The past few days I haven't done much except roam—well, crawl—around the castle. Or rather, explore the immensity of it one marble tile at a time.
The ceilings were high enough to make you dizzy just looking up. Everything screamed luxury—grand chandeliers hung like frozen stars, vases taller than I was, portraits of grim-looking ancestors glowering from every hallway, and empty rooms that seemed to echo with long-forgotten whispers. This was no home. It was a fortress of history and power.
I was just crawling past the giant bronze statue of some knight-king—I think it was my great-grandfather—when suddenly I was airborne.
No. Not flying. Lifted.
"Roaming the castle alone again, Your Highness?" a voice grumbled, part amused, part exhausted. "Please stop doing that. If anything were to happen to you, I'd lose this shitty life I've barely started to rebuild."
I looked up at the familiar crimson eyes and silver hair of Amily Ironvale—my personal maid, caretaker, and, unofficially, jailer.
"Uwaaa…" I cried out, just to play along.
She sighed, shifting me on her hip as she walked. "I don't even know why I talk to you. You don't understand a thing yet."
She wasn't wrong—but also very wrong.
Amily Ironvale was a noblewoman, daughter of the Marquess of the Ironvale House of the southeast. A house known for its craftsmanship in enchanted weapons and metallurgy, their blacksteel was unmatched across the continent. But instead of forging swords or leading battles as she had dreamed, Amily was here—playing nursemaid to the kingdom's 11th prince.
Me.
Not that I could blame her bitterness. I overheard the other maids whispering about her. Her family offered her like a pawn to the royal family to win favor—she wasn't the heir, and being a woman in a house of armor and war meant her value was measured in alliances, not achievements.
We stepped into the imperial gardens, our daily ritual. It was a breathtaking place, with flowery trees in full bloom and a fountain that shimmered under the morning sun. She sat me down on a carved stone bench and let me fiddle with a few fallen petals.
She stared at me, eyes unreadable. I pretended not to notice.
'It's not a bad gig, being a prince's personal maid. Especially if the prince is decent—which I am, I swear. The pay is insane, the access to resources even crazier. She's practically a shadow noble with the power she can wield from this position. Insider information, court politics, future alliances—it's all here.'
"Sigh… This is my life now," she murmured, mostly to herself. "If I leave, those hypocrites will just blame me for not bringing the family closer to the throne. They'll bury me in some remote estate, never let me hold a sword again."
Her grip tightened slightly as she picked me up again. "But if I stay… train quietly, rise to three-star knight rank, keep my eyes open—I'll make them regret thinking I'm their pawn."
'Yup, not gonna help your family much, are you, Amily?' I chuckled internally. 'She might wear a maid's uniform, but she walks like a warrior. If I'm building a future, she's one of the people I'll need in it.'
We returned to my chambers, where she gently set me in the crib and waited until I drifted into another nap. She probably left for her scheduled training. All royal attendants needed to be skilled knights and certified medics. A high standard—but it also meant I was surrounded by potential allies.
---
Eight Years Later
Time had moved quickly—maybe too quickly.
I now stood upright, no longer crawling, dressed in royal blue robes that marked me as a son of the throne. My hair, jet-black like Father's, was combed neatly to one side. Amily walked behind me, still carrying that unapproachable air, though now she had a sword at her hip and command over a team of maids.
We were headed to one of my many tutoring sessions.
The room was large, lined with polished wooden walls and lit by a mix of enchanted stones and glass chandeliers. In the center stood two long desks, facing each other, and behind one sat a middle-aged man with auburn hair, round glasses, and kind brown eyes.
"Good morning, Your Highness," he said, standing with a bow. "I hope your morning was restful."
"It was, Teacher Henry," I replied with a practiced nod. "I hope yours was too."
Henry Milthorn—my personal tutor in politics, history, and court structure. A man of patience, wit, and a deep understanding of this world's tangled alliances.
"Today," he began, flipping open a thick book with golden lettering, "we shall explore the noble houses of the Veilshroud Dominion and their current hierarchy."
I leaned in. This was exactly the kind of knowledge I needed to make my moves.
'Knowing history is one thing. Knowing who holds the power now—that's the real game. Especially in a world where Elves control ancient forests, Dwarves control the mountains and metal, and Spiritfolk whisper secrets from the winds.'
So far, I'd learned that there were three different types of elves—High Elves of the Crystal Valleys, Wood Elves of the Evergreen Glades, and the Moon Elves from the twilight isles. Each held their own territories, politics, and history.
Add to that the Dwarves, Orcs, Demons (surprisingly not evil), Vampires, Goblins, and Spirits… it was a melting pot of myth and magic, races and realms.
Teacher Henry gently tapped the tip of his chalk against the board, the faint click echoing through the classroom.
"Now then, Your Highness," he began with a soft smile, "today's lesson will be about the noble houses of our Dominion. As a prince, you will one day have to navigate the complex web of alliances, rivalries, and responsibilities that shape the future of this land. Let's begin from the top."
