LEAGUE OF LEGENDS/DOTA2

Lux & Rylai & Orianna

"COLD LIGHT"

Updated - Now with 80% less "OrIanNa letTEr" speech, in favor of readability. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Beneath a calm, mid-evening sky lies a capital that is both a vast fortress and proud nation in one, embraced by the outer city districts, military and civil town sectors, and distant rural villages at its outer rim. Tall buildings of stone and marble form the skyline that reaches for the sky, though clearly to be ridiculed by what the massive castle fortress structure have to offer. The other buildings could only dream such dimensions. Regardless, they form what is the City-Kingdom of Demacia.

Despite the conflicts raging throughout the realm of Runeterra, this western part of the Valoran continent witnesses one of those rare days many have sought for. It is such of the days what Demacians have reluctantly named the days of dreadful peace. And while the calm mid-evening sky reflects this rare day of the so-called peace, any mortal of Demacia can feel the tension stinging their souls. They know world-changing events continue to rage far beyond the horizon of their everyday troubles. But, for now, this silent peace is all what these people would rather desire than the distant reality they fear. And today is yet another day one should not worry of the world's threats. It is another day where even the royal government itself has ordered a nationwide day of retreat and recuperation for the sake of the sanity of people. Of course, the Demacian military still endures constant vigil, ensuring that the mere citizens need not to worry of anything… with nothing but minor crimes being the only things that have troubled the people today.

Like the other days of silent peace, today has been another chance for the royal houses of the Demacian castle fortress to not only conduct mild politics but also rejoice in upper class social interactions. Various royal houses are soon to welcome the old and new friends… especially such of distant worlds.

And while the countless people of Demacia embrace the calm of the day, there is one desperate soul hasting through the capital's palace grounds.

CHAPTER ONE - Delegations

= The Palace of Demacia =

The arcane portal atrium. Immense by size and almost endless in depth. The surrounding cylindrical structures reflected the virtues of architects and milestone persona of Demacian legacy. The stretches is so vast that the eye can only barely make out the figures of distant people. Prisms of light fell from the distant crystalline dome. Crystal clear voices would gently dance by their echoes many times through this vast region before eternally fading away.

…Elsewhere throughout the palace open grounds…

Rapid steps crackle across one of the few pebbled grounds of the courtyard ring. Each step make distinct crackles upon the pebbled ground. One could catch the static of blue mana echoing from the silhouette of the lithe being. It is the summoner spell of a ghosting individual dashing through the open. The elegant figure charges over the open field as ranks of Hextech horseguards clear the way. They salute to her, she who vaguely responds with a greeting hand as she dashes right past them.

A number of people stood before a short but wide cylindrical flight of stairs that led up to a massive platform filled with various large objects. The prominent Hextech ring rested vertically upon this spacious platform. Strange gadgets moved around and orbited its outlying levitating segments. It continued to hum deep purrs and static until it then slowly began to intensify.

The people who stood just below wore quite obvious noble outfits and military dress uniforms. They continuously conversed with each other. Nearby palace guards maintained guard duty, by either silently orbiting the rim of this event or quietly interacting with the nearby staff. It was needless to say that the noble groups were easily distinguishable by their appearances. Those in extravagant clothing were obviously of a noble caste, and just one of many. Some wore beautiful dresses and distinguished outfits of the demivictorian fashion - such who spoke in the notable accent as well. One would want to take time to identify their social status and place in Demacia, but then the eye would immediately spot the inequalities in this seemingly harmonic society. There was a difference throughout the groups… Individuals who were distinctly different from those who stood in group conversations.

The singled-out individuals slowly moved through the groups of people, widely ignored until one of the nobles would raise their hand to catch their attention. The blathering and laughter would continue as the waving hand would grab a delightful glass of a sparkling liquid from the elegant plates the individuals held. Once taken, these unusual individuals would gently nod with a facial expression that closely could resemble to that of a… human smile?

