Chapter 2 - Weakness
For the third time that day Zed found himself carrying a destroyed dummy out of the Institute's training room. He had a simple philosophy when it came to practicing; if you don't fight like you could die, then you deserve to die. He treated every dummy as though they could strike back at him at any moment, feinting imaginary swiped and jumping non-existent magical strikes. He already had a thick coating of sweat covering his brow, his breathing steady but deep. He made a point of coming down early so that the other champions knew to give him space, and would train until late or until his body simply refused to move anymore. The latter rarely happened. Today however was different, and he found himself spacing his exertion, keeping his body firmly within the realm of painless. Breaking his moral code for a girl, he hoped she'd appreciate his sacrifice to seem like pleasing company.
When she finally made her way to the training centre, she wasn't sure what to expect. She hated to believe she cared what the assassin thought about her, but the truth was she was a little nervous. She was one of the greatest threats to Valoran, friends were not easy to find. If Zed had even the slightest potential to be one, how could she possibly say no? She could hear him long before she saw him, grunts and bangs filing the echoing halls she walked down. She waited by the doorway before entering, waiting for the sounds to die down. Eventually they did, and she rounded the corner, fully composed as though she hadn't been waiting outside for him.
"Good morning Zed." He grunted, going back to throwing his blades at the dummy. Syndra stood there somewhat awkwardly, not sure what he was expecting her to do, so she decided to take a seat and wait until he talked to her. This gave her an opportunity to properly take in the assassin, something she struggled to do in their fighting yesterday. It was hard to get an idea for what he was like beneath his armour, but the way he carried himself on slightly bent legs and back straight made her imagine that his chest was probably the strongest part of his body from all the pressure it was put under. In spite of the bulky armour and his presumably toned body, he moved quite swiftly, feet skimming across the floor as he positioned and repositioned himself within simple moments. Syndra found herself drawn into the pattern of his movements, memorising them, for future fights of course.
"Are you going to stare at me the whole time or are you going to train?" Syndra was suddenly brought back to reality, blushing a little at being caught unawares.
"I'm a mage, using my abilities on simple dummies does nothing for me."
"Fair point." Zed slowly stopped himself, pushing the dummy towards the far wall and taking a defensive stance while facing Syndra.
"Don't tell me you intend to fight like that?" Zed followed his words with two swift blades, which Syndra deflected with her magic, shooting herself into the air at the same time. Syndra retaliated with some orbs of her own, only to have Zed shift to a shadow behind her, rendering all the attacks pointless.
This continued for some time, both throwing spells and weapons at each other while dodging constantly. Sometime during this both had started smiling and laughing, genuinely enjoying the risk that their lives could end at any moment; this was not the Rift, death was not so simple. Syndra inevitably landed some abilities, giving Zed the odd burn even through his armour, while Zed successfully gave Syndra the odd cut in recompense. Eventually the injuries stacked up, and they reached a mutual decision to stop fighting, leaning against one of the walls and sharing a drink of water that Zed had brought with him that morning.
"You fight well, for a mage." Syndra smiled, accepting the compliment as the best Zed was probably capable of. She looked at the scratch on the back of her hand, the largest she had received in the small clash. It stung, a lot, but she didn't really mind. She'd have more than enough time once she returned to her home to fix it up. At the moment, it had a strange beauty to it.
"You're not too bad yourself." Zed took another swig of his drink before putting it back in the small cooler he had with him.
"So, oh great and powerful Dark Sovereign, care to explain your situation to me." Syndra's face darkened at Zed's words, and he instantly regretted saying them.
"Do not call me that. I am Syndra, not that… monster." Zed shifted so he could see Syndra's face better, now deeply curious.
"Ok then Syndra, are you willing to tell me?" She didn't say anything, looking straight ahead as though in deep thought. She stayed that way for a long time, and eventually Zed leant back, content in waiting for her to reply. She did speak eventually, but her voice lacked lots of the confidence it normally had.
"The Dark Sovereign is a metaphysical being, a power source if you want. I can call upon that power with my magic, but in doing so I gain some of her personality; her ruthlessness, brutality, violence… When I am not channelling my magic I am very much normal, with normal emotions, which does extend as far as kindness, not that you'd know much about that." Zed grunted, not offering any meaningful response.
"What's your excuse, where does your evil reside?" Zed looked at Syndra for a moment, before reaching up and loosening his mask. He let it drop to the floor, revealing a series of horrible scars across his otherwise flawless face.
"I'm merciless and ruthless because that is all life has ever been to me. When you live how I live, survive what I have survived, you realise there is little room in this pathetic little world for sentiment." There was a long silence, neither willing to say anything, Zed leaving his scars open for observation.
"I don't believe you." Zed looked across at Syndra, raising an eyebrow at her words. She didn't meet his gaze, but put her hand on his shoulder, much like he had done to her yesterday.
"Everyone has some kindness within them, they just need to figure out how to use it." Zed shook her off, standing up and putting his mask back on.
