The night was cold, the kind of chill that seeped into your bones. Outside, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves, whispering secrets to the darkness. The sky was a tapestry of stars, each one glimmering like a distant memory. Inside the castle, the air was damp and carried a faint musty scent, a reminder of its age and the many stories it held within its stone walls.

Vernon Aerys lay restless in his bed, the sheets tangled around his legs. His face was contorted with distress, his brow slick with sweat. He was trapped in a nightmare, a relentless loop of his most painful memories. Suddenly, he awoke with a start, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. The room felt suffocating, and the sweat clung to his skin like a second layer.

He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, his breaths coming in ragged bursts. The cool night air did little to calm his racing heart. He could still feel the echo of the dream, the raw sting of the past.

"Why now?" he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes. "Why can't I escape it?"

The nightmare was a replay of the events that had led to his banishment, a wound that had never fully healed. It wasn't his past, but the past of the original Vernon Aerys, a man whose life he now inhabited. He closed his eyes, letting the memories flood in.

The royal ball at Arz City had been a grand affair, the kind that nobles and royals alike attended in their finest attire. The air was thick with the mingling scents of perfumes, roasted meats, and the sweet tang of wine. Vernon, already deep into his cups, had noticed Lady Olfina Armandt slipping out to the balcony. She had always been a vision to him, a bright young woman with an air of grace and poise. Her long, chestnut hair had shimmered under the moonlight, and her emerald green dress had hugged her form perfectly.

Lady Olfina was the daughter of the Duke of Armandt, his father's liege. The County of Aerys was part of the Duchy of Armandt, making their families intertwined by loyalty and duty. Vernon had been infatuated with her since childhood, but she had never returned his affections. There were whispers that she was to be betrothed to Crown Prince Harold Arzyn, a man she adored.

Harold Arzyn a handsome man was everything Vernon was not: charismatic, well-built, and skilled in warfare. His golden blonde hair was kept short, and his deep blue eyes held a regal confidence. He was beloved by the people and especially by women, a true prince in every sense.

Vernon, despite his own good looks and martial prowess, was a shadow of his potential. His platinum blond hair was long and unkempt, his bright green eyes dulled by alcohol. His chiseled jaw and strong physique were marred by his drunken, womanizing ways. He often reeked of alcohol, and his behavior had earned him a reputation as a lout.

Lady Olfina had been Vernon's childhood crush ever since his family visited Amarillo, the Duchy's capital. But Olfina had her sights set on higher things, on a future with the crown prince. She had always been aloof, her disdain for Vernon clear. This only fueled his resentment and his desire to prove himself to her.

That night, as she stood on the balcony, bathed in the silver light of the moon, Vernon had followed her, driven by a mix of longing and drunken bravado. He stumbled, the stone slab underfoot causing him to trip. He caught himself against her, his breath hot and reeking of wine.

"Olfina," he slurred, reaching out to steady himself. "I need to talk to you."

She turned, her face a mask of shock and anger. "Vernon, what are you doing?" she demanded, her voice a hiss.

"I... I just wanted to talk," he stammered, his vision swimming.

"You’re drunk," she said, stepping back. "Go away."

"Please, just listen," he pleaded, his words thick. "I've loved you since we were children."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "Love? You don’t know the meaning of the word, Vernon."

His heart ached at her harsh words. "You never gave me a chance," he said, his voice breaking.

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"Because you’re always like this," she snapped. "Drunk, irresponsible. Look at yourself."

In his frustration, Vernon grabbed her arm, desperate for her to understand. She screamed, her voice piercing the night. She fought against his grip, her fear and anger making her strong.

"Let go of me!" she yelled, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

Before he could react, a sharp pain exploded in his stomach. Someone had kicked him hard, sending him sprawling. He looked up, dazed, to see Crown Prince Harold standing over him, his face a mask of fury.

"Get away from her," the prince commanded, his voice cold.

Vernon tried to speak, but the prince's aides were upon him, dragging him to his feet and raining blows upon him. He could hear Olfina's sobs, and then darkness claimed him.