The mild clamors of voice abruptly ended when sounds emitted from the machinery just above. People now began to row themselves. One could now recognize groups forming up by their respective houses, royalties, prominence and ranks. The more impressive and daunting the appearance, the easier one would spot the key figures and pomp aristocracy. All formed a wide open arc towards the platform. The serving individuals moved away, rowing themselves just behind the noble groups, ensuring their presence who not disturb the harmony of those of flesh and bone.

One very tall young man with very broad shoulders shortly looked at his side. Of all the familiar faces he knew among his sides, there was a vacant spot that. His face formed a serious, hateful stare upon this vacant spot. Just a moment later, his eyes wandered away from the platform, beyond the mass of grouped people. It was as if he sensed something in the distance. His hands formed tight fists.

Meanwhile, the energetic sounds continued to intensify. Invisible electrifying fields gently filled the surroundings, as noticed by the single strands of hair rising. Groups muttered with each other, either being amazed or annoyed of what was going on. A single few of the nobles seemed to be subtly furious that they came unprepared to an event that obviously asked for manastatic-proof dresses - and this was all easily noticeable by the other socialites who readily shared the minor gaffes on their small hextech pads.

The region darkened. Hextechnology meant no humor when it came to bending nature. The power of this hexed matter, though under control by Demacians, even seemed to bring fear upon nature itself. The once prismatic beams of light that entered from glass murals and mosaics of the dizzying heights above had vanished, leaving the people below to their darkened fate. Everybody seemingly knew this was only a short matter. Hextech was obviously nothing to worry about, right? So one could see that everybody frequently asked, but then again, one could easily sense how much they feared this each time it happened.

The outer rows individuals took further steps back, seemingly fearing that their presence might act as capacitors that could lead to unexpected mana-static discharges. It did not take long before single nobles would even urge them to back off more. The sounds then became so loud that a separate few of these nobles made cautious subtle steps towards the back… apparently to avoid any rumors of their fear.. And again urging the rowed individuals behind them to step back even further. Another selected group of individuals, regardless of man or woman, shortly fiddled with their hair and outfits, nervously trying to ensure that there be not another mishap or embarrassment waiting to happen.

The engraved armored boots now rapidly tap upon the marble floor. The young lady continued her mad run. Another pair of guards look behind the running figure, figuring that this individual was yet again on a frantic journey against time… and personal dignity. They shake their heads and sigh as the echoes of the taps fade around the corners of the corridors.

Everybody in the vast portal atrium quietly observed what was certainly the final stages of the event. The sounds of arcane power was certainly about to reach its threshold.

Single minutes had gone by until the figure had apparently reached the same vast area. The person approached with a jog, then slowed down to a walk with hasted steps again, apparently heading straight for the source of the echoing noise. The figure however did make rather jolts of instant detours the moment the groups of people were noticed among the structural columns; subtly avoiding pairs of elegant people and prominences who were distracted by the bragging and blathering of whatever nonsense they cared about.

Right when this nervous person reached the rim of the particular event, she halted. A halt that seemed all but necessary for what lies ahead. Eyes closed, a deep breath. Another. Another… Another. Apparently to calm the hammer within. To hide it from those such as the individual rows who might sense the static. Although, there was more than enough mana interferences all around this sector. Ironically, there was one of the female individuals with the that unusual uncanny smile, who had noticed this person's stealthy arrival - but the uncanny female individual seemed ignored, and soon, she would be distracted by several flesh-and-bone nobles disrespectfully urging her and others of her kind to back off even more... and again to maintain formation so that whatever socialite and low key media-related personalities would not notice what was going on.

