Supreme Spouse System.

The Weight of Loyalty

Leon relaxed back, golden eyes sweeping over them all, and a slow smile curving his mouth.

"Well," he said with a lightness, his voice carrying with effortless authority, "now tell me—what has transpired in my absence?"

The words dropped into the air like a stone into still water.

The advisors and officers looked at each other. There was silence. They stalled, not knowing who would break it first, the force of their Lord's stare weighing upon them.

Leon did not push them. He rested one elbow on the table, fingers tapping idly on the wood. His face was serene, inscrutable, but his eyes sparkled with a subtle keenness that reminded them of the hunter beneath that easy smile.

Then, finally, Captain Black cleared his throat. His voice was firm, but underneath was the control of a man not wanting to leave out one detail.

"My Lord," he started, "after you left, we took the road you had told us to head for Blackthorne City. At first, it appeared too much to be allowed in with that many in our charge. But…"

He fell silent, his eyes moving on to the recollection. His mouth set for an instant, then smoothed. "It was Lady Nova who led us. She showed us a hidden way which only she knew existed, behind the house and through a secret path that took us straight into the city. She forfeited standing on herself to admit us; she did it without hesitation.

Leon's golden eyes glowed weakly at the mention of Nova's name, but he did not speak. His face was serene, his chin propped against his hand as if he were listening half-heartedly. But his men knew better.

Each word spoken here would be seared into his brain.

Captain Johnny took up where Black left. "We protested at first, Lord. Many of us thought we were to stay with Lady Nova, that our allegiance was to her command during your absence. But she… she insisted otherwise. She said we were to belong to you and you alone. That it was her duty to guard your household above herself. She demanded we choose."

He smiled weakly, a gleam of admiration piercing his normal sneaky demeanor. "And so we decided. Each one of us. Even when she attempted to convince us to take her protection instead, we announced that it was you, our Lord, whom we would follow. We left her with thanks, but we made it clear where we stood."

Leon's hands stopped drumming halfway against the table. His golden eyes dipped momentarily, as if weighing that. A flicker of warmth moved through his eyes, but he covered it with his serene smile.

Advisor Ronan leaned forward, his wide body overshadowing the maps. His voice held the steady gravity of a man who had fought in many wars.

We then camped under the mansion, in Lady Nova's basement underground. But my Lord, it was never designed to accommodate so many. The rooms were tight. Children and families— they endured. The little ones particularly—those who had become accustomed to sleeping under the open sky now existed in dim stone corridors.

He breathed softly, nodding his head. "The parents did the best they could. They built improvised shelters with wood and cloth, provided their children with comfort where comfort wasn't present. It wasn't good, but it was safe. And in these times, safety is a precious mercy.

Across the table, a young officer contributed softly, "We were given rations, my Lord. Troops who were loyal to Lady Nova visited us on a regular basis. They brought us food, water, and medicine. They did not ask for anything in return, just that we persevere. Their regard for you is profound."

"And," another voice interrupted, a woman's voice from the far side of the room, low and firm, "Lady Rias, Lady Aria, Lady Cynthia, Lady Syra, Lady Kyra, Lady Tsubaki, and the maids themselves—visited frequently. They came to check on us, to talk with the people, to reassure them. To see your ladies among them gave our people strength.". They were less prisoners down below, and more like special guests waiting for their Lord's return.

Leon's lips twitched slightly. He adjusted his stance, tilting further back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes scanned the table once more, serene and unwavering.

The reports went on, each officer contributing a detail, each one painting the same picture—two weeks of quiet existence, of fidelity unshaken, of folk bearing cramped walls and sleepless nights, all the while clinging to the simple expectation that their Lord would come for them.

The room became dense with the load of those memories. Faces drew taut, voices low, but still they talked.

For a whole hour, the reports came.

Leon did not say anything. He just listened. His expression remained inscrutable, his lips sometimes flashing with the briefest of smiles, but nothing else. His silence itself was potent—compelling each man and each woman to supply the gaps, to reveal the nakedness of their struggles.

Finally, the reports drew to an end. Ronan let out a breath, his shoulders dropping with the release of one who bore the final weight. "That is all, my Lord. That is all that is new until your grace."

The chamber went quiet.

The only noises were the soft crackle of a candle's flame and the sound of faraway footsteps someplace on the other side of the thick door.

Leon's golden eyes dropped, then rose again slowly to meet theirs once more. He breathed softly, and the soft sigh that escaped his lips seemed to ripple through the air.

"Thank you," he said finally, voice steady though low. "And… forgive me. All of you. My people suffered so much trouble because of me."

A whispering spread at once, incredulity darting across faces. Some shook their heads, others actually starting to speak, but it was Captain Black who broke the silence first.

"Why?" he snapped suddenly, his words crisp. He moved forward, his hands clenched at his sides. "Why would you thank us, my Lord? Why would you apologize?

Leon's eyebrows rose a little, but Black did not desist. His black eyes smoldered as he uttered, voice cracking with unvarnished conviction.

"Are you our Lord. Our king. Our safeguard. We gave you our life. Do you not understand? We are willing to give you everything for you—not now, not tomorrow, but whenever you want. So do not… ever apologize to us. Not now, not ever. Not never."

"Captain…" Leon started gently, but another voice came in to stop him.

"He is right!" Johnny's fist slammed onto the table, his voice firm. "You owe us no apology, Lord. You gave us purpose. You gave us a reason to endure. That is enough."

"Yes!" another cried. "Our Lord must never bow his head to us!"

Single voices added, then another, then another, until the chamber resounded with a swelling chorus.

"Our loyalty is yours!"

"You need not thank us!"

"We exist only to serve you, Lord!"

Their words pounded into him from every direction, like a wave of fidelity that would not recede.

Leon's throat constricted, even as his lips crept slowly into a smile. He allowed the noise to roll over him, allowed their devotion pound against the walls of his heart until it thudded with heat.

When at last their voices grew quiet, he released a soft breath and spoke.

.Then I will say this. I am grateful—beyond words—to have all of you as my subordinates. In this life, that is the best good fortune I've been given."

There was a heavy silence that followed, heavy with emotion. Some eyes welled up with tears, but no one said anything. Rather, they bowed their heads in respect.

Ronan, who had been silent, raised his eyes. His scarred face relaxed, his lips curving ever so slightly. "It is our blessing, Lord. Never forget that."

Leon smiled softly, raking a hand back through his hair. The tension in the room changed—lighter now, warmer, held in place by unseen bonds of loyalty that tightened but did not strangle.

But then Ronan's gaze grew sharp. He leaned forward a little, regarding Leon with an intensity that caused the air to move.

My Lord," he said, voice falling low, "if I trespass. forgive me, but tell me—have you broken through?"

The room froze.

All eyes went immediately to Leon.

Ronan's forehead creased, the scar-looking deeper as he squinted. "I can feel it. The aura about you—it is familiar, as though it were that of a Grandmaster. But it is not the same as before. It is sharper. More defined. More powerful."

The men at the table leaned forward, caught in their breaths. Their Lord had always exuded power, but now. there was something unmistakable.

Golden eyes shone dimly in the light of the lamp. Leon did not reply.

He smiled only.

And in that smile was more power than could be contained in a word.