Hellion's Reckoning

Inias couldn’t stall on Dusk Haven forever. Eventually, he’d have to meet with Ailog and settle the village dispute. So, the next morning he gathered a few of his troops and began the hours long journey. The walls were taller than he’d remembered, standing higher than even the magnificent palace at its center. When he had last stood before these gates, he remembered seeing the Rouan family’s crest, a spiral flame, proudly displayed upon the gates and every spire. Now a black banner hung in its place with a red serpentine snake emblazoned upon it, surrounded by bolts of lightning. His spies had told him as much, but they could never get past the gate.

There was no notice before his arrival. With the royal wolf crest pinned on his cloak, the city guards opened the gate into the city. With him were Ashryn, Elara, and Styx, walking by his side. As Inias and his companions walked through the gates of Dusk Haven, the city revealed itself in all its grandeur. The streets were bustling with activity, merchants calling out their wares and children playing games in the cobblestone alleyways. Bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, the towering walls loomed protectively over the sprawling streets below. The buildings rose high, with intricate carvings adorning them, depicting scenes of ancient battles and mysterious creatures.

Smoke billowed from the chimneys of cozy taverns, tempting passersby with the scent of hearty meals and warm fires. In the distance, the silhouette of the palace rose majestically against the darkening sky, its spires reaching for the stars like fingers brushing against the heavens. Dusk Haven had once been a safe place for Hellions until the Rouans conveniently changed their mind and began shipping them off. A sign displayed high above the city streets made their position very clear.

“No haven for devils.”

Beneath the sign, a dead man hung by his wrists, blood dried over his body. Someone had broken the horns that once stood proudly upon his head and had cut out his eyes. Inias stared into those hollow depths until Elara pulled Fievel again to get his attention. Inias sat upon Fievel’s back, as Elara shouted, “Make way for his royal highness, Prince Inias Nightfang!” People quickly cleared the street and fell to their knees, their faces a mix of fear and surprise. Some looked at him with revulsion, the hellion prince disgracing their city. He returned their dirty looks by baring his fangs and hissing. Many shuddered and looked away, going back to their shopping.

The street grew quieter once jubilant voices fell to whispers. “It’s said the magistrate preys on the worst in people,” Ashryn whispered as they approached the palace gates. The shock of his arrival was settling as they exited the market. Above, the spires of the palace pierced the sky, casting long shadows over the surrounding buildings. The palace itself stood as a beacon of power and opulence; its beauty undeniable even from a distance.

A scholar passing by the gates dropped his books when he beheld the prince and fell to his knees. “Y-your highness,” he said, white robes stained with dirt and his long curly black beard brushed the cobblestone ground. The last rays of the sun bounced off his bald head as he lifted his eyes. He was old and wrinkled, human by the looks of it. His ears were not pointed and Inias couldn’t sense a hint of magic behind his old gray eyes. “W-we were not expecting you so soon…” He fumbled the last book as he stood and reached down to grab it.

“I can see that,” Inias said, watching as the man struggled to contain his fear before the hellion. “So busy cleansing the city of devils. I wonder if I’m welcome.”

“Oh, I don’t believe you’re anything like those hellions, your highness.” The man said a little too quickly, “You’re a prince, descended from a noble lineage. A man of honor and compassion, nothing like those soulless beasts.” Inias eyes flared, and he was half tempted to reach for his sword when he heard the man’s words. The scholar shook once their eyes met, a hint of guilt present on the man’s face as he stepped away. “I-I-I shall find the Magistrate immediately.” For a moment Inias felt he could see all the man’s crimes and schemes weighing on him. “My lor-y-your highness!” He corrected himself as he bowed and scurried off as the guards opened the gates for him.

Inias closed his eyes and inhaled the musty air of the closing gates. “Since when is it a scholar’s duty to announce a visitor?” Elara demanded. With a swift turn, she yanked back her hood. “He’s a bootlicker, nothing more than the Magistrate’s pet human.” Ashryn said as she watched the guards. They had their hands placed on their swords, ready to draw them at any moment. There was something off about the way they stood, the way they avoided looking at them.

“My prince!” The gate’s opened and a fat bearded man dressed in proud red armor to meet them. Four similarly armored guards followed behind him. Inias dismounted the Elk as the Magistrate knelt before him. His once luxurious golden hair had become gray and thin, revealing his milky scalp. His hair was cut short, and they plated the Emberstone’s dragon seal in gold on his ears. “Your honor,” Inias answered, looking up to the closing palace gates.

“It’s a dark time for our city, but your visit is most appreciated.” The Magistrate began as he rose. Aside from the glistening green eyes, he looked nothing like his son. Sylvis looked as if divine hands had chiseled him. Ailog resembled a lump of old dough. The proud armor he wore barely concealed his plump figure. “The Hellions threatened to rebel,” He went on, turning his eyes away from them. There were tears glistening as he continued. “Th-they stole children in the night to be sacrificed to Talos.”

“The Cult of Talos. They were in the village?” Inias asked with a furrowed brow, his arms tense across his chest. As the purges unleashed their terror, a wave of fear swept through the Hellion communities, driving many to seek refuge with the cult. Their devotion to a horned Hellion deity, whom they hailed as the dark sovereign of the Hallow, sent shivers down the spines of all who dared to speak its name. They poured out the purist blood for him to slake his thirst. Children were pure, innocent.

Ashryn’s eyes blazed with fury as she stepped forward and pointed her sword towards the Magistrate’s chest. “You purged a village over a couple of radicals?!” she roared; her voice thick with anger. The guards behind Ailog tensed, ready to defend their leader as Ashryn continued, “There were no innocents among them?” Her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword. Ailog met her gaze with steely resolve. “It is my holy duty to purge this land of darkness,” he spoke with unwavering conviction. “That is why his majesty appointed me. If they do not denounce their Hellion ways, then they have no place in our land. That is the law.”

“Your law,” Inias said, pushing Ashryn’s sword away. “Your law puts them in chains.” He growled, resisting the urge to pull his own sword against the man.

“Those hellions are responsible for the burning of our people’s farmland, so we’ve put them to work. Unless you’d prefer a brutal execution.” Ailog answered, while his guard relaxed. “I have been given command of the city in a desperate hour. The king has entrusted me with its protection and my law keeps our people safe from those savages.” Styx growled, sensing Inias’ growing anger with every word the Magistrate spoke. “And you may tell the Ravenmoons not to step foot outside their forest,” Ailog said, handing Elara a small scroll. She opened it up and handed it to Inias. The royal seal was stamped upon it and his uncle’s writing mirrored the Magistrate’s words. “If they venture beyond it, the king has given me permission to treat it as an invasion.”