The person further away eyes shortly noticed the gaze of a very tall grim young man among the rows. She straightened both pose and head, ignoring the gaze. She closed her eyes. Soon, there would be no way around gaining attention - for she now was emitting a gentle constant gleam that elevated her appearance. It was as if the faint energy of luminosity was controlled by her. Her distinct armored dress uniform glowed, but that without what one would expect from the natural light of the sun. She opened her eyes. Her face is now nothing but an illusion, much like the rest of those celebrities with the same smiles of social pride and fortitude-

She first began a slow pace ahead, then around the massive column - first past the various celebrities ranks and then in front the row of faces soon to be surprised by her arrival. These faces would then change into full disdain upon this sudden and recognizable arrival that now went towards that particular gap between them. There was a note of clamoring between the others of the other rows, but none of their voices could pierce the clatter and buzzing of the hextechnology.

As this event continued, a set of heads motioned away from the vibrant and violent play of mystical energies, only to fall upon the very person who had just joined their ranks. Those apparently related to this late arrival, and whom were seemingly part of the house's high family tree as well, even considered making a step or two away, gently breaking the apparent formation that previously had been following an obvious aristocratic line of rules and positioning. And not a single word or gesture hindered them as all had tolerance for the farce that now was within their ranks. Their eyes were so full of hatred and disdain that the calamity of magical fabrics was all but nothing compared to what they saw in this being. It did not matter to them how pure the light shimmered from the entire self of this being.

She's here!

Hateful eyes.

Stares.

Socialites' held up small, flat rectangular hextech gadgets, aiming them at her.

No whispers could be heard, for it was too loud for anybody to mutter anything.

Instead.

Their lips barely moved, and yet, this being could sense the echoes sizzling beyond the booming static of mystical energies far ahead.

Hextelepathy…

Gossip.

Unintelligible words... Sounds of puckering and hissing lips.

A very low-grade variant, unlike those the military and high royals apply, and yet the socialites think they have the expensive state-of-the-art.

Fools.

Some of these fools had such little skill that they did not even noticed their lips were still twitching.

Awkward people.

Quick gazes.

Suddenly. The eyes of this young lady noticed the most noticeable presence who had very broad armored shoulders. It was as if this young man of endless pride to Demacia had said a phrase... Something… Something that had subtly intimidated her. Her fake smile showed nothing, but her soul certainly felt the pressure. She gently turned away and continued a sharp stare towards the blinding light ahead. The focus upon this was so pure and sharp that not even the hateful eyes of these relatives could taint the soul, for all this person cared about was what was happening above. Soon, all would focus upon the climaxing rage of whipping fabrics that warped the very reality at the vertical plane of the ring. A single implosion then occurred. Anybody who had the slightest of magical aspects could certainly feel how this final event had sapped a notable portion of their power. The tear had certainly left a very unpleasant tickle upon the particular being as well as the other uncanny individuals…

The darkness vanished at the same moment wild energies of controlled hextech fluxed with the magical purities of fire and ice sourcing from a distant world and dimension. A singular blast sends shocking winds before the energies manifest themselves into various figures… True foreigners. A plethora of foreigners of distant worlds. Royals and politicians of some sort. All them seemed disorientated. Several demacians rushed over, catching them and respectfully telling them to wait and recover as they held them.

The booming voice of an elegant Demacian woman soon echoed loudly throughout the vast atrium world,

"Welcome… to the Kingdom of Demacia! — Oh dear…"

A wave of quiet sighs sounded from far behind. It was as if the nobles of Demacia could not stand the damned voice of the announcer from such political events such as the so-called Summoner's Rift. Clamor was soon heard from another row.

However. Groups of new people were spread all around the vast area around the atrium. It seemed as if the portal teleportation had not quite grouped everybody as expected. The arrival of these foreigner groups was just as metaphorically stunning as it was literally… The final event left eyes wandering around, blindly. Many of them seemed just as startled as blind as they were. Within a single second, there were both rows of Demacians and the grand majority of the visitors raising both hands ahead of them. Some fell to their feet. Clearly. The unexpected flash had blinded several Demacians who had gazed into the short-lived, black void bubble for too long.

Lucky for this young lady, light and the sudden shock of luminosity could not affect her.

