The Blue Fox Legend
Book 1/3: Fallen Hopes
Written by 'World Theorist'
A/N: Upon a quick note, thank you for taking the time to read this fiction. Furthermore, to make up for my previous spelling, grammatical, and numerous writing errors in past fictions, I have recently worked on my literature skills, and have edited over this introduction chapter three times in a row. But although these actions may be helpful, I am not by any means a perfect writer. This particular story has drifted in my mind for a while, and I couldn't help but to share it with the general public....I have great faith in this work, and I hope it proves to be something worth reading. I plan to update this fiction as soon as I can, with as many chapters as I can provide, and consider criticism of any kind without grudge or prejudice. With this being said, I again thank you for reading this tale, and I hope you enjoy it.
(Introduction Chapter: My unheard story)
The landscape about portrayed a hollow, and distant sense. From the smoke-colored sky that overshadowed far and wide, to the grounds below of which hugged withered grass, that knew no sunlight. Miles and miles of merely this can be seen from one's eye, and it may be all that one would ever see should they travel through such a place. It is called the "Valley of Death", a name given to the plain by Kings and Queens, from generations to generations. It was named as such due to its visage and weather; farmers, alongside immigrants of varying countries, attempted to thrive on the valley, building homes, starting plantations, and creating a small community away from the harsh commoner life in a big town.
Their efforts did not go as well as hoped, for the sun did not shine, the ground did not provide necessary food, and it was quick to depress anybody after a while, so it became a barren land. To better understand why this certain area got its name, it was also a battleground for many wars, and while wars began there, lives had ended there as well. Families of lost ones remember The Valley of Death best as a place of mourning and a remembrance to departed warriors.....this of all places, is where the tale began:
"You must rid yourself of emotions." Standing valiantly amongst the dim valley, a tall knight in dark armor, and sporting a helm of which contained steel horns, spoke out to a small gathering of armored knights; swords in each hand, aligned in honor, facing the speaker with utmost determination and open ears, these individuals were prepared for something important it seemed.
"To fight in war, it takes but mere skill and strength!" The knight in front, apparently head of the pack began to pace about back and forth in a side-to-side direction, speaking in between steps and emitting a loud clattering sound from the armor of his feet as it frequently hit the ground. "I know many of us, had lives of our own. Some might not even want to be standing here at this very moment-" he froze suddenly, helmet directed towards the pale grass. "But I am afraid none of us has much of a choice.....our beloved city is in turmoil, and in grave danger. If we want to see our families again, if we wish to live a life of peace again, if we wish to see another day, every knight must raise their sword and strike down evil in its presence!!"
In the far back of this knight alignment, just at the end, in a corner, one knight was not at all encouraged or necessarily provoked to battle anyone or anything, their armor shook rapidly as if the person under it were having a seizure, and also taken to looking around the area every five seconds, either too scared or nervous to stand straight like every other knight nearby. To make things worse, this particular knight couldn't even bear the weight of sword, so it ended up on the ground by their feet. Fortunately no one had noticed, but a few knights aligned ahead turned and stared for a moment due to other clumsy antics; although the face of none can be seen under a helmet, the knight was 100% sure half of those stares were either smirks or scowls.
"Furthermore," the dark-armored knight continued. "It is our destiny to prevail against the enemy, and because of that, I see a brighter future already, just around the horizon!" He unsheathed his sword and raised it triumphantly in the air within one quick notion, "TO VICTORY!!" roared the knight. The knights in unison unsheathed their swords, raised them, and yelled "TO VICTORY!!" all at once; save for the nervous one, that is.
Judging the determination of each knight under his command, the knight in dark armor continued to hold up his sword, and while doing so he looked at the knights before him with eagerness. He was expecting everyone to be at the top of their spirits after his small speech, but yet one knight in the corner caught his concern, for that was the only one without a sword raised and a loud earsplitting roar. He needed to have the whole group up and ready to go, and he feared that if one warrior in a team drags behind, others would follow behind as well (in his own sense), so he had to do something quick.
Sharply, the lead knight directed his sword straight towards the corner-edge at the end of the knight formation, where the unfortunate knight remained.
"You there," he called out. Like a chain reaction, the heads of each and every knight moved with the motion of the sword, ultimately stopping at position of the 'clumsy' knight. Things were so quiet at that point, the faint wind could be heard in the background-even from miles away; along with that cued an irritating sound of rustling grass...
"M-me?" the knight replied awkwardly, shifting backwards a bit.
"Am I indicating anyone else?" the knight in dark armor replied, gesturing with his sword. "Come up here."
The knight stepped forward, more nervous than ever; other knights stood back slowly to make room, and clear path for the one that was called out. Shortly, after a few seconds of trudging, the knight made way up to the front where the knight in dark armor stood, and sulked in place.
"What is your name?" questioned the head knight. After he spoke, the knight in front of him straightened up and saluted firmly-something that each knight was ordered to do when facing a comrade of high status.
"Iazarogen Bluefox, sir." Replied the knight.
"Iazarogen Bluefox?" the head knight repeated, sheathing his sword. "That is quite a rare name. Are you supposed to be an actual Blue Fox of some sort?"
Iazarogen nodded hastily, replying with "Yes sir." as a response.
Not the least bit convinced, the head knight chuckled from within the confines of his helmet. "Ha, sure you are." he said, as if Iazarogen had surely been jesting. Though wondering what the strange knight's appearance looked like nonetheless, he observed Iazarogen with an undistinguishable air of question.
