, who arrived in Scaland back when the world was young and competed with the dryads for supremacy. While creatures of the material plane and thus producing mana rather than miasma like demons, they were completely unaffiliated with the manatrees and thus didn’t undergo the cycle of reincarnation upon death. Their spirit simply remained asleep inside their dracolith heart in a sort of private afterlife. Their thoughts, memories, and beliefs didn’t influence the Worldsoul, so draconic eidolons like Azulbolla were the result of ‘the lesser Tribes’ instinctual worship’ of actual dragons taking physical shape.

“Dragons can digest anything they eat into raw mana, which then coalesces into their dracolith heart,” Casval said with a hint of vanity barely disguised as admiration. “Scalefolk descend from defective offspring who couldn’t produce their own dracolith, so they look up to true dragons in the hope of being devoured and becoming part of a greater self.” 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

“That’s an… interesting approach,” Simon replied. He wasn’t sure where to separate the truth from Casval’s self-aggrandizement, but the dragon appeared utterly convinced of his own tales.

His claims also provided an explanation as to why dragons processed emotions differently than other Tribes: their souls always turned inward like bottomless pits that never interacted with the ecological balance of the world outside of hoarding resources, and they actively refused to even imitate humanoids like their scalefolk brethren.

If so, then why are Vouivre and Casval wearing human guises right now? Simon wondered. They’re anomalies by their own kind’s standards.

“I think we skipped the next course,” Casval noted upon checking the nearest clock.

“I don’t mind, this was a very productive discussion,” Simon replied, “What’s your name again?”

“Casval. You?”

“Simon.” They shook hands. “Do you have time to spend after the Monster Anatomy class? It is rare to find someone so passionate about dragons.”

“I wish more of us humans felt the same way,” Casval replied, his true nature subtly bleeding through. “I will gladly share my knowledge with you, my friend.”

What do you know about friends, you cruel beast? Simon wondered as he forced himself to smile. “Very well, Casval. I’ll be your friend.”

The fatal kind.