Turning Chapter 1297

According to Kishiar’s explanation that followed, surprisingly few people actually knew that the protagonist of that knight novel was originally based on the first Duke of Diarca.

“Well, if that were common knowledge, Kiole probably would’ve said so when the novel came up.”

“Exactly. It didn’t seem like he knew. But after learning what was hidden in the secret vault, it made sense. They’re proud of their ancestor, sure—but they couldn’t let the children admire his extraordinary powers too much.”

“Oh, it’s related to that bit Kiole muttered while crying earlier—something about hiding the power once it disappeared?”

As Yuder vaguely recalled what Kiole had mumbled through his tears, a subtle smile appeared on Kishiar’s lips.

“Yes. It was quite the astonishing secret. In truth, the original House of Diarca, from the very first duke, was a family overflowing with talent—both knights and mages. They produced outstanding priests, scholars, and politicians, playing a massive role in laying the foundation for the early Orr Empire.”

“Hard to imagine, considering the mess they are now.”

“You wouldn’t think so, but it’s true.”

According to Kishiar, the early volumes of imperial history mention so many knights, mages, and priests from House Diarca that it’s nearly impossible to discuss the Empire’s founding without them.

“In those days, most of the dukes leading the house were recorded as exceptional swordsmen or mages. The same went for other noble families.”

But over time, such records began to thin out. House Diarca gradually distanced itself from roles requiring the use of power. Though they remained one of the Empire’s Four Pillars, compared to House Apeto, which frequently produced Popes, or House Ta-in, which seemed passive but would unexpectedly achieve great things, or House Hern, which safeguarded the southern borders—they didn’t do much. Diarca’s presence in historical narratives continued to fade.

“That trend began to shift with the suppression of a planned rebellion a few hundred years ago.”

At the time, despite being the Emperor’s maternal relatives, House Diarca was under heavier scrutiny than other noble families.

Even so, when rebels appeared, they rose without hesitation to protect the Emperor, risking everything for the royal family. After the incident was resolved, the Emperor formally recognized their loyalty and granted House Diarca a special privilege: they were allowed to station more private soldiers near the capital than any other family.

As a sign of gratitude for that privilege, House Diarca declared that within the capital, they would fulfill their duties not with weapons or powers, but through words and actions alone.

“That meant something simple: they vowed never to use dangerous abilities like magic or aura within the capital.”

From then on, the Dukes of Diarca led their subordinates not by taking direct action, but by speech and command. If powerful individuals were needed, they would simply recruit them. That, they insisted, was the mark of a true noble and the essence of loyalty.

The royal family welcomed this stance and actively encouraged it. As time passed, the noble class of the Orr Empire gradually began to adopt House Diarca’s philosophy.

“That’s when the idea took root—that children with strong abilities had less advantage in inheritance battles among nobles.”

Those who trained diligently in sword or magic were edged out of succession. Those skilled in politics and social grace were more respected. The idea that a true noble led others and never acted directly became the new norm.

And after several centuries of that, no one questioned it anymore.

House Diarca had been the one to create and maintain that cultural shift from the very beginning.

“But according to the old records hidden in the secret vault, it seems the rebellion itself was originally orchestrated by House Diarca.”

“...You mean the grand incident where they risked everything to save the royal family was actually a staged performance by Diarca?”

“Exactly. Shocking, isn’t it?”

Kiole hadn’t seen that part of the records. If he had, he might have actually fainted.

“Why... why go that far?”

It was understandable that, once the lineage of gifted individuals dried up, they might’ve grown anxious about maintaining power. But still—that alone didn’t justify it. Just because their descendants no longer possessed special talents... was it worth wagering the entire family’s fate on such a dangerous gamble?

Nobles often value power and reputation above life itself—but Yuder still couldn’t grasp what kind of desperation would drive someone that far. Sensing this from Yuder’s expression, Kishiar softened his brow and offered an explanation with a faint smile.

“The Blessing of Blood. In other words, children stopped being born with special powers inherited from their ancestors—whether magical ability or swordsmanship talent. That alone... might seem minor. But the records from Diarca’s own research show it was quite serious.”

Before things became as they are now, House Diarca had relentlessly trained all their children in sword and magic, conducting experiments for generations to forcefully develop their abilities. While divine power had to be innate, aura could be awakened through training, and everyone had some latent magic within them—so they thought it was worth trying.

But nothing went as planned. For the first hundred years or so, that desperate instruction showed some effect. But as time passed, the results dwindled. And when they kept forcing power development, the children began to die.

“The records say that any child who began to show even the faintest signs of talent or meaningful progress died almost immediately. They’d produce a fragment of aura—then die. Cast their first spell—then die. One child, whose father was a priest and was expected to be born with divine power, was born dead altogether.”

It happened again and again. House Diarca spent centuries trying to minimize the damage, searching for causes, seeking a way to nurture ability. But it was useless. No one could find an answer. Children continued to die, and the house’s power steadily declined.

“If the Duke from the time of the letter Kiole saw hadn’t finally decided to end that futile struggle, House Diarca might’ve already vanished from history.”

“This issue of bloodline... could it still be ongoing today?”

“Hard to say. No one knows. The descendants of Diarca have been so strict in upholding family law that there are no records of anyone trying to awaken powers after that era.”

That duke had been quite clever. For the sake of his daughter, who would inherit the title, he prepared a grand deception that would shake the nation. The daughter carried out her father’s will, and the “House Diarca risks everything to suppress a coup and save the Emperor” narrative became a legendary play. It returned Diarca to the pinnacle of power and rewrote the Empire’s collective belief system.

A world was created where one could maintain power without having to awaken magic or aura—and Diarca’s children could live long, healthy lives. As long as none of them suddenly tried to awaken such powers, that is.

'But... isn’t there one such fool right here?'

Kiole la Diarca, of course.

Until now, Yuder had assumed Kiole simply lacked talent, which was why he hadn’t awakened even a fragment of aura. But now it seemed that if the guy had awakened it, he’d likely have died before becoming a knight at all.

'Should I be grateful he was talentless...? But wait—didn’t he say something earlier about learning the sword from Kishiar?'

“If the Duke of Diarca knew all of this, why would he allow Kiole to become a knight? Did he truly believe his son lacked talent that thoroughly?”

“Haha. Back when General Gino resigned as the princes’ sword instructor, he did directly tell the Duke that unless a miracle occurred, his youngest son would never awaken aura. Apparently, the Duke was furious.”

After saying that, Kishiar went quiet for a moment before adding his own thoughts.

“...Maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the Empress Dowager’s child. Perhaps the Duke pinned some strange hope on Kiole because of it.”