University exams are over, so here is a chapter to celebrate. Huzzah!
Chapter 14 - Judgement
"Nervous?" Zyra leant over and playfully gave Avarin's summoner a punch in the shoulder.
"Of course he's bloody nervous!" The three were sitting patiently out the front of a pair of large, ornate wooden doors waiting for, well, they weren't entirely sure what. Avarin had been woken up by his summoner at the crack of dawn, telling him to get ready. Instruction had been for him to arrive at the Institute as early as possible, and that they'd get to him as soon as their agenda allowed it. Avarin didn't know much about the council of summoners, but he was beginning to realise their agendas were extensive. Zyra had decided to come by after breakfast in the off chance they were still waiting, and she'd now been with them for more than an hour. The period of absolute silence wasn't helping the hutner's nerves, images of potential situations flashing before his mind. Who would he be forced to confront, hurt, kill? He was glad for Zyra's presence; it helped to keep him grounded in the present.
There was a loud creaking as the doors slowly opened, a small woman in a flowing purple robe walking out and bowing low to the trio.
"The summoner's will see you now." Avarin stood, accepting a good luck from his summoner and a shy hug from Zyra. They hadn't dared bring up the evening before; it was hardly the biggest priority in that moment.
"Head to the summoning chambers when you're done, a few of us have a surprise for you." Avarin saw what she was trying to do, make him take his mind of the judgement. It worked for a little, Avarin content to know his friends would be waiting. The female summoner coughed impatiently, Avarin finally saying his goodbyes before heading into the chamber.
Avarin was entirely sure what he had been expecting. He expected more than a few old men in robes sitting around a table, but the setup he was presented with was something he couldn't help but gawk at. The room was circular in shape, a large open space occupying the majority of the room. Surrounding the area was a series of pedestals, each occupied by an individual summoner. The summoners themselves were some sight, most wearing robes of colours and designs that were so intricate and exotic that they would cause the richest houses in Demacia to grow envious. They weren't all old either, some Avarin noticing were younger than himself even. Yet there was one summoner who stood out above all the rest, an elderly gentleman with robes of a shimmering, rich gold. He had a long beard which hung down by his belly. This was the kind of figure Avarin had expected to see amongst the council, but seeing him in person still filled him with an overwhelming sense of awe. The summoner to his left, a middle aged gentlemen in black and crimson robes, rose to his feet, raising his voice so the whole council could hear.
"I present Avarin of the Kumungu, here to face his judgement to become a champion. We are all familiar with the process I trust, so whenever you see fit brother." One of the other summoners nodded his head, closing his eyes as the faintest blue shimmer began to overcome his body. Avarin barely had time to admire the sight though before he felt himself falling, his memories fading as he found himself entering his first vision. His judgement had begun.
His eyes shot open, instantly taking in the deep oak décor and crimson red curtains of the room. He was home, back in the mansion of a house he'd been raised in. It had been years, no months since Avarin had left for, well he couldn't remember. He frowned I confusion. He knew he'd been somewhere, that he had left Noxus, but he couldn't remember where he'd gone or how long he'd been there. He remembered the layout of the house perfectly, exiting the room into a long hall that took him past the front door and towards a larger living area. He could hear whistling flowing through the doorway, the sound bringing back a cacophony of memories. His father had loved to whistle, he'd even become known for it during his service in the military. Some say he whistled throughout the entire battle for Kalamanda, although such rumours were scoffed at by his father. Never denied however.
Avarin stepped through the doorway, standing at attention the moment he was through the door. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd resorted to using the old military greeting now, but it seemed appropriate. It took his father a while to look in his direction, the whistling stopping the moment he saw his son. Avarin may not have been sure how long he'd been gone, but it was clearly long enough to be noticed.
"I made us some tea dear, I hope you don't…" Avarin's mother rounded the corner on the far side of the room carrying a tray with a steaming pot and some small cups, a tray she proceeded to drop upon entering the room.
"Avarin, is that really…" His father put his hand up, silencing his mother. The war veteran stood up, walking over to Avarin and standing before him. He easily had a foot on the young archer, and he made sure Avarin noticed this.
