"The Noble Wars of the 18th Century, Julian Calendar, 1759"
A time when blood often soaked the land more than rain, and honor often served as a justification for slaughter. It was in that year that the name of Magnus resounded again as a symbol of boundless ambition. The Magnus Empire, then led by Darwin Magnus—or Magnus VIII in ancient Roman regalia—set the wheels of war in motion with one unwavering goal: to conquer, eradicate, and leave only one power on the land.
The Noble Wars were more than just territorial clashes. They involved ancient families, great nobles, and one semi-noble family whose existence was often underestimated but never truly disappeared from history—the Acorns. At the time, the Acorns were led by Noah Acorn, a man known for his wisdom, determination, and preference for protecting his people over expanding his territory. At his side was always a young boy named William Acorn, not old enough to understand why swords and banners could be the difference between life and death.
The war lasted four days and three nights without a break. The sky was never completely darkened by smoke, and the ground was never completely dry of the traces of battle. The Magnus nobles launched a massive invasion of Vincent's territory first, destroying defense after defense with ruthless, organized military discipline. After Vincent's fall, their eyes turned to the next territory—the Acorn family's. Although it was only the equivalent of a small province within the Magnus state, to them, even the smallest bit of territory remained a potential future threat.
The Acorn army was never outnumbered. Their soldiers fought with courage, but courage was never enough when faced with a merciless, well-trained army. One by one, the Acorn warriors fell. Important figures who had been pillars of the family fell on the battlefield. Hopes built over years crumbled in a matter of hours. Even Noah Acorn himself, the leader who had become the last symbol of resistance, was finally on the verge of death.
But before that happened, Noah thought only of his son's life and safety. Amid the chaos, screams, and clanging of metal, he grabbed William's hand and forced him to move away from the center of battle. In his heart, Noah knew that the Acorn family might fall that day, but as long as his blood flowed in his son, hope was not completely extinguished. He wanted William to live, to grow, and one day be the answer to all that had been taken from them.
That hope was about to end when a cold command echoed from Magnus's ranks.
"Kill them all. Don't leave a single breath."
The white flag had been raised. The sign of surrender fluttered amidst the smoke and dust, but no mercy came with it. Magnus's forces pressed on, cutting off anyone still standing. For them, surrender wasn't the end of the war—it was the opportunity to ensure no future remained for the enemy.
Noah Acorn stood before his son, his body covered in wounds, his breathing labored, but his eyes still burning with determination. He summoned the last of his strength, swinging his sword to hold back the onslaught of Magnus's soldiers surrounding them. One by one, the swordsmen fell before him, as if he refused to fall until William was safe. But fate often comes from unseen directions.
From atop a watchtower, a Magnus archer loosed an arrow. The arrow flew swiftly, piercing the screaming air, and struck Noah Acorn in the back. His body staggered. His sword slipped from his grasp. He fell to his knees, then collapsed to the ground long soaked in the blood of war.
William screamed for his father. He cradled Noah's still body, tears streaming down his face. The world seemed to have stopped spinning. But his instinct for survival compelled him to do something no child his age should even consider. When the archers descended to assess the situation, William smeared his face and hands with blood, leaving his body still beside his father's, as if he had also fallen.
The archers watched them suspiciously. For a moment, William almost opened his eyes too wide. One of them noticed the slight movement, but ultimately dismissed it. The wind and dust were assumed to be the cause. Soon, Magnus's army fled the battlefield, leaving utter destruction in their wake.
Dusk fell slowly. The sun faded behind the horizon, as if reluctant to witness what remained. William rose, trembling. He took one last look at his father, then lifted the body with the last of his strength. His steps faltered, but he continued walking, accompanied by silence and the dead leaves that had fallen from the trees, as if in mourning.
Under an old, almost leafless willow tree, William dug a hole in the ground with his own hands. He buried his father there, then dragged out the large sword of the fallen Acorn warrior. He stuck the sword into Noah's grave, right at the head, as a sign and an unspoken oath. He cut his finger on the blade, let the blood drip, and then scratched it to form a single word:
"The Fallen Wise Leader."
~Noah Acorn
The once barren willow tree slowly grew back its green leaves, as if responding to the sadness left in the soil. The evening breeze gently blew around the willow tree, carrying the scent of wet earth and blood that had not yet fully dried. William Acorn stood still before his father's grave, his fingers gripping the hilt of the sword embedded in the ground.
The blood on the blade was slowly drying, but its meaning grew heavier with time. The world he knew had collapsed in a single war, and now only silence accompanied him.
He didn't know where to go. Acorn's domain had been destroyed, homes destroyed, and his family name nearly wiped from the map of power. All that remained was a boy, wounded in body and soul, standing beneath a willow tree that had recently come back to life—a miracle he couldn't even begin to comprehend.
Just then, the sound of footsteps grew soft.
William instinctively turned, his hand regripping his sword. From the twilight mist, a girl emerged. Her long brown hair flowed freely, reflecting the light of the setting sun. Her dress was a deep red, resembling rose petals soaked with dew. Her face was serene, but her eyes held something indescribable—sadness, warmth, and determination all in one look.
The girl stopped a few steps away, then stared at Noah Acorn's grave for a moment, as if paying silent respects. Then, she turned her gaze back to William.
"Get up," she said softly, but clearly.
"Don't destroy your way of life just because you've lost your world."
William fell silent. His voice caught in his throat. He wanted to ask who the girl was, why she was here, but his tongue felt heavy. The girl stepped closer and extended her hand, her palm open, without force.
"I'm Mia," she said. "And I'll help you rebuild your nearly shattered world."
