The memory is as clear as if it happened yesterday—a pivotal moment etched into the fabric of my being. I was merely three years old when Father decided to take me on a journey to the northern frontier, where Grandfather commanded the fortress that stood as a bulwark against the encroaching darkness beyond our lands. It was unusual for someone so young to embark on such a trip, but Father believed it crucial for me to witness the realities that lay outside our sheltered estate.
The journey itself was a blur of winding roads and rugged landscapes, but the fortress left an indelible impression. Carved into the mountainside, it loomed like a sentinel, its stone walls blending seamlessly with the jagged peaks. Banners bearing our family crest—the sword entwined with two flowers—fluttered in the crisp, biting wind.
Grandfather greeted us at the main gate, his imposing figure clad in gleaming armor that bore the marks of countless battles. His silver hair cascaded over his shoulders, and his eyes held a steely determination softened only by a fleeting warmth as he regarded me.
"Welcome, Raion," he said to Father before turning his gaze upon me. "And this must be young Raimon."
I stared up at him, momentarily speechless. "It's an honor to meet you, Grandfather," I finally managed, my voice barely audible over the clamor of the bustling fortress.
He smiled—a rare sight that illuminated his stern features. "The honor is mine. Come, there's much to see."
The day unfolded with tours of the fortress's defenses, introductions to seasoned knights, and glimpses into the disciplined life of those who safeguarded our realm. But it was as dusk settled that the true lesson of our visit revealed itself.
A horn sounded—a haunting note that echoed through the mountains. Soldiers scrambled to their positions atop the walls. In the distance, shadows moved—an unsettling, writhing mass advancing toward the fortress.
"Demonic beasts," Father murmured, his expression grim.
Grandfather donned his helm, the plume of silver feathers shimmering. "Raimon, watch closely," he instructed. "This is what it means to stand against the darkness."
From our vantage point atop the battlements, I witnessed Grandfather step forward. He closed his eyes briefly, and when they opened, a brilliant silver aura enveloped him—a radiant glow that seemed to draw light from the very air.
"What is that?" I whispered, entranced.
"His knight's aura," Father explained. "An Earth Knight's manifestation of inner strength and harmony with the world."
Grandfather leaped from the wall with a fluid grace that belied his armor's weight, landing amidst the horde of beasts. His sword flashed in arcs of silver light, each swing cleaving through the monstrosities with devastating efficiency. The ground trembled as he moved—a force of nature incarnate.
Other knights joined the fray, their own auras igniting in hues of gold and blue, but none matched the sheer presence of Grandfather's silver radiance. The battle was fierce yet swift, the demonic beasts repelled by the indomitable will and prowess of the defenders.
As silence settled over the aftermath, Grandfather returned to the wall, his armor spattered with the ichor of defeated foes. He knelt before me, his eyes searching mine.
"Do not fear, Raimon," he said softly. "Courage is not the absence of fear but the will to face it. Remember this day."
I could only nod, my heart swelling with a mix of awe and determination. The image of him wreathed in silver light was seared into my memory—a beacon that ignited a yearning within me to one day embody such strength and honor.
Back at the estate, the world seemed both smaller and infinitely more complex. The other children engaged in games and lessons, blissfully unaware of the realities beyond our borders. I, however, was irrevocably changed. The path of the knight called to me—not merely as a role to inherit but as a calling to uphold.
Yet, even at that tender age, I was acutely aware of the delicate balance required. Father often cautioned against standing out too much, warning that exceptional abilities could provoke fear or envy. One step ahead, and you're a genius; two steps, and you're extraordinary; but any more, and you're a monster in the eyes of others.
I resolved to cultivate my skills discreetly, channeling my aspirations into diligent study and practice without drawing undue attention. The memory of Grandfather's valor became a silent motivator—a reminder of the potential that lay within and the responsibility it carried.
As the years passed, I immersed myself in the histories of great knights and legendary orders. Tales of their deeds filled me with inspiration, but I also noted the common threads that led to their downfalls—hubris, isolation, the alienation of those they sought to protect.
I understood that to truly honor the legacy of my lineage, I needed to balance my ambitions with humility and wisdom. The seeds of a grand vision began to take root—a vision of creating an order of knights unparalleled in the Solar Empire, one that embodied the highest ideals and served as a beacon in tumultuous times.
But to achieve this, I needed knowledge, resources, and trusted allies. And above all, I needed to proceed with caution.