"Where have you been?" Avarin didn't falter, keeping his posture solid and eyes forward. He felt an icy drop roll down his back, an unwelcome reminder of how nervous he was. Avarin tried to remember where he had been, and suddenly he found memories to call upon. Large trees brushing the heavens, vibrant colours of the like Noxians would never likely behold. He felt his shoulders relax a little, and allowed himself a deep, calming breath. He looked up, finally meeting his father's eyes. He remembered when he'd looked upon them with pride and compassion. How could he have been so blind? Everything about them screamed bloodlust, from the murky green irises to the red blood-streaks through the whites. There was no love in those eyes, and suddenly Avarin's fear of disapproval dissipated entirely. He smiled, earning the desired snarl from his father.
"I've been in paradise, sir." The following beating was brutal. It may have been some years since his father had served in the military, but he certainly hadn't let his training just disappear. But it wasn't the slap that hurt Avarin the most, it was the look his mother gave him. He looked up at his father, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. While he'd been confident at first, the look of his mother in tears as he was beaten by his father was heartbreaking. She was family after all. His father stopped for a moment, Avarin just able to see his mother leave the room. The moment she was gone, he retaliated, dashing at the older man's legs and tripping him up. The father hit the floor with a loud thump, but quickly recovered, raising his fists in a typical fighting stance. Avarin wasn't sure what had come over him, he knew he couldn't fight his father, he'd never been stronger than him or had half the training he had. Avarin dashed him again, but this time was less successful. His father expertly sidestepped the weak attempt at a charge, sending a solid jab into Avarin's chest, the hunter groaning as he felt the air leave his lungs. He collapsed on the floor, struggling to regain his breath.
Avarin was lifted up by the collar of his shirt, his incredible strength really beginning to show. He threw Avarin like he weighed little more than an adolescent poro, the young boy screaming as he went crashing through a table. He felt something sticking into his leg, blood pouring down his thigh. He felt woozy, the blood loss getting to his head.
"You are a disgrace to your home. You are blood of Noxus, and you would throw that away? You aren't worthy of your life."
Avarin coughed, a small splattering of blood filling the air in front of him.
"Noxus is not my home." His father came up and grabbed his leg, applying unwanted pressure to the already excruciating wound.
"Once a Noxian, always a Noxian." Avarin shook his head, refusing to believe the words. He felt his eye-lids drooping, consciousness escaping him. He took a shaky breath, refusing to let his deranged father have the final word. But he was in too much pain, his words coming out little more than a gargling of blood. He felt the pressure ease of his wound as his father walked away, not wasting the time or energy to look back. Avarin knew he should have been upset, but he wasn't. In some way he was relieved, that he had finally shown Noxus he was not one of them. He managed a very shaky sigh before closing his eyes for the final time.
The moment everything went black the pain disappeared in an instant, Avarin feeling as though he were floating through the dark void. He thought he was dead at first, then slowly his memories began to return. He breathed a deep sigh of relief; it had all been a dream. He looked down at his leg, the skin blemish free. He shivered; the pain had felt so real. What really concerned hi however wasn't the pain he'd felt, but more how he'd been feeling during the whole thing. It hadn't just felt real, as far as Avarin was concerned it was real. He had absolutely no idea it had all been an apparition until it was finished, and this scared the hunter. Facing a brutal father was one thing, but it was hardly the stuff of Avarin's nightmares. He felt another vision coming on, trying desperately to cling to something the he could carry into the next dream; the Kumungu, his friends, Nidalee.
The Kumungu, the place never ceased to fill Avarin with an overwhelming sense of fulfilment. Everything seemed alright while he was surrounded by the trees, the subtle sounds of the jungle his only company. He made his way through the jungle, not sure where he was heading, simply enjoying the moment. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd left, in fact he wasn't entirely sure if he had, but it felt good to be there. He kept walking, whistling as he did. It was really quite a terrible habit to have in the Kumungu, almost certain to attract predators. But sometime in his adventures he had realised that the predators could not beat him, and in fact many had began to fear or even respect him. It was odd to say that beasts revered him, but that was almost what it felt like.