The new arrivals had been stunned by the shock of power that went through their body's as the teleportation event tore them from one physical realm to another. It was said to be safe… or considered safe? Many assumed the latter now, for sure.

Technicians and very few healers rushed over to those who were severely stunned, especially those who almost wandered off towards the stairs. They helped lift the blinded people and reassured them that they were in safety.

A young Demacian woman in a particular uniform moved towards the group of disorientated foreigners. One of them was kneeling, apparently trying to find what seemed to be a staff. Just as she leaned down, he accidentally groped her chest as this foreigner was still dazzled by the effects of the teleportation.

"Soft? Oh-hhhhOops. My apologies!", the blinded swarthy man immediately begged, "but in my defense, there is a very unusual cloud before my eyes now, heh. I hope it's not permanent… although I shouldn't get too optimistic, in my case. I'm already afflicted, to be honest. Again, my apologies. Probably not the best start for diplomacy, don't you think? Or, heh? I… I was attempting to find my staff."

He was helped up to his feet and handed over the staff.

"It's ok! Errors happen. It's natural, even for such godless tech such as hex. This is all my fault. And uh, f-fear not, fellow delegate-visitors… person!", this woman in the uniform of a lead hextechnician exclaimed, if not right at edge of the respectful level, "The hexportation suffered a feedback. A d-double feedback, to be precise. Seems like the samouflange segment induced the said feedback. It most likely sapped mana from most of the people here, even though we had told them to come with zero mana in their capacitors. I assumed it wouldn't be that bad, but I was wrong. Severely. I really feel sorry for this. Uhhh… Don't worry. The disorientation is only temporary. As well as the blindness. Trust me."

She then muttered something, if not hoping she was right - Almost sounding that she was going to get the blame for sure.

"I doubt the blindness will ever go away. Trust me. And plus. Tis not our first hyper-teleportation, young miss", the blinded foreigner, who had accidentally groped her, kindly remarked, "At least we didn't appear several steps above the ground. That happened once as well. I respect your skill. But still. Quite startling, I must admit."

Other noble foreigners chuckled. They seemed to be taking this with ease.

Meanwhile, the luminous young lady continued to stand at her spot with the ranks of her siblings and others of her house. Waiting, as the others tended to the various lost groups of foreign delegations spreaded throughout the surroundings. She simply stood there, as if her mind was still being lambasted by the continual commentary apparently seeding from the tallest man with the broad shoulders.

"Ehh, uh, Ha-ha, yes. The least we wanted was to hurt people", she replied light-heartedly, if not relieved, while holding him tightly as his vision took its time to recover, "Looks like it not only sapped mana. After all, mana does not equal mana. There are different forms. Including hex. Your world uses elemental nature magic. And well, our hextech is quite difficult to control. I take responsibility for not keeping the hexpeople at a distance. But thankfully they were there, actually"

, she continued, if not nervously,

"Their unusual hexcore-mana actually ensured that there was no feedback loop! So, it was actually a good thing. Bad news is just that the surge ended up in a blast that was a bit stronger than we expected. Lucky for us the elemental magic didn't resonate here. I… I hope your side is ok. Seems like foreign elemental magic is exponentially stronger in this realm. I'm still sorry. People of this world still think mixing manatech with hextech and such is a simple field. We've yet to learn more. Oh dear. I talk too much. I'm quite the expositional type… They say. I… I hope you will excuse this. "

His face went grim, "Perhaps…"

She immediately stopped breathing, if not petrified by his hateful gaze. It was a stare that seemed quite off balance and just a tad away from her face.

He suddenly made a wide grin, "Oh dear, I can feel that was a horrible joke."

The female hextechnician gasped, if not outright shocked with a loud scoff, "Y-You!… Oh…"

"Ha-ha-ha. Please forgive me. We Radiants - especially us from Stonehall - tend to have a very-very… very horrible sense of humor", he added, specifically articulating the last words with a very deep voice, "Bad for politics. Good for the heart, we say. I'm likely to stay blind but I think I can sense a warm blush?"

