Jarvan the Fourth IV
The aftermath of the battle was catastrophic. Hundreds of Demacians lie dead, with the ones that bore the brunt of the monster's flames reduced to indistinguishable piles of ash. The fortifications that has protected Wrenwall since before my father was born, obliterated in a single moment of destruction. What were once thousands of Demacian arms and armor now covered the battlefield as a carpet of molten slag.
Before all this, I had thought battle to be a glorious affair. The tales that have been passed down since the exodus to the Petricite Forest all the way down to Jarvan the First's legendary duel have instilled the idea that combat was the best way to show off one's courage and valor.
The stories never told of the stench of blood and burning flesh that permeated the place for weeks afterwards. They never told of the heart wrenching wails of those who have lost family members in the defense of their home. They never told of how those who lost their homes to fire and blood wander the streets aimlessly, relying on the goodwill of the more fortunate.
It has been two weeks since messengers have been sent to the capital to report the events to my father. Two weeks since the people, the sturdy, amazing people of Wrenwall, started rebuilding. As I replayed the devastation that the dragon brought to bear in my mind's eye, I looked out the window to see the massive Colossus that has begun helping the people set up new homes. I could see the children, covered in ash and dust and grim, picking through the wreckage for knick-knacks that survived the devastation and yelling excitedly at the surprisingly gentle giant whenever they found something. I could see Lady Crownguard, my best friend's sister, a mage, lifting debris alongside the common people with no regard to her status as either a mage or a noble. I saw the large, hulking figure of her supposed mentor, effortlessly shifting rubble aside to make room for the builders to lay the foundations of the new buildings. I could see Shyvana, a half-dragon, comforting the people that had the courage to get to know her despite her appearance, the friends she made during her stay here before her mother's attack.
It was a time of legends and of exploits that would be preserved as stories and myths to be passed down to future generations, and all I can think of was the stench of death and blood and ash.
This was real battle. This wasn't something that I could have learned in the training hall with my father's most trusted warrior. It made me sick.
"A formidable sight, is it not?" The elderly voice spoke up from behind me.
"Lord Buvelle. I had thought you would have left for the capital by now?" I asked him, eliciting a gruff chuckle from the man.
"My mission was to bring you home safely, my prince. You're not home yet, so I'm still here." I glanced at the fidgeting girl beside him.
"I see. And this must be your squire?" The girl seemed even more nervous as I addressed her, perhaps unused to speaking with royalty. That was strange. Lord Buvelle is a high ranking lord so one would think that his squire would be used to noble affairs.
"Yes, yes. This is Lucia, my new squire. I picked her up a couple of months ago near the Trevale border."
At Lord Buvelle's words, the girl gave a deep bow.
"I-it's an honor, Prince Jarvan."
"Well met, Lady Lucia." I responded warmly and I could see her cheeks flush red. Lord Buvelle gave off another gruff chuckle before speaking up again.
"My prince, the king has surely received your message by now and is most likely worried sick. I think it's time we head back to the city."
I turned my gaze back to the window, where the sounds of construction can still be heard.
"Very well. Do you believe my friend would be welcomed there?" I asked him. The citizens would be understandably nervous about seeing someone as obviously magical as Shyvana but she saved my life and fought by my side. The least I could do was give her a home in Demacia.
The fog of grief in my heart lightened a little as I imagined Garen's face when I introduce Shyvana to him and tell him how his own sister was a mage.
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Xin Zhao I
I was worried.
The endless struggle against Noxus was a known dilemma, one that Demacia had been wrestling with since ages long past. The barbarians from the cold north, driven south by Noxian invaders on their shore, were a negligible threat, the border fortresses of Demacia being strong enough to hurl them back to the frozen wastes they came from. The outlaw mages that lurk in the outskirts and hinterlands of Demacia are known quantities, with the Mageseeker's order sniffing after them like demented hounds. Even the confusing web of politics that the Demacian nobles are easy to deal with, especially since the nobles fear the hit to their House's reputation should they be caught participating in underhanded dealings. Attacking from the back was decidedly un-Demacian, after all.
I have watched the king's back against all these threats for years, ever since that day I knelt to him in Kalstead. It was my sworn duty as his bodyguard, his seneschal and his friend. The letter we received from Wrenwall and the letter that the king is writing now are going to change things.
"My king, are you sure about this?" I ask my old friend as he signs the letter. His study was a cozy place, warmed by a fireplace and filled with books and papers as opposed to the gaudy treasures one would expect royalty to be surrounded by. The king closed his eyes and thought for a second before nodding firmly.
"For too long, our people have lived in fear of being persecuted for things beyond their control. We have come a long way from exiles fleeing from the Rune Wars. I believe it's time for them to be embraced as true Demacians."
It was an honorable sentiment, but the trouble this would cause for him would be considerable.
"The Mageseekers wouldn't like that." I said and he nodded in acceptance.
"The Mageseekers would feel like we were encroaching on their duty. The citizens would be understandably nervous about the changes that this would bring. And the nobles..." He trailed off and I could already tell where his mind is going. The nobles would be split between those who would support the king and those who are comfortable with the current status quo. It would be an upheaval of immeasurable magnitude on Demacia's higher politics.
"But we will never get a better chance." He continued. "The Colossus, the very symbol of our nation, wakes up and works with a mage from a respected noble family to battle a threat that could have destroyed more of our cities with fire and blood. My son was rescued by someone who looks for all intents and purposes like a magical creature. And even now, the travellers from Shurima filling our taverns crow about how their beloved Lord Renekton helped slay a dragon. Even the nobles who are against magic wouldn't refuse an alliance with another nation whose shores are being held by Noxus."
His words were well thought out and made an astounding amount of logic, as I have long learned to expect from the king who has steered Demacia through troublesome times.
The feeling of trepidation grew even stronger.
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Sona II
"My, you're looking rather excited." My sister teased me as we sat in a carriage, the sound of the horse's hooves and the rolling wheels making a fairly comfortable rhythm for our journey. I gave her a half-hearted glare and she giggled. Despite her teasing, I couldn't help but smile at her bubbly mood. It was a noticeable contrast to the stoic front she gave off whenever she was with the other soldiers and I felt honored that I was one of the rare few she showed this side of her to.
"This'll be your first time in the castle, right?"
I nodded and tried to hold in my excitement. For some reason, Father invited us to the court's gathering and specifically suggested that I would be interested in it.
I plucked the strings of my etwahl, the comforting sounds filling the carriage and melding with the rhythm of the horse's hooves and rolling wheels.
It was a good day.