The kingdom's nobility is organized into two distinct tiers, each reflecting the hierarchy and distribution of power within its feudal society.
The first tier comprises the principal nobles, represented by two prestigious ranks: Dukes and Marquises. These titles are exclusively conferred by the king himself, a privilege that underscores their significance. Holders of these ranks command extensive territories and enjoy a semi-independent status. While they are obligated to obey the king’s directives, royal interference in their domains is exceedingly rare, affording them a substantial degree of autonomy.
Considering the structure of principal nobles within the kingdom, a critical question arises: how can the king, as the absolute ruler whose words are the first and last on all matters, reconcile his unfettered power with the autonomy granted to nobles? The answer lies in a combination of tradition and restraint. Although, by law, principal nobles serve at the pleasure of the king and can theoretically be dismissed at any time, the king has never exercised this authority. This restraint has fostered an expectation of independence among the principal nobility, even though, legally speaking, they remain under the king’s direct jurisdiction.
In practice, the king’s authority over major nobles is largely dormant. He intervenes only in specific and rare circumstances. One of these is when there is a contested leadership within a noble family. In such cases, the king typically withholds his recognition of any claimant until a clear winner emerges from the conflict. This hands-off approach maintains the appearance of impartiality while allowing internal disputes to resolve themselves naturally. Only after a decisive victor has been established does the king formally acknowledge their authority.
Another scenario in which the king exerts his power is when a principal noble commits an egregious offense, such as openly rebelling against the crown or flagrantly violating the kingdom’s laws. Even in such extreme cases, the king doesn't directly remove a noble from their position. Instead, his response is far more definitive: he sentences the offending noble to death. Execution serves as the ultimate punishment and sends a clear message to the rest of the nobility. Once the guilty noble has been eliminated, the succession proceeds automatically according to the established laws of inheritance without requiring further involvement from the king.
This delicate balance of power ensures that the king’s authority remains unchallenged while allowing the principal nobles a degree of de facto autonomy. By abstaining from overt interference and relying on tradition and law to manage noble succession and punish misconduct, the king reinforces his supreme position without undermining the stability of the noble hierarchy. It is this nuanced approach that sustains the kingdom’s feudal order, where the autonomy of principal nobles coexists with the king’s ultimate authority.
Should he choose to do so, no legal or practical constraints prevent the king from exercising absolute power. As a legendary knight, the king exists above any law or opposition, unchallenged in his supremacy. The absence of legendary knights among the nobility further cements this dynamic, leaving them incapable of resisting his will. Unlike other realms where a delicate power struggle exists between the crown and the aristocracy, no such contest unfolds here. The king reigns unopposed, his supremacy unassailable, and the institutions purportedly limiting his power remain mere instruments of his discretion.
The second tier of nobility is composed of the minor nobles, who hold titles such as Count, Baron, and Knight. Although their influence and authority pale in comparison to those of the principal nobles, they play an essential role in preserving the kingdom's feudal structure. The creation of these titles is not solely within the king's purview; principal nobles, like Dukes and Marquises, also possess the authority to subdivide their territories and establish minor nobles under their jurisdiction. However, there is a critical distinction: titles granted by major nobles lack formal recognition by the kingdom. Only those ennobled by the king enjoy the full legitimacy and security afforded by the crown’s endorsement.
The primary difference lies in the stability of their positions. Minor nobles appointed by principal nobles occupy a precarious status; their lands and titles can be revoked at any time by the authority that granted them. In contrast, titles bestowed directly by the king are far more secure, backed by the unassailable power of the crown.
Furthermore, because the king has never exercised his authority to revoke titles, even the minor nobles who are appointed by the crown are considered nearly as stable as the principal nobles despite their vastly reduced influence. This stability stems from the king's consistent practice of upholding the titles he grants. In this way, minor nobles appointed directly by the king enjoy a level of security that principal nobles would typically reserve for themselves. They may not wield the same power or have the ability to subdivide their lands and create additional titles of nobility, but their positions are nonetheless fortified by the king's unwavering recognition.
Although these minor nobles do not have the extensive reach or control of the principal nobles, their titles hold a certain legitimacy that elevates them above those who hold titles granted by other principal nobles.
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This intricate hierarchy was vividly demonstrated in the actions of Valdrin, who, after his father’s incapacity to rule, effectively seized control of the Darkwind family’s capital and dismantled the territories of its minor nobles. Technically, these individuals no longer held noble titles, as their authority had been granted by Valdrin’s father, a Marquis, who held the legal right to revoke them. With his father’s seal, Valdrin formally disbanded their holdings. However, since the kingdom did not officially recognize titles granted by other principal nobles, these actions were regarded as internal family matters, unworthy of royal intervention. The kingdom viewed the dissolution of these minor noble holdings as a private dispute, and thus, the crown remained distant, offering no support or opposition.