She looked away, if not quite embarrassed.

"We are horrible people, quite the type who can't seem to get out of low priority confrontations. I guess Demacianas really hate such jokes. Mmh… Or is it Demaciane? Demacianari? I dear…", the foreigner mentioned with a grin, then paused, "…This is all wrong. I probably will be executed if I don't settle this before the Legion Commander gets wind of this. She's very ill-tempered. P-Perhaps, we - or say, I - could improve this first contact of ours? Why not we start again? I'm Ojom of Stonehall. Nothing more than a humble diplomat of the Bronze Legion, following my Legion Commander who is just over - somewhere here. You'll notice her soon. Trust me. Stonehallanian women really, really have quite the temper. Now then… Whose name belongs to this beautiful voice here?"

"It's just Demacian for all three genders."

"I see. Three?"

"F-Female. Male. Emale."

"Ah. Yes. Of course. Respectful to all. And advanced in social engineering as well. I like that. We can learn from you. For sure. I must admit though. Stonehall only has two and none have claim to desire to be inbetween. No offense, with all due respect, of course."

Somebody shortly called for him. He was an associate apparently, an individual with lighter skin and who had already regained vision obviously. He respectfully gestured her to wait a moment as he discussed things in their native language.

She decided to study Ojom for a moment, if not being too curious to know more about him. He seemed to be in his mid-to-late-40s, provided his physiology was just like that of the Demacian people. Ojom's eyes were darker than his swarthy skin. If the Demacian saying said the eyes were the windows to the soul, then she was certainly lost, if not blind about him. Something did tell her that he was indeed afflicted. A hidden pain, perhaps? She was probably going too far, anyways.

Considering those eyes of his, they wandered and tend to never quite look directly at the person he spoke to. Each time he spoke, they always seemed off target, sometimes having him turn his head. She always saw him turn his head, presenting the quarter of his head, while his eyes would look at her shoulder or beyond towards the floor just beyond her. Maybe he did not like to look into people's eyes? , she thought. There were people who did not quite like to look at peoples eyes, for long or at all, if not even counting herself in.

His eyes aimed roughly at the spot from where the last time her voice sourced. But again, they seemed slightly off from where her head actually was. She easily assumed his eyes were still clouded.

When the associate left, Ojom turned back at her… or not quite. His turn seemed to be a guess. His eyes moved around aimlessly. It was as if she may had wandered back into the crowd to mind her business.

The woman frowned for a moment, if not still quite annoyed from this man's humor from before, "I'm… still here. Over her, Ser Ojom" , her voice ruled out firmly.

"That bad? I can feel you don't seem to like me at all", the swarthy man added as he somewhat turned towards the source of her voice, "Oh dear. I'm really bad with women. Legion Commander Tresdin is going to killl me. I'm not even a moment here, and I'm already making enem-"

She immediately spoke out, if not outright interrupting him, "Friends call me Ifnot!"

Ojom cowered slightly, "Hey. I'm blind, not deaf."

She was about to reply back, if not with an insult, when she slowly began to notice something. She looked around, noticing that some people had already recovered their vision. She look right back at him, if not with a sorrowful gaze.

"The clot disappeared. This is the moment when I should actually see something again, but… Hmm. I had such hopes. And all I see is darkness again", he sung, "I actually should thank you, Ifnot - provided we can be friends? And why do your friends call you If-not? Sounds… unusual for a name. All due resp-"

He felt her arms slip off.

"Th-Thank me? For what? I don't think I understand. A-anyways. That's my nickname I go. That's just because one of the key attributes hexprogramming go by is If-Not logic instead of the typical If-Then clause. Let's just say I'm very good at -engineering thinking. Well. I… better get back to work. I think you should follow the others. It seems like your delegation-friend is waving you to come."