He kept up his pace before he broke into a clearing, his heart almost skipping a beat at the sight. From the moment he'd left the cliff-top he'd wanted to return to his camp, partly due to nostalgia and partly because he hoped that she would be there. He'd always meant to search but never had, and now he found himself stumbling upon it quite by accident. It was a peculiar twist of fate. He made his way towards the nearest shelter, recognising it instantly as Nidalee's. He pushed aside the flap and peered inside; empty. He sighed, it had probably been wishful thinking on his behalf to believe she'd still be here. For all he knew she'd been hunted down by the Noxians after he disappeared. He stepped inside, taking in the small space. There was a small woven rug which Nidalee had once slept on, and surrounding that was a collection of different flowers and nuts from an assortment of trees. She may seem like a tough huntress, but she loved to keep mementos. Avarin smiled; he'd always loved that about her. One particular trinket caught Avarin's eye, a small coiling of red vine, thorns sharp as knives. He could still see a little dried blood on the tips of them, his hand instinctively going down to his leg where the bramble had caught him.
"Nettleweed." He put the trinket back down, taking in the room one last time before stepping outside. There was a crack of thunder overhead and the sound of rain in the distance. A storm was coming, and luckily for Avarin he had found a shelter to protect him from it. He strolled over to his shelter, hand hovering over the flap for a moment. He'd entered Nidalee's without a problem, so why did he delay now? He shook his head, grabbing the flap and stepping inside. It was exactly as he remembered it, small and simple but comfortable. There was a small log he had used as a table, the hand-woven rug Nidalee had given to him, even the imprint in the dirt where he had once kept his bow. Knowing he couldn't beat the storm, he set his tuff down as he had done in the past and laid down on the mat. It felt good to be back, and Avarin found himself drifting off into a comfortable sleep in no time.
He dreamt of little, nonsense things that managed to bring a smile to his face, and so was disappointed when he felt something running along his body, stirring him from his sleep. His first thought was of snakes, the creatures being known for sneaking into the shelters if the entrance wasn't sealed properly. Knowing that sudden movement would probably get him killed, he slowly reach to the side of him, fingers trading towards what he assumed to be the head. Ina quick motion he grabbed it, eyes shooting open the moment he felt fingers rather than scales. It was night, so the dark obscured most of his vision, but he could tell who it was. He slowly released the fingers, letting them continue their trail along his side. His own hand reach up towards the cheek of his visitor, gently caressing the smooth skin. The foreign hand made its way over his chest and towards his face, returning the gesture. There was a long moment of silence as the two held that position, neither willing to do anything. It was a tense moment, both of them having a million things they wanted to say, but neither with any idea how to start. Avarin felt a few drops of water rolling down the stranger's cheek, but realised they could not be tears. He smiled.
"Did you get caught out in the rain?"
"Not exactly caught, I chose to go for a stroll." Zyra chuckled a little as she removed her hand, Avarin sitting up so they were face to face, his eyes finally adjusting to the darker lighting. The plant mage was beautiful, her eyes glowing in the dim lighting as her hands fiddled with her soaked hair.
"She wasn't here, was she?" Avarin smiled, shaking his head at the question. Zyra stopped her fiddling and put a hand on his shoulder, offering him a sad smile.
"I'm sorry." Avarin chuckled to himself, putting his hand over hers.
"Don't be, have you any idea how much you've done for me? By the gods I must be blind, chasing my ambitions so carelessly." Zyra raised an eyebrow at the strange statement, Avarin leaning over and bringing her closer to the point where their lips were almost touching.
"I love you Zyra." The moment the words left his lips Zyra jumped him, closing what little distance remained between them. Avarin fell backwards, head landing gently on the mat as the kiss continued. Unlike every other time before Avarin did not stop it, he didn't want to. He felt his passion escalate, and soon he found his hands trailing down Zyra's body in a way that he was sure would have made him hang his head in shame under different circumstances. Zyra herself found herself fiddling with the minimal clothing Avarin wore in the jungle, ripping it carelessly from his body. It wasn't long before they were both naked, and still their passion was not sated. He felt Zyra readjust, her unspoken intentions obvious to Avarin. There was a loud, lustful moan from the plant mage, the first of many to follow throughout the night.
