The wind howled again, harsher this time. But inside the Baron's Hall, there was warmth now — not from fire alone, but purpose.
Caelan sat before the hearth, a journal opened before him, ink frozen in the nib of his pen. He held the Runestone of Veritas in his other hand, unwrapped just enough to study the runes carved into its polished surface. The faint blue light within pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
He wasn't just studying it. He was remembering.
In the novel he had read in his past life, there had been a brief side story—almost a footnote—about the High Sovereign, long before he had risen to power. The sovereign had once ventured into the northern reaches and spoken cryptically of a relic that revealed lies and twisted fate, a relic tied to Veritas. He had named obscure ingredients, a specific moon phase, and a ritual long erased from common use.
Most readers had dismissed it as worldbuilding fluff.
Caelan had not.
He wrote down the ingredients: ashbark resin, mirrorbloom petals, powdered starglass, a beast's oathbone, and a soulroot shard — an essence said to grow only in mana-drenched places. Items so rare they might not exist in Gravenreach at all. He would have to seek them. Or barter. Or improvise.
But he had the knowledge. That was the true start.
The morning was steel-gray and bitter. Caelan stepped outside the manor with a fur-lined cloak, eyes scanning the skeletal trees beyond the village. Velmire was beginning to stir. Smoke rose from a few chimneys. A child chased a stray dog through the snow.
He greeted none of them. Not yet.
Instead, he followed the worn path into the woods northeast of the village, map in hand, marking a site from the scroll he had found earlier.
The forest was dense and silent, broken only by the crunch of snow and the occasional creak of burdened branches. After an hour of trekking, he found it—a half-collapsed shrine overgrown with vines and ice. Beneath the rubble lay a stone bowl and within it, dried petals turned silver with age.
Mirrorbloom.
He collected the usable remnants, careful not to disturb the shrine too much. On his way back, he noted claw marks on a tree—fresh, but not monstrous. A beast had passed nearby. He would have to be wary. Humans were not the only danger.
On the edge of the village, he stopped at the healer's hut. Mirelle met him at the door, surprised but not displeased.
"Velmire isn't a place brave for a simple greeting," she said, but let him in.
"I need supplies," Caelan said simply, pulling a parchment from his coat.
She studied the list, brow furrowed. "Some of this I've only seen once. Where did you learn these combinations?"
"I read a lot," he said.
She didn't press. That was the first sign of trust.
Back in the manor, he examined the ruins of the western wing and marked a secure place to eventually construct a chamber for his research. He knew how the ritual might unfold. He would need insulation against magical backlash and complete secrecy. Not even the caretaker or firewood boy could know.
He also inspected the outer perimeter of Gravenreach's only village — Velmire. It was little more than two dozen buildings: timber huts, a granary, a smithy long out of use. A central well had recently frozen over. The people here lived hard, simple lives. He would change that.
The manor itself was a weathered stone keep, two floors high, with a collapsed tower and a moss-grown courtyard. Much of it needed repair, but it stood — proud, if exhausted.
Caelan explored the surrounding shire on foot during the afternoons. The terrain beyond Velmire was rugged but fertile in parts — old hunting grounds, broken trails that hinted at ancient roads swallowed by forest. He sketched maps, made notes of potential farmlands, and found a ruin near a cliff that might one day serve as a lookout.
In one crumbling stone alcove tucked beside the cliffside, he uncovered markings associated with old trade routes and smuggling paths. He noted the names — not on official records, but whispered among the more dangerous of traders. If the need arose, the black markets of Kyrrhyn and Orvene could be reached through discreet intermediaries. It would not be easy, but rare ingredients might be bought — for the right price.
In the evenings, he spoke with Mirelle again. She had once trained under a court herbalist in the capital before her exile.
"You ask questions like someone who already knows the answers," she said one night, after he inquired about old flora that reacted to moonlight.
"Sometimes I do," he admitted. "But I want to know what others believe."
She didn't trust him yet, but she respected him. That was enough.
A week passed. The walls of the village began to take shape under Caelan's direction. Makeshift palisades, repaired fences, storage areas cleaned. He used salvaged logs and summoned villagers with offers of grain shares and paid tasks. Suspicion slowly gave way to necessity.
The manor felt less like a tomb. And more like a stronghold.
Caelan was often alone, especially in the deepest nights. He poured over his notes in the dim light of his chamber, his journal now nearly half-filled. Between the lines were thoughts he hadn't dared speak aloud. Hopes. Fears. Strategies. The sovereign he wished to become.
He returned to the subterranean vault beneath the ruined hall.
Behind the statue of the faceless, handless figure, he found another inscription:
"Power is the first crown."
A small circular platform stood before the statue, and in its center, a thin pedestal. Floating just above the outstretched stump of the statue's arms, the Runestone had once rested. He had taken it, feeling the hum of power, the unspoken oath it demanded.
Now, Caelan knelt briefly before it. Not in worship—but in understanding.
He resealed the chamber with wax, ash, and a sliver of his blood, binding it to his intent alone. He would return when the time and the ingredients were right, just as the side story in the novel had described.
Back in the great hall, Caelan sat at his desk beneath a heading he had penned in careful, deliberate script:
Gravenreach Ledger – Year One.
Phase One: The Awakening of Veritas.Phase Two: Stabilize Gravenreach economy and defenses.Phase Three: Begin the Sovereign Doctrine.
He was not a nobleman anymore. He was a sovereign in the making.
And his first ally was Power.