Now, more than ever, was the ranger grateful that she was still a country girl at heart. Quinn slanted forward and tightened her grip on the reins running from the neck of a stunning dapple-grey gelding she had hired from the Kaladown marketplace just outside of Demacia. She had not bothered to haggle today as time was of the essence, so she had simply dropped a heavy bag of gold into the trader's expectant palm and saddled up the braying horse, smiling as his hand jerked under its considerable weight and a toothy grin invaded his face. Thankful that her noble steed had quickly responded to her natural touch, she gently kneaded her knees against the gelding's powerful flanks: its lean muscles rippling beneath her legs and throaty exhalation to the front of her were testimony to the speed with which they were now running towards the Healing Marsh. Whenever she had downtime from her military duties, she loved nothing more than strolling through the royal stables and chatting softly to the thoroughbreds; if she was ever stationed near the marshes, she always checked in at the Aegis farm where she learnt to ride as a young girl. The girlish thrill of horse-riding seared through her veins as she encouraged the gelding to sustain its rhythmic gallop. Quinn had initially considered joining the Demacian cavalry when she was coming up through the ranks, but knew that she would crumble inside at a horse's death.

Fortunately, the marshes were not bogging down herself and her ride too badly owing to the crisp Demacian summer firming up the ground and draining much of the water on its plains. She noticed, though, that there was now a subtlety to the heat which hinted at autumn's arrival, so she enjoyed the luminous evergreens that sank towards her in a leafy bow while she still could. Straightening her back slightly, she focussed on weaving through the woodland and, for the first time in ages, her shoulders drifted downwards in relaxation. The pain of Jarvan and Lux still smarted at her heart, but for now it was predominantly swollen with the pleasure of carving out her own destiny. The Vanguard would be displeased with her if she was away for too long, but she was confident that presenting them with the assassin's head would more than make up for her absence. Firstly, though, she needed to head to Ionia to warn its Duchess of the mystery assasin and also to check whether she could not prematurely offer her assistance: here, she could not stand the restlessness of helping with domestic affairs. Bloodlust for the Noxians had stirred her Demacian soul and now all she could taste on her tongue was war, even if the diplomats had fought it for so long. She hoped with every fibre of her being that she would be in the thick of it, sniping Swain's generals rather than babysitting the Princess back home.

Quinn turned a sharp corner around a grassy knoll and signalled for her gelding to cool off its forceful pace, eventually slipping into a gentle trot to rest him. She ran her fingertips through his bristly mane and then briefly consulted the map nestled into the armour plate of her right leg, keeping one hand firmly on the leather reins. She looked up, squinting, and was pleased to see that the map corresponded with her current position, before replacing her guidance and taking a swig from her water flask. Tucking it back into her satchel, she gradually coaxed her steed into a vigorous run and she flew across the marshland once more. The ranger's watchful eyes scanned the looming Ironspike Mountains ahead, attempting to mentally deduce the distance left to them, when she entered another patch of woodland that momentarily obscured her view. She frowned at the sudden change of scenery and twisted around each bark, cursing as the greenery came too close for her own good. As she rode, however, a high pitched whinny shattered her ear drums and the gelding collapsed upon itself, lurching Quinn off of its back. The ranger yelped in pain as she collided with the unforgiving terrain, her right hand instinctively leaping to the left wrist that her weight had thrust down upon. Blinking tears from her eyes, she saw the spooked steed take off ahead of her and swore loudly as she unconsciously put pressure on her injury. Nausea swirled around her stomach and she closed her eyes, drawing quick breaths through her nose.

'Oh my goodness! Quinn? Are you okay?!'

Quinn was momentarily distracted from the sharp pain radiating from her wrist as she looked up in panic: her fears were allayed when she saw a familiar pair of duck egg blue eyes crinkle in concern.

'Sona?' the ranger stuttered in surprise, gazing up at the Maven of the Strings. 'What are you doing out here?'

The musical prodigy's eyes flickered down to the bewitched etwahl gently strumming between her fingers as it spoke for her. 'I come to the Healing Marsh in order to replenish my powers from time to time. Sometimes I feel a bit drained after performing for too long…but that isn't important right now! Are you hurt, ranger?'