Somewhere amongst the pleasure the image got blurry, Avarin losing himself in the moment before he found himself again floating through the void, now fully clothed and devoid of the pleasure he'd been experiencing. The moment he realised what had happened he wanted to be sick. Had he really done that with Zyra? He had finally, after so many damn years, managed to fix things with Nidalee and he had to go do that. Was it possible he still felt that way about Zyra? Avarin shook his head, dismissing the thought. Now wasn't the time, the better question was what the hell did this have to do with him becoming a champion? Were the summoners perverted or was having emotions necessary for being admitted. It was confusing, and Avarin really didn't want to think on it for much longer. Thankfully he felt another vision coming on, knowing that he'd seen at least have a small moment during which he could forget the last dream.
The visions seemed never-ending, one flowing into next with little time for him to adjust in between. He had to relive his fight in the jungle with Rengar, feel the rage the coursed through him. He knew how he'd beaten him last time, so the fight was easy enough, but it felt wrong without the rage he'd felt the first time. One particularly tormenting vision showed him a future where he didn't leave Noxus, fighting alongside commander Riven in the battle for Ionia. He didn't think he'd ever be able to forget the sensation of his skin crawling as he was subjected to Singed's bio-weaponry. Probably the most scaring however was the graveyard, a gloomy garden dotted with headstones, each with a name of a friend. It was a ridiculous vision, the kind of nightmare he'd have expected from a kid, except it had all felt real. He had believed that they were all truly dead, he thought that he knew their bodies were under the ground there. He didn't know it was a nightmare, and so that overwhelming feeling of loneliness had been very confronting.
It wasn't all doom and gloom though. He'd got to experience seeing the Kumungu for the first time, still one of the happiest moments of his life. He'd got to go on his first hunt, tell stories to Nidalee and meditate with Varus. One of the visions even had him shopping with the yordles! Avarin couldn't understand what this actually showed the summoners, but he certainly preferred it the more… intimate yordle vision. It wasn't scaring like the graveyard, to the contrary it had actually been rather fun at times, but it still wouldn't be one he'd easily forget. That wasn't the only weird vision either, some seeming completely random. There was one where he got arrested by the sheriff of Piltover, a woman he knew for a record to be a champion. He got to travel to the Frejlord, a place he had never actually seen, and marry Ashe. He was fairly convinced she had a husband already, so the dream made a total of zero sense to the hunter. He wasn't entirely sure what the summoners were looking for in dreams like that, although part of him felt they were simply a reprieve. The more confronting visions took a lot out of him, and it was nice to go from that to a wedding, or meditation, or some yordle action.
Some of the visions only lasted minutes, while others went on for hours. Avarin felt as though he had been at it for days, but he wasn't exhausted. He had no idea how time translated between his dreams and the summoning council, but that wasn't his concern at the moment. His vision began to fade, and he was entering yet another trial. He recognised the Rift in an instant, the iconic landscape very familiar to him after his games. He was the only one still standing at the fountain, the rest of his team clearly already out on the field. He could feel the presence of a summoner in his mind, which he thought was oddly appropriate given he knew there were summoners in his head. That was when it hit him, he had all his memories. He knew this was a judgement, he could remember every vision from his family through to the graveyard. Was it possible this was an actual match, and they wanted to test his ability to fight? The summoner hadn't mentioned anything like this happening, but it was difficult to explain why this wasn't like all the other visions. The shopkeeper coughed, gaining Avarin's attention. He got his items and made his way into the jungle, going about the routine as per normal. After a few camps he looked towards his lane, assessing any openings that may be present. He didn't have to look far, the enemy top lane being pushed up to turret, already severely battered and bruised. Avarin's teammate wasn't present, but he didn't need him to secure the kill. He made his way up the river, his target still not backing off. This was going to be a walk in the park.
