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The first young master, Altron Zerux Chevalier—the heir apparent to the Marquis title, which in truth bore the weight of a Grand Duke—carried responsibilities that extended far beyond the boundaries of the Chevalier estate. Aside from inheriting his father's position within noble society, he also held an esteemed role within Lumen Academy.
Within the academy grounds, he served as one of the instructors under the Knight Division Department, specifically overseeing Military Theory and Strategies. It was only natural for someone born into the Guardian Household—a lineage forged through generations of warfare—to be entrusted with such a position. His knowledge was not merely inherited; it was sharpened through discipline and expectation.
As for the second young master, Harrison Wynfred Chevalier, who by order of birth should have inherited the mantle as the next-in-line successor—
However, he chose a different path.
Without hesitation, Harrison relinquished his position in the line of succession, allowing his elder brother to ascend unchallenged. Such a decision raised questions among the noble society at the time, but for Harrison, it was never a matter of doubt.
He simply did not want it.
Instead, he turned his back on the expectations tied to noble inheritance and joined the Empire's Knight Army at the young age of twelve. He started from the lowest rank, refusing to take advantage of his prestige as a Chevalier.
Step by step, he climbed.
Not through privilege—
But through merit.
Through relentless effort and unwavering resolve, Harrison earned recognition from those around him. His skills spoke louder than his name ever could.
Years later, his efforts bore fruit.
At seventeen, Harrison became the youngest individual to be appointed as a Knight Captain within the entire Empire—leading the 10th Knight Squad. The achievement alone was enough to etch his name within military history.
But it did not end there.
His Majesty, Emperor Stellarus himself, granted Harrison a peerage—bestowing upon him the noble title of Baron.
Two years passed.
And with each passing victory and contribution to the Empire, his standing rose further.
From Baron—
To Count.
In recognition of his service, he was granted land under his name—a rare honor that spoke volumes of the Emperor's acknowledgment.
Unlike many nobles who relied solely on their lineage, Harrison had built his own reputation.
With his own hands.
And lastly—
The only daughter of the Chevalier household.
Felicity Thoria Chevalier.
At seventeen, she carried herself with a composure that often made others forget her age. Unlike the pampered daughters of noble families who reveled in vanity and arrogance, Felicity exuded refinement and discipline in equal measure.
Her demeanor reflected maturity far beyond her years.
Within the circles of aristocracy, she was regarded as a paragon—an example for young noble ladies to emulate. Her influence extended even to royal circles, where certain princesses observed her closely, taking note of her conduct and learning from it.
As a daughter of the Guardian Household, Felicity also possessed the Knight Warrior bloodline—a gift inherited from their ancestors. Though she had no ambition to become a swordmaster like her father or brothers, she nevertheless trained in the family's martial discipline.
Not for fame.
But for honor.
To carry the weight of her family's legacy.
To stand beside them without shame.
Because of their individual achievements and reputations, the three siblings stood on ground that few dared to tread upon. Their influence alone was enough to silence most of those who would otherwise question them.
Not merely because of their name—
But because of who they were.
After all—
They were, in truth, a Grand Duke household concealed beneath a Marquis title.
And yet—
Even a presence such as theirs could not deter everyone.
Especially not those foolish enough—or desperate enough—to seek attention.
"So, tell me… how is the Marchioness doing, First Young Master Altron?"
The voice cut through the ambient murmur of the gathering.
"Did she perhaps… get a taste of her dear stepson's allure?"
The words carried a mocking edge.
A provocation.
An insult laid bare without restraint.
For a brief moment, the surrounding nobles fell silent.
Eyes shifted.
Attention gathered.
'…Who's this idiot?'
That thought surfaced almost simultaneously among those present.
To openly mock the Chevalier siblings—
Especially with such a topic—
It bordered on lunacy.
Some nobles shook their heads inwardly, already dismissing the man as a reckless fool. Others, however, leaned into the spectacle, waiting in anticipation for the unfolding drama.
'Well… I'll give him credit,' Harrison mused inwardly, a faint curl of amusement rising despite the circumstances. 'It takes a certain kind of stupidity to challenge us this directly.'
A soft snicker escaped him.
Then—
He stepped forward.
"Oh? What a rather intriguing question you've brought to us," Harrison said, his tone light—almost playful. "I'm afraid, however, that we cannot provide you with such… satisfying answers."
A ripple of laughter passed through the audience.
Those familiar with Harrison's personality immediately caught the layered implication within his words.
As for the nobleman who had spoken—
His expression twitched, irritation flashing across his face.
He opened his mouth—
Only to be interrupted once more.
"Ah—wait! I have a better idea!" Harrison continued cheerfully, snapping his fingers as though struck by inspiration. "Why don't you seek out the Marchioness yourself and ask her directly?"
A pause.
Then—
"Don't worry, though," Harrison added with a grin. "With your appearance, I doubt you'd catch her interest. So, you're completely safe. Wonderful, right? ~~~"
This time, laughter erupted more openly.
Comments spread like ripples in water.
"The nerve of that guy…"
"Who even is he?"
"Probably some minor noble trying to make a name for himself…"
"He should consider himself lucky that's all he got…"
The murmurs grew louder.
The nobleman's face reddened as humiliation settled in.
His fists clenched tightly, nails digging into his palms as he glared back at Harrison.
'…How dare they…!'
The anger burned within him.
'Just because they're Chevaliers—do they think they can look down on everyone?!'
He opened his mouth again, ready to fire back—
But another voice cut through.
Clean.
Sharp.
Measured.
"With all due respect, esteemed noble," a voice spoke calmly, carrying just enough emphasis to draw attention. "We must take our leave, should there be nothing meaningful left to discuss."
A brief pause.
"Unlike those of your… standing, my siblings and I have matters of importance to attend to. It would be… unwise to spend our time engaging in such fruitless exchanges."
The words were formal.
Refined.
Yet every syllable carried a quiet edge.
A dismissal.
Absolute.
The atmosphere shifted.
The nobleman froze.
The meaning was unmistakable.
He had been weighed—
And deemed unworthy.
Around them, the nobles fell silent once more.
The Chevalier siblings stood together, composed and unyielding, as though the exchange had barely touched them.
And just like that—
The confrontation ended.
Without resistance.
Without struggle.
Only the lingering echo of humiliation remained behind.
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