Chapter 2: The Weight of the Mantle
The mourning bells of Marrowport City seemed to ring specifically for me.
My mother, Diana Sylvrwynn, was a woman of iron and grace. For five years, she had been the CEO of our survival. She never sought a second husband, nor did she look back at the glory of the Celestia Empire with anything but a cold determination to move forward. She had built the Silver Group from a desperate dream into a thriving mercenary company. We had secured contracts for merchant escorts, bandit suppression, and estate security. We were no longer refugees; we were a power in the region.
The Count of Marrowport had even taken notice. He had promised my mother that if I could break through to the rank of Ordinary Knight, he would appoint me as a Junior Adjutant in his provincial army. It was a golden ticket—a chance to re-enter the official military hierarchy.
Then, the illness came. It was swift and cruel. In a world of magic and knights, simple bacteria or a magical virus can still kill a hero. When she drew her last breath, the Silver Group was left leaderless.
At twenty years old, I stood in the renovated study of our mansion, looking at the ledgers. Five years ago, I was a CEO on Earth. Now, I was the Head of House Sylvrwynn in Eldpiire. I looked out the window at our training grounds.
Karl, our High-Sergeant, was drilling the sixteen loyal men—our core heavy infantry.Cedric, the Hunter we recruited from the docks, had become a Lance-Sergeant, leading a specialized squad of rangers.Osmund, the Vice-Captain, was the anchor holding it all together.
But they were looking to me. And for the first time in two lives, I felt the cold grip of uncertainty. My father was gone. My mother was gone. I was a Squire Knight in a world that ate the weak.
"I need an edge," I whispered to the empty room. "I can't just be a good knight. I have to be a better leader."
That was when the air shivered in front of my eyes. A translucent blue interface, far more complex than the "Status Plates" I had seen others use, flickered into existence.
[LORD INTEL SYSTEM INITIALIZED] NAME: Sir Fendric Sylvrwynn TITLE: Sylvrwynn House Head, Free Knight of Marrowport City CLASS: Squire Knight [Progress: 92%] SUB-CLASS: None (Available for learning) QUEST POINTS (QP): 0
I navigated the menu with the instinct of a man used to high-end software. Below the status, a gold button glowed: [FREE INFORMATION - 2 DAILY INTEL REMAINING]
I pressed it. My mind flooded with two distinct, sharp images.
[Hidden Asset]: Beneath the kitchen flooring, exactly three feet deep, lies a sealed iron-wood box. It contains 2,000 gold coins and a 'True Forger' grade longsword. It is the lost cache of a fallen noble from a previous era.[Market Opportunity]: A merchant named Steve will arrive at the Sea Market tomorrow morning. He possesses a High-Class Cultivation Acceleration Potion. He is unaware of its true grade and will sell it at a common price.
My heart hammered against my ribs. 2,000 gold coins? That was more than the Silver Group's entire annual revenue. And a True Forger blade? That was a weapon that could cut through standard plate armor like parchment.
"Foalan! Get a shovel and meet me in the kitchen!" I roared, my voice carrying the authority of a man who had just seen a path to victory.
My fifteen-year-old brother appeared minutes later, looking confused and red-eyed from grieving. "The kitchen? Fendric, the servants are trying to prepare the funeral meal. What are we doing?"
"Just dig," I commanded.
The servants watched in stunned silence as the two heirs of the Sylvrwynn name tore up the stone flooring of their own kitchen. Sweat poured down Foalan's face as he struck wood.
"Brother... there's something here."
Together, we heaved a heavy, wax-sealed box onto the flagstones. When the lid creaked open, the kitchen was illuminated by the dull, rich glow of gold—piles of it. But resting atop the coins was the real treasure.
A longsword. Its blade was crafted from Black-Glass Steel. It was a terrifyingly beautiful fusion of volcanic obsidian and high-carbon steel, shimmering with an oily, dark light. It was balanced perfectly, a weapon meant for a True Knight.
I took the box to my private office and sat Foalan down. I looked at the gold, then at my brother. This was a test—for both of us.
"Foalan," I said, my CEO mind taking over. "We have 2,000 gold coins. Our mother's dream was to reclaim our nobility. If we spend this on luxury, we can live comfortably for ten years. If we spend it on the company, we might die in a month. What do we do?"
Foalan looked at the Black-Glass sword, then at me. His uncertainty began to fade, replaced by the fire of our bloodline.
"We can't just be 'comfortable,' Fendric," he said firmly. "Mother didn't flee the Empire just to have us become rich merchants. We need to build our forces. We need to buy better gear for Karl's men. We need to secure a High Noble title—not just a Knight's rank. We need to make the name Sylvrwynn feared again."
I smiled. It was the answer of a partner, not just a brother.
"Correct," I said, leaning back. "Tomorrow, a merchant named Steve arrives at the docks. He has a potion that will bridge the gap to my breakthrough. With this sword and that potion, I will become an Ordinary Knight by week's end. And then, we stop taking 'guard' jobs. We start taking territory."
The Silver Group was no longer just a mercenary company. It was a startup. And I was going to take it public with blood and steel.