'Y-Yes,' Quinn grunted, her floppy wrist nearly evoking a shriek from the casualty. She tried to toughen up in front of Sona, but now she felt the tears trickle down her cheeks. 'It's my – aaaah! – shit, oww, my wrist. I felt it crack as I came off-'

'Ooh, nasty! Well, you're in the Healing Marsh at least,' Sona laughed softly, drifting over to look at the injury. Her healer's hands wrapped gently around the trembling wrist, astounding Quinn as to how she could probe the twisted joint without jarring a single nerve. 'Hmm, definitely broken, I'm afraid. I will patch you up for now, though you will have to keep it still for a couple of days.'

'Great,' Quinn mumbled, though she quickly corrected herself as she caught sight of the mute's crestfallen expression whilst working on the injury. 'I mean- I'm sorry, Sona. I didn't mean to sound so ungrateful, I'm blessed to have you helping me, but I could really do without all this right now. I'm on a mission.'

'A mission?' Sona mused as she gradually set the ranger's broken bone back into place. A hiss of pain escaped Quinn's lips, but already the injured site did not feel quite so immediately painful. She marvelled at the mage's skill whilst her nurse continued her questioning. 'Out here in the marshes?'

'No, not exactly. I'm heading to Ionia on military business. Well – I'm kind of on my own mission as well, but that's another story.'

'I assume I don't get to hear about it?' Sona laughed, her rose lips quirking into a closed smile as her etwahl voice washed melodically over Quinn's pounding ears. 'I jest. I would never ask a member of the Vanguard for state secrets.'

'So you shouldn't, foreigner,' the ranger teased, smiling at the Ionian native. 'Just because you're adored in my homeland doesn't mean that you can't get too big for your boots there.'

Sona stuck out her shell pink cat's tongue and blessed Quinn's wrist with a final dose of her ability power, uttering an incantation before pulling away. 'There! That should fix you up, Quinn. I'm afraid I don't know where your horse is, though…I fear my powers scared him off.'

'Ah,' groaned Quinn in realisation, staring vainly into the distance for the gelding. 'That'll be what triggered him: your kind are rare in Demacia, of course. I know the horses back at the castle took a long time to get used to the Princess's sorcery. Sona, don't look so worried! I'm sure he'll come back. Do you guys have mage horses, then?'

Sona grinned as the etwahl vibrated back to audio. 'I don't think any living creature is truly strong enough to handle a mage. Not even regular humans like yourself!'

'Eh, I don't care. You guys are freaky.' Quinn readjusted her armour sleeves around her recuperating wrist and gave the maven a broad smile back to show that she was only half-joking. 'So, are you heading back to Demacia now?'

'Well…' Sona hesitated as she glanced towards the stone city far away in the distance, before swivelling her gaze back to Quinn. 'Tell me more about Ionia. How is the situation right now?'

'They're at war again, Sona,' the ranger replied sombrely, her heart sinking like a stone at the defeat creasing the maven's porcelain face. 'They have been for a good few months now. We thought the Noxians had finally left the Southern Provinces alone, but of course you can never trust those eastern scumbags. "Forever strong"? Hah! Forever weak, and greedy, and tearing apart the fabric of Valoran…'

Sona sighed deeply and ran her fingers along the intricate design spiralling around her etwahl to soothe herself, her blue hair cascading like a mournful waterfall down her shoulders as she bent her head. 'I miss being able to play wherever I want, and not when and where General Swain dictates. But I didn't realise the situation with Noxus had gotten so out of control…I do hope he doesn't summon me to play for him again, like he did last month.'

'Sona…' Quinn began, pausing as she mentally formulated her question. 'It's a long shot I know, but do you ever remember being in Noxus and seeing a new assassin for the Noxian High Command? Dark hair, quite lean, a strange cape with metal strips?'

A blank look replaced the musician's melancholy expression. 'I can't say that I remember anyone like that, Quinn…there are many assassins, certainly, but I prefer to not stare too long at anyone in Noxus. I had received special treatment on Swain's orders, but I was constantly on edge in case I said or did the wrong thing. As a hybrid of Ionia and Demacia, I am theoretically everything they hate - so I simply let my talent speak for me.'