Strangely enough he didn't recognise the champion. She was young, not quite as young as Annie but certainly not old enough to be considered an adult. She was very non-descript in Avarin's eyes, clothing generic, utilising an everyday sword, features refined and attractive but not so much so that they would be memorable. If Avarin had to pick a word to describe her it would be average, everything about her seemed utterly unspectacular. He didn't bother sneaking up on her, walking straight into lane and firing. His first arrow caught her in the leg, the girl letting out a small scream before falling onto the floor, crawling her way towards the bushes. Avarin slowly walked up and stopped her turning her onto her belly and stopping her movement with a foot on her chest. He readied an arrow at her heart, ready to release it. He felt the voice of his summoner in his head, egging him on, but his fingers wouldn't loose the arrow. This wasn't right. Yes, he'd killed people on the rift before, and sometimes it was easy, but this wasn't a killing. This was an execution. The girl had never stood a chance, she never had an opportunity to fight back.
"What are you waiting for champion, do it!" His summoner was yelling at him now, but Avarin couldn't do it. He felt his hands getting clammy, sweat dripping down his forehead. He blinked, and it was no longer some unknown champion, but Tristana looking up at him in absolute fear. She looked so vulnerable, so damaged. He felt his stomach churning, looking away to avoid the sight. He felt a light hand gripping his ankle, and he turned back to now see Zyra reaching up to him, a horrible gash running down her face. Her other hand was reaching for her leg, desperately wanting to remove the arrow from her lag. She was in pain, so much pain. Avarin was shaking now, not sure if he could keep his feet for much longer. He closed his eyes, not baring to see the wounded figure, hoping it would help him. This was the Rift, who knew what he was fighting for or what this kill could mean. Maybe it would allow Ionians to travel freely through Noxian territory. Maybe it would create trade opportunities between Piltover and Zaun.
"You have to do it, you know that." But he couldn't, especially not with that voice. He didn't want to open his eyes, he couldn't bear to see what Nidalee looked like beneath him. He felt a hand reach up to his, egging him on. He gripped the strong tighter, pulling the arrow back a little further. He could feel every muscle in his arm tensing, holding the notched arrow in place. He took a deep breathe, slowly letting one of his fingers slip from the string. There was one finger holding the arrow back, mere millimetres the difference between a life and a death. She'd come back to life in no time, so what was the problem? He took a deep breath, steadying himself.
"Sorry." The last finger slipped, the arrow flying free with a blood-curdling swish.
There was no void this time, the world seeming to twist and warp before Avarin found himself standing back in the council chamber, breathing heavily after the summoner ended the magical connection. There was a slight pain in the back of his head that he was prepared to blame on the battering his mind had just taken. The summoners were all discussing amongst themselves, murmurings echoing throughout the chamber. The head summoner raised his arms, and the whole chamber fell silent, waiting for something to happen.
"We will start with the smaller states." One by one different summoners stood, either offering Avarin their support or expressing their concerns with him being a champion. He managed to get unquestioned support from Bandle City, the yordle summoner stating their state was more than willing to accept Avarin as one of their own in addition to being a new champion. Bilgewater and Zaun both had concerns due to his rivalry with Noxus, both giving him down votes. The advantage of this though was that Piltover was quick to lend support, determined to spite Zaun in any way possible. With the obvious results out of the way, the attention now fell to the four states that really didn't have much of a stake either way politically. The Shadow Isles were quick to refuse Avarin, giving a small speech about prejudice being given to living representatives, earning a communal groan from the other summoners. This clearly wasn't a new argument. What really surprised Avarin was that Mount Targon denied his request, loyalty to one's home state being too central to their culture for them to accept him. Avarin had met a couple of the Targonian champions, and they had seemed nice enough, he was a little upset to hear them deny his claim. With Targon out of the way, that rounded out the smaller states, leaving Avarin down two votes. He hadn't expected to lose Targon's vote and he didn't know what to think of the Shadow Isles. The high summoner stood again, coughing a little before speaking. He was definitely old.
