Chapter 1: The Emissary.
Autumn. Not quite cold but not warm either. Winds journeyed around the medieval structures; magical spires glowed and sparked to the wind blowing into it. Citizens of Demacia wrapped themselves lightly in cloth - wandered around the streets or alleyways, buying and trading resources in preparation for winter.
The Demacian Halls was where all the High Guards and Elites resided. The building was situated within the central heart of Demacia - the brass and gold exterior screamed privilege as well as strength. It towered over Demacia like a hawk eyeing its prey. It was a sign to the ordinary people that the High Guards and Elites were dependable even if they seemed overly-righteous. They were good at their job, no doubt, deleting any trouble throughout Demacia with zealousness.
Leader of the High Guard was none other than the Prince to the King of Demacia himself - Jarvan Lightshield IV. Tall and broad with his shoulders - he gave the image of a warrior. That alone is respectable since it meant soldiers followed him for his prowess and not just because he was merely a Prince. His father understood the importance of image and believed having a charismatic leader would guarantee the success as well as secure the future for Demacia against outer threats such as the Noxus to the East and unlikely but Freljord to the North too. This meant that even though Jarvan had a privileged background, his upbringing was the complete opposite. He was trained and honed to be a fine warrior - mastering the arts of the long spear. Not only that, much to Jarvan's disinterest, he had to focus his attention on intellect too. Reading scrolls upon scrolls of war tactics and economic diplomacy. Every time Jarvan slacked off, he would be punished as predicted. Some would say it's almost abusive but this would simulate the harsh nature outside of Demacia's capital and outside Demacia itself.
Within the throne room of the Halls, a dozen or so High Guards and Elites surrounded the throne of where the King sat.
"Father... please let me do this mission..." Jarvan whimpered.
"We've been here for an over an hour now…" the King said in an irritated voice. "You are the leader of the High Guard and you failed to protect the emissary of Ionia... That was the daughter to the leader of IONIA!" he cried before slumping back onto the throne. "What few allies we have left... we cannot afford to sour this relation..."
"... I..." Jarvan whispered.
The king raised his hand to stop Jarvan "I understand that you were ambushed by Noxian soldiers, and you were forced to retreat. Had you taken the original intended path to Ionia, this would not have happened." The king said in a more calm tone before continuing. "At the very least… you did bring back the body..." the King temporarily stopped his words to emphasise the solution. "… We will have to send this back to Ionia and negotiate with their leader."
"Allo-" pleaded Jarvan before being cut off by the King.
"How... How can I trust that you will not fail me?" questioned the King.
"Father..." Jarvan stopped to make sure he wouldn't get cut off again. "Of all the missions I've completed, not one have I failed in." Jarvan said in a more assertive tone. "This time... I won't make any excuses... I will bring the Elites with me this time, and we'll take the path that leads to Freljord, then reach the port at Piltover and go to Ionia from there."
The king closed his eyes and sighed while pinching his fingers over the bridge of his nose. He opens one eye and looks around over the throne room at the present High Guards and Elites. "It must be so easy for you to just request the same mission while bringing an arsenal of more powerful soldiers to accompany you." the King dismayed.
The morning was starting to warm up the room – everybody looked more at ease as the sun penetrated through one of the windows. Jarvan still looked down very submissively. "Jarvan... You are my pride and joy, and I am more than happy to see you making it out alive in that hell of an ambush." He paused. "Sending you back… with a body to carry... most people would be called a fool if they sent you back. But I understand that you want to regain your honour… and I assume as well... grovel... at the leader of Ionia's feet... to show that you are sorry." The King frowned at this point. "That I cannot allow. It will only show weakness for the future king of Demacia." He pauses again to plan his next set of words carefully "I suppose we can use this to our advantage to demand a compensation from Noxus.
Jarvan still looked devastated because he was being forgiven for the simple fact that he was the Prince of Demacia. Nothing else. His father, normally strict, still saw him as his son and this made Jarvan so disappointed in himself.
"Garen, Xin Zhao and Luxanna... No wait... We will keep one of the siblings here. Instead, find Shyvana and prepare to go to Freljord. The Noxus have started something they should not have and they will pay for it once this message relays to the leader of Ionia." The King scans the room with for a short interval. "Go. All of you..." The king commanded to which Garen, Xin Zhao and all the other people in both mixed female and male voices shouted: "Yes, for the honour of Demacia!"
They all leave, heading towards the large door almost in a single file fashion. Jarvan was the only who stayed - still kneeling on one knee - he looks up to his father with steel resolve and after everybody left the room he determinedly said "Thank you... I will not fail you... ever again..." Jarvan nods his head for approval, stands up and pauses for a moment before turning around, walking towards the door.
The King stares at his sons back. He leans on his left hand and smiles as the door closes behind on Jarvan.