'No problem,' Quinn replied, who felt disappointed even though she knew it would not be easy to obtain the information she sought. 'Thank you, anyway. And also thank you for the wrist.'

'You're quite welcome. Well. I suppose I ought to let you go,' Sona responded, smoothing out her white-and-blue petticoat and smiling at Quinn. 'I wouldn't dare get in the way of a Demacian when their head is set.'

'Damn right,' Quinn smirked, enveloping her old friend in a warm embrace. 'Thanks again, maven, it's been good to see you again. I hope to be back to see you play soon.'

She pulled away and took several steps away from their meeting place, before Sona called out after her. 'Quinn?'

The ranger turned on her heel, cocking her head curiously to listen to the prodigy. 'Yes?'

'Would you…I mean…do you need some help along the way? I may be a Demacian by status, but my heart is still bound to Ionia. I don't know…I feel like I need to help her in any way I can. I can't quite explain the sensation. But I would also be more at ease if you had someone with you. Whilst I won't ask you the ins and outs of what your business is in Ionia, I want to know that you've got there safely. I can show you the way, if you'd like.'

'Would you?' Quinn gabbled, blushing as her keenness at this idea tumbled out of her. 'I mean…if you're sure, of course. But I am terrified of how the Ionians will accept me, as I heard that they are not pleased with the slowness of Demacia to react to the conflict. Will you introduce me to the Duchess, maybe? Prove that I can be a useful ally to the island?'

Sona beamed at Quinn. 'Of course. If any Demacian can be a useful ally to a country that favours a pure spirit, it is you.'

The ranger giggled as her newfound companion and she began to approach the mountains, their pace augmented by the mage's abilities. Quinn kept looking down in awe at her feet as the drifting purple aura spurred her on, shaking her head in disbelief. 'I know you hear this a lot, maven, but you are truly gifted. This is so cool…I can't get my head around it!'

'Thank you, ranger,' Sona replied brightly, strumming her etwahl to maintain their speed. 'You know, it's incredibly refreshing to put my magic to other uses for once - it's rare that I get to push my magic beyond that of music.'

Quinn failed to reply to the maven after staring intently into the distance: her boots rooted to the marshland and she sucked in a tense breath. 'Turn back, Sona,' she whispered urgently, catching hold of her slender arm with the healthy wrist and ducking behind a thick entanglement of vines.

'Turn back? Why, what's the problem-'

'Noxians,' the ranger hissed, drawing her crossbow from her back with her right hand. 'See over there, in that big crevice towards the middle of the mountain?'

The musician's curious eyes widened in shock as they settled on an angry blur of red in the distance. She muted the etwahl's idyllic twinkling and merely spoke through it, turning to look anxiously at Quinn. 'What do we do? Why are they here?'

'Looks as if they're covering their backs against us,' the ranger whispered back, loading her crossbow with a single arrow and cringing as her weak wrist ached in protest. 'I'm too far away to let the Vanguard know, but we will not be at war for a while longer yet. It can wait until Valor arrives.'

'So Demacia is going to fight as well?' Sona asked meekly, peering at the hulking brutes thundering around their makeshift fortress. 'What has the King said on this?'

'He has decreed it,' Quinn explained, retreating slowly and tugging Sona along with her. 'Too much is at stake to sit back and watch it all happen – and why would we? We're Demacians. We need to stand ready and give them a taste of their own medicine.'

'You sound like the Captain,' Sona laughed as they hurried northwards to devise an alternative route. 'How is he, by the way?'

'The Captain?' Quinn asked in amazement. 'You know him well?'

'Well, yes,' Sona replied, and the ranger swore that she saw the faintest hint of a blush creep into her cheeks. 'He is a great fan of classical music, so he often comes to see me play when he has time off.'

'Oh, yes? Is that all he comes to see?' Quinn smirked, earning her a light swipe from Sona which she evaded with ease. She sidestepped another push and wolf-whistled quietly, eliciting another peachy blush from the mage.