Vernon's father, Count Varys Aerys, had to apologize profusely to the Duke and the crown prince. He promised to take responsibility for his son's actions. The Duke, although furious, gave him a chance but forbade Vernon from approaching or being near his daughter. The Count let out a sigh of relief and thanked the Duke. The crown prince, however, remained nonchalant and left the two to converse.

The Count went to visit his son, who was still unconscious but noticeably breathing. The guard was about to open the cell, but the Count refused, standing there, watching his son. He partly blamed himself for how Vernon had turned out. Despite providing education and wealth, he had failed to offer emotional support. Vernon was his fifth son, and his mother, a concubine, had been a purely political arrangement.

Growing up, Vernon had felt like an outcast. His siblings alienated and sometimes bullied him. Whenever he made an effort or achieved something, his father was nonchalant and dismissive. As a result, Vernon grew rebellious and became a lout, a drunkard, and a womanizer. He spent his father's money recklessly.

When he awoke, he was in a dark, damp cell beneath the royal palace. The air was thick with the smell of mold and rot, and the taste of blood lingered on his lips. He lay there, the events of the night a blur, until the cell door creaked open.

He was given a splash of water from a bucket, administered by the cell guard. He flinched and was about to attack the guard, but his father spoke from behind the guard, explaining that he had ordered it to clear his hangover and give him a clear mind.

His father, Count Varys, stood there, his face a mask of disappointment. "Vernon," he said quietly, "what have you done?"

"I didn’t mean to," Vernon croaked, his voice hoarse. "I just wanted to talk to her."

"You've disgraced our family," the Count said, his voice heavy with sorrow. "The Duke demanded justice, and I have given my word that you will be punished."

Vernon hung his head, shame washing over him. "I'm sorry, Father. Please forgive me."

The Count sighed, his shoulders slumping. "You must face the consequences of your actions. You will be banished to the Barony of Tyrol."

The words hit Vernon like a physical blow. Tyrol was a remote, backwater place, far from the comforts of home. It was a punishment worse than he could have imagined.

"I understand," he said quietly, the fight gone from him.

The journey to Tyrol was long and arduous. The weather was unforgiving, with biting winds and driving rain. The cold seeped into his bones, and the constant dampness made him shiver uncontrollably. The landscape grew wilder and more desolate the farther they traveled, the lush greenery of the heartland giving way to rugged hills and dense forests.

Tyrol had once been ruled by the knightly family of Tyr, but war had claimed the lives of all the men in the household. The women had left, abandoning the barony. For years, it had been managed sporadically by the County of Aldor, but it had fallen into neglect.

When Vernon arrived, he was still the same angry, irresponsible man. He lashed out at the castle workers and villagers, venting his frustration on those around him. The people of Tyrol feared and resented him, but there was little they could do.

Everything changed the day he fell from his horse. He had been drunk, as usual, and the fall left him unconscious for days. It was during that time that Samuel's soul replaced Vernon's. When he awoke, he was a different man.

Samuel, now the new Vernon, grimaced as he reminisced about the past. The memories were a heavy burden, but they also gave him a sense of purpose. He walked out to the balcony of his castle and looked up at the night sky.

The stars were densely packed and brighter than he had ever seen on Earth. It means that this world was closer to the center of the galaxy. He wasn't even sure if he was still in the Milky Way galaxy. Developing modern and proper astronomy would be a task for later. It was a breathtaking sight, but it also reminded him of how far he was from home.

He took a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs and clearing his mind. The scent of pine and earth was a welcome change from the musty smell of the castle. He felt a sense of peace, knowing that he had a chance to make a difference in this new world.

As he stood there, the breeze caressed his skin, and he could taste the promise of a new beginning. The night was quiet, save for the distant howl of a wolf and the rustle of leaves. The stars above seemed to whisper encouragement, urging him to embrace his new life and the challenges it brought.

With a final look at the night sky, Vernon returned to his bed. The past was a heavy burden, but it no longer defined him. He had a chance to build a future, to make amends for the mistakes of the man whose body he now inhabited. He closed his eyes, the promise of a brighter tomorrow filling his dreams.