A few weeks had passed since the joint retakings of the Freljord and Piltover, and things were slowly crawling back towards normalcy. Viktor tapped his metallic claw on a monitor that displayed a large map, the same he had used previously while the laboratory was a hideout for most of the remaining Champions. The large indigo splotches covering the two liberated city-states had disappeared, but a single dot continued to claw at Viktor's mind.

The deep purple splotch in the center of Valoran, the Institute Of War, was an inescapable mark of their failure to save the League. Navigating through a series of files on his desk with one of his biological hands, Viktor retrieved a set of blueprints, laying out the Institute Of War. They contained every bit of information on the building's construction, material and secret entrances, and were extremely illegal. Thankfully Twitch had owed him a favor…

At this moment, Kassadin entered, striding across the open laboratory to Viktor's side. Glancing at the blueprints, the Preserver spoke up. "Seems you've been busy."

"I have never not been." Viktor drily remarked, cybernetic eyes focused directly on the purple splotch on the map.

"The Preservers have reported back to me about that place, you know."

Viktor masked his surprise. "The Institute?"

With a nod, Kassadin pointed an armored finger. "We've lost a few just scouting around that place. The grounds are crawling with voidlings. Types I've never seen, judging by the descriptions." Kassadin's voice lowered. "And I've seen more Voidlings than any man should."

"Fascinating." Viktor's voice was laced with something between sarcasm and legitimate interest. "Which means…"

"It means the Institute is nearly impenetrable. Malzahar has turned it into a fortress. A conventional army would be decimated in minutes." Kassadin crossed his arms, lowering his gaze to meet the inventor's.

"Well. We will have to think of something unconventional." Viktor muttered, beginning to shift the map about. To his surprise, Kassadin was laughing. "What? Do you have a plan?"

"Not yet. You simply sounded rather optimistic there, Viktor. Very human of you."

As Viktor debated whether a sharp tongued retort or a low powered Death Ray would be a more appropriate response, the door to the lab opened again, this time revealing Zac.

"Yo. Professor Viktor. You've got a message here."

Viktor scowled and crossed the room, glancing up at the gelatinous Zac for any hint of what the meaning of this was. The amorphous combatant simply shrugged. At the entrance to the lab was, to his surprise, a young boy. He was dressed mostly in rags, and yet Viktor's eyes couldn't help but drift to the flintlock pistol clipped at his waist. The boy handed him a gray envelope, with a red seal.

"Inside...Cho'Gath."

"Uh huh."

"Like...inside of him. Like, guts and stomachs inside."
"Yup."

Rumble slammed his glass of honeyed ale down and stared Teemo directly in the eyes. The Captain had that same, smug, cheery look as always. It made Rumble want to gag. But he had to admit…

"That's about the coolest thing I have ever heard."

Teemo chuckled and took a sip of his drink. This bar, the Bandle Brewery, was one of his favorite spots. He couldn't help but be in high spirits even as he recalled the chaos of the battle of Piltover. "Well, I mean, I was vomited back out. That was unpleasant. And it was your choice to stay behind."

"Hmmph." Rumble crossed his arms and gazed at the floor. "Can't blame me for thinking going with the tall ones would get you blown to bits. Sounds like it almost did." The patrons of the Brewery were mostly Bandle City soldiers, many of them having recently returned from Piltover themselves. Glancing around at the various injuries they were sporting, Rumble couldn't help but feel he had a good point.

Lowering his glass, Teemo gave Rumble a hard look. "You know they're far from all bad, right? You're far too smart to think-"

"Bah!" Rumble stood and turned his back on the table. "Don't lecture me, old timer. You're starting to sound like Poppy."

A stern voice nearly made both Yordles leap from their positions. "I'm not entirely clear on what the problem with that is, Rumble."

Teemo grinned, clearly enjoying this. "Poppy, why don't you come have a drink with us? Best honey ale in the world, I promise." He offered her his glass, paw wrapped tightly around the swirling mixture.

She had to admit that it looked good. But Poppy shook her head. "I'll pass. Meeting with the Council in an hour, need to be on my guard for that. Tristana's supposed to me meeting me here…"

Poppy sat and made idle chatter with the two other Yordles for a few minutes, telling Rumble the finer details of the invasion of Piltover, although he only seemed interested in the Cho'gath bit, and downright infuriated at the mentions of Noxian mechs. Halfway through a tirade on how obviously inferior they were, Tristana mercifully appeared.

"Hey, guys. I got this letter…some kid in the town square gave it to me. Human, so he stuck out…" She produced a gray envelope with a red seal.

