The Iron-Man of Verdune.
That's what the people of Verdune call me now—after I saved them from economic ruin and civil war.
But before that, I was nothing special. Just a farmer's son.
My father worked the fields from dawn to dusk, and my mother spent her days at the loom, spinning and sewing to keep us clothed. Even with both of them working, it was barely enough to keep food on the table for me, my two older sisters, and my younger brother.
But we were happy. Lively.
I always wanted to learn how to read and write. But education was a luxury reserved for the nobles. My parents couldn't read either. We couldn't afford tutors, books, or even paper.
At twelve, I started scratching letters into the dirt, teaching myself by copying decrees nailed to the city walls. I begged answers from anyone who would listen—elders, traders, even passing soldiers. "Curious Hyde," they called me. Annoying, maybe—but I didn't care.
My life changed when I turned thirteen.
I was out in the fields, practicing my letters on a patch of dry earth, when I saw her.
A girl, no older than me, dressed in silk and lace. A noble. Standing at the edge of the fields where no noble had any business being.
She watched me for a moment, her gaze calm and assessing.
I stood, brushing the dirt from my hands, unsure whether to bow or speak. But before I could move, she spoke first.
"You there—have you ever wanted to learn how to read and write?"
I blinked. "Yes—uh… yes. Can I… help you?"
She smiled, the kind of smile that came naturally to someone raised among silk and gold. Then, with effortless grace, she said:
"I am Lynda L. Verdune, daughter of the Duke of Verdune. It's a pleasure to meet you."
She said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Uh… nice to meet you too. I'm Maximus L. Hyde. Did… you need something?"
Her smile widened slightly, and she stepped closer. I resisted the urge to take a step back—her dress alone probably cost more than everything my family owned.
"I've seen you before," she said, tilting her head slightly. "You're the one who copies the decrees from the city walls, aren't you?"
I froze. "You… noticed that?"
"Of course." Her eyes sparkled with quiet amusement. "It's hard to miss someone scribbling on the ground while others are busy trading or working."
My face burned. "I—I was just trying to learn. We can't afford a tutor."
"Then you've taught yourself?"
I nodded. "Sort of. I… ask people when I don't understand something."
"And what do you hope to learn?"
That made me pause. No one had ever asked me that before.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I guess… everything?"
Her smile softened. "That's a good answer."
She walked past me, trailing her hand along the tall grass at the edge of the field. The wind stirred her long silver hair, and the sunlight made it shimmer like threads of moonlight.
"You're curious," she said over her shoulder. "That's rare."
I scratched the back of my neck. "It's not really rare. I just… don't like not knowing things."
She turned back toward me, her eyes steady. "Then why don't you learn properly?"
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Study with me."
I almost laughed—but her expression didn't change.
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
"But… why?"
She smiled again, the kind of smile that made you feel like you'd missed something important.
"Because you want to know things. And I want to see how far you'll go."
I hesitated. "My father… He needs help with the farm. I can't just leave to study with a noble."
"You wouldn't have to leave." She took a step closer, her gaze direct. "My tutor teaches at the estate. You'd be welcome as my guest."
"Your guest?"
"A friend."
I looked down at my hands, still rough with dirt and callouses. It didn't seem possible. A farmer's son studying alongside a noble? That didn't happen. That wasn't how the world worked.
She must have noticed my hesitation because she added softly:
"It wouldn't be charity. You'd be expected to work hard. But I think you'd thrive."
I swallowed. "Why me?"
"Because you've already done the hard part."
I raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"
"You started."
A breeze swept between us, carrying the scent of grass and summer rain. I looked into her eyes—calm, certain, expectant.
"So?" she said. "Do you want to learn?"
I exhaled slowly. My father would understand. He always told me to take opportunities when they came—because they didn't come often.
"Alright," I said. "I'll give it a try."
She smiled and extended her hand.
"Then it's settled."
I stared at her hand for a moment before taking it. Her fingers were soft but cool to the touch.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she said.
"Tomorrow?"
"Lessons start at sunrise."
"Oh. Right."
