In the year 1815, in the aftermath of Napoleon's final defeat, a child was born in Hungary to a military family. His name was Vilmos Lázár.
He was raised in the traditions of the Habsburg officer corps: discipline, duty, honor, obedience. From childhood, he was trained for military service. He learned to ride, to fence, to command.
But Hungary was not simply another province of the empire. It had its own history, its own language, its own dreams. The Magyar nobles remembered when Hungary had been a great kingdom. The poets wrote of independence. The reformers demanded that Hungarian, not German, be the language of administration.
Vilmos absorbed these currents even as he served the Habsburg crown. He was loyal to his oath, but he loved his nation. He did not yet see the contradiction.
He rose through the ranks, proving himself a capable officer. By his early thirties, he had earned respect for his tactical skill and his care for the men under his command. He was the kind of officer soldiers would follow into hell.
Soon enough, hell was where he would lead them.