He made a gentle scoff, then muttered "Ehh… He's a nice fellow, but he's quite the imbecile. How many times do I have to tell them that…"

She turned and made several steps away, if not rather reluctantly. But then she stopped, noticing that he was still standing. His eyes wandered around but they seemed lost.

He seemed to talk into the emptiness before him, "Lady Ifnot… If not you're still there… I… would really enjoy you being my guide. Let's just say I was unable to acquire one before this journey. I assured my Legion Commander that I would not disturb or slow the delegation down with my affliction. I would be really honored if you could be my eyes? I'm sure your superiors will understand that I need your guide. Stonehall will greatly compensate you and any of the Demacian who may think otherwise about this - We know how to pay, diplomatically, if you know what I mean. You have my word. Gramted, we have very horrible humor, but good knowledge of human nature and appreciation. Aaand… well… You actually allowed me to see something else. For that, I'm thankful… Perhaps you can share me your Demacian knowledge of human hex-nature?", the swarthy man once again made a humble smile.

The smile of the man was so kind and unusual, it crumbled whatever stonewall his humor had built between them, if not outright melting her heart that was right behind it.

"Wh-Wh… You… Oh. You're…? I didn't even", she stammered, if not feeling guilty.

Ojom straightened his back and slowly slipped his hand down his staff, "As I said. We have horrible humor, especially about the things that afflict us. I suppose it keeps us alive, as this staff does. But a staff never talks back. Sadly, if not horribly tragic."

His blind eyes finally met the target for once. She chuckled, if not willing to surrender to his kindness. She made steps back to him and wrapped her arm around his, soon to guide him with the majority of the group.

Some of the people had passed out for a moment. Again, it was clear that some of these noble fool had little knowledge about the mana-saping side-effects such hextech equipment could have - especially for those who had grafted their bodies with all those little quality-of-life gimmicks.

The young lady was not far away from the events that took place around her, allowing her to witness most of it.

On the other hand, something did disturb the young luminous lady. She noted the particular female uncanny individual further away, who just recovered from the blast, like several others of her kind. Only a separate few of the palace guards cared to tend those like her, as the rest unfortunately had to help those the luminous lady hatefully called Demacian fools. It also seemed as if this unusual individual had clumsily dropped the plate full of wine glasses… and clearly, the floor won that confrontation with ease. But why were they blaming such a hextech maiden like her? Of course, she was a special kind of hextech-infused being compared to the other hexmaiden and hexgentlemen.

"Stupid 'xaiden and hexmen!", one of the Demacian nobles angrily muttered, just barely able to keep his voice low, "How many times do we have to tell you not to be so close to us or this platform. It's always the same with you 'robots'. The feedback that especially you caused knocked out the group besides you. And their expensive equipment. The entire tech is fried! Get out of here at once before you bring more shame to the entire Demacian pride!"

Hexmaiden… Hexen… 'Xaidens. Hexgentlemen. Hexmen. 'Xens. Bloody cogbrains. Idiot clockpeople. Begone, gearhead. Only a few of many names for the same. Those who were a little more than apparently-sentient mechanical servants that replaced the non-Demacian slaves that once acutally served and built up Demacia as well a century ago, if not millenia ago according to the rest of Runeterra's dysfunctional history. But how could the pride-and-freedom-mongering Demacia of today claim such if they simply replaced human's servitude by that of another unusual lineage? Firstly, and that one being any slaver's first excuse; One could not claim them to be of a bloodline, for they did not have flesh and blood like the others such as the around them. Then again, it would remain an irony that many of them were actually humans once… Nonetheless, these beings enjoyed to help somehow. But they never seemed to gain the respect for their offers and duties.

