The first sunrise after the binding of the Throne of the Lost Sovereign cast Black Hollow in molten gold. The once-desolate keep shimmered subtly with the energy of something newly awakened. The winds carried a crispness Leon hadn't felt since his childhood in the palace gardens.
But now, there were no maids, no guards, no velvet robes. Only his worn tunic, the hammer in his belt, and the weight of a people's hope.
Inside the war chamber—a long rectangular hall converted from a wine cellar—Leon stood before a detailed map drawn by Mira. It showed the valley and its boundaries, villages, bandit paths, and several unmarked ruins.
A new tab in his System UI hovered before his eyes: [Sovereign's Mandate]. As he examined it, new features revealed themselves:
[Edict of Tax Reform - 100 CP]
[Edict of Militia Training - 150 CP]
[Edict of Open Borders - 200 CP]
[Edict of Artisan Incentive - 300 CP]
And beneath them all:
[Edict: Blood Right - 500 CP]
> All men and women may rise by merit alone. Noble titles lose immunity. Past bloodlines lose weight before the throne.
Leon didn't hesitate.
[Confirm Edict: Blood Right? Y/N]
Y.
The walls of the keep trembled. A glowing sigil flared on the throne. Across the village, everyone—from smith to farmer—heard a whisper in their soul:
"You are judged by your blade, not your birth."
Mira entered the chamber moments later. "You did it, didn't you?"
Leon nodded. "It begins now."
That same day, Mira brought five key citizens to form Leon's first advisory council:
1. Eldric Garroway – A one-eyed war veteran turned blacksmith.
2. Lady Asha Renwen – A former noblewoman disowned by her house.
3. Brother Jothan – A priest of the old ways, half-mad but full of secrets.
4. Halem Crowskin – A merchant with ties to the underground market.
5. Aylin Firehand – An expelled pyromancer with a sharp tongue and sharper spells.
They sat around a stone table, eyeing Leon cautiously.
"I need truth, not flattery," Leon told them. "Give me the worst. Then we fix it."
Each presented their report:
Eldric: Weapons dull, forges aged, iron supplies thin.
Lady Asha: Nobles nearby will resist the Blood Right. Already, a lord called Varn Delmor has sent spies.
Brother Jothan: The land groans with forgotten curses. Ancient temples beneath the valley stir.
Halem: Smugglers thrive in the west. Taxes are ignored. But he could bribe a few captains.
Aylin: Wild mana fluxes near the ruins. Magic is waking.
Leon listened without speaking.
Then: "We face a hundred threats. But so does every king. The difference is—I answer them myself."
To cement authority, Leon announced an open trial of strength. Any citizen could challenge his rule. If they bested his chosen champions, they earned a place in his new guard. If they lost, they served one year in reconstruction.
He called it: The Iron Trial.
Over five hundred gathered.
From the crowd, thirty volunteered. Ex-bandits, desperate fathers, proud daughters, fallen knights.
Leon chose three champions:
Derric the Butcher – A massive ex-mercenary.
Aylin Firehand – To test magical prowess.
Mira – His shadow, his sword.
The battles lasted two days. Blood spilled on dirt. Magic scorched the skies. Leon watched each match, learning, measuring.
When it ended, five stood tall:
1. Ronan Vex – A brawler with no name, undefeated in fists.
2. Tali Windthorn – Archer with uncanny aim, rumored half-elf.
3. Korrik Stein – Ex-bandit who protected children during raids.
4. Velna Brask – Spear maiden with military discipline.
5. Juno Reyne – Blindfolded swordsman with eerie precision.
Leon offered them a crest burned in iron—a circle divided by five runes: strength, loyalty, skill, will, and rebirth.
They became the Iron Sigil—his personal guard.
Three days after the Iron Trial, a noble carriage arrived under banners of blue and bone.
Lord Varn Delmor's envoy—a young man named Tareth Dole—stepped forth with eighty mounted guards.
He was handsome, honey-tongued, and carried himself like a king.
"Prince Leon," he said with a smile, "my master offers his regards and asks you to rescind your Edict. It's…disruptive."
Leon replied: "He asks for obedience. He will receive fire."
Tareth chuckled. "He hoped you'd say that. It gives him excuse to march."
Leon stepped close. "And I hoped he'd send someone worth killing. Tell your master—his envoy leaves alive only if he kneels."
Tareth's smirk vanished.
Leon turned to his men. "Strip their weapons. Leave the envoy with boots and blood."
They obeyed.
The soldiers resisted. They died.
Tareth limped away that night with a broken nose and shattered pride.
War was coming.
And Leon wanted it.
With the valley stirred, Leon turned to the land itself. Guided by Brother Jothan, he ventured to a place called The Stone Circle, a ring of obsidian pillars buried in mist.
There, Leon hoped to unlock more about the magic of the First Crown.
They found it on the third night, hidden deep in a grove of thornbark trees. The moment Leon stepped into the circle, the air screamed.
Visions struck again:
Battles in ages long past.
Kings clad in starlight.
Thrones floating in the sky.
In the center lay a sword—black, curved, humming.
[Relic Detected: Sovereign's Fang]
> Bonus: +15% leadership aura, dark-elemental damage, and crowd control skill unlock.
Leon grasped the hilt.
Pain surged through him.
Blood flowed from his nose, ears, eyes.
But he didn't scream.
He endured.
When it ended, the sword rested in his palm like it belonged.
Mira stepped forward, stunned. "It chose you."
"No," Leon said. "I claimed it."
They returned to the keep with the sword.
That night, Leon dreamed of thrones in flame—and himself, seated atop them all.
A messenger arrived from the border.
A village had been razed.
Children missing. Markings left on the wall—a sigil Leon hadn't seen since the palace: The Crimson Vow.
They were the assassins who killed his mother.
His blood went cold.
He summoned his council.
"No more waiting. We strike first. We build an army. We take Varn's head. And then we erase the Crimson Vow."
Asha raised a brow. "You'd risk open war?"
Leon turned to her. "We're already at war. The difference is now—I command it."