Hellion's Reckoning

The Magistrate grinned at the messenger knelt before him. He sat upon the throne that Caelan Rouan once inhabited, and with the seal ring offered by the king, it had passed to him. Sliding the ring onto his fatty finger, he purred, admiring the silver dragon wrapped around. Ivaran crafted it as a special gift and given him the title of Lord of Dusk Haven and High Prefect, entrusting him with command over all Magistrates in the kingdom.

Ivaran honored him with jewels and various treasures, rare wines, and dancing women to entertain him. He licked his lips as he beheld them, picked from the lower born nobility, all so young and delicate. Waving them away, they exited his small throne room as his eyes drifted to the gold laid out before him. The king named him a pillar of the kingdom, upholding justice in the battle against darkness.

“In all the kingdom, there is one man who stands as the greatest threat to the demon horde,” the messenger went on, head bowed as he relayed the king’s words. “He is a beacon of light in these troubled times. One we may all follow into a brighter future.” The messenger stood, pulling the mask and hood from his face to reveal his tanned skin and deep brown eyes. Ailog rose from his throne and met the messenger with a warm embrace.

“His majesty does me a great honor.” Ailog said, keeping his hands on the boy’s shoulders as he slid away. “I fear I’m not worthy of such praise.” He said with gentle eyes, contrasting the sugary smile across his lips. “I must, however, not betray the king’s faith. I humbly accept this promotion with the oath that I continue to lead our people into a better world, so they may no longer live in fear.”

Ailog released him and summoned a servant. A young woman dressed in a red silk robe entered the throne room and bowed. “Ava! Bring the king’s messenger to the guest house.” he said, clapping the boy on the shoulder with a friendly squeeze. “I will have him at my side at the banquet tonight, where we will toast to the king together!” There was a cheery excitement in his voice, earning a bright smile from the messenger and the servant.

“I’m most honored, Lord Ailog.” The messenger said with a deep bow and grinning cheeks. “I’ve long been an admirer of yours. I hope to hear tales of your deeds over dinner.” Ailog’s lips twisted into a brighter smile as the boy praised him. “What is your name?” He asked, hooking his arm around the youth’s shoulders. “Felix Nightfang, milord, third cousin to the king.” Felix answered, turning to reveal the royal wolf plated on his shoulder.

“A scion of the royal house!” Ailog proclaimed, clapping him on the back with a laugh, “I should have known, you have the noble look befitting a Nightfang. Well, my boy, we shall feast into the night together and share stories.”

A flash of blonde hair entered the room as Felix bowed and expressed his gratitude. Ailog looked at his son as he entered the throne room, eyeing the three of them. “You must meet my son, Sylvis!” Lord Emberstone waved his son over, who hesitated but soon followed to meet Felix. He held Devilsbane in his hand, and the boy’s brown eyes lit up as he beheld the mighty spear. “Lord Sylvis, it’s an honor.”

“The honor’s all mine, and you are?” Sylvis answered with a smile, lightly twirling the spear as he offered a hand. “Felix Nightfang, cousin to the king.” The messenger answered, standing proudly in the presence of the mighty warrior whose name had been praised through the end of winter. “The King has entrusted me with protecting this city and honored me as Lord and High Prefect.”

Sylvis looked at the young royal, barely over fourteen, and brown eyes full of longing. He resembled Ivaran and Cyran more than Inias ever had. Though he held the same raven black hair, it hung in gentle curls around his face, not the thick wild mop surrounding the Hellion prince’s fair skin. “Congratulations father, the king has made a wise choice.” He bowed low before his father and took his hand to place a kiss on the seal ring.

Ava, who stood quietly, took light steps towards them, head hung lower than all the nobility. “Shall I prepare the guest house my Lord Ailog?” she said with a smile, sure to not dare look into the eyes of her lord and master. Ailog reached out gently brushing her soft brown skin with his fingers as he admired her, “Yes, my dear girl, ensure it’s perfect, no luxury is too great for the king’s man.” His fingers drifted into her hair, brushing it behind her pointed ear.

“Y-yes, my lord!” Ava answered, pulling her face away from his touch, casting her eyes on the red carpet. Without uttering another word, she bowed and hurriedly left the room. Felix bowed to the two and followed the woman.

Ailog watched beside his son as the young servant left the room. “A fine woman,” he purred, turning to his golden-haired son. “She’s of excellent breeding and knows her place. A fine woman indeed.”

Sylvis fought the gag, forcing its way up his throat. His father had lived for centuries, and that girl was younger than Sylvis, aged seventeen years. “It’s about time you settled down, don’t you think?” Ailog went on, “What do you make of Ava?”

“I know nothing about her,” Sylvis turned away, resting Devilsbane against the wall. “What is there to know? She’s exquisite and submissive, as any dutiful wife should be. The purity of the Nightingale clan rivals that of the King.” Ailog sat upon his throne as he spoke and Sylvis took a seat beside him. “I’m not even twenty. I have centuries to find a wife.” He answered, hoping to divert the talk to anything else.

“If we are to present you to the king as a suitable heir, you must find a wife capable of continuing the line.” Ailog reminded his son, there was more to gaining the court’s approval than prowess. “She seems fertile. You will ask her to accompany you to the banquet this evening,” He ordered in a more direct, forceful tone. “You can’t be serious!” Sylvis pleaded, standing at his feet, fingers curled into fists. “While I charm the king’s messenger, you shall sweep that girl off her feet. Is that clear?” Ailog stood, finishing his words with a snarl and a raised hand.

Sylvis met the king’s snarl with a glare, but sighed and opened his fists, bowing to his father. “As you wish, father. It is only by your wisdom we have made it so far.” His father smiled and brought a hand to Sylvis’ cheek. “You may not understand, but all I do, every step, is for the good of us. It is good to question, to learn, but you must never defy me. Trust that I will and have always held your best interests in my heart.”