Chapter 275: Benefits

What Benefited Him...

The book was a benefit. The training manual he had found in the hidden room, with its detailed sketches and careful instructions, had opened up a world he had never known existed.

It had taught him that there was more to combat than swinging a sword, more to fighting than brute strength. It had shown him a new way, a better way, a way that combined movement and magic into something powerful.

The sword itself was a benefit too. The blade he had found alongside the book, hidden away for who knew how long, was now his.

It was a piece of Percvale’s history, a connection to the past, and a tool for the future. It was well-made, durable, and capable of channeling the golden light that the manual had taught him to summon. It was more than just a weapon. It was a symbol.

Making a friend with Ghan was perhaps the most unexpected benefit. The mason had started as a stranger, a hired hand brought in to do a job. But over the course of two weeks, he had become something more.

He had shared stories of his past, his failures and triumphs, his hopes and fears. He had spoken of the building that had collapsed, the workers he had lost, the justice he had sought. He had been open, honest, and vulnerable. And in doing so, he had earned Darion’s trust.

Watching how reconstruction worked had been a benefit in itself. Darion had seen the process from start to finish, had witnessed the transformation of a crumbling ruin into a solid, sturdy castle.

He had learned about mortar and stone, about load-bearing walls and foundations, about the importance of doing things right the first time. It was knowledge he would carry with him, knowledge that would serve him well in the future.

The tales Ghan had shared were another benefit. Stories of other projects, other places, other people. Tales of triumph and tragedy, of success and failure. Each one had been a lesson, a reminder that the work they did mattered, that the buildings they built would outlast them, that their legacy would be written in stone.

His room too was a benefit. A really big one.

The room that had once been drafty and cold, with uneven floors and cracked walls, was now warm and solid. The floor was level, the walls were smooth, and the windows sealed out the chill of the night.

It was a place he could actually sleep, actually rest, actually feel like he was at home.

The castle being lively was perhaps the greatest benefit of all. The silence that had once filled its halls was gone, replaced by the sounds of life and labor.

During the reconstruction it was no longer a tomb, no longer a monument to neglect. It was a home, a place where people lived and worked and built something together.

And then there was the sword fighting. Being able to fight with a sword was something Darion had never thought he would do.

He had always relied on his undeads, had always let them do the fighting for him. They were powerful, relentless, and expendable. Why would he need to fight when he had them?

But now he was fighting with a sword. Not normal swordmanship, not the kind of fighting that relied on brute strength and quick reflexes.

He was doing something different, something more. He was using moves that produced magic strikes, golden light that rippled from his blade and struck his enemies.

It was a new way of fighting, a way that combined movement and magic into something powerful.

He wasn’t a traditional swordsman. He wasn’t going to win any duels with his footwork or his technique or just pure fighting skills.

But he didn’t need to be. He had something better, something that set him apart from everyone else. He had the golden light.

Now Darion sat in the great hall, the fire crackling in the hearth, his mind turning over the events of the past two weeks. The reconstruction was done, the workers were gone, and the castle was transformed. But there was still more to do.

He thought about what he had just been through. The journey from the farmlands to the castle had been long and difficult. He had started by restoring the farmlands, using Seren’s ability to bring the dead soil back to life.

He had planted crops, built pens, and brought in livestock. He had created jobs for the people of Percvale, giving them a reason to stay, a reason to hope.

Then he had moved on to the castle. The crumbling ruin that had once been a symbol of neglect was now a solid, sturdy fortress. The walls were repaired, the roofs were sealed, and the floors were level. It was a place that commanded respect, a place that announced to the world that Percvale was no longer a dying barony.

But the castle wasn’t finished yet. Not completely. There were still things that needed to be done, details that needed to be addressed.

The beds, for one thing. The beds were old and uncomfortable, their mattresses lumpy, their frames creaky. They were not exactly cozy to sleep in, and they detracted from the overall sense of completion.

Darion thought about them. They were the last piece of the puzzle, the final touch that would complete the renovation.

New beds, with proper mattresses and sturdy frames, would make the castle feel like a home, not just a building. They would provide comfort, rest, and a sense of permanence.

And then there were the carpenters. Darion would need to find carpenters to make the bed stands, skilled workers who could craft furniture that would last. He would need to buy new beds, mattresses, and bedding. It would be an investment, but it would be worth it.

He stood up, his decision made. It was time to find Garren and tell him to find new beds from the market and find carpenters.