[Act II Scene Four]

Inside the Royal Palace—Gangplank/Jarvan, Shyvana

Shyvana: "The courier just arrived with this letter for you. From Noxus."

Gangplank/Jarvan: "It is probably their reply to our invitation to send an observer to this visit of state. Hopefully they are declining the honour of attending. Yes?"

Shyvana: "No such luck. "Greetings to His Most Luminous Majesty, Jarvan III, ruler of blah blah blah, blah blah blah. We will indeed be sending an observer to Demacia, and we trust that you will enjoy the presence of our emissary, Grand General Jericho Swain. Cordially yours, with great love, the High Command of Noxus."

Gangplank/Jarvan: "Shiver me timbers! That be a bold move indeed. That one-legged bastard has balls. The line of Demacians more than happy to kill him would stretch from here to Gorfia."

Shyvana: "Would you please stop with the bad pirate impressions, Your Highness. I swear, if I hear one more of those stupid Bilgewater expressions I am going to scream."

Gangplank/Jarvan: "…Fine. What shall we tell my father? He hates Swain with a passion and Swain's cursed presence in his court is likely to provoke an apoplexy. In fact, I'd wager that is exactly why the blackguard has chosen to appear in person. He's thumbing his nose at Demacia. It cannot be tolerated. I shall challenge him to a duel."

Shyvana: "Don't do it. We must wait for him to break protocol, otherwise we are in the wrong, in front of all the other observers. It would be a diplomatic catastrophe."

Gangplank/Jarvan: "That's my girl. Using that pretty little head of yours for more than just blowing smoke."

Shyvana: "The opening ceremonies are due to start in half an hour. It could be a long evening, knowing your royal father's predilection for long-winded speeches. You might want to enjoy a cocktail or two before it's too late."

Gangplank/Jarvan: "Very well, but first could you send Garen's kid sister outside on some pretext, so I don't have to deal with her at the moment."

Shyvana: "Very well, I will find some excuse to get rid of Luxanna until the ceremonies start."

[Act II Scene Five]

In front of the Royal Palace—Lux, Taric/Swain

Lux: "Why me? What have I done to deserve this assignment? I swear, Shyvana seems always to give me the worst duties. Acting as escort to the Noxian emissary, Jericho Swain. I've seen him on the Fields of Justice, and he seems like a creepy old man. Well, he had better keep his hands to himself, because I'm not in the mood to extend that much Demacian hospitality. If he tries anything, he's going to be eating a final spark."

Taric/Swain: "Good evening, Luxanna. Who is going to be eating a final spark?"

Lux: "Yaaah! You shouldn't sneak up on people. It's not polite."

Taric/Swain: "I would have thought stealth impossible. My nice new Noxian uniform practically glows in the dark."

Lux: "Wait, Noxian? You are Swain?"

Taric/Swain: "Grand General Jericho Swain, in person, my dear. Don't you recognise me?"

Lux: "Well, no, to be honest. You look a lot younger than I remember, somehow. Anyway, welcome to Demacia, please try not to get yourself killed or provoke a war."

Taric/Swain: "I wouldn't dream of doing either. Aren't you going to kiss me on the cheek, in the traditional manner? Or is that your brother Garen's job?"

Lux: "No, he's just been assigned as escort to the emissary from Bilgewater. The chesty one."

Taric/Swain: "Excellent. Everything is going according to plan."

Lux: "You planned that, just to get me to kiss you on the cheek? You really are creepy."

Taric/Swain: "Thank you. No tongue, please."

Lux: "Whatever. Here's your traditional Demacian kiss."

Taric/Swain: "Very nice. Might I ask a favour of you? I have no wish to stand through another of your King's legendary speeches, so instead how about we take an aperitif in that posh restaurant across the square?"

Lux: "Bright idea. I've never enjoyed long speeches either."

[Act II Scene Six]

In front of the Royal Palace—Ashe, Tryndamere (and their entourage)

Ashe: "This is it, Tryndamere honey. The Royal Palace of Demacia. Isn't it impressive?"

Tryndamere: "Yeah. About time. What a long slog. I'm dying of thirst."

Ashe: "Must you always be thinking of alcohol, dear? I think you should try to cut down…"

Tryndamere: "Well, a pint or two would go down quite nicely, thank you, but actually I'm so parched that even water would hit the spot."

Ashe: "If my memory of Demacian protocol is correct, every visit of state is preceded by a cocktail reception. I'm sure that they will serve you whatever you desire."

Tryndamere: "That would be a good long draught of water, followed by a couple of Noxian zombiemakers, washed down by a few pints of Freljord's finest, then a Bilgewater piña colada with extra rum to go, with a nice piece of Ashe for dessert."

Ashe: "Oh, honey, don't be naughty! I swear, you only ever have two things on the mind."

Tryndamere: "Three. Don't forget brawling. My good buddy Garen Crownguard has promised that there will be plenty of arm wrestling and sword dancing. Since we're trying to make a good impression on our potential new allies, I might even let him win from time to time. Ain't I clever?"

Ashe: "Quite. Unfortunately, I don't think you have the first idea of how diplomacy actually works."

Tryndamere: "Sure I do. I've negotiated many a peace treaty. You knock the other chieftain around a bit, preferably with a large axe, then he starts to see things your way, and swears allegiance. To celebrate the peace, warriors on both sides embrace, then you drink yourselves into a stupor. The next day, everybody is too hungover to fight, and there you go: Another successful diplomacy."

Ashe: "Really, Tryndamere, I don't know how you managed to survive long enough to court me. Your method might work in the Freljord, but certainly would fail dealing with cultures other than our own."

Tryndamere: "Explain."

Ashe: "If you tried that approach in Noxus, they would poison the drinks and you would wake up dead. Or if in Bilgewater, you would wake up on a ship far out to sea, tossing on the waves, and you would be so seasick your worst bedspins would seem like child's play. Then you would be forced to renegotiate the treaty on most unfavourable terms, failing which you would find yourself swimming home, escorted by an honour guard of merciless sharks."

Tryndamere: "Well, you're probably right about Noxus and Bilgewater, but I think my approach has a pretty fair chance of working here in Demacia."

Ashe: "All right, honey, but promise me you will only try Tryndamere's Freljord Gambit if my methods fail to get results. We'll try the quiet way first, agreed?"

Tryndamere: "Or else what?"

Ashe: "Or else you are sleeping on the floor and I get the king-sized bed and each of the pillows, blankets, duvets, and comforters all to myself. And it goes without saying, no piece of Ashe for you."

Tryndamere: "Ancestors! I can't understand why you always win every argument we have. Fine, we do it your way."

Ashe: "That's my sensible King Tryndamere. Now give me a little kiss, for luck, before we go inside."

Tryndamere: "That's my formidable Queen Ashe: cold heart, hot lips. No man could ask for a better wife."

Ashe: [aside] "Avarosa! He got that right."