He gestured to the top of a hand-drawn pyramid chart.
"First, we have the Dukes — four in total. They are the strongest pillars under the Royal Family, each governing vast regions with wide-ranging influence."
Henry turned and listed them slowly.
House Raventhorn, masters of espionage and intelligence. "They say nothing escapes Raventhorn eyes — not in court, nor across the borders."
House Emberlake, known for their naval warfare and shipbuilding expertise. "Their dockyards are legendary, and their ships glide silently across the dark waves of the Southern Sea."
House Stormwatch, wielders of weather magic and commanders of skyborne defenses. "They harness tempests as weapons, shielding our skies with thunder."
House Frostmoor, who manage the arctic trade routes and specialize in frost alchemy. "Cold-hearted in commerce and magic alike, they make fortune from ice and silence."
Coeus listened intently, chin resting in his palm, eyes shining with interest.
Henry moved his chalk downward.
"Next, we have the Marquesses. There are six houses here, each guarding key borderlands or important strategic zones."
He began pacing as he spoke, his voice picking up rhythm.
[AUTHORS NOTE] - You can just skip this
House Ironvale — Amily's house, Coeus noted silently — "renowned for metallurgy and enchanted weapons, their forges burn day and night."
House Redhollow, pioneers in agricultural innovation and food preservation. "Their techniques feed entire cities, even in times of drought."
House Thornmere, tamers of beasts and masters of mounted cavalry. "They ride wyverns and great elk into battle. Few stand against their charge."
House Blackbarrow, a grim and ancient house known for necromantic arts and ancestral relics. "They keep dangerous knowledge and claim it as tradition."
House Duskbridge, controllers of river trade and masters of bridge engineering. "They say Duskbridge knows how to build across anything — rivers, mountains, or rivalries."
House Silvergrove, skilled in diplomacy and inter-house relations. "They turn enemies into allies with a smile and a signed document."
Henry's chalk moved again.
"Now, to the Counts — eight in number. They govern smaller regions but are critical due to their specialized skills."
House Goldmere, masters of banking, goldsmithing, and coin minting. "Where there's power, there's Goldmere gold behind it."
House Ashbourne, running military academies and known for their discipline. "Many of your future guards and officers likely trained under them."
House Wyrmholt, guardians of dragon lore and wielders of flame-forging techniques. "They work with fire, scale, and story."
House Haldenridge, known for quarrying and grand architecture. "Their stone-built cities stand for centuries."
House Cragthorn, hunters, trackers, and managers of ranger guilds. "They walk unseen in forest and mountain alike."
House Bellhollow, patrons of music and storytelling. "Even the court's finest bard bows before their legacy."
House Shardmoor, experts in glassmaking and crystal enchantments. "Beauty and function crafted into every pane and shard."
House Hollowglen, the apothecaries and herbal masters. "From healing salves to rare poisons, they cultivate what nature dares not."
"Next are the Viscounts, four in total."
"They are smaller landholders with specialized control over unique domains."
House Flintmere, crafters of flintlocks and pioneers of early firearms. "Some say they're trying to make knights obsolete."
House Bramblethorn, poison-makers and countermeasure experts. "Their antidotes are as valuable as their toxins."
House Virestone, law scholars and keepers of codified justice. "They ensure even royalty follows the law—though discreetly."
House Crestvale, masters of falconry and aerial message networks. "No faster word than one carried by a Crestvale falcon."
Finally, Henry tapped the lowest rung of the chart.
"Barons, ten of them. Each rules a small region, usually isolated, but they often possess some of the most unique knowledge in the Dominion."
House Nightmere, practitioners of dream magic and sleep warding. "They guard the realm from nightmares… literally."
House Oakendell, carpenters and enchanted woodworkers. "They can carve life into timber, quite literally."
House Stillwater, masters of silent assassination. "Never cross one in the dark."
House Ravenfell, gravekeepers and spirit wardens. "They protect us from the restless dead and keep spirits at peace."
House Greenglade, eco-mages and forest guardians. "The trees themselves whisper their name."
House Wyldmere, potion brewers and master alchemists. "A flask from them can heal, charm, or explode."
House Deepglen, mushroom farmers with lore of underground fungi. "They feed armies and cure fevers with strange roots."
House Ebonshade, stealth experts and shadow magic wielders. "You never see them coming—because they're already gone."
House Fairmoor, textile weavers and enchanters of garments. "The royal garments you wear? Likely from them."
House Hollowreach, relic hunters and artifact specialists. "They find what others have lost — or what should stay buried."
Henry finally lowered his chalk and turned toward Coeus with a smile.
"Each house, from the mighty Duke to the humble Baron, plays a vital role in the Dominion. Their power lies not just in titles, but in what they bring to the empire."
He paused.
"One day, Your Highness, you may have to ally with or stand against some of them. The more you know, the better your choices will be."
Coeus nodded, his thoughts already stirring. Power, politics, and potential — he was beginning to understand the world he had been reborn into