.
"What do you mean, 'they're all dead'?" the young officer asked, looking up from the scattered paperwork on his desk.
"Exactly that, sir," replied the corporal standing before him. "Tangen's entire patrol. We found their bodies in the woods just over the border in Tevasa." The bedraggled soldier placed a handful of metal tags before his commander.
The loosened tent flap billowed in the stiff Ionian breeze as the officer searched through the collection of metal discs, holding each in turn up to the lantern. "I can't believe they're gone… I can't believe they're gone…" he muttered to himself until he found the tag he was looking for. "Marcus A. Tangen, Sergeant, Fury Company, XVI Legion of Noxus. They're really gone…"
"There wasn't enough of them left to bring back, otherwise you could see for yourself," the corporal explained. "We buried what remnants we found in a common grave, marked by a Noxian Cross."
"That's…for the best," the commander answered, his voice laced with disgust. He looked back to the metal tags. Most of them bore scorch marks, but few scratches. "What could have done this? Surely not fire arrows. Does the resistance use alchemy, perhaps?"
The corporal shrugged. "I'm not the one at the company intelligence briefings, sir. I just know that all the bodies were covered in burn marks when we found them. The locals had already scavenged their weapons and all the other metal they could find, apart from those identifiers."
With a sigh, the commander dropped Tangen's name tag into the pile with the others. "Seven men… I've lost a quarter of my section," he realized, running a hand through his dark, messy hair as he began to understand the full implications of the disaster. "The captain's going to be outraged by this. I don't suppose you've told her yet?" he asked hopefully.
"No sir," the corporal answered, frowning. "That's not how the chain of command works. Reporting the status of your section to the captain is your job."
"I could order you to bring a message for me…"
"Sir, I've known the captain a long time," the corporal said. "She won't appreciate that. This is something you need to report yourself."
The commander glanced wistfully out the open tent flap. He could see speckles of moonlight caught in the night dew that had settled over their encampment. "Fine," he said. "I'll tell her. But not until morning. I need to figure out what to do about this."
"Very well, sir. What orders for your men tonight?"
The commander looked at the man thoughtfully for a moment. "You're taking this very well, Gurth. I've only known this section a few weeks, but you served with Tangen and the others in the last Freljord expedition, didn't you? You're not fazed by this?"
"This is just war sir. Only the strong are destined to prevail," Corporal Gurth replied, as though that explained everything that went on in his world. "And your orders?" he added with some impatience.
"Right. Well, we could…" the lieutenant paused to consider his options.
"Double the watch in the forward outposts," the corporal suggested quickly. "And coordinate with Tunley's section to operate sweeping patrols along our picket line."
"…Yeah, that sounds good. Go do that."
The corporal saluted stiffly, then left without waiting for the acknowledgement.
With another sigh, the lieutenant glanced at his timepiece. It was well past midnight, and yet he still had no idea how he could account for this tragedy to the captain. Back home, it was second nature for ambitious politicians to slant reports for the local nobles to best fit their agenda. But how could he wake his captain and put a positive spin on the deaths of seven men? He did not see how.
The commander considered making a personal inspection of his men and their positions along the front line to see how they were taking the news, but decided against it. Gurth seemed to have everything under control in their section – he always did.
After ensuring that his armor and equipment was ready for the next day's march, the lieutenant laid back on his cot to sleep. Thinking back to the dead patrol and their metal tags sitting on his desk, he pulled out his own tag and read it over for the thousandth time. "John R. Talath, Lieutenant, Fury Company, XVI Legion of Noxus." He flipped over the tag and kept reading. "Home alive, I pray." The last line he had etched on during the voyage to Ionia. With thoughts of his sunny home town along the Noxian shore filling his mind, John drifted off to a peaceful slumber.
The lieutenant awoke with a start the next morning. Sunlight streamed in through the tent flap. He stared for a moment through the gap at the distant mountains bathed in the morning glow, then glanced at his timepiece. It was well past morning rollcall.
"Dammit," he cursed as he frantically donned his armor. Grabbing his sword and the collection of metal tags, the lieutenant rushed outside to the assembly ground to find the company arrayed in marching formation. The men of Fury Company looked stiff and tired, as though they had been in position all morning. More than a few glared at him as he made his way to his section – or what was left of it.
"Good morning sir," said Corporal Gurth without a hint of mockery as John approached. "I've secured a few more crossbows for us to replace the ones Tangen lost."
"That's…that's great, corporal," John said, glancing around the formation. The entire company was arranged in marching order. The rest of the camp had been disassembled, apart from his tent. "What's going on, corporal? Why didn't you wake me?"
