Chapter 1 — The Great Houses of Silvio (Part 1)
The Kingdom of Silvio was a land built upon power, pride, and noble blood.
For centuries, the kingdom had stood strong against its enemies. Its towering castles, disciplined armies, and powerful noble families made it one of the most feared nations on the continent.
But behind its golden banners and glorious reputation lay a different truth.
A truth known only by the soldiers who bled on the battlefield… and the commoners who suffered beneath the rule of nobles.
Inside the Royal Palace of Silvio, the grand war chamber was filled with tension.
The chamber itself was enormous. Tall marble pillars stretched toward the ceiling, decorated with ancient carvings that told the story of the kingdom's past victories. Red carpets covered the cold stone floor, and golden banners bearing the royal crest hung proudly on the walls.
At the center of the chamber stood a massive table carved from dark oak. Maps of the kingdom and its neighboring nations were spread across its surface.
Small flags marked the locations of armies.
Many of those flags had been moved recently.
And not for a good reason.
Two of the most powerful noble houses in the kingdom had gathered in the chamber that day.
The first to arrive was House Luxon.
House Luxon had long been known as one of the most intelligent and politically powerful families in Silvio. While other noble houses relied on military strength alone, the Luxons were masters of strategy, diplomacy, and long-term planning.
Leading the house was Count Tyon Luxon, a man whose calm expression rarely revealed his true thoughts. His sharp gray eyes studied everything around him carefully, as if he were always calculating several moves ahead.
Standing beside him was his older brother, Duke Zion Luxon.
Unlike the calm and composed count, Duke Zion carried an overwhelming presence. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and known throughout the kingdom as one of the greatest military minds among the nobles.
Many wars had been planned under his command.
And many enemies had fallen because of it.
Yet today, his expression was darker than usual.
The second noble family entered shortly after.
House Gheillham.
If the Luxons were known for planning wars, the Gheillhams were known for winning them.
Their family had produced some of the greatest battlefield tacticians in Silvio's history. Their soldiers were disciplined, aggressive, and loyal.
Leading them was Count Osra Gheillham, a man whose stern gaze alone was enough to silence most people in the room.
Behind him walked Duke Jones Gheillham, a veteran warrior who had fought in more battles than most men could remember.
The moment both houses stood inside the war chamber, the atmosphere grew heavy.
Servants stood quietly along the walls. Knights guarded the entrances.
But no one dared speak.
Everyone knew why the nobles were here.
The war against the Kingdom of Conz had gone terribly wrong.
Silvio had expected a quick victory.
Instead, thousands of soldiers had died.
Supply lines had collapsed.
Entire battalions had been nearly wiped out.
The nobles demanded answers.
Duke Zion Luxon placed both hands on the war table as he stared down at the map.
"The Second Battalion suffered the greatest losses," he said slowly.
His voice was calm, but there was clear anger beneath it.
"They were positioned at the eastern border."
Count Osra Gheillham crossed his arms.
"That position should have been defensible," he replied.
"Our tactical reports suggested that the Conz army would struggle to break through."
Duke Jones Gheillham nodded.
"Unless someone made a serious mistake."
The implication hung heavily in the air.
The failure of the battle had to be someone's fault.
And the nobles were determined to find that person.
Just then—
The massive golden doors of the chamber suddenly opened.
The loud creaking sound echoed throughout the room.
Everyone turned toward the entrance.
A single man walked inside.
His armor was scratched and dented. Dark stains covered parts of the metal where dried blood had once been washed away.
His black cloak hung loosely over his shoulders.
Despite the noble surroundings of the palace, he looked like someone who had just stepped off a battlefield.
Because he had.
The man was Commander Jaxon Morgan.
Leader of the Second Battalion.
The very battalion that had nearly been destroyed during the war.
The moment he entered the room, whispers spread among the servants and knights.
Some of the nobles stared at him with cold judgment.
Others looked curious.
Jaxon slowly walked forward until he stood several meters away from the war table.
He did not kneel.
He did not bow.
He simply stood there.
Watching the nobles.
Duke Zion Luxon narrowed his eyes.
"Commander Morgan," he said.
His voice carried authority that few would dare challenge.
"You were summoned here to explain the situation at the eastern border."
His gaze hardened.
"Why did the Second Battalion suffer such devastating losses?"
Jaxon remained silent for a moment.
His eyes moved across the chamber.
The golden decorations.
The polished floors.
The perfectly dressed nobles.
Everything here felt so distant from the battlefield.
Then someone stepped forward.
A knight wearing expensive silver armor.
His name was Korsan, a noble-born officer who had rarely seen real combat.
Korsan glared at Jaxon with clear disrespect.
"You dare stand before the great houses without kneeling?" he shouted.
In one swift motion—
He drew his sword.
The sharp sound of metal echoed through the chamber.
Korsan pointed the blade directly at Jaxon.
"You are speaking to nobles of Silvio," he said angrily.
"Know your place."
The guards shifted slightly, unsure whether they should intervene.
But Jaxon didn't react.
At first.
Then—
He laughed.
It wasn't a joyful laugh.
It was bitter.
Exhausted.
The laugh of someone who had seen too much.
Jaxon slowly lifted his eyes and looked directly at the nobles.
"You want me to kneel?" he said quietly.
His voice carried across the chamber.
"You want respect?"
His expression hardened.
"Then maybe you should earn it."
The entire room froze.
No one had ever spoken to the nobles like that.
Especially not a commoner commander.
Korsan's face turned red with anger.
"How dare you—"
But Jaxon cut him off.
"You want to know what happened in the war?"
His voice suddenly became louder.
"Fine."
"I'll tell you."
He stepped forward.
His boots echoed on the marble floor.
"You nobles sit here in this golden palace…"
His eyes burned with frustration.
"…while soldiers die on the battlefield."
The nobles frowned.
Jaxon continued.
"We were sent to fight the army of Conz with half the supplies we needed."
"Our food ran out after three days."
"Our weapons were damaged and never replaced."
"Our wounded had no proper medical support."
His fists clenched tightly.
"Do you know what it's like to watch your soldiers starve while still fighting?"
The nobles said nothing.
"Do you know what it's like to see your men die because reinforcements never arrived?"
His voice grew colder.
"You call yourselves leaders of this kingdom."
"But on the battlefield…"
"You were nowhere to be found."
The war chamber had become completely silent.
No one dared interrupt him.
Because deep down…
Many of them knew he was telling the truth.