She released my hand and stepped back toward the path leading toward the estate. But just before she disappeared from view, she turned back toward me, her black hair catching the afternoon light.
"Don't be late," she said with a playful smile.
I stood there long after she was gone, staring at the empty path. Then, slowly, I smiled.
The next morning, I arrived at the Duke's mansion just after sunrise. A servant showed me into a massive library—shelves of leather-bound books stretching toward the ceiling. Dust motes floated in the early light. I sat down, unsure whether to touch anything.
A few minutes later, she arrived. Lynda L. Verdune. Calm, composed, the faintest trace of amusement in her eyes.
"Comfortable?"
"Uh… sure," I said, shifting awkwardly in the chair.
She sat across from me, placing a stack of books between us. "Then let's begin."
That was how it started. Every morning, I arrived before sunrise. Every day, she pushed me harder. Letters, languages, arithmetic, history, strategy. I stumbled at first—but I caught up fast.
Lynda was… relentless. Precise. Calculated.
But she never mocked me when I failed. She corrected me. Pushed me. When I questioned her methods, she explained them. When I hesitated, she reminded me why I started.
"You've already done the hard part," she would say. "Now finish it."
We grew close. Close enough that it wasn't hard to see how she looked at me. Her smiles lingered longer. Her hand brushed against mine more often than necessary. She didn't hide it—but she never rushed it. She played her cards well. And I danced on her palm without even realizing it.
But I didn't hate her for it.
One evening, after a lesson, she leaned back in her chair and said, "My father is a fool. Verdune is rotting from the inside, and the nobles are letting it happen."
She stood, looking out the tall windows toward the city below.
"I'm going to rebuild Verdune," she said quietly. "Greater than before. Greater than ever."
I don't know why those words hit me so hard. Maybe because I believed her.
And that's when I decided to follow her.
It didn't surprise me when she proposed. It shocked me that I hadn't done it first.
She asked me beneath the old oak tree in the garden. Her eyes were steady as she offered me the ring. I should have been calm. I'd seen it coming. But I wasn't. My hands trembled as I took her hand.
"You knew I'd say yes," I said.
"Of course."
The duke never cared. We were beneath his notice—just two pawns moving around the board. That was his mistake.
I climbed the ranks quickly. My education, combined with Lynda's guidance and the support of Verdune's secretary, gave me an edge the other nobles didn't expect. I restructured Verdune's failing economy, negotiated trade deals, and broke the monopoly of the old merchant families.
And the nobles hated me for it.
I was kidnapped more times than I can count. Stabbed twice. Shot once. Threatened almost daily. But I didn't stop.
When the people of Verdune realized I wasn't going anywhere—that I was still standing—they gave me a name:
The Iron-Man of Verdune.
The people knew I fought for them, even when the nobles didn't. I kept the peace when revolts threatened to boil over. Because if the people revolted, the duke and the nobles wouldn't negotiate—they'd massacre them.
But Lynda's dream still seemed distant. The duke's grip on power was slipping, but not fast enough. Killing a coward isn't easy.
When Drakseid captured Verdune, I thought it was over. But the prince handed the government to us. Lynda had to pass his tests—but I never doubted her. She was smarter than me. Most of my successes were her plans.
And even after the attempted assassinations, she stayed with me.
Now, my workload has doubled—but I don't care. Because now, I can help my fiancée rebuild Verdune into something greater than it's ever been.
Together, under Drakseid's rule—we'll make Verdune strong again.
I used to dream of learning to read and write. Now, I sit beside a crown prince, ministers, and generals, shaping the future of Verdune.
But it's not enough. Not yet.
Her dream is mine now—and I'll see it fulfilled.
The shadow of the Distia Empire lingers over us. Their aristocrats are watching, waiting for us to stumble. But we've already survived worse.
And as long as Lynda and Drakseid stand beside me—calm, calculating, and unstoppable—I have nothing to fear.
We've come too far to stop now.
Verdune will rise again.
We owe Drakseid Kingdom a lot—and we'll pay back our debts with interest.
Not through war—but through gold and resources.
And that's why Verdune will never fall.