A/N: Try to update weekly… what a lie that was . The prologue has been edited. I simply do not think it was… that well-written XD
Talon was awakened by Katarina's falcon tapping on his window.
It was dark out still, made worse by the thick rainclouds blocking any trace of the bleeding sunlight onto the horizon.
Talon let the bird in, and it rested itself familiarly onto his hand. Its talons were cool and sharp against his skin, and the light gold and amber feathers were dark from the light rain scattering outside. Its neck turned from side to side as if looking around, but its legs remained still as Talon extracted the message in the metal band, along with a small pouch that hung below it.
Two from Sinful Succulence, read the note, in her thin, elegant handwriting. In the pouch were six pieces of gold. The falcon flitted away and landed on his desk when he finished, and Talon wordlessly put a bowl of water next to the bird.
Quite obviously, Katarina had more pressing matters to discuss with him than to request bakery goods, though the importance of the errand still could not be dismissed. Katarina had always loved sweets too much since childhood; one of the only things that hadn't changed.
He sent the falcon ahead of him when it seemed sufficiently satisfied from the bowl of stale water.
One would have expected more movement early in the morning, considering that this was where some of the most fearsome names have gathered, but it was not so. He and Katarina always seemed to be awake the earliest, minus some of the more vigilant Ionians and others who never seemed to sleep. The Freljordians, who were used to the colder, darker days, woke up later in general, though recently, they adjusted themselves into waking up earlier. It would have been a cinch to slip into one of their rooms, and slit their throats in their sleep if needed be, but that was neither allowed nor required at the moment, since this Institute of War was found under the name of justice.
Justice.
Demacia defined the word as saving weaklings, and the Ionians believed in some balance and harmony. Noxus believed in nothing. Justice was not a part of the everyday Noxian vocabulary. Oaths made by blades and bloodshed spoke louder than this ideal that governed the minds of fools.
He quickly washed and tied his long brown hair back before dressing in his usual blue attire. With blade latched to his right arm, and countless others hidden beneath his clothing and pouches, he set off. He was offered, along with Katarina and Cassiopeia, a residence at a luxurious suite in the middle of city square, as a courtesy from Jarvan IV. Being General Du Couteau's daughters, the two girls had to accept, but Talon had managed to refuse, hiding himself away in this small, run-down inn in the back alley. It was where he felt the most comfortable. His blade was the most frightening thing in any dark streets. An amateur back alley like this was no match compared to the Noxian Underground passageways.
He found his way out of the maze-like alleys, into the main square.
Three blocks down, Morgana, the exiled angel, was leaning by her stand in a lazy manner. Her purplish skin looked cold, and her dark violet hair seemed messy and unruly from the humidity. Perhaps for this reason, she looked angrier than usual. "Need something?" She asked in her usual, low voice.
"Two," he said.
"Which ones?"
There were steaming cookies on the racks that were just baked. Some of them were round, some square, some had colors, and some were entirely brown. He didn't know the name of those ones Katarina always bought.
"Which ones?" She repeated, impatiently.
"Those," he pointed carelessly, at the cat-shaped ones with sugar sprinkled on top. For someone making confections, Morgana was an extremely bitter host.
She bagged the two with surprising care and speed. "Six gold," she said.
He emptied the contents of the pouch onto her hands.
She counted it quickly, and simply tossed it into her gold jar below the counter. There was no other sort of farewell.
It was no wonder her business shut down back in Noxus. With a service like that, even Noxians would feel unwelcome, though Katarina had remained a loyal customer, unbeknownst to most people in the world.
Demacian guards were positioned all around the luxurious lodging, as the light-mage girl and the half-dragon woman stayed here as well. The Prince and his general had insisted that guards be dispatched for the three Noxians as well – him and the Du Couteau sisters – but of course, they declined this offer. It felt too much like imprisonment. Nevertheless, the guards knew their face by now, so they didn't question him as he stepped into the inn, though they did watch him warily. Had he gone towards the direction of the Demacian quarters, they'd have seized him, or tried. Demacia and the Du Couteau family were tentative allies for now, but again, it was for now.
He didn't bother knocking Katarina's door, as he knew that she knew he was there. Both of them were trained to feel one another's presence – as well as anyone else's – before they even reached the door. They used to play games with it.
As soon as he opened the door, he smelled her tea of bergamot and rose. He didn't even know what bergamot was before she introduced the tea to him. Earl Grey, it was called, named after some count in a fairy-tale land called England. Katarina was looking out the window, as she often did when it rained. The sun was at the edge of the sky now, muted into an orange haze behind rain clouds. Her slender index finger, which usually was hooked to the end of a knife, was delicately curved around a steamy white teacup. She was weaponless at the moment, only dressed in a black tank top and cotton leggings.
