**********
Asterion's second name—Varyn—carried a meaning that went beyond a simple noble designation. Translating to "Chosen Guardian", it represented a bond, a trust, and a promise between two young men who had braved death together. The Crown Prince of the Silveria Empire had given him this second name himself, not as a superior bestowing a title upon a subordinate, but as a comrade offering recognition to someone he valued deeply.
The moment Jeffrey revealed his true birth name—the name he was meant to have before Viscount Middleton dismissed it—the Crown Prince reacted instantly. Jeffrey confessed that his mother had originally wanted to name him Asterion, but the Viscount refused, believing the name sounded too grand, too dignified for a concubine's son. It was a name that carried stars in its sound, and the Viscount rejected anything that implied Jeffrey deserved more than his "low station."
Upon hearing this, the Crown Prince halted mid‑step. His sharp eyes softened, and his lips curved into a contemplative smile, as though everything suddenly fell into place.
"You were meant to be Asterion," he murmured, almost to himself. Then his gaze lifted, filled with certainty. "Then your second name should be Varyn."
Jeffrey blinked. "Why Varyn?"
The Crown Prince placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Because Varyn means 'Chosen Guardian.' And together—Asterion Varyn—it becomes a name representing the stars and the one who protects them." His voice lowered, holding a weight that pressed gently but firmly against Jeffrey's heart. "You have sacrificed yourself countless times. Not just for this campaign, but even before—when you saved my father, the Emperor. I may never repay you for that."
He paused, letting the wind settle around them before continuing.
"And then you saved me. Again. You risked your life for mine without hesitation. It was during that moment—when death brushed past you—that you awakened your dormant ability as a Swordmaster. A miracle, yes… but one that matches the kind of man you are."
The Crown Prince's lips quirked into a rare, thankful smile—the kind only those closest to him ever saw.
"Without you, Asterion, we would've lost this war long ago. So, use the name you deserve. Or better yet—request its legitimization from the Emperor. I'll stand by you."
The sincerity in his voice was undeniable.
And from that moment on, Jeffrey began to shed the name forced upon him and embraced the identity that belonged to him—Asterion Varyn.
But the last name—Valehart—held a meaning even more profound.
Asterion chose it to honor his maternal grandmother's maiden surname. From his mother's stories, his grandmother, Asterielle Valehart, had been a celebrated adventurer in her youth. She ventured through perilous ruins, braved beasts feared by seasoned hunters, and wandered uncharted lands with a confidence and brilliance that made her famous among guilds.
His mother often spoke of Asterielle not with sorrow, but with admiration and longing—painting her as a woman full of life, courage, and warmth.
When the Emperor eventually asked Jeffrey for his grandmother's name, Asterion answered honestly.
"Asterielle Valehart."
The effect was immediate and startling.
The Emperor went still—so still it was as though the world itself paused. His expression broke, layers of memory surfacing at once. Then, with a trembling breath, he whispered:
"…Asterielle?"
A name he hadn't spoken aloud in years.
Asterielle Valehart had been not merely a famous adventurer—she had been his sworn‑sister, bound to him through an oath forged stronger than blood. They had fought together, survived ambushes together, and shared dreams of protecting the Empire's future. Her loss had left a wound in his heart that never truly healed.
The Emperor demanded proof—not because he doubted Asterion, but because the possibility terrified him with hope.
Asterion reached into his pouch and retrieved the item his mother entrusted to him—a necklace she told him to always keep close.
Her voice echoed in his memory:
"Just drop your blood on this necklace and it will bind to you. It was meant to be mine, but I think you'll need this more. It carries guidance… and perhaps, a piece of your grandmother's will."
Asterion had never understood what she meant. Only that she looked sad yet resolute when she handed it over. When he asked her about the necklace's purpose, Helianne merely smiled and said:
"When the time comes, you'll understand. Until then, keep it close."
The necklace—called Lunaris Astra in old Valehart records—was a delicate silver pendant shaped like a six-pointed star. A soft, glowing gem rested at its center—a luminous little orb resembling moonstone touched with starlight. A moon-shaped crescent curved gently around the star's right side. When held against light, the pendant shimmered subtly, as though reflecting the night sky.
The moment the Emperor saw it, his composure cracked.
His eyes glistened.
His breath shook.
He remembered the stories Asterielle once told him about the necklace—how it symbolized guidance, how it was given to a Valehart child when they were ready to learn who they truly were. There was no mistaking Lunaris Astra. It belonged to Asterielle.
It could belong to no one else.
And now, it hung from the neck of her grandson.
The Emperor felt a rush of regret—pain for failing his sworn‑sister in her final days—and an overwhelming flood of gratitude that her bloodline survived. It was a second chance he never expected. A chance he refused to waste.
Thus, he granted Asterion the right to take the Valehart name.
But the Emperor did not stop there.
He officially severed Asterion's connection to the Viscount Middleton household. Asterion moved out immediately, taking his mother—Helianne—with him. Helianne, soft-spoken and gentle by nature, had endured years of silent suffering. Yet despite that, she raised Asterion with warmth, humility, and strength—a strength inherited from Asterielle herself.
Now, the Emperor restored her true identity.
Since she was Asterielle's only daughter, she was granted the noble title Grand Marchioness Valehart and recognized as the Emperor's niece through the sworn-siblings' bond.
All official records were corrected.
The Valehart line lived again.
Asterion and Helianne became the sole surviving branch family linked to the Emperor's sworn-sister. It meant Asterion was now considered a royal branch member—something that left the Viscount Middleton household speechless with fury and disbelief.
But they could do nothing. The Emperor's decree was final.
Now, the revered Marquis and the respected Grand Marchioness lived within a mansion gifted to them by His Majesty—a place filled with safety, dignity, and peace. Asterion had risen from a forgotten concubine's son to a man the entire Empire now respected.
From suffering to honor.
From ashes to starlight.
No wonder the Empire admired him.
......…..
..............
...................
"Hey, my dear Scarlette! Are you listening to me?"
Scarlette snapped back to reality, blinking slowly as she turned her head just enough to catch the animated face of the revered Marquis walking beside her.
She looked away immediately.
She had no intention of feeding his enthusiasm.
The crimson-haired woman knew Asterion's full story—everyone did. His past wasn't just a tale. It was a symbol of hope for countless commoners, adventurers, and even low-ranking nobles who suffered under oppressive households.
From what I know… his other siblings also left the Viscount Middleton household, Scarlette thought. Most pursued their own paths, taking their mothers with them. And when the Viscount tried to stop them… Asterion stepped in. The Viscount had no choice but to let them go.
Scarlette admired, at least, what had Asterion did for his other half-siblings and even though the man already had a position that could shake other nobles, if he wanted to, Asterion remained humble to himself and become an inspiration for those people who experienced hardship like he did.
*************