Hellion's Reckoning

Inias changed his crest from the wolf of his clan to a black fox. He didn’t feel right bearing the symbol of a clan that had oppressed beings like him for centuries. It was a bold move, one that would forever draw a line between him and his uncle. There was no hiding his intentions from the uncle or the Magistrate. He walked proudly with the black fox crest adorning his long black coat; he felt a sense of liberation and empowerment. It was a symbol of his defiance against the injustices that had plagued his people for generations.

Many soldiers adopted the crest throughout the day. Those that wore the royal wolf were the first to change. Some of the clanless adopted the Ravenmoon raven, while others opted for the new Nightfang fox. It was heartwarming to see the number of soldiers embracing the change and proudly displaying the black fox crest on their armor and banners. Inias couldn’t help but feel a sense of camaraderie and unity among his people as the symbol of the Nightfang fox spread throughout the war camp.

The prince knew that this little act of rebellion against the dynasty was a step towards a brighter future for the Hellions and all those who had suffered under Ivaran’s oppression. The shift from the royal wolf to the fierce black fox represented courage, resilience, and a new beginning for his people. As he walked through the camp, Inias could see the spark of hope in the eyes of his soldiers. Many had been waiting decades, even centuries, to make a stand. Ravenmoon forest echoed with the sounds of clanking armor and billowing banners proudly displayed.

The battle was two days away, and they finally completed their fort. They cut down beautiful trees in droves to build a fortress that they were simply going to burn down. It all seemed like a waste, but a necessary one. Within the fort, the flames would spread, trapping the enemy. Inias and Keira were going to lead a troop to free the slaves once Ailog was distracted.

Sylvis was the only obstacle Inias was worried about. His strategy was a mere theory, but he didn’t have the time to test it. Ruvyn forged him a new blade, mirroring the diamond-edged one he wielded. Among his many skills, Ruvyn was a master blacksmith. The Grovewoods only possessed lower healing magic, so they took on crafts and worked to enhance their physical prowess. A mage had helped him empower the runes upon the axes, giving them some magical qualities.

“We make our own weapons,” Ruvyn had explained as Inias admired his craftsmanship, “Dad always said, ‘if a man can’t make his own weapons, he shouldn’t have them.’.” Training was brutal in the borderlands, Inias knew that. They held very rigid traditions and enforced a strict military law. There were no servants to serve their meals or forge their weapons.

Inias ran his finger along the runes etched into the black metal. “You gonna name them?” Ruvyn asked, distracting the young prince. “Don’t think so,” He answered, slipping it into a sheath on his back. “You have to!” Ruvyn said. “All great heroes name their weapons. Named my axes Goblin Reaper and Banshee’s Wail.”

“I like it!” The prince grinned and drew both blades from his back. He hummed in thought, considering a name that could rival Devilsbane. “Shadowthorn and Nightspark. What do you think?” Inias asked, swinging both blades before he slid them back.

Ruvyn raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Shadowthorn and Nightspark? Sounds like something a drunken bard would come up with.” He chuckled, “But hey, I can already picture the bards’ singing songs of the mighty blades. How they broke chains and freed slaves!”

Inias couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, we wouldn’t want the bards to run out of material now, would we?” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Shadowthorn and Nightspark have a certain ring to them, don’t you think? I’m a thorn in their side and with the spark of our rebellion, we will lead our people through the darkness.”

“Your people,” Ruvyn said, shaking his head, “I’m not a hellion.”

“Hellion or not, you’re one of us,” Inias said, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. Ruvyn grinned, his amber eyes sparkling. “One of you, huh?” he asked, still wearing the Grovewood crest. “Does that mean I have to wear that fancy black fox too?”

Shaking his head, Inias stepped away. “You represent your clan out there,” He said, looking out to the group of soldiers singing by the fire, “That’s why you’re here, right? To bring them glory. I know the bards will sing your name beside mine.” As they watched the soldiers gather around the fire, Ruvyn’s grin widened. “I can almost hear the bards already,” he mused, nudging Inias playfully. “Ruvyn Grovewood. The man who forged his own destiny and stood tall in the face of adversity.”

“I promise, day after tomorrow we’ll unleash a battle they will sing about for ages to come,” Inias said confidently, his eyes filled with anticipation.