"Care for some?" She asked offhandedly, raising the teacup slightly.
"No," he said, taking a seat on the arm chair at the edge of the table. He put down the bag of cookies in front of her. "Interesting breakfast choice," Talon decided to comment.
Without a reply, she reached into the bag and pulled out a cookie. Katarina didn't admit to liking anything but killing, but he knew her for long enough that she didn't admit to anything other than violence. The large brown sofa made her appear small, and maybe even vulnerable, as she sat there with a cat-shaped cookie in hand. He knew of course, that she kept knives hidden all over the room – under her pillow, in her drawers, behind most of the paintings, and under the lamp shades.
"You summoned me?" He said.
"I have matches all day today," she said, with a hint of irritation. She observed the cookie, tracing the edges with her finger before taking a dainty bite of the ear. She almost seemed childlike as she licked the grains of sugar on her lips. The hot tea she'd been drinking made them redder than usual.
Usually, a summoner must have notified the champion at least three days prior to a match, but sometimes under special circumstances – that the League determined – they were called on immediately. For this reason, at least ten champions were to be available on-call at all times, rotating this role on a weekly basis. Sometimes, however, a specific summoner requested a specific champion, and of course, an exception was always made in favor of the summoners.
"Ferohim?" Talon asked.
"Emia," she said.
"Who?"
The two of them and Cassiopeia usually discussed with one another before making a contract with a summoner. These were delicate times, and the three of them had a common goal, to find General Du Couteau. Talon had never heard of Emia before, and he doubted that Cassiopeia knew about her either.
Katarina's eyes were unreadable, but that alone spoke enough. Something was up when the cold edge was replaced by nothing. "A new summoner," Katarina said, looking into her tea cup. "Ferohim is dead."
This was why she called him this morning, he realized now. He could have howled in frustration. Ferohim was the first summoner Katarina connected with, and also someone who was genuinely interested in finding General Du Couteau. "How?" Talon said in a low growl.
"He was murdered," she said quite calmly, "I don't know who; I suppose that is for us to find out."
Ferohim was the best chance they'd had in finding General Du Couteau. If Ferohim was murdered, it could have been for other reasons, but they could not dismiss the possibility Swain, or even Le Blanc, being involved.
Katarina ate the remaining ear on the cat. "It doesn't matter," she said finally. She turned to look at the bleak sunrise amidst the horizon of rain. "We can only plan ahead."
Talon looked too.
The first match began when the Sun was all the way up the horizon. Katarina wasn't even dressed at this point.
"You are needed soon," he said.
Katarina absentmindedly took another sip of her tea, and then set both the cookie and the teacup down onto the table. She brushed off the crumbs and stood in one fluid movement. "Yes. We don't have time. I want you to contact Sona," she said.
"She will have questions," he replied.
"And how is she supposed to ask?" she joked mildly. A corner of her mouth had a slight, upward curl.
"I suppose not, but you know what I mean."
Katarina shrugged. "She hasn't got a choice," she said. "If Aesha summons her, then she will fight. We need her cooperation."
Talon nodded in reply, and withdrew from her room without a sound, into the still dark corridors.
Sona, the Maven of Strings, house Buevelle.
Talon knew her well. Everyone did.
She had the unmistakable long blue hair that was the color of the sky reflected on the shallow ocean waters. She smiled like a moving statue of a goddess, and some even went as far as calling her exactly that. Talon never found her to be much of anything, however. Just a pretty mute girl with some magic powers. He had considered threatening Swain with her life, but that seemed cruel, even to him. She was kind to everyone, Demacians, and Noxians alike.
She was… irritatingly kind.
He stayed away from her if possible, but now, he found that he had little choice. Katarina wanted him to see her, and what Katarina asked, Talon always did. No matter what.
He looked from the alleyway, to the now, brighter main square where people began to start their daily activities. The blue-haired girl always floated along in the mornings to buy bread and fruit around this time, and today, the fox mage was next to her too.
It would have been much easier to threaten someone that could talk. Or fight, for that matter. How is a girl with an instrument supposed to fend for herself, he thought in slight irritation. She wouldn't put up much of a fight if he ever had to kill her.
The girl was looking around, and somehow, her blue eyes met with his. She smiled her tranquil little smile at him, as if he were any other person on the street.
Talon spun a knife into the air, and caught it blade-first between his fingers, scowling a little in annoyance.
The fox mage said something then, and Sona turned to listen to her. And then the two of them moved out of his sight as they turned a corner.