A voice spoke up behind him. "I wanted to see if Section Four really needed its lieutenant. It would appear that it does not."
John turned and quickly snapped to attention at the sight of his commanding officer. "C-Captain Riven!" he exclaimed, saluting.
The white-haired woman did not return the salute. "Lieutenant, how many soldiers are supposed to be in Section Four?" Riven asked calmly, her hand resting on the hilt of her broad, black sword.
"Twenty-eight, ma'am," John replied, glancing nervously at Corporal Gurth.
The corporal stood as fixed as a statue, offering no support to his commander.
"That is correct, lieutenant," Riven went on. "And how many soldiers are there currently in Section Four?"
"Twenty-one."
In a flash, Riven unsheathed her sword and lunged at the startled lieutenant.
He recoiled a step, instinctively bringing his arms up to his face. It was all John could do to suppress a shriek as the sword stopped a hair's width from his nose.
"That is incorrect, lieutenant," Riven said coolly. "Section Four currently has twenty brave soldiers who are ready and able to demonstrate the true strength of the Noxian Empire, and one sniveling politician from a rich family who somehow found his way into an officer's uniform so he can proudly wear a Valor pin for the rest of the life. That is the true status of Section Four, lieutenant."
"Y-yes ma'am," John stammered.
"I'm glad we agree," Riven said, breaking into a smile as she rested the massive sword over her shoulder guard, but she quickly dropped the façade. "Why did you not report this immediately last night?" she demanded. "I should not be receiving news like this from your corporal!"
John could feel the anger in her red eyes as they bored into him. "Ma'am, I… needed time to assess and…then…plan…" he trailed off as Riven turned her back on him and walked away down the line of soldiers.
"Fury Company!" Riven called. The entire formation snapped to attention. "What is our creed?"
"Only the strong survive!" the company's thunderous reply echoed through the valley.
"Only the strong survive!" Riven repeated as she walked along the line of soldiers. "Our strength has brought our empire victory after victory, from the Demacian border to the shores of Ionia!" Then she stopped and pointed her sword at the hapless lieutenant. "Weakness is a cancer. A single weak link can destroy a chain, can destroy an army, can destroy a nation. And I will tolerate no weak links in Fury Company!"
John's face reddened as the formation cheered again, Section Four loudest of all.
"But sometimes," Riven went on once the cheering diminished, "we have no choice. Those with political connections use their influence to thrust weakness into our midst. So we must make the best of our situation." The captain stopped directly in front of John. Though she stood a head shorter than the lieutenant, Riven seemed to tower over him as she spoke to the company. "You all know we have a weak link among us. Yet still, a central tenant of Noxian virtue is that everyone has the opportunity to prove their strength. Everyone! Even you," she finished, pointing her sword again at John.
"Y-yes, ma'am," John gulped. He knew everything she said was true, from his political connections back home to his weakness. John knew he was not a strong leader, and certainly not cut out to be a soldier in the army of Noxus. But service was the only sure way to get ahead in the Empire, so he had reluctantly accepted a commission from one of his uncles. Then the Ionia War started.
Captain Riven had summoned one of the other section leaders. "Lieutenant Gallic, you will lead the rest of Fury Company on towards Coeur. I will rejoin you in a week."
Gallic saluted without a word and left. When he reached the head of the company, he gave the signal to move out.
John watched as the rest of Fury Company, apart from Section Four and the captain, made their way to the nearby road. Since joining the company a few weeks ago, John had quickly come to expect some kind of fallout once his weakness became apparent. But not so severe as this. He adhered to the Noxian ideals as much as the next man, and had great respect for Captain Riven for her dedication to the creed. Yet, John knew that he could never make it anywhere in Noxus on his own, let alone in Ionia. If Tangen's veteran squad had been butchered so easily, what chance did John have to survive?
When the other sections were out of sight, Riven turned to John. "You will have one more chance to prove you are strong enough to be a soldier in my company, lieutenant. You will lead Section Four into Tevasa to find out what happened to your men. If you can find and punish those responsible, you may remain with Fury Company. If not…" Riven stepped closer until her face was just inches from John's. "…then political consequences be damned, I will send you back home. Do you understand?"
The lieutenant nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, glancing back to his section. He saw now that they were equipped for a long-range expedition with every man carrying additional weapons and equipment. Then he noticed that the captain was similarly prepared. "Will you be joining us?" he asked.
"Of course!" Riven exclaimed with a predatory smile. "I need to see how weak the link in my company has become. And decide if it should be fixed…or removed."