"Not everyone." He scooped up his weapons, making his way to the exit before being stopped by another of Syndra's orbs. He didn't give her the courtesy of watching him turn around.
"I'm done Syndra, leave me be."
"And I'm not done, so deal with it." Zed clenched his fists, lowering his voice to almost a whisper, but letting out a rumbling growl which made the hair on Syndra's neck stand on end.
"What do you want with me?" He felt her come up behind him, her hand hovering slightly above his shoulder before being retracted, her clearly thinking better of the contact.
"I want you to stay and talk. Please, you may claim to have no kindness, but you've been nice to me so far." Now Zed turned, anger in his voice.
"How can you be so weak? You are supposed to be the greatest threat to Ionia, yet you would let yourself fall victim to such a meaningless sentiment as friendship. That is true weakness, and I will have no part of it." Syndra slapped him, no magic behind it, but Zed could still feel it through his armour. He was sure her hand would be throbbing from the contact, but she showed no sign of it.
"If you genuinely care so little for me or my feelings, why did you bother asking me here?" She stormed out of the room, leaving Zed standing dumbstruck in the training room. He slipped his fingers below his mask, feeling the position on his face where her hand had collided. As he had assumed, the metal armour had cut into his cheek, and small rivulets of blood were trickling down to his chin.
Maybe she's not as weak as I assumed.
He couldn't bring himself to continue training, instead making his way through the Institute with the intention of returning home. Ten minutes later, he found himself standing in the same clearing, the same ancient trees greeting him. Rather than turn to the temple, he headed off in the other direction, following an equally well-known path to him. Soon he found himself in the ruins of a village, burned out houses surrounding a simple dirt road. The village was pretty much built into the forest, constantly under the cover of foliage, which made it a wonderful location for a ninja who manipulated the shadows. Zed still had no clue what the story behind the village was; he had never found mention of it in any Ionian reports or maps. The only other person who knew about the village, as far as he knew, could shed no light on its origins, but claimed it had been destroyed during the Noxian invasion. Either way, the vision of desolation reassured Zed of his morals and endeavours, and he made a point of visiting the village whenever he found himself doubting his incentives, even if he had promised his friend long ago that it would be their place to share. He rubbed his temples at that train of thought; not wanting to go down that rabbit hole while Syndra was already playing with the wiring in his brain. Eventually he found himself in the centre of the village, grass covering the small clearing that had probably once been the main square. There was a crack of thunder overhead and a slight drizzle of rain began to make its way to the ground. Zed couldn't care less about the rain, the faint pattering as it collided with his armour offering, if anything, a soothing rhythm to the normally dead silent village. He set himself down in the middle of the square, crossing his legs as he emptied his mind of worries. He focussed entirely on the rain, the world seeming to slow as he pictured the shape of every droplet as it fell, the tip flicking up into a point, the explosion as one collided with another, sending many more droplets in a whole manner of directions, all to fall until reaching the same fate as their parents. One could not help but marvel at nature's ability to mimic life so vividly.
When Zed finally returned to the temple that evening he was in a much better state than he had been upon leaving the Institute. That being said, he bypassed all the students in the training grounds and aspirant generals seeking his wisdom, retreating immediately to his floor for some well deserved rest. He threw himself upon his bed, taking his armour off as he let his back sink into the soft mattress. Today had been too busy already; any paperwork could wait for another day. Once he was rid of his armour, enjoying the freedom of wearing nought but the singlet and shorts, he allowed himself the privilege of sleep, closing his eyes. His duties, however, did not have as much respect for his desires. A knock came upon his door, instantly waking him from his rest, and irritating him in no small degree. He went over to the door, opening it to take in whoever was on the other side. The poor messenger who had been tasked with this job was already beginning to regret his decision to knock, and seeing Zed with no armour on seemed to fill him with even more dread, as he knew quite well the master assassin's opinion on his sign of weakness. In that moment however, Zed was too exhausted to properly care.
"This had better be important brother." The messenger held out his hand, offering Zed a red-tied scroll bearing a black wax symbol holding it together. Zed recognised it instantly.
"You must be mistaken brother, I do not carry out contracts, can this not be delegated to one of my generals?"
"My orders were to bring this directly to you sir. Apparently it is for your eyes only." This was an odd situation indeed. Zed usually only carried out his own assassinations, working on the idea that the Order needed to prove its prowess with warriors other than himself. He hadn't carried out a generic contract in some time.
"What makes your superior think this is worthy of my time?"
"Apparently the mentioned reward was incredibly high, my master thought it best that it be handled by you." Zed sighed.
"Very well, I will read it and pass my own judgement. You may leave." The messenger hurried away as fast as possible, leaving Zed to look over the contract himself. He approached his desk, laying the contract down and looking at it for a little. Eventually he conceded and, taking one of his knives from his armour, broke the seal, unrolling the scroll so he could read it in full. Once he was done, he set it down on the desk, and leant back in his chair. He ran his hand through his hair, letting out a sigh.
"What did you do?"