The Aedolon Empire invented Plate Armor, and took the whole continent by storm with its advanced technology.
Completely dominating its enemies, it ushered a new era of peace in Calradia after just a few years.
Originally formed by a wandering Mercenary band without a place to call home, it sky rocketed to glory after obtaining its first fief.
From there it defeated the other factions one by one, until eventually conquering Calradia.

"Gather round, young ones." An old scarred man says has he looks at the wide expectant eyes of the children in front of him.
"Back when I was just a youth in the Aedolon Mercenary Group, there was a man Known as the Black Titan." He spoke.
"A large man in pitch black armor, dark as the night. Who wielded a 400 pound slab of iron, and could slice several foes in two with just one swing!"
Gasps could be heard from the little children standing around him.

"He was always at the front of the battle, carving a path through the endless number of foes. Whenever we were in impossible odds, and all seemed lost, he would appear at the front and carve a path for all of us." He spoke while staring at the sky, reminiscing of the scenes he had seen many times before.
"That man was one of the leaders of our Mercenary group. No one knew his backstory, but we all admired him." The old man spoke.
"He saved my life, and that of my friends, many times. I wouldn't be here if not for him."

"But grandpa, what happened to him?" A young kid asked.

"Rumors say he retired and had a family with a lady he fought with in the wars. Living in a farm in the country side." The old man pondered.
"Maybe you'll meet his grandkids someday..." He looked at the sky.