For a moment, William just stared at the hand. In his mind, the world had taught him not to trust easily. But somehow, there was something about Mia that made him feel… safe. Like a small light in the middle of a long night that had just begun.
"I'm not an illusion," Mia continued, as if reading his hesitation. "I'm human. I've come to heal your wounds—and to accompany you, until the end."
William finally took the hand. Warm. Real. That touch seemed to pull him back from the brink of despair. Mia smiled faintly, then gently took his hand, leading William away from the tomb, from the blood, from the memories too heavy to bear alone.
Night fell completely. The sky was filled with stars, and fireflies began to appear, illuminating the path they walked. For the first time since the war ended, William felt a little lighter in his chest. He was no longer alone.
…
The following days passed quietly, far from the hustle and bustle of the noble world. Mia tended to William's wounds, cleaning his cuts and attending to his fever at night. She never asked many questions about the war, as if she knew the wounds weren't ready to be expressed in words. Instead, she filled the silence with simple stories—about flowers, about the sky, about life that could go on even when the world had fallen.
Slowly, William began to recover. His body grew stronger, and his gaze less blank. He began to help Mia plant crops around their humble abode, building a small life away from the intrigues of the nobility. There, under the same sky, William learned again what it was like to live without always waiting for death.
Time passed, and the initially unfamiliar feelings slowly transformed into something deeper. Mia wasn't just his savior—she became William's new home. One afternoon, William took Mia back to the willow tree where his father was buried. There, he picked a red rose from the small garden that grew around it.
"You look even more beautiful with a rose in your ear," William said, smiling sincerely as he pinned it to Mia's hair.
Mia returned the smile, and under the now-thick willow tree, they talked about the future—about the world they wanted to build, about a family no longer torn apart by war.
A few years later, William and Mia married. There was no grand ceremony, no nobles in attendance. Just a simple promise, spoken with conviction. But for William, that day marked the end of one world and the birth of a new one.
…
Decades passed. The Acorns grew again, not as great nobles, but as a family that endured. William and Mia had four children, the next generation raised on stories of honor, suffering, and hope. From them, the Acorn blood continued to flow, waiting for its time to rise again.
And from that final generation, a child was born, Kyne Acorn—a figure who would one day change the meaning of the Acorn family's existence and shake the world of nobility that thought they had won forever.
Until the reign of Magnus IX, Davis Magnus, the world descended into darkness once again. But amidst it all, Kyne Acorn grew—silent, depressed, but never truly broken.
Kyne Acorn's first encounter with the world was not with hatred, but with warmth.
In a simple courtyard, under a calm afternoon sky, three-year-old Kyne sat on the ground, playing with small pieces of wood. Beside him, two little girls with nearly identical faces laughed lightly. They were his older sisters, Elina and Elena, the twins who had always protected him like their own little world.
Kyne stared at his two older sisters for a moment. His innocent eyes moved slowly, then he stood unsteadily and approached Elina. With her small hand, she pointed at her sister's chest without shame, without any understanding beyond a child's instincts.
"I want that," she said simply, in a baby's lisp.
Elina paused for a moment, her face flushed. She looked at Kyne, then turned to Elena as if asking for help. "What?" she said finally. "You want milk? You have to ask your mother."
Kyne tilted her head, clearly not understanding why this was a problem. "Why should I drink it?" she asked innocently, almost whimperingly.
"That's not allowed," Elina immediately crossed her arms over her chest. "Absolutely not allowed! You can only drink your mother's milk!"
Elena held back laughter, while Kyne stared at them both with a confused expression, on the verge of tears. The small argument seemed trivial, but it was enough to catch the attention of their mother, who was standing nearby.
Mia Acorn approached them with a gentle smile. She crouched down, scooped Kyne into her arms, and stroked his cheek. "There, there," she said softly. "Mommy's here."
Kyne immediately grabbed his shirt with a small, satisfied smile. Elina snorted in annoyance, while Elena chuckled at their youngest sibling's eventual victory.
Mia breastfed Kyne in the twilight, while the two little girls sat by her side. For a moment, the world seemed whole—no war, no nobility, no blood. Just a small family surviving amidst the ruins of history.
But childhood didn't last long.
Kyne grew quickly, and the world began to show its true face.
As he began to understand words and looks, Kyne realized that the name "Acorn" no longer carried honor. In the eyes of the noble world, it was merely the ashes of a war that should have been forgotten. Andrian, Elina, and Elena grew to become his protectors, often standing before him when other noble children hurled taunts.
But Kyne rarely cried. He rarely complained. From childhood, he preferred to observe. He observed how adults spoke with fake smiles. He observed how power made others bow. And without anyone realizing it, he began to store all of this in his quiet mind.
As a teenager, Kyne lived among nobles who never considered him an equal. He learned that silence is a weapon, and patience is the most dangerous form of resistance. At the academy, he surpassed all students—both from small families and from large families like the Magnus family.
Praise came, but it was always accompanied by a pang of resentment.
"You don't deserve to be here," a nobleman whispered one day. Kyne just stared at him blankly. Not angry. Not offended. Just… taking notes.
Under Davis Magnus's leadership, the world of nobility became increasingly cruel. Small territories were oppressed, weak families were slowly destroyed. Kyne witnessed it all, and in his heart, a conclusion formed clearly.
"Every life consists of one percent happiness," whispered a voice that seemed to come from within him, "the rest is suffering."
Kyne accepted that truth without resistance.
When he graduated as the top student in high school—outperforming all the other noble descendants—there was no cheering. Only a hidden fear. To this day, Kyne continues his education at the best university.
It was then that the world began to realize that the child who once innocently asked for milk… had now grown into something that had the potential to change the lives of the nobility in the future…