His efforts to dissolve these territories and consolidate power were met with skepticism and resistance. The nobles whose titles were disbanded dismissed his actions as illegitimate, accusing him of unlawfully seizing his father’s seal and using it to dismantle their lands without proper authority. They argued that his actions lacked the necessary legal foundation and that Valdrin had overstepped his bounds, manipulating the family’s internal matters for his own gain.
The matter could not be settled through diplomacy or legal channels. Valdrin understood that his position would only be solidified through military force. He must demonstrate his strength on the battlefield to secure his rule and gain acknowledgment. He could only transform his tenuous authority into an unshakable reality by decisively wielding power, silencing dissent and asserting his legitimacy.
Valdrin set to work, meticulously drafting letter after letter. These missives were not intended for internal circulation within the Darkwind family; instead, they were meant for neighboring noble houses, such as the Stonefist family.
In his letter to the Stonefists, he voiced his deep concern over what he described as blatant aggression by the Windwalker family. He accused them of exploiting the current instability to seize territory that rightfully belonged to the Darkwind family. Valdrin offered assurances of future compensation and urgently requested reinforcements to counter the Windwalker incursion.
Until recently, Valdrin had avoided involving external forces in what had been an internal family conflict. It was, after all, a private matter, and calling for outside help would have been seen as a breach of propriety. However, the Windwalker family’s attack gave him the perfect pretext to seek aid. With their aggression as justification, he could now appeal to other nobles for assistance under the guise of defending the Darkwind family’s honor and lands.
Valdrin's ambitions extended far beyond merely repelling the Windwalkers. He intended to use any reinforcements that arrived not only to confront the invading forces but also to crush his brother’s growing influence within the family.
As Valdrin considered his next steps, he realized that he couldn’t limit his pleas for help to just his immediate neighbors. The Darkwind family’s lands, situated in a relatively isolated region with few neighboring houses, left him with limited options. Determined to broaden his appeal, he resolved to send letters to noble families across the kingdom, regardless of their distance. While he knew the odds were slim, he even decided to send a letter to the king. Valdrin doubted the king would intervene in what might appear to be a localized dispute, but desperation spurred him on. There’s nothing to lose by trying, he reasoned.
Once the letters were dispatched, Valdrin turned his attention to the immediate crisis posed by the Windwalker family’s invasion. A strategy began to form in his mind, one that many might have considered reckless, if not outright treacherous. "I won’t send anyone to defend those territories," he decided. "The more land the Windwalkers take, the better."
Valdrin understood that allowing the Windwalkers to advance unchecked could work to his advantage. The graver the situation appeared, the stronger his appeal for external assistance would become. A desperate scenario might also undermine his brother’s position, especially if his brother was covertly benefiting from Windwalker support. For Valdrin, the escalating crisis was an opportunity in disguise.
With this strategy in mind, Valdrin penned a series of directives to the regional generals stationed along the Windwalker border. His orders were precise and calculated: under the cover of secrecy, abandon all fortresses and retreat, consolidating the remaining troops at the capital while leaving the border undefended. This deliberate withdrawal would allow the Windwalkers to make swift, unchallenged gains, creating the appearance of catastrophic losses for the Darkwind family.
Upon further reflection, Valdrin refined his plan. To maintain the illusion of resistance, he decided not to leave all the castles completely empty. Instead, he ordered that the oldest and weakest soldiers be stationed in the fortresses to give the impression of a defensive effort. After all, he did not want the retreat to appear too obvious. It had to seem as though the Windwalker family was actively conquering the castles, not as though Darkwind was voluntarily surrendering them. The more convincing the appearance of conflict, the more advantageous it would be for Valdrin.
In addition, Valdrin instructed his trusted men to carry out a more sinister act. Disguised as soldiers of the Windwalker family, they were to kill as many citizens in the border cities as possible, making it look like the Windwalkers were committing atrocities in their supposed thirst for revenge against the Darkwinds. The brutality of this act would fuel the narrative of a bitter and violent feud between the two families, a rivalry steeped in deep grudges. The more horrific the scenes of Windwalkers slaughtering Darkwind civilians appeared, the better it would serve Valdrin’s cause. Such actions would stir outrage, not only among the common folk but also among other noble houses, further alienating the Windwalkers and escalating the perceived enmity between the families. For Valdrin, it was all about manipulating public perception—turning the conflict into a spectacle that would garner sympathy and support for his side.
Valdrin had no reservations about sacrificing innocent people if it served his larger goals. For him, it was a small price to pay for the ultimate prize—securing his succession and ascending to the rank of Marquis. His guiding principle was clear: the end justified the means.