When she spoke, one could compare the hexmaiden's voice to series of accords, alike a small symphony meant to imitate the natural charm of those of flesh and bone, "Ah-Ya-YEs, siR. ForGIve my… induuulgeNce", the particular hexen's voice hummed almost monotonously, as she was on knees, attempting to pick up the plate and some of the glass shards, "It seeMs our hexcores must haVe flUxed with the rinG as well… WeLL… In particulaR. Mine. PleaSe excuSe this. The discharGe has depriVed me greatlY of my heXcapacitors. I aM in desperate need to wiNd myself again… if I am to continUe mY serviCe."

The kneeling Hexmaiden moved forward to a single crawl and attempted to reach for shattered pieces. Her hand however twitched several times as she failed to grab the shards.

"Ehh, great. I can barely understand what you say. Not only that. Now you're glitchy and all that. You can't even hold the damn thing. Bloody gear whore. Lucky for us that our visitors are still blinded by the hex teleportation", the noble muttered just barely at the edge of killing the whispering, "Now you listen. They will soon noticed something if you don't bloody hurry, clumsy mechling. We have a face to lose. Demacia cannot allow to show any weakness or stupidity in a political event like this one. Now… Pick. Up. The. Mess. You. Made… or I will ha-!"

A deep voice of a man spoke, "— Never mind her. I got this, Keril-saii. My patrolmen will help clean this up. The foreign delegations will not see this. I have already called more men to present columns to block the sight. With all due respect, ser, I highly recommend you join the ranks of your house again to ensure you are not acquainted with this situation."

The two looked over at a particular man with dark skin; A hexknight of the watch. He wore an armored suit and closed helmet akin to knight, along with a very long lance-rifle held vertically upon the floor. Only his eyes and the oper half of his nose was visible. Keril shortly gazed upon the hexknight. He raised his hand, ready to respond most likely with another complaint when he noted one of the other celebrities waving him to get back into the front row before other people and the media would notice. Clattering echos of hextrooper boots slowly approached the area. Many of the distant foreign delegates seemed highly impressed of their formations as they moved. Their appearance indeed distracted all eyes. Keril urged to speak as he raised his finger the hexknight once more, but no word left his mouth. The angered Demacian royal then simply wandered off, while madly waving his finger at the Hexmaiden who still remained on all four limbs a dog.

"Höllen des Äquators…", the hexknight sighed, then turned over towards the uncanny individual below, "They will never learn..."

"I apologizE foR -", her modulated voice hummed.

"No, Orianna", The dark man immediately shot," I was referring these Demacian fleshling like him. Even if it's by your politeness, don't ever apologize to me or any of them. You're protected by Demacian constitution and are an equal as I am, regardless of rank or social caste or status. Never forget that. Now, just leave the glass on the floor. The troopers will block vision and help remove the mess.. Get off your knees, Demacian."

"VerY. V-Vrr-WEll… Ser DeoNos", the Hexmaiden replied and lifted herself, though clumsily.

Deonos used his free hand to help the mechanical lady get onto her feet, "Hmm. Seems like that surge really struck you hard. I suppose it siphoned the power out of you."

Orianna wobbled as she stood there. Normally, she was the one to remain perfectly still out of the many of her uncanny species. But now, whatever improvements she had were gone, and she was trembling just as much as the other Demacian nobles who were still shaken by the unexpected discharge.

"Y-YEs."

The hexknight took no time waste, "You said you need to charge or so. I think it would be best that you and your Hexpeople retreat and recuperate. If the nobles act up again, tell them you are following the orders of a hexknight. Mention my name and regiment if you must. I know I should not repeat it, but you've helped Demacia more than once as the Lady of Clockwork. It always is a shame for me that this honor has never been respected by anybody else. You are now helping a multitude of Zaun and Piltover hexpeople as yourself. You're leading them. Dreamers who see you as their guiding light into this dreadful Demacian society. You might not know it, but they look at you. They look up to you, Orianna. Never forget that as well. Just as how some of the troopers believe in me and my command, you need to understand that that responsibility also counts for you. Even now."

The Lady of Clockwork pivoted her loose head around the neck with a 360 degree turn.

