The Valiant-The early years

Chapter 3

  Seron and the others decided to stop shortly after the fight to rest and eat lunch. He pulled out a sharpening kit and went about sharpening his longsword, watching Gathnar and Emyr stretch.  "Get used to it, we're gonna be spending the rest of the day in the saddle." He told the two, putting his sword to the side, and helping to get lunch ready.

"So how do you guys meet?" Emyr asked, causing Wilyas to smirk. "You should tell the story, Seron."

Seron sighed, before speaking, "Well, I met Wilyas first, he is a King's Spy, but being from the native tribes he shouldn't have been accepted, but King Evenon accepted him. And made it a legal thing so he couldn't be fired."

"And now the king loves me and I'm his top spy!" Wilyas said, throwing a dagger at a tree.

"Naerie has been a long time friend of mine. I met her about 15 years ago after she graduated as a Spellblade, that staff of hers--as well as the half staff version--are made from dragon's wood. Wood that's been cultivated near a dragon's lair and has been forged in the fire of Ignar's forge."

Naerie smiled, "It's also a wood that's magically inclined, which is why it was an amazing gift."

"And what about Onr?" Emyr asked as the group saddled up.

"That's a story for another time." Seron said, glancing over at the robed man riding on his left. The truth was enough to get all six of them killed, and he wasn't ready to let his brother get killed just yet.

They must not find out. Seron thought, remembering the oath he took centuries ago.

<Flashback>

A younger-looking Seron watched as his best friend and mentor, a Valiant by the name of Tinavar, fell in battle. The blade in his hand landing point-first dirt, Seron looked to his right.

His younger brother, a demon-spawn hybrid named Onr, was using his abilities as best he could, but he was no match for the hoards of Hellions heading their way. "Seron! Do something!" He called, vanishing and reppearing further back from the hoard.

Seron didn't think, he just moved, he moved forward, reaching out and grabbing the Valiant blade from its place in the dirt.

He opened his eyes in a large citadel, in front of him were all the gods, including T'Lem, his own patron God. "Seron. The Valiant blade has deemed you worthy of becoming the next Valiant, however, there a few things we need to take care of first."

The next image Seron saw was of Onr, his dark grey skin and white hair unmistakeable among the dark forms of the Hellion hoard. "This man, he is your brother? Who is your father?" Seron feared this would cause him to be deemed unworthy, but he spoke after just a few moments.

"Ragh'nok" the name of the high demon felt foreign on his lips. Unlike his brother, Seron departed the Lower Realms for the surface as a child, and basically raised himself. His brother had been born shortly before he left, and the two had only reunited recently.

"Make us an oath, to protect your brother and always fight agaisnt the power trying to take you over. Be the ultimate arrior for good, and show them the power of the Valiant."

Seron nodded, taking the knife offered by a page, and slashing his arm, letting the blood drip to the floor.

His eyes snapped open back on the battlefield, and it appeared only mere moments had passed. He rose, taking the blade with him. He spun around, giving a battle cry and charging forward into battle.

<End flashback>