Absolute Sovereignty-Chapter 4: Weight of Crowns

The Council of Thorns reconvened at dawn, its members shuffling into the throne room like vultures to carrion. King Alden sat slumped beneath the Ash Crown's brambles, his face pale. News of Duke Malrick's "murder by Xarnis agents" had spread like wildfire, and the nobles' whispers were daggers waiting to strike.

Kaelen leaned against the far wall, the System's interface hovering at the edge of his vision:

[Corruption: 0.6%]

Spymaster Orvin cleared his throat, his voice slick with false grief. "A tragedy, Your Majesty. But without Malrick's vineyards, our coffers cannot sustain—"

"We'll sell directly to Eryndel," Kaelen interrupted.

The room froze.

Orvin's eye twitched. "Eryndel? They've never traded outside the imperial city. What makes you think—"

"Because their scholars are starving." Kaelen stepped into the torchlight. "The emperor restricted their grain imports to keep them dependent on Velarion's enchanted crops. Offer them our harvests at half the cost, and they'll break that chain."

King Alden stared at his son, equal parts wary and bewildered. "How do you know this?"

Kaelen's gaze slid to Orvin. "I have better spies."

The lie tasted bitter, but the System flickered in approval.

[Soulcraft Progress: 31/100]

[Earthsense Activated: Detect vibrations in southwest corridor. Four guards. One approaching.]

The throne room doors slammed open.

A woman strode in, her armor gleaming with Velarion's crest—a phoenix encircled by alchemical runes. She removed her helm, revealing sharp features and hair like molten bronze. Commander Selene of Velarion. A prodigy enchanter. A strategist who had crushed rebellions before her twentieth summer. A woman who despised incompetence.

"Apologies for the intrusion," she said, though her tone held none. "Emperor Kaelith sends his condolences for Duke Malrick. He also requests Caldris' attendance at the Grand Conclave."

A death sentence.

In Kaelen's first life, the Conclave had sealed Caldris' fate—where the Shadows' lies painted his father a traitor.

King Alden stiffened. "We... are honored."

Selene's gaze locked onto Kaelen. "The emperor specifically requested the Ash Prince." Her emphasis dripped with mockery.

Kaelen smiled. "How kind. I'll bring him a gift. Perhaps Xarnis' envoy's head?"

The council gasped. Selene's gaze narrowed.

[Corruption: 0.7%]

[Memory Degradation: Faint recollection of your father's voice praising your first horse ride.]

After the council, Kaelen found Selene in the courtyard. She inspected Vernal Keep's crumbling walls with disdain, her gauntleted fingers brushing moss-stained stone.

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"Your kingdom is a ruin," she said without turning. "Why bother playing strategist?"

"Why bother delivering messages for a tyrant?" Kaelen countered.

Selene faced him, eyes glinting with frost. "The Conclave isn't a request. Refuse, and the emperor will reduce Caldris to ash."

"He'll try." Kaelen stepped closer, lowering his voice. "But you don't serve him, do you? Velarion's been smuggling enchanted arms to Zoryn rebels. How long until the Shadows notice?"

Selene's sword hissed from its sheath, the edge pressing to his throat.

"Choose your next words carefully, princeling."

He didn't flinch. "I'm offering an alliance. Caldris' grain for your silence."

"And why would I need your grain?"

"Because Velarion's crops are failing," Kaelen said. "Your soil is poisoned with alchemical waste. Your people will starve within a year."

The blade trembled—almost imperceptibly. Selene's secrets, plucked from another lifetime, hung between them.

[Soulcraft Progress: 31/100]

[Earthsense Detected: Rapid heartbeat. Elevated breath. Hostile intent.]

She sheathed her sword. "You're reckless. And you'll die at the Conclave."

"Then you've nothing to lose by humoring me."

Selene turned to leave, her parting words laced with venom. "Pray your newfound cunning amuses the emperor, Ash Prince. He devours sharper men for breakfast."

That night, Kaelen found Spymaster Orvin in the archives, hunched over a coded ledger. The old man stiffened as the prince's shadow fell across the parchment.

"Working late?" Kaelen asked.

"Preparing reports for the Conclave," Orvin said, too quickly.

"Ah yes. The reports detailing Caldris' 'treasonous' negotiations with Eryndel." Kaelen leaned against a shelf, idly tracing a Zalathi rune etched into the wood. "Tell me, how much did the Shadows pay you to sell my family?"

Orvin dropped the ledger. "I don't know what—"

Kaelen seized his wrist, Soul Sight flaring. Silver threads coiled around Orvin—weak, sputtering magic. A Beacon-tier illusionist.

"You hid their assassins in plain sight," Kaelen hissed. "Made my father's guards see friends where there were foes."

Orvin's free hand dipped into his robe, clutching a dagger. "You're mad! The emperor will—"

Kaelen twisted the spy's arm, bone snapping. Orvin screamed, but the archives were soundproofed.

"You'll write a letter," Kaelen said calmly. "Confessing your treason. Then you'll hang yourself."

Orvin spat blood. "Never."

[Consume Soul? Y/N]

Kaelen hesitated. Consuming a Beacon-tier soul would leap his progress, but the cost...

Do it, the Voidwell whispered. He's already dead.

No.

He released Orvin. "Guards!"

Two soldiers burst in. Kaelen pointed to the dagger. "The spymaster just confessed to poisoning the king."

Orvin's protests died as the guards dragged him away.

[Corruption: 0.8%]

[Memory Lost: Your father teaching you to read in these very archives.]

Garron found Kaelen on the battlements at dawn, staring at the mist-cloaked plains.

"Orvin's dead," Garron said. "Tore his sheets to rope and hung himself in his cell. Convenient."

Kaelen said nothing.

"You're changing, Kael." Garron's voice hardened. "And not just the magic. You're... colder."

The prince closed his eyes. The System's text burned:

[Corruption: 0.8%]

[Warning: Rapid escalation may trigger identity erosion.]

"The world is cold," Kaelen said. "I'm just learning to survive it."

Garron left without another word.

In the distance, storm clouds gathered—the first breath of the Grand Conclave's storm.