Chapter 2: Dinner
Ashe sat silently at the dinner table as a castle servant set a plate down in front of her. An elk steak accompanied by a Juniper berry mash imparted to the Queen that the hunting parties had been exceedingly successful last week. The unexpected side of grilled asparagus told her that the indoor gardening project was also going well, despite the troubles they'd had protecting the glass greenhouse from hail during the blizzard. This made her smile to herself, though her overall mood was sullen. Another servant poured Ashe a glass of water, the ice cubes clinking sporadically against the glass as the current from the force of the water falling from the pitcher sucked them down into the little undertow. Though the room was full of voices and laughter, all Ashe could hear was the clanging of swords coming from her glass; the echoes of clashing metal. And in the background, though she knew it was the massive fireplace to her right, she could hear the roar of her home burning under Noxian flames.
What if this is a trick? What could we do if three Noxian war caravans just decided to take the town? Oh, this is ridiculous! And we don't even have the assurance that the League would interfere! Avarosa could be scorched to the ground and those summoners might not do ANYTHING about it. I wish I'd never received that letter…
Ashe's mind stopped there. She felt eyes on her face. From across the table, Weylan was giving the Queen a questioning look as he sipped from his mug of ale. Ashe spoke then, her eyes not leaving Weylan's gaze.
"How did that letter make it to the gate of the Estate?"
The room fell silent as everyone there, mainly Ashe's body guards, a few housemaids and Anivia, realized that Ashe was speaking and hadn't said a word all night.
"What do you mean, Your Highness?" asked Ahnja, who was seated two chairs to Ashe's left. The Frost Archer's voice remained cold as she turned her gaze to Bristol, and asked again.
"How in Avarosa's name did a letter sealed with the Noxian crest make its way from a Noxian war camp, through the front gates of the city, and into the hands of my personal body guards at the front gates of this estate?"
Realization wiped the dazed expressions off of Ahnja and Weylan's faces as Bristol replied.
"It was a page, my Queen. A barbarian page. He said it was urgent. We assumed it was from a tribe seeking sanctuary," he said as he glanced at Weylan. "We didn't look at the seal."
"The boy was no older than ten winters, Your Highness," Weylan insisted. "We didn't even think to look at the letter. It was addressed simply to you, though the penmanship on the envelope was quite intricate to be from a barbarian commander. Who was it from?"
Ashe stood and pulled her hood down to address the table. Since Weylan was in charge of the Royal Guard and Siska, Ashe's appointed field general, were both here, she figured now was as good a time as ever to have a strategy meeting about tomorrow. She motioned for Ahnja to close the doors and dismissed the dinner service staff. The remaining soldiers continued to eat, but didn't look away from the Queen as she spoke.
"I received a letter today from the front lines of a Noxian war party. The message, from Katarina Du Couteau, informed me that the Noxian Barbarian Pacification Campain is officially over, and that for the Noxian soldiers to get home safely, they would need to camp outside of Avarosa to regroup and rest before they hike across the plain to the Piltover Pass through the Iron Spike mountains. The Sinister Blade implied that the war caravans may be in need of supplies, but that if we chose not to trade with them, they wished for us to simply leave them alone as they camped for a few days."
The expressions of the soldiers ranged from disgust to disbelief. Weylan set his ale down and crossed his arms stubbornly, his hatred for the Noxians turning the corners of his mouth down and furrowing his brow. But the room remained quiet.
"In light of this new information regarding the barbarian page, it is my belief that these Noxian soldiers may be keeping some of our barbarian brothers and sisters captive as prisoners of war. It is also my belief that their ranks will outnumber us five or six fold based on numbers I've picked up from my dealings at the Institute of War in passing conversations with Nunu and Tryndamere. They've been having a hard time fighting off the Noxians. Much blood has already been spilled, and the nomads have resorted to hiding in the mountains to the south of our own Frostfall Forest. Based on these facts, it is my prerogative to ensue trading with the Noxians as soon as they arrive tomorrow afternoon. Though I despise the idea as much as you do, I believe it our duty to trade whatever we can for the freedom of those Freljordians in Noxian captivity."
"The elders won't like it," Siska murmered, her brown eyes rising in concern to meet the Queen's icy gaze.
"No. They won't. And neither will the other tribes of Freljord, but we're the last chance for the prisoners if they truly are captured and traveling with the Noxians to Piltover. How they are ensuring themselves safe passage through there, I have no idea, but I speculate that Zaun will have something to do with it."
"I can do some scouting tonight, if Her Highness wishes it so," Anivia offered from the Queen's right.
"Can you stay out of sight?" Ashe's eyes fell to the table.
"I can call upon a storm to keep the Noxians from looking up. They've a tender foot when it comes to snow. I'll count vehicles and tents, and see if I can't get an eye on a barbarian among them," the bird replied.
Ashe only nodded before the Cryophoenix turned and unhooked the window at the far end of the room and then took off without a word into the freezing air. A soldier rose to shut out the cold that began to instantly seep into the room.
"There will be no blood tomorrow," Ashe continued. "Do you understand?"
Siska and a few other soldiers nodded.
"Siska, I need you to spread the word around town. Call a meeting tomorrow before noon. The Noxians should begin arriving later, closer to evening, but I want everyone to know well before then. I've got a match at the Institute first thing tomorrow, and it's hard telling how long I'll be gone, but I'll speak with my summoner should I feel he's kept me too long. Hopefully I can speak with Tryndamere in private while I'm there."
