With sword in hand and the Iron Sigil formed, Leon stood on the highest platform of Black Hollow's battlements, flanked by Mira and Eldric. Below him gathered every citizen of the reclaimed valley. Word had spread quickly—rumors of war, of sacred blades, of kings reborn.
Leon raised the Sovereign's Fang.
"I, Leon Arthrael, son of the fallen crown, heir to the forgotten realm, declare a banner reborn—the Ember Banner!"
He thrust the sword skyward.
A flare of crimson light erupted into the heavens, the symbol of the Sovereign's Crest burning in fire against the morning sky.
Cheers rang out. Fear and hope danced in equal measure.
Then came the Proclamation:
"From this day forward, we are not vassals, nor shadows. We are Flame Reborn. We will forge a kingdom that will make tyrants tremble."
The System responded:
[New Quest: Birth of a Nation]
> Build an army of 1,000. Secure 5 allied villages. Defeat Lord Varn Delmor. Establish a provisional capital.
Progress: 6%
Leon turned. "Mira, begin draft enlistment. Voluntary for now, but with incentive. Aylin—build a fire warden corps. Eldric—how fast can you forge 200 blades?"
The blacksmith grinned. "With help? Two weeks."
"Then call every smith from here to the lowlands. Halem, offer coin. Triple if needed."
Halem whistled. "You'll bankrupt us in a month."
Leon smirked. "Then make sure we take a lord's vault within three."
The next days passed in tireless drill. Fields were repurposed as training camps. Archery ranges sprang up. Mages practiced under shielding domes. Children helped dig ditches and build palisades.
The Iron Sigil led by example. Korrik taught the recruits guerrilla tactics. Velna drilled spear formations. Tali taught archery in moving combat. Ronan taught hand-to-hand. Juno taught blindfold defense, to heighten awareness.
Leon himself sparred with dozens daily. He never used the Sovereign's Fang in drills—only a standard longsword. He wanted his skill to be real, not reliant on relics.
In the evenings, he lectured recruits on war history, on the failures of old kings.
"Power without purpose corrupts. A blade drawn for pride is a blade wasted. You fight not for me—but for the people who believe in a new dawn."
Word arrived via hawk messenger: a supply caravan to the nearby village of Frostedge was intercepted by mercenaries in Varn's employ.
Leon moved fast. He took forty riders and three of the Iron Sigil—Tali, Ronan, and Velna.
They rode through the dark, using the terrain and Tali's scouting.
At dawn, they found the ambush site.
Dozens of bodies. Burned carts. Survivors hiding under snow.
Ronan gritted his teeth. "Varn's men did this."
Leon's face hardened. "No—this is Crimson Vow work. They took survivors."
Tali nodded. "Tracks westward. Toward Hollowrock Gorge."
They followed.
By dusk, they reached a narrow cliffside path leading into a gorge. Fires flickered below. Mercenaries laughed. Crimson Vow blades glittered.
Leon turned to his squad. "We strike at night. Quick. Silent. No survivors."
What followed was brutal.
Tali shot the sentries before they could scream. Ronan and Velna dropped from ledges like shadows. Leon carved through two assassins guarding children bound in cages.
When it ended, thirty-five enemies lay dead.
Leon opened the final cage. A little girl hugged his leg.
"Thank you, king," she whispered.
He didn't correct her.
Returning to Black Hollow, Leon found Brother Jothan waiting.
"There's unrest among the elders," the priest warned. "Your war path burns too hot. Some say you chase vengeance, not justice."
Leon invited the elders to dine that evening.
He served them plain bread, stew made by his own hand, and wine from Varn's seized caravan.
During dinner, he spoke softly:
"When the Crimson Vow murdered my family, I was a boy hiding in a closet. I watched my mother die. I was powerless. You think I crave vengeance? No. I crave a world where no child knows that powerlessness."
He stood. "If you doubt me—leave. Take supplies. You will not be hunted. But if you stay, you stay as kin, not subjects."
None left.
Weeks later, a visitor arrived—a lone warrior on horseback, wearing white lacquered armor and a mask of dragonbone.
His name: Kael of the East Sky.
He bore a message from the Eastern Dominion:
"We have seen the smoke. The stars speak of the reborn king. The Dominion watches. Prove your cause—win five battles—and we may extend alliance."
Kael offered his sword in trial.
They fought for six minutes.
Leon was nearly bested.
But at the end, he disarmed Kael by sheer will and grit.
The Eastern warrior bowed. "You are worthy."
Kael stayed as Leon's ambassador and master-at-arms.
Lord Varn struck first.
At dusk, three hundred of his men raided the border village of Briarcrest.
Leon led the counterattack personally. With 120 trained fighters and half of the Iron Sigil, they charged at dawn.
The first clash was chaos.
Aylin unleashed inferno walls. Tali picked off commanders. Ronan punched through shield walls. Leon's Sovereign's Fang cut through magic wards.
They pushed the invaders back.
In a daring move, Leon flanked with twenty riders through hidden trails. They broke Varn's command post. The enemy routed.
Briarcrest was saved. Casualties were high, but morale soared.
The people began chanting a name:
"Cinderking! Cinderking!"
Leon hated the title.
But he accepted it.
That night, the System responded:
[Title Unlocked: Cinderking]
> Leadership Aura +20%
Troop Morale +30%
Unlock Passive Skill: Ember Presence – Enemies suffer -10% resolve near you in battle.
[New Feature Unlocked: Nation Core]
> Allows building of capital infrastructure, national laws, education systems, and conscription policy.
Leon felt the change. His mind expanded. He saw possibilities—roads connecting villages, public schools, mage towers, trade guilds.
The Nation Core appeared as a glowing sigil in his mind.
He whispered to Mira, "We're not building an army. We're building a civilization."
The chapter ends with betrayal.
A courier arrives from Lord Varn, bearing an old parchment—signed years ago by Leon's father—promising peace between their houses.
Leon reads it in silence.
Then burns it.
"We don't honor pacts signed in bloodshed. Varn made his choice."
Mira places a map before him.
"We know Varn's capital fortress—Stonefall—is vulnerable from the west."
Leon looks out the window.
"Then that's where we strike next."