"We will now hear from the Frejlord." He gestured to the summoner two to his left, just next to the summoner in the crimson robes that Avarin was now assuming the Noxian representative based off the colours. The chosen summoner rose to her feet, and her presence was something else. There was no doubt she represented the Frejlord. If the snow white and silver robes didn't give it away, there was the beautiful crystal headdress that looked as though it were made of pure ice. Then she spoke, the whole rooming seeming to chill as her voice filled the room.
"It is with regret that I saw I have no heard much about Avarin myself, his presence at the Institute being a quiet one with relation to the Frejlord. However, I see as we all did that Avarin holds nothing but warm feelings towards our state, and especially its ruler." The summoner couldn't resist a smile, and a few of the summoners allowed themselves a chuckle. Avarin just blushed.
"I did speak to Ashe about Avarin prior to this judgement, as she claimed to have met him personally." There was a deep laughter, the attention falling away from the Frejlordian summoner.
"Personally, interesting choice of words." The summoner to the right of the head stood, pointing accusingly at the laughing champion, which unsurprisingly was the Noxian.
"Head summoner, this is not acceptable behaviour!" The Noxian summoner looked prepared to respond, but was silenced by the head summoner raising his hands. He looked at the two summoners separately, deliberating his next words.
"You will both get your chance to speak, be patient, and quiet." He made sure to look towards the Noxian summoner as he said this, the latter raising his hands in a sign of defeat. After a small moment of silence the Frejlordian summoner continued.
"Ashe has vouched for his aims and his character, and so he has the support of the Frejlord." With that the summoner sat, offering Avarin a small wink and a smile as she did so. The head summoner nodded, now motioning towards the summoner two to his right. This summoner wore a robe that Avarin could automatically recognise as Ionian. The summoner stood, crossing her arms across her chest and just looking at him for a moment. Just as it seemed the head summoner was going to urge her to continue, she spoke, her voice ringing out with an authority the Frejlordian did not possess.
"We have a saying amongst my people; once a Noxian, always a Noxian. I won't deny it, the first trial was by my request, and although the results of that trial assured me some of the others did not. Ionia encourages the values of balance and patience, and you seem prone to aggression and impulse under trying circumstances. So, the real question I must ask myself is, do I believe you can control these impulses and achieve a degree of balance." She was silent for a moment, letting Avarin think on her words.
"It's a good question, no?" Avarin hung his head, preparing himself for rejection.
"You have my support Avarin." His head instantly shot up, a silent question being posed to the Ionian summoner. She didn't smile, or do anything much to respond, but Avarin got her message. She thought he had a chance. Part of Avarin felt he had Varus to blame for that, and he reminded himself to thank him afterwards.
This left the three lead summoners; Demacia, Noxus and the head summoner, which Avarin assumed represented Shurima and any unaffiliated champions, although he wasn't entirely sure of summoner politics. The Demacian summoner stood first, his blue and gold robes glimmering in the lights. He was very youthful, almost the same age as Avarin, but when he spoke he seemed much older than he appeared.
"I feel I could say anything and my decision will still be put down ultimately to my distaste for Noxians by anyone who hears it. Alas, whether people believe it or not I do care about more than politics in champions. Avarin has shown an incredible tendency for loyalty, not necessarily to his homeland but to his friends and colleagues, which as far as I'm concerned is what really matters. He is not representing Noxus, he is representing the Kumungu, and nothing in his character suggests he should fail to do this." The summoner waited a little before continuing.
"Another part of my job is to keep in touch with the summoner in charge of training him and assess his progress. I will admit he was tentative after some of the early matches, but he has shown a desire to learn and to impress, and I've gotten nothing but shining reviews from the summoner these past few days. And so, considering all aspects presented today, it is a yes from me." He sat, not turning to look at Avarin but instead glaring across at the Noxian summoner. The red-garbed summoner stood, letting out another deep bought of laughter.
"I won't beat around the bush, it is a no from me. Why I hear you ask? He has not shown loyalty, he has shown prejudice. He will fight when he sees personal benefit to himself, whether that be a place to sleep, someone to watch his back, or maybe just a quick screw to keep him warm at night." The Demacian summoner leapt up from his chair, but the head summoner stared him down. The Noxian seemed unfazed, continuing his speech.