The icy winds of the Freljord carried the stench of death. Ashe watched as another load of bodies was dumped into a few sets of graves, and she couldn't help but feel the pain of it all over again. A few of the workers gazed at her, and she could recognize their tattoos. Winter's Claw. She doubled her resolve and stared back, well aware that tears would be seen as a sign of weakness. Something she couldn't afford right now.

Behind her, Tryndamere bristled, shivering a bit. Concerned, Ashe turned and spoke in a hushed tone. "Something wrong?"

The barbarian sighed and nodded. "Yeah...this whole business just reminds me of being a kid again. The massacre that killed my tribe."

Silence hung in the air as Ashe wasn't sure what to say. Her husband rarely ever brought up that incident.

"I tried to find my parents. Afterwards? You know, with all the...bodies." Tryndamere's expression hardened. "I couldn't even tell the damn things apart."

It was Ashe's turn to bristle, an unnatural cold running up her spine as her imagination set to work torturing her with images of that aftermath.

It was a sudden gasp behind her that made Ashe turn around. Udyr was trudging down the path to the graveyard, a corpse in his hands. Everyone had stopped moving, staring at the Animal Spirit as he walked forwards, wordlessly. Making a right at the entrance to the cemetery, he looked up at the royal couple and laid the body out in front of them.

"I found her."

The cold of the Freljord was often a deadly hindrance. It made life there much more difficult through sheer existence. However, it did have some advantages. One of which was how well it preserved bodies. Sejuani looked just as she had when she was alive, aside from the six holes in her torso, carved by a massive lance.

"Gods…" Tryndamere muttered, his eyes lingering on the wounds. "It took a lot to kill that woman." Udyr nodded, but didn't say anything, turning to Ashe instead.

The words were slow coming out. "She would have rather it been me. Standing here, looking at a corpse. Still alive." Ashe let out a sigh. "Well...sorry we couldn't fulfill your last wish, Sejuani."

Udyr shook his head. "That was not Lady Sejuani's last wish. I am sure of it." He pointed at a nearby outcropping where Anivia was perching, the Heart of the Freljord recuperated. "It was that."

As Sejuani's body was carried to its resting place, Nunu approached the King and Queen. "Hey, someone showed up at the castle...wanted to give you this." From a pocket in the young boy's parka, he produced a gray letter, sealed with red.

"All of that knowledge….destroyed! Worthless! Scattered to the winds!"

Cecil Heimerdinger was upset. He was frantically pacing in front of a ruined building, the much taller Jayce quite easily keeping pace with him due to his much longer legs.

Jayce frowned. "It's a shame this happened to the Academy...but we can rebuild it. Tomorrow's another day, Heimerdinger."

This did little to calm the Yordle, who continued to mutter to himself as he walked in circles. Jayce's mind, however, was elsewhere. It was on the device he had developed. The one that could disable techmaturgic machines. The one that had been placed on the Nexus during that match at the League...and the one that had resulted in the death of LeBlanc, and the invasion of Piltover. That was his work. Someone had stolen it from his lab. He had suspected Viktor...and indeed, found several copies of it in the cyborg's old lab in Zaun, but they were all defective. Mere shells, without the innards that made them work. But if Viktor hadn't taken it…

"Hey, hammer-man. You listening?"

Vi had appeared, climbing over some rubble to wave at the pair of scientists. Jayce nodded. "Ugh, sorry, Vi. Had something on my mind. What's up?"

Vi groaned, her shoulders sagging. "I...I tried to go to City Hall. See if any of her stuff was...left, y'know? But the place is a smoking heap. Guess a bomb and a Cho'Gath will do that to ya."

Jayce grimaced. "Station must feel a lot lonelier."

Sighing, the Enforcer sat down on a shard of rock. "I shattered her desk."

"You...you what?"

Vi growled, clenching mechanical fists. "I felt like it was...taunting me. Just sitting there, all empty-like? Dammit, Cupcake...why'd you have to go and be the freakin' hero."

A light breeze announced the arrival of Janna, who was using the wind to float above the ruined streets. She gave a cordial wave before descending to meet the others. "Hey. What's up with Heimerdinger?"

The professor was continuing to mumble to himself, leading Jayce to shrug. "Dunno."

Janna nodded. "I see. Anyway, I got this...it's addressed to the Mayor? But since he's gone…"

Vi snatched the object from Janna's hands, ignoring the yelp of surprise and annoyed glare. It was a gray envelope with a red seal.

The throne was empty. King Jarvan had not left his bedchambers. It was noon. Xin Zhao felt...troubled. It indeed felt a little silly, guarding a throne that had no occupant. At his side, however, a woman in a flowing blue dress rested a hand on Xin's shoulder. He turned slowly to find Queen Catherine Spiritmight gazing at him. "My Queen!" Xin Zhao bowed deeply.

Catherine simply smiled. "I had some tea made for you, Xin Zhao. It's waiting in the kitchen."