"I… seEee theM. But thEy hiiide tHeir gazEs when I spoT theM. Whyyy?", she seemed to wonder, "I am oNe of theeeM. I dO not undeRstaaaanD."

"Patience. Orianna. We're all only human. As I said, it's a shame none of the Demacian fleshlings care about your efforts."

A beat of time slipped by. The hexmaiden raised her head slightly, as if she noticed something.

"A-At least one persnndoezZZ", her monotonous voice glitched at first, she then repeated it again but the exact same phrase glitched again, "IndeeeEd. I musT… wiND. My heXcogS must have suff'rD dmGsh… I aM d'fferenT thaN thE otheRs, howEver. They only requirE crude mana. I… reQuire to… wYnd myself at some pOint. I need my kEy. HoweVer… I aM not surE if I can establiSh mY hexcogs any tiMe sooMmm… sOO… 'ooN-"

Deonos raised his other hand, "I understood you. No need to rush back here. Don't take this wrong, Orianna, but it is best that your kinfolk stay away from the Demacian politicians and royals. And don't worry. I will ensure that you or any of your people shall be summoned only if absolutely necessary. At least if I can keep watch on all of them. Tell… ball, I said hello. I must return to my duty, Demacian. I am still a hexknight of the Vanguard. We shall speak again. Hopefully. One last thing. Even if we fleshlings are monsters, we're not all evil. There is good. I recommend you explore your humanity as well. Just… avoid spinning your head beyond those limits of a human around other Demacians. They might not understand you. I must leave."

"PerhaAAps I-", but that was when her voice instantly disappeared.

He waited for her to end her sentence but Orianna simply remained silent. Perhaps her audio drivers glitched out? Another moment of silence between them passed by before armored hexknight would shortly nod, lift his long lance-rifle and march off. He moved past the robotic maiden, who quietly followed his militaristic pace until he disappeared into the ranks of troopers who can to offer their support to her hexfolk.

Orianna's lips sung wordlessly, "Th-Thank… youuu. Deonus. Perhaaaps I could dance for youuu in retuuurn? It would be an honor. Pleasuuure."

The man kept moving, for he could not hear the plea of the mute hexmaiden.

The luminous young lady seemed happy about what she saw as she silently had been staring over her shoulder most of the time. By now, various of her ranks had interacted with other foreign delegates. The young man with the wide shoulder also figured he could not stare hatred upon her forever as other people frequently showed up to speak with him. Even though the young lady was far away, her grafted heximplants allowed her to eavesdrop on what was going in these two situations of people interacting with each other.

You noble fools were not the only one with hextoys, her thoughts noted. She grinned and-

Suddenly.

She felt a very cold shiver upon her spine.

Literally.

The charming voice of a young woman sung directly into her mind.

"Wow. And neither are you… Luxanna Crownsguard… or should I say, Lady of Luminosity . It's all diplomatic after all, right? You're just as witty and clumsy as I knew you before before, my guiding light. Mhh-heh-eh ?"

The eyes of the luminous young lady widened. The voice was soft… no, smooth— that was not it. Gentle. No… Her mind simply could not find the right words. The voice was just as beautiful as friendly and musical it was. At the same time, her common sense immediately noticed that only one other person could listen to that exact frequency hexthoughts' she accidentally had submitted.

"Stunned, aren't you? Mh-hm", the voice chuckled, "Well… Don't just stand there, my guiding light. I see you. You don't see me. Perhaps you can find me. How about this?", there was a pause, before the voice heightened slightly, " It stands still. We never cared. But we enjoyed being there. "

Luxanna simply stood there, with her back still towards the source of the voice. The shiver on her back had melted into a single drop that ran down the valley of her spine. Now her cheeks gleamed. The words she just heard in her mind…

It was a like a challenge.

A test.

A riddle…

Given by the only person she had cared for and for whom she had been hoping to ever see again for a long, long time.

Her subtle face wrote nothing, but her mind spoke the words: My dearest friend… I know the place you seek.