The Power of Creation
Copyright© 2026 by Vasantrutu
Chapter 5: Land claim
After freshening up, I took my seat at the table and waited for the rest of the family to assemble. The smell of warm bread and stew filled the room, and when everyone finally sat down, the first meal of the day began. The mood was light—easy laughter, casual talk, nothing heavy.
I chewed in silence for a few moments, then lifted my eyes toward Father.
He noticed immediately.
“What’s on your mind, Rowan?” he asked calmly. “What do you need?”
“I was wondering,” I said carefully, “how much would it cost to claim an area of my own?”
The table went quiet for just a heartbeat.
Father raised an eyebrow. “And what are you planning now?”
“Nothing serious,” I replied quickly. “I just need a place of my own to work on some things. You could call it ... a child’s hideout.”
He studied me for a moment, clearly unconvinced.
“It’s never that simple with you,” he said at last. “Especially after what you pulled off in the mines.”
“Please,” I said earnestly. “Just hear me out.”
He sighed, then leaned back slightly.
“Fine. If we’re talking about cities, then buying land or a house would cost several gold coins—far beyond your reach. But out here, near the border and the wilds, things are different. Unclaimed land can be registered for as little as one gold coin.”
I felt my interest sharpen.
“How much land does one gold coin get me?”
“That depends,” he replied. “Where do you want it? Plains ... or mountains?”
“I was thinking of a mountainside,” I said. “Somewhere I can mine ores without interfering with the village.”
Father nodded slowly, considering.
“And how far are you willing to go?”
“How far should I go,” I asked, “so I don’t interfere with the current mine shafts?”
“We’re digging northeast right now,” he explained. “And we’ll move northwest within a few years. If you want to avoid interference entirely, there’s a mountain about three hours by horse to the west. We haven’t touched it at all.”
That sounded perfect.
He continued, his tone turning more official.
“I spoke with the priests about that mountain years ago. The mountain itself would cost two gold coins to register. If you also want the surrounding land—say, three kilometers from the base in every direction—that adds another three gold coins.”
My heart sank slightly.
“And you’d need one more gold coin for guild registration,” he added. “That ensures your claim is recognized. However, if more than fifteen families ever settle there, you’ll be required to pay one gold coin annually as territory tax.”
I stared down at my bowl.
“ ... I don’t have six gold coins,” I admitted quietly.
Father didn’t laugh.
He simply looked at me, thoughtful, as if weighing not my words—but my intent.
“I can arrange a loan from the village,” Father said after a long pause. “You’ll have to sign a document and swear to repay it. The terms would be simple—you must pay at least one gold coin every year. On top of that, you’ll owe one additional gold coin as compensation to the village.”
He looked at me steadily.
“In total, within seven years, you’ll have to repay seven gold coins. No delays. No excuses.”
Then he added quietly, “Now tell me, Rowan. What exactly are you planning?”
I straightened in my seat.
“First,” I said honestly, “thank you, Father. For finding a way.”
He waited.
“As for what I’m planning ... I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “All I know is that there are some experiments I want to try. Things I can’t do here.”
He studied my face, searching for deception. Finding none, he finally nodded.
“I’ll speak with the elders at the next meeting,” he said. “We’ll see what they decide.”
After that, the meal passed in silence. Not an uncomfortable one—but a thoughtful one.
When we finished eating, I excused myself and stepped outside. The morning air was cool and fresh. I walked a short distance west, then climbed one of the taller trees near the edge of the village. Sitting on a thick branch, I gazed toward the distant horizon—toward the direction where the lone mountain stood.
I didn’t notice my sister following me until she settled onto the branch beside me.
“Kid,” Mira said, swinging her legs slightly, “what’s gotten into you? Why the sudden interest in owning a mountain? Or having a place of your own?”
“It’s nothing important,” I replied casually. “Just a thought.”
She gave me a sideways look, clearly unconvinced.
“Then let me make you a promise,” she said. “The day you turn ten, I’ll start taking you with me into the deeper forest.”
I blinked and looked at her. “Can you tell me something, sister? What’s the real benefit of wandering the wilds—besides gathering herbs for Mother?”
Instead of answering, she held out her hand.
Confused, I stared at it.
Then she slipped a ring off her middle finger and placed it into my palm.
The instant it touched my skin, my vision collapsed inward.
I was pulled into darkness.
My spatial veins reacted violently, resonating with the object. In the vast black void, something new appeared—a door, floating silently in front of me. Drawn by instinct, I moved toward it, opened it, and stepped through.
Inside was a small space—no more than six feet by six feet. The walls were smooth and indistinct. A few bundles of dried herbs lay scattered on the floor.
A storage space.
I willed myself out.
The void released me, and I returned to the world in an instant.
“Look,” Mira said, unaware of what I had just experienced. She was gazing up at the sky, completely missing the moment my consciousness had vanished. “It’s a storage ring. I can put things inside it. I just think about what I want, and it comes to my hand. If I want to store something, I touch it and think about storing it.”
Thank the gods she hadn’t noticed my distant stare.
I swallowed, nodded calmly, and handed the ring back to her.
Inside, however, my heart was racing.
Mira continued quietly, her voice steady.
“There’s a rule of the wild,” she said. “Whatever you find out there belongs to you—unless it already belongs to a noble or a soldier.”
I nodded and thanked her for the insight. We sat together on the branch for a few minutes after that, watching the distant tree line sway gently in the wind. Then, without another word, she stood, adjusted her satchel, and disappeared into the forest to scour the wilds as she always did.
I remained there, alone with my thoughts.
What stayed with me wasn’t just the conversation about land or the mountain—it was the knowledge of the storage ring. The fact that such items existed. That they could be created. That space itself could be folded, shaped, and bound.
The realization settled deep in my mind.
The rest of the day passed quietly. That evening, during the final meal, Father spoke again.
“If you can provide one gold coin upfront,” he said, “the elders are willing to support your claim. They’ll help you with the paperwork and registration.”
I thanked him sincerely and went to bed with my mind racing.
The next morning, I woke early to find small gifts waiting for me.
It was my birthday.
Father handed me a silver coin, heavy and cool in my palm. Mother gave me a new set of clothes, neatly folded and stitched with care. And then Mira stepped forward.
She placed a ring into my hand.
It looked similar to hers—but not the same.
“This one’s yours,” she said. “A storage ring. The space inside is small—about three feet by three feet—but it’s more than enough for now.”
I nearly froze.
I thanked her carefully, controlling my expression.
Iron Hauler came later in the day. From his rough palm, he pressed a small gold cube into my hand—about a hundred grams. Others from the mine gave iron instead, rough but honest gifts.
When everything was counted, I had gained one full kilogram of iron in total.
It was a good haul.
The next three years passed quietly—but not idly.
I devoted myself to learning.
I focused on creating objects from metal, wood, and glass, refining my understanding of materials, structure, and balance. I trained my body alongside my mind, strengthening myself through labor and discipline.
To earn money, I often joined the haulers as an extra hand.
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