The camp was quiet under the moon's pale light, the occasional rustle of canvas and distant murmurs from sentries the only sounds breaking the stillness. Kael sat at his workbench, fingers idly tracing the runes on his newly-forged staff, his thoughts drifting between the forest ahead and the past that had brought him here.
The flap of his tent shifted, and Kael looked up, half-expecting another soldier with last-minute gear requests. Instead, it was Alaric. The paladin's towering frame cast a long shadow as he entered, his expression unusually pensive.
"You're up late," Kael remarked, setting the staff aside. "Something on your mind?"
Aldric hesitated for a moment, then closed the tent flap behind him. "Figured you might be too." He crossed the room in a few heavy steps and sat down on a nearby stool, resting his hands on his knees. "I wanted to talk to you before we head out tomorrow."
Kael raised an eyebrow, waiting.
Aldric leaned forward, the flicker of the forge's dying embers reflecting in his eyes. "I've been meaning to explain why we didn't just leave you to finish the repairs on our gear. Why we pulled you into this mission instead."
Kael leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "I figured you just needed someone with my skills. My enhancements have been keeping you all alive out there, haven't they?"
"They have," Aldric nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But it's more than that."
He paused, as if weighing his words. "When we first came across your shop, we were looking for someone who could handle more than just the usual repairs. We'd heard rumors about a craftsman who could do things no one else could—enhancements that weren't just about making weapons sharper or armor stronger, but gear that adapted to the needs of the soldier wielding it. That kind of skill is rare."
Kael's expression softened slightly. "That wasn't me. That was my father."
Aldric's gaze didn't waver. "True. Your father's name still carries weight. The things he created during the last war—they're legendary. His inscriptions turned the tide in more than one battle. He's the reason half the soldiers still remember their training days. But we didn't come looking for him, Kael. We came looking for you."
Kael blinked, taken aback. "Why?"
Aldric shifted, leaning forward slightly. "You're not just following in his footsteps. What you've done here, what you're doing with your own style of inscriptions—there's something different about it. You're not just reproducing his work. You're pushing it forward. That's what caught our attention."
Kael looked away, feeling a twinge of discomfort at the praise. He had spent most of his life in the shadow of his father's reputation. Master Ulric, the famed inscriptionist and war hero, had been a figure of almost mythic proportions. His inscriptions had turned ordinary soldiers into extraordinary warriors, and his name was still spoken with reverence across the kingdom of Thalrune.
Kael had learned everything from him—the delicate art of rune carving, the ways to channel mana into metal, and the secrets behind the enchantments that could change the course of a battle. But despite his father's teaching, Kael had always felt like he was chasing a ghost. No matter how skilled he became, he wondered if he'd ever truly match the man who had crafted weapons that shaped history.
"I'm not him, though," Kael muttered, his voice quiet. "My father… what he did in the last war, no one can replicate that. I've been doing my best, but—"
"That's exactly why we need you," Aldric interrupted, his tone firm. "We didn't want someone trying to replicate the past. We needed someone who could adapt to what's coming. This forest… these ruins… they're nothing like the battlefields your father fought on. This is something new, and we need someone who can create something new to face it."
Kael stared at Aldric for a long moment, the weight of his words settling in. He hadn't thought of it that way before. While he had always been focused on living up to his father's legacy, perhaps that wasn't what was needed here. Perhaps his own approach, his own innovations, were exactly what the situation called for.
Aldric's voice softened. "We didn't choose you just because of your name, Kael. We chose you because we've seen what you can do. Your inscriptions—they saved us more times than I can count. And now, with what we're walking into, I wouldn't trust anyone else."
Kael let out a slow breath, his thoughts racing. It was one thing to carry his father's legacy, but to hear that his own skills had earned the trust of someone like Aldric—someone who had been through hell and back with him—it was something he hadn't expected.
"So, you're saying you need me more than my inscriptions?" Kael asked with a small, incredulous smirk.
Aldric chuckled, the tension in the air easing slightly. "I'm saying we need both. You might not be a warrior like the rest of us, but I'd rather have you by our side, ready to adapt when things go south, than sitting back here repairing our gear after the fact."
Kael shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. "Well, when you put it that way… I guess I'm in."
Aldric rose to his feet, clapping Kael on the shoulder. "Good. Because whatever we're about to face in that forest, it's going to take all of us to get through it. And I'm betting on your skills to give us the edge we need."
Kael nodded, a renewed sense of purpose filling him. He wasn't just a replacement for his father's legacy. He was carving his own path, one inscription at a time.
As Aldric turned to leave, Kael called out after him. "You still want me to finish your repairs, though, right?"
The paladin laughed. "I trust your new gear more. But yeah, I wouldn't mind a few extra touches on the old stuff too."
With that, Alaric disappeared into the night, leaving Kael alone in the quiet of his tent once more. But this time, the silence didn't feel so heavy. And for the first time in a long time, Kael felt like he wasn't just walking in his father's footsteps.
He was blazing his own trail.