Xin Zhao was startled. "That sounds lovely, but I must respectfully refuse...I must guard the throne."

With a sigh, Catherine looked the Seneschal in the eye. "You don't need to do that today, Xin Zhao. He's not coming out of his room."

The Seneschal lowered his spear, always held in a defensive position, to the ground. "Perhaps I will take...a bit of a break. There is a large amount on my mind." Catherine nodded in response.

"May I join you? I think it would help if we shared stories...about my son."

Xin Zhao nodded. "I would be honored. Yours is a strong family, Lady Spiritmight."

She frowned. "That is what I am afraid of…"

In the courtyard outside, Luxanna Crownguard was going about her usual routine. Carrying several books to a stone bench, while Riven was behind her, several more in the Exile's arms. Dumping their cargo to the side of the bench, Lux stretched and smiled. "So...what would you like to read today? We've got Ionian Meditation Techniques, Shuriman Shieldcraft, A Biography Of The Life Of Garen Crownguard...let's skip that one…" Riven, puzzled, was looking through the stacks of tomes, pulling out a small pamphlet.

"This one seems shortest. "The Measured Tread?""

"Oh!" Lux's face lit up. "That's the most published thing in Demacia! Every soldier has to read it." Every soldier. Over and over. Recitations, memorizations, facing extreme punishments for minor misreadings. The repressed memories smashed themselves against the Crownguard's cheery facade, but they could not break free. Not again.

"I've actually heard of this, I think…" Riven muttered. "Soldiers in my unit used to talk about some book the Demacians practically lived by. Never knew the title, though."

"Oh yeah?"

Riven blushed a bit and looked down. "They had some...different names for it. Ones I can't exactly repeat in polite company."

Lux began to laugh. "Oh. I guess that makes sense…"

"Good afternoon, Lady Crownguard."

The voice was unfamiliar to Riven, but it was enough to make Lux shudder. She glanced up at an approaching Demacian noble. "Hello there, Marius Spiritmight."

The well-groomed figure flashed a grin. "I see you're busy today! Out showing off your trophies, are you?"

It took Lux a moment to realize what he meant. "She is not a trophy."

Marius sneered. "You're right. More of a dog, really...and you even taught it to read! My, you are good at this!"

The courtyard was suddenly silent as all eyes were on the altercation. Lux simply returned her eyes to a copy of Shuriman Shieldcraft. "I am busy, Marius."

"I'm sure animal care takes lots of attention…"

Riven was suddenly off the bench, staring down the noble. "We're busy. Marius." The last word was filled with spite.

Backing off, the noble smirked again. "Luxanna, I'd recommend a muzzle…"

As he walked away, Riven sat back down, shaking slightly, and whispered in Lux's ear. "Can I kill him?"

"What?"

"It's a serious question! Like, a duel, or…"

"Riven!" Lux frowned, but a glint of light appeared in her eyes as she noticed someone approaching. "I...don't think it'll be necessary."

Marius had run directly into Garen Crownguard, clad in full armor and standing a solid foot over the other man. "Were you speaking to my family, Marius?"

The noble shuffled. "I was. Is that a crime, Crownguard?"

"Far from it. But I would advise that you not EVER bother my sister, or our new ally, again. Or House Crownguard will withdraw all support from any of your efforts in the noble houses, and I will personally make it clear to every one of our...extensive allies that they are not to back a house lead by a coward who spends his time harassing his fellows in the courtyards. Or I could simply bring up the rather traitorous remarks you made regarding King Jarvan at the funeral. I have options."

At this, Marius Spiritmight stormed off, his gait noticeably shaken.

"I still want to kill him." Riven whispered. "I could do it now. He's close enough. Just a few dashes and…"

"Don't make me actually consider the muzzle." Lux joked, rolling her eyes.

By this time, Garen had reached them, and he waved a hand. "Hello there, Lux, Riven." His eyes scanned the reading material, and he beamed. "Ah! The Measured Tread! My favorite! And A Biography Of The Life Of Garen Crownguard!"

"That one was an accidental rental." Riven replied, smiling slightly. "What do you require?"

Garen frowned and revealed a gray envelope. "I was given this by Quinn...she said a messenger delivered it to the city gates, wanted it brought straight to me." His eyes hovered over Lux and Riven. "And both of you."

"Open it." Riven replied, her eyebrow raised.

Garen obliged, tearing off the red seal and revealing a slip of parchment. In careful, curved handwriting, it read:

"Shadow Isles Ships sighted off the coast of Bilgewater. We need to stop them before they hit shore, or the Mists roll in.

Limited boat space. Requesting all former Champions of the League who are available to help save our city. Come armed and prepared for war.

Sarah Fortune

Interim-Governor of Bilgewater"