Short Chapter to add in some more stuff, not really a full chapter considering the shortness of it.
One Week Later
Darius grumbled as he opened the door to his place. It was a small building on the city's edge, leaving him far from the nobles that lived near the center, and more importantly, Garen. It wasn't too small, but not very large either. There were three rooms, one for sleeping, one for a bathroom with a shower that gratefully had warm water. And the central living area, consisting of a kitchen and a small living room. A fridge and a counter were shoved into the far wall and corner, with a small stove next to them. A small couch against the right wall and a small table in the center, with the left wall consisting of two doors for the other rooms. He shut the door behind him and dropped his keys on the coffee table. He picked up his bag of groceries and started loading them into his small fridge, and slumped onto his couch, grateful to be off of his feet. His job that Garen had supplied him with was a construction job, rebuilding the houses that had fallen into disrepair over the years of them having been built. Most of them were around the city's edge like his own. The good news was he put on some more of his lost weight by what he was eating and the heavy lifting in construction. A problem he was running into was sticking with his new identity. James Rush, age 28, formerly of Piltover. Ironic. The only city-state in Valoran that threw him out now is where he is from. He had seen little of Garen lately, as the only time he saw him was two days ago on his promised weekly visits. He left a wad of crumpled bills, a book, and, surprisingly, a small dirk sheathed in leather. He assumed it was because he was living in the slums of Demacia, if they could be called slums. There was the everyday burglar or mugger, but far fewer than how many were in Noxus. Even then, Darius could hold his own against them, his military training a wonderful defence. Still, he strapped the dirk to the inside of his leg, hidden in his boot. His thoughts began to wander as he sat there, sitting and contemplating. They wandered to his travels and what he learned on the long road to freedom of his own demons. He learned about the wilderness and what plants he could eat; expanding his already large volume of edible plants. He learned to shoot a bow, as he had no need to fight from a distance, instead wading into the thick of battle with his axe and heavy armor. He liked the feel of his bow, and prefered it to having hunted his first rabbit with his bare hands, strangling it to death. He used sapling limbs to form the bow, and, gruesomely, used a dried tendon to form his bowstring. It was bloody work, and it made him shudder every time he drew it, but he had to survive somehow. He shook his head. Thinking about such things would do no good. It was in the past. Suddenly feeling as if his apartment was too small, figuratively, he grabbed his keys and stumbled out into the afternoon light, locking the door behind him. Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets to keep warm. The months before snowdown were harsh in Demacia, and in snowdown it was no less so. Darius trudged his way up and out of the city, away from the slums and those who lived there, headed for the woods to clear his head. He found that the loud city still gave him headaches. Even after a week there, he still preferred the quiet, stillness of the wild.
In the woods, he found a small stump to sit upon. He had taken to meditation when the long, tireless nights had taken him and could not sleep. Ever so slowly he relaxed his breathing and let the sounds of the forest come to him. The sound of a woodpecker in a nearby tree, the sound of crickets coming out early, the sound of tree boughs creaking under weight.
Darius opened his eyes. The sound of boughs creaking was not a natural one. Someone had followed him. Was it someone from Noxus hoping to take him unawares for leavin? No, no one knew where he went. No one would follow him to such great extent, all across Valoran to kill him. He wasn't fast during his travels, and he knew any killer could have taken his life easily. He almost let them in Piltover. No, this was someone new, someone who had tracked him from Demacia. The quiet creaking of branches grew closer. The person was coming closer. He tracked their point from where he was at, without moving his muscles, as if still deep in meditation. Soon, they would be close to glimpse in the trees.
He sat in wait.
The intruder was kneeling in the closest tree to him, oblivious to the fact that Darius was alerted to their presence. He couldn't make out much with the remaining leaves stubbornly sticking to the trees limbs, but he could make out a slight flash of what looked like blue. Darius' senses instantly went to high alert. The last time he saw that color, the violet-blue hue, was back in Noxus.
Talon.
He had followed him. From Noxus. But, how had he known he was here? He had heard some rumors about him and Garen's sister, but in reality, they seemed far too fake to be true. Talon, a cold blooded assassin, with a bubbly light mage? Not likely. But he was here. And Darius was about to be killed by Noxus' most notorious assassin.
He wouldn't let him be killed in the forest, the only place he felt safe nowadays. Without alerting his watcher, he shifted his weight slightly, ready to run. At the same time, he heard his stalker do the same. So he was watching more than he thought. It was time to go. Any time longer and he would be lying on the ground with a knife in his throat. Darius bolted. He heard the crashing of branches as he ran, his stalker not bothering to be quiet. Darius became frantic. Talon had the high ground, and he couldn't run from a highly trained assassin that could trace you by smelling the same air you breathed an hour ago. He had to outsmart him. He was a little bit more familiar with the terrain than Talon was, so he could try to lose him in the forest. Darius dashed off to the side, through a thicket. The crashing ahead, from his past walks through the forest, he knew that there was a gentle stream, with a clearing ahead. He would be out in the open where hopefully he could have the upper hand in hand-to-hand combat. Just a little farther.
As soon as he heard the gurgling of the stream, a weight hit his back, dropping him to the ground. Darius rolled to the side and grabbed at his boot, trying to find his dirk. His hand had barely brushed the handle before Talon grabbed at it and threw it into a nearby tree, stuck fast into the bark. Weaponless, Darius had to rely only on his brute strength to keep all of Talon's sharp, deadly objects away. He turned to face his assailant, only to be struck speechless at the person straddling his waist.
It was definitely not Talon