"Indeed, I do not see this kind heart you seem to believe exists, but I see aggression and violence, which my Ionian friend here was clever enough to point out but too naïve or confused perhaps to act on." This time the Ionian looked towards the head summoner who turned his attention to the Noxian summoner.
"Summoner, I will remind you to show respect."
"No disrespect intended, I simply am stating my opinion on that matter. This renegade is dangerous, and I would not have him fighting on the Rift." With that the summoner sat down. Avarin counted the votes in his head; five to five. The final vote rested with the head summoner.
"It would seem my vote will decide the fate for the first time in, well, years I do believe. I would like to believe this process has been impartial, but I would be ignorant to not accept that prejudice has heavily tainted your judgement, from both sides. I won't look down on this; imperfection is why we are here after all. If we could all agree without prejudice we would have no wars to begin with, and the Institute would be rendered pointless. No, the political stances of you and your friends are expected to be one-sided, and I doubt there are many affiliated champions out there who vary from you in this way. Thus I will not be basing my decision on this, but on something I find more important." The summoner leant forward, his attention focussed entirely on Avarin.
"I watched your first few games, trying to assess how you would fare against the other champions. The one that stuck most with me was your second game. Most people will remember this for the fight between you and Rengar, but I remember it for what happened after. I saw first hand the fear in the champions eyes after your game, and that gave me doubts. We encourage strong relationships between champions. You are intended to be a family, brothers and sisters to each other." The summoner took a deep breath.
"Then I will admit you surprised me. You managed to befriend Varus, someone I know to be reclusive at the best of times. In fact, my discussions with other champions have shown that you are held in very high regard, even by Noxian champions, much to my colleagues dismay I am sure." The Noxian summoner scoffed at the remark.
"I agree with everything that has been said, that you have a tendency to be impulsive under pressure, which I will not be so quick to condemn. I also agree you are of a kind nature. So, it would appear my decision is obvious." Avarin was prepared to smile. He was expecting a yes, surely after everything the summoner had said he was getting his support. He could see the Demacian summoner relax in his chair, reaching the same decision.
The head summoner leant back, looking around the whole room before issuing his verdict.
"It is a no from me Avarin." The Noxian laughed overtly, the Dmacian looking prepared to protest. Avarin was in shock, not sure how to respond. The head summoner began to expand.
"You are kind hearted, and your feelings towards the champions is certainly what we encourage, but I'm afraid in some cases they are too strong. We do seek justice, and my concern must be with the verdicts that we reach. Not all summoners are competent, and sometimes kills will seem like executions, but for the sake of justice you need to have conviction. I don't have doubts you can kill, but could you execute a friend? I'm afraid the moment you missed that arrow was the moment I made my decision." Avarin thought back to the last trial, how he'd chose to spare the champions life, sending the arrow whizzing into the dirt. Had that really cost him his position as a champion? The head summoner nodded towards the Noxian summoner that stood upon the command, not even attempting to hide his smile.
"Avarin, the council has spoken and your claim has been denied. You will be given a couple of hours to gather your belongings and say your goodbyes before you must leave the Institute. As a reward for your goodwill during your stay the Institute are more than willing to offer transport to your home, if you have something other than a leaf." The Demacian summoner stood up at this, spitting at the Noxian summoner.
"You bastard." The head summoner himself stood, silencing the entire room by throwing his fist on the small bench in front of him.
"I will see both of you in my chambers after this. Avarin, I must ask you to leave. As an expression of our goodwill, we will afford you a full day to prepare. We know this will be tough on you, and we are sorry for any pain our verdict has caused." Avarin forced himself to smile, tears brushing the corner of his eyes. He looked up towards the head summoner, not doing a very good job at hiding his contempt.
"With all respect summoner, I don't think you all are sorry." The Noxian summoner leant back in his chair, smugness overcoming him as Avarin turned around and made his way out of the room. The moment he exited his summoner stood, frowning at the sad look on his face. Avarin barely made it to his summoner before he collapsed into the awaiting arms, tears pouring down his face.
Poor Avarin.
Will get a new chapter out as soon as I stop playing Overwatch!