Chapter 1: Preparations for Vulnerability
"General Garen. A moment?" Spoke the Demacian Prince, Jarvan the 4th, through the hallway of the barracks.
"Of course my liege." Garen responded, placing the few parchments he had been reading to rest on the table beside him as he leisurely accompanied his friend.
"We have become aware of certain movements made by Darius and Swain. Movements that seem much more than that." Explained the prince, almost gravely.
"You mean to say, another war?"
"I believe so…"
"Then what is this voice I suspect to hear? We are Demacians! War runs within our blood, so long as it threatens the morals we hold so dear. This is cause for celebration!"
"No my friend! We may have strived for war before but... When does it end? I stand for everything you do. Honor and justice, upholding our Nation's laws…"
The prince paused, taking off his helmet as he carefully picked his next words,
"But I have seen more toil in lands, here and far, than any other. And I know, war does not mean peace, nor does it mean the coming of it."
"What is… this… my prince? When did you stray from our code?" Garen asked, nearly therapeutically,
"Oh spare me the concern. As if this barbaric 'moral code' is in anyway good. We send men to die over morality. What philosopher ever included 'death by the thousands' in his literature. Humor me." Spoke Jarvan, throwing his hands into the air and facing the small window beside him.
Garen fell silent for a moment, balling his hands to contain his frustration with the once proud Prince of Demacia. Clenching his teeth, he muttered,
"If war does not cease then so be it. We have strove to uphold the Demacian Code for too long for it to be derailed by some newfound pacifist."
Jarvan turned swiftly, with awakened resolve,
"Hold thine tongue! We may be friends, but I am no man to be tested on petty words. What I am saying is that you are to avoid needless loss of lives. If Swain desires war... he will have one. But as we stand now, Demacia does not want one."
Garen stood silent, glaring into the eyes of his friend. A moment later, he soluted and briskly walked back to his original post, with evident anger residing within him.
The Prince sighed with pity for his friend. No man should ever hold such a warrior's heart within him, one that would allow killing to uphold a code.
Turning back to the window, the Prince could see the Conqueror's Sea, in all of it's majesty, resting alongside his own state.
"How ironic…" thought Jarvan, chuckling to himself.
Taking a moment to replace his helmet, The son of the King began to walk back along his path, opening the door to his barracks and onto the street of his city. For all the strength in his heart, he couldn't bring himself to endanger his people. What the General sees as sparkling new opportunities, himself sees as the most feared horror he could bring upon his nation.
A single tear strolled down The Warrior Prince's cheek.
"May we find peace in this time."