'Shush,' Sona commanded, scowling as she failed to wipe the grin off the Wings of Demacia. 'Of course that's all he comes for! The Captain is far too focussed on his duties to worry about anything else, and quite rightly so. But you didn't answer my question…'

'Fine, as far as I can tell,' Quinn responded lightly, squinting briefly as she thought of any important updates to inform Sona of. 'At the moment, he's consumed with being the best man for Lux's – I mean, the Princess' wedding. No doubt they will be asking you soon to play at the reception, so I'd clear your forseeable schedule if I were you.'

'Got it,' she smiled, patting her loyal etwahl affectionately. 'When's it taking place?'

'Oh, I can't remember precisely,' Quinn responded absent-mindedly, her jovial mood hindered by being reminded of the wedding's close proximity. 'In about a month or so?'

'A month? Well then, we'd best get this mission completed as soon as we can! I love royal weddings,' Sona mused, plucking the occasional string in a faint wedding song. 'I can't wait to see Princess Luxanna's dress, can you?'

'No,' Quinn replied politely, though the jealous beast inside cackled and twisted her heartstrings. 'In fact, I would have got a great glimpse if I'd stayed. I was to be the maid of honour.'

'Was?' the maven enquired, tilting her head in puzzlement at Quinn. 'Are you not anymore?'

'I couldn't do something like that, Sona,' the ranger replied, laughing shakily. 'Look at me. I don't belong up on a grand stage like that – no doubt I'd be the one to leave the wedding vows behind or trip over Lux's veil. That just isn't my scene.'

'Hmm,' Sona murmured thoughtfully. 'Is that never going to be you, then? Will I not get to play music at your wedding one day?'

Quinn gave a derisive laugh. 'Hardly likely. I'll let you know if my status changes, but I've learnt in life not to get too attached to men – they only break your heart in the end, one way or another.'

'Now that's surely not true,' Sona protested gently, catching Quinn's hands with her own. She gasped as Quinn winced and quickly relinquished her grip on the healing wrist. 'Oops, sorry! You know, I'm starting to have second thoughts about accompanying you to Ionia. I seem to be doing you more harm than good.'

'Nonsense,' the ranger grinned, squeezing the maven's delicate hand with her good side. 'Now, speaking of Ionia, where do we go from here to get to Piltover?'

'We have two choices,' Sona informed her, flexing her hand to hold up two fingers. 'Number one,' she announced, bending down the first finger with her other hand, 'we can skirt through Freljord to get to Piltover via the converging of the Ironspike and Freyjordian mountains. Longer route, but probably safer.'

'Uh-huh,' Quinn replied, rubbing her chin as she contemplated this option. 'And the other choice?'

'We go straight through Noxus,' she explained simply, demonstrating by taking Quinn's penknife from her pocket and carving a crude diagram into a tree bark, 'and cut through the gap between the mountains. Then we head through Zaun and straight up north to Piltover.'

Quinn took the knife from Sona and traced the route she had just indicated, falling silent as she contemplated the journey. So much could go wrong here…how would they pass through the mountains without detection? Scratch that, how would they even get through Noxus without arousing suspicion? The ranger twirled the knife in a circle into the wood as she thought, eventually meeting the maven's patient gaze. 'How willing are you to take a risk or five?'

'I'm willing to do whatever it takes to help a friend out,' she responded calmly, smiling at the ranger. 'And to help our respective nations as well. All this tension and conflict…it makes me ache with worry, it saddens me like nothing else.'

The Wings of Demacia pulled back, staring once more at the plan, and she bit her lip nervously. 'My concern is that if I'm going down, I'll drag you with me. I can't let that happen.'

'But, my dear, we're far too good for that to happen,' the maven laughed, breaking the serious mood and forcing a laugh from the ranger. 'Come on. If the storm clouds are brewing, we'd best be there to make the lightning strike first.'

Quinn hesitated, swaying from foot to foot, and then turned to Sona with cautious eyes. 'I'm sorry, I can't do it. I can't put you through that danger if I get caught in Noxus. Frejyord it is.'

'Right you are. Oh! We can go pay the Queen a visit, Quinn!' Sona realised, clapping her hands together with anticipation. 'Hopefully she can hook us up with getting us safely to Piltover. She did say last time I saw her that she owed me…'