"If that be true," he said, doubt seething from his voice, "Why don't you remove your helmet?"
Iazarogen sighed greatly, knowing the general response he would get if others seen his face, but an order was an order, so he sullenly placed both hands on the sides of his helmet, and lifted, revealing a pale face that looked to be half wolf, and half fox...but it wasn't the face that would cause an outburst, it was the blue colored fur that surrounded his face. A vast array of murmurs and gasps ran across the knight alignment behind Iazarogen, and to his front, the head knight jumped up in surprise.
"You-you-you" he stammered frantically, "I-Impossible! I've never seen a Bluefox-" almost instantly the head knight regained his posture and silenced, for he could see such behavior wouldn't improve the situation at all, much less help Iazarogen gain some backbone. He focused back on the reason why he summoned the knight in the first place, and tried to look past the abnormal-colored fur. Although in the back a few comments from the knights went on then and there.
"Er- so Iazarogen," the head knight said rather calmly, "I noticed that you didn't raise your sword as the rest of us did."
Iazarogen placed his helmet under his arm before he spoke, and as he did so, his arm trembled so much that the headgear he withheld clattered loudly in his grasp.
"Oh, uh, the sword was uh, too um- too-"
The head knight held out his armored hand in a calming manner, "Calm yourself, Bluefox. You are not in any trouble, I merely wanted to ask a few questions." He faced the patient group of knights, and Iazarogen, not knowing what was going on, did the same. The head knight's plan was basically to get Iazarogen to tell everyone his story and why he was there as a knight, then the head knight himself, hoping that Iazarogen's story was a inspiring one, would throw in some more words of wisdom to help encourage Iazarogen and everyone else, so that they could continue their journey unhindered and in high hopes.
"So, how old are you?" the head knight asked, out of the blue.
Iazarogen scratched his head nervously, "almost 13, sir." he replied. More gasps of surprise sounded from the other knights.
"Almost 13?" the Head Knight said, nearly choking. Iazarogen nodded cautiously, taken aback by the air of shock around him.
"Well, that isn't so bad," the head knight replied, loudly enough for everyone to hear, "I have seen eight year olds bear arms in my days." quickly, he asked another question.
"So, Iazarogen. From where do you hail?"
Having no idea where this whole deal was going, Iazarogen continued to answer the questions, staring at his trembling helmet as he did.
"The country of Grandcrest...." he said quietly.
"A local!" the head knight exclaimed with false surprise. The questions were getting nowhere quick, and the head knight soon realized that he had to ask the ultimate question.
"Quickly Iazarogen, tell us all your story for the record. What gives you the strength to keep going?"
In a flash, Iazarogen's nervous expression changed to a serious one. "My story?" he repeated. The Head Knight nodded towards him and the knights slowly.
Iazarogen stared at the ground, a grim expression on his face.
"When I was not but one year old, " he began darkly; the head knight from there on knew that his tale was going to be anything but inspiring.
"My entire race was killed off by an unknown source. I was taken to Grandcrest shortly after that by a close friend of the Bluefoxes, a group of priests, I believe. They raised me in secrecy and seclusion within the town's church for seven whole years until they were killed also; from there on I ran away and lived my life in secret. Eventually I found a small village far away and lived there for three years. Miraculously I managed to conceal my blue Bluefox identity by changing the color of my fur with hazel powder. I eventually grew tired of living a quiet village life and tried to live back in Grandcrest, for I had spent much of my life there; as long as I hid my appearance, I suppose I didn't have to worry about being attacked-" Iazarogen froze. He had just realized that he had given away much of his cover, though it seemed ever since he removed his helmet, it made little difference. As far as he was concerned, he was in no mortal danger, for no one attempted to harm him ever since he was drafted into Grandcrest's ranks-and as he watched the silent, attentive knights before him, he felt the urge to resume the conclusion to his recent past, for it seemed they were all waiting to hear it.
"-I took on cleaning jobs to make a living, and I have ever since.....but then I was drafted into war one day when I was going to purchase me some food and drink, and,"
"Thank you for your story," interrupted the Head Knight, hurriedly gesturing him away from the front, and back into the group. He glanced forward, towards the end of the valley, and with a shielded glare waved his metallic arm overhead.
Bewildered, the knights moved forward and followed the leader, however for a brief moment, Iazarogen stayed behind, next to his discarded sword.
The wind began to increase in rate, and the grass rustled slightly under its notion.
(I wonder what that was all about) thought Iazarogen, (he didn't even listen to my entire story....and there was much to tell!)
The Blue fox stared down the gloom-filled plain and then at the sword, (I don't even know why I'm a knight in the first place......I have no skill, I can't even hold a sword, and here I am about to enter a foreign country, where I'm sure to be killed.) his eyes focused on the blade of which shined dully under the gray sky, (maybe if I try, I can make it.........) he lowered down, grasped the hilt of the sword, and amazingly without trouble, held it in his hands. (..Was the sword really this light after all?) he pondered shortly, then placed his helmet back on his head, and sheathed the blade.
[A/N: Sorry for the confusing Introduction chapter. I tried to fit as much as I can in one go to help readers get a better understanding of the story, and I overdid it. But please bear with me because in the next chapter I will definitely try to provide a more accurate view of this fiction. Thanks for reading!]-World Theory 4X4