Absolute Sovereignty-Chapter 7: The Calm Before

Morning fog clung to Vernal Keep like a shroud, softening the jagged outlines of its crumbling towers. In the courtyard, Kaelen stood with his breath visible in the crisp air while soldiers loaded the final supply wagons. The clatter of swords and the lowing of oxen filled the silence, yet his attention remained fixed on the System's faint text:

[Corruption: 0.7%]

[Primary Objective: Depart for Grand Conclave - 0/1]

[Secondary Objective: Maintain Memory Stability above 8%.]

Garron approached with confident strides, his newly forged fire-dagger secured at his hip and the volcanic focus ring catching the light on his finger.

"Eryndel's scholar just arrived—brought a cartload of those... what did he call them? Arcane compost manuals?"

"Agricultural treatises," Kaelen corrected dryly. "They're the price of his silence over the relic sales."

Garron snorted. "You traded ancient weapons for farming books?"

"We traded rusted metal for a kingdom that won't starve. You should read the ledgers sometime."

"Pass. I'll stick to burning things."

Inside the council chamber, the Eryndel scholar—Loran—waited among chests of parchment. Gaunt and perpetually furrowed, his ink-stained fingers barely lifted his nose from a heavy tome titled Crop Rotation and the Cosmic Balance.

"Your Highness," Loran intoned with a stiff bow, "our agreement stands. Eryndel's grain reserves will sustain Caldris through winter—provided you honor the Silent Guard's artifacts."

Kaelen gestured toward a stack of freshly unearthed relics in the corner—a dozen Zalathi blades, their edges sharp enough to split dishonesty.

"They're yours. But if the emperor hears of this..."

A twitch of amusement flitted across Loran's lips before he added,

"Eryndel's loyalty is to knowledge, not empires. We'll keep your secrets... if your strategies bear fruit at the Conclave."

The unspoken threat lingered heavily. Kaelen nodded, confident. "They will."

As Loran departed, Garron muttered, "He'd sell his mother for a dusty book."

"And we'd let him," Kaelen replied. "Survival isn't purity."

[Soulcraft Progress: 31/100]

[Memory Stability: 10% (Trade Alliances Secured)]

Later, in the training yard, Garron's flames began to dance. Soldiers gathered in a loose circle as he faced off against Captain Veyra—the stoic descendant of the Silent Guard. Her sword gleamed with ancestral runes, while embers crackled from his fists.

"Come on, Captain," Garron taunted. "I'll go easy on you."

Veyra lunged; her blade became a silver blur. Garron sidestepped, and a controlled arc of flame erupted from his palms. The fire licked her armor, leaving only smoldering streaks behind. The onlookers gasped—some in awe, others in fear.

"Show-off," Kaelen quipped from against the barracks wall.

Garron winked. "Gotta give 'em a show before the Conclave, eh?"

Veyra sheathed her sword, her face unreadable as she remarked,

"Fire without control is a pyre. But... it's a start."

It was the closest she had come to offering praise.

[Garron's Fire Affinity: 22% (Ember-tier)]

In the armory, King Alden found Kaelen tracing the spirit runes on his mother's dawnstone breastplate. The king's presence was fragile now—his shoulders bowed under the weight of borrowed time.

"The Shadows will be watching at the Conclave," Alden warned. "They'll... they'll want blood."

"They'll want a spectacle," Kaelen countered. "And we'll give them one."

Alden's hand trembled as he touched the Verath crest on the armor.

"You've changed. These past weeks... I don't recognize you."

A cold satisfaction flickered within Kaelen. The boy you knew would have died there.

Aloud, he declared, "Caldris would need a king, not a corpse. Even if that king is me."

The words hung between them, sharp and unyielding. Alden's hollow eyes flickered with a trace of pride.

[Corruption: 0.7%]

[Memory Stability: 12% (Father's Approval)]

Kaelen's chambers were a mosaic of maps and missives. The System's interface glowed steadily as he reviewed their route to the Conclave—a perilous three-day ride through Silvershade Valley, rife with bandits and worse. A knock at the door signaled a new arrival.

Lady Selene stood in the threshold, her Velarion armor polished to a mirror shine.

"Emperor Kaelith's heralds have arrived. They'll escort us at dawn," she reported.

"To ensure we don't flee," Kaelen replied with a dry smile.

"Or to ensure you don't scheme," Selene countered, her gaze sweeping the room and lingering on the Zalathi relics.

"You're either brilliant or suicidal."

This content is taken from fгeewebnovёl.com.

"Why not both?" he shot back.

Stepping closer, her voice dropped. "The Umbra Heralds traveling with us aren't human. I've seen their kind before—they smell... wrong."

Kaelen's jaw tightened; he had fought the Heralds in another life—half-dead, half-void, their souls already forfeit.

"Stay close," he ordered. "Their orders won't include protecting you."

Selene arched an eyebrow. "Concerned for my safety, Ash Prince?"

"Concerned for my investment. Velarion's crops still need our grain."

She left without another word—but not before Kaelen caught the faintest smirk playing on her lips.

Dawn broke with urgency. The courtyard buzzed with final preparations—horses stamping, soldiers checking straps, and the Umbra Heralds looming like silent statues at the gates, their hollow eyes tracking every move. Garron adjusted his focus ring as nervous flames danced across his knuckles.

"Ready?" he asked.

Kaelen fastened his mother's dawnstone breastplate against his chest. "Always."

King Alden, atop the keep's steps with the Ash Crown's thorns biting into his brow, raised his voice. "Caldris endures," he declared in a thin but unwavering tone.

The soldiers echoed in unison, "Caldris endures!"

Yet as Kaelen mounted his steed, a whisper from the Voidwell slithered through his mind:

"They will kneel... or burn."

Glancing at Garron and the determined flicker of flame in his friend's eyes, Kaelen nudged his horse forward.

[Corruption: 0.7%]

[Primary Objective Updated: Survive the Grand Conclave.]

The road ahead was paved with thorns. But as Kaelen mused, thorns could strangle empires.