She turned to Weylan.
"You're in charge of any exchanges that might occur in the event that I'm gone when the Noxians get here. You've access to my quarters. Nothing is more important than the liberation of the barbarians that may be enslaved by Noxus."
Weylan nodded.
"That's it then," Ashe finished. "I apologize for interrupting your dinner."
Ashe eyed her own plate as she sat back down. Ahnja, who'd been standing at the door to the kitchen, re-opened it, revealing several servants who'd been pressing their ears against the wood. She gave the three of them a stern look before sending them to pick up the empty plates on the table.
Some of the soldiers resumed their conversations, but none were nearly as jubilant as they had been before. Most of them had finished eating while listening to the Queen's plans, and were standing to return to their barracks in the North wing.
Ashe called Ahnja to her and asked that she take the untouched dinner plate to her room where she planned to pick at it and brood in solitude, though she remained stoic and even managed a half-smile at the housemaid. As she got up to leave, a hand caught her wrist.
"Your Majesty," Weylan said as he leaned over the table, "might I talk to you in private for a moment?"
Ashe nodded and dismissed Ahnja, who shooed away the other servants and shut the door to the hallway behind her.
Weylan's expression was beyond concerned as he continued.
"What if it's all a ruse? What if Noxus plans to attack Avarosa? What could we do? What if while you're gone they…"
Ashe raised a hand to silence him.
"I'm going back to the Institute very early tomorrow. Anivia will fly me there. I will demand to speak to High Councilor Relivash before I'll do anything on Summoner's Rift. He will see me. I'll express my concerns there, but until something happens there's nothing I can do. You know this."
She allowed her face to reveal some of her concerns to her old friend.
"I don't have a solution yet," she admitted. "Even if Noxus doesn't attack us tomorrow afternoon, how long will it be before they find some other ridiculous reason to slay and enslave the people of Freljord? The War Machine of Noxus feeds on this kind of confrontation. They want more power. They want more land. They won't stop until all of Valoran flies their hideous flag."
Weylan sighed.
"My words do not comfort you."
"No, my Queen. Not entirely," Weylan admitted.
"Walk me to my quarters," Ashe offered. "Tell me what you think I should do."
As the pair walked slowly through the halls, Weylan discussed every possible outcome that could manifest in the waning hours of the sun the next day. A night raid, a full out assault from the get-go, a stand-off… He'd thought of everything. And none of the results ended in an Avarosan victory.
"And Katarina insisted that you be the one to negotiate when she arrives?"
Ashe nodded.
"Your Highness, please pardon my suspicions, but I fear that this is merely a trap. If you go alone, she'll have a knife at your throat in an instant. If you take a guard, she'll cry an assault and take the whole party out. She's not the 'Sinister Blade of Noxus' for nothing," Weylan whispered.
"I appreciate the concern, old friend. I don't intend on going out there completely alone. I've lived through one too many assassinations to do that. I intend to meet her half way. I'll see if I can't get a message to her or one of her superiors tomorrow morning."
As the Queen said this, they reached her bedroom on the top floor of the North wing of the castle.
"One day, I think blades will be crossed with Noxus," Ashe sighed, "but that day must not be tomorrow. Not when our biggest goal is to persuade the League that Freljord is worthy of city-statehood under their protection. We don't have the support to get our way this time."
Weylan's eyes dropped to the floor.
"I'm sorry I've doubted you, my Queen," Weylan said.
"No," Ashe said. "I'm sorry I've not been successful at the Institute. All of these problems wouldn't exist without their endorsement."
"But you can't just make them suddenly change their minds, Your Highness. You're an archer, not a lunatic summoner with mind control powers."
"I'm a diplomat, Weylan. Half the job is learning to control people's minds. And for the record, that's not how it works," she chuckled.
He half-smiled at the floor as Ashe placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Ease your mind, soldier. No knives have been drawn, no arrows knocked. Sleep in peace tonight, brother."
"That diplomat talk doesn't work on me, Ashe."
She was surprised he'd used her name. Since her official coronation, Weylan, just like the rest of Avarosa, had only addressed her by her royal title. He looked just as surprised as he must've remembered his place.
"I… I mean…"
Though she was actually quite unsettled at how much she liked the sound of her name in his voice, the Queen replied just as coolly as she'd been speaking the entire time.
"And that sweet talk doesn't work on me, Captain," she added emphasis to the last word to remind Weylan of his duties; to her and to Freljord. There was no room for him to start making haphazard mistakes. He had no place to use her name like that.
Weylan closed his eyes and bowed slightly before the Queen.
"Forgive me, Your Highness, for speaking so out of turn," he murmered. Ashe smiled silently to herself and sighed.
"Go to bed, Weylan," she said, and added in a whisper, "that's an order, Captain."
And with that, the soldier nodded, saluted silently by placing a fist over his heart, and retraced their steps down the hallway towards the spiral staircase where he slipped into a door just before the landing on the opposite side of the hall. Once Ashe was sure no one else was in the hallway, she slouched against her door and placed a hand to her forehead in exhaustion. Then quietly let herself into her room, regrettably tossed her dinner into a wastebasket in the corner, changed into a nightgown, and laid down in the king-sized canopy bed, where she fell into a restless sleep.