"Just a little while longer, big guy," Sett promised, "almost at the port. They'll be disembarkin' before you know it. You'll be unloaded with the cargo. I've already paid my guy who's gonna be collectin' you and get you past customs without anyone being the wiser. You'll get through here without makin' any scene, don't worry 'bout it."

"I am not worried," Zac answered.

That statement was only partially true. While he was not the least bit worried about getting off the ship, everything that would come after that he did worry about. But there was no turning back now.

"I'll find ya as soon as you're off the ship. Right now though, I gotta cover ya back up. Won't be in the dark much longer though, promise."

"I will be patient," Zac promised.

Sett nodded and placed the blanket back over the cask and closed the lid of the crate, plunging Zac once more into darkness. He gave the crate a final pat on the top and then departed. Zac listened to heavy thuds of Sett's footsteps grow fainter until the creaking of the ship was once more the dominant sound.

"Soon," Zac though, "soon I'll be out of this thing, Never thought I would miss my legs this much, but I've never been without them for this long, not since my parents adopted me."

He sloshed around the inside of the chem-cask. He had been so patient the while voyage over, but now that they were in sight of land, a fresh wave of restlessness washed over him. Whether these feelings were from himself or the other passengers, he couldn't tell. It didn't matter though, the end result was the same.

"I need to calm down," Zac rumbled to himself, "remember what Mom told you to do. Count to ten and recite the elements. One, two, three. . . "

The hour ticked slowly by as the ship approached the island.

"Nickle, copper, zinc. . . "

Above him the shuffling of footsteps became louder and more hurried and mingled with the cries of the sailors as they guided the ship.

"Praseodymium, Neodymium, Hexillium. . . "

Before long, he could hear raucous laughter of seabirds and the sailors on board calling to those who were not. Zac could not hear the responses, but he understood what it meant. They were at the docks!

At the call, Zac was filled with a sense of relief and a renewed longing to reform his limbs and stretch them out as far as they could go. He stopped that thought almost immediately as it began as he felt his body begin to push against the glass that surrounded him.

"Just a little while longer. Ah, I do not like how much I need to keep repeating that."

At last though, he heard the captain call out that it was time to move onto unloading the cargo. There was a commotion of feet stomping about, barrels being rolled along, heavy objects dragged and pushed across the wooden deck, and a chorus of voices grunting and cursing from the effort. All these sounds however, came from the distant end of the cargo hold and Zac resigned that he would need to continue to wait, but before he could resume his recitation of the elements, two voices approached the cask speaking the Ionian language.

Zac listened intently. Though he had been raised to speak the Piltovan language, he was steadily learning Ionian. Sett had spent many evenings on the voyage down here in the hold, doing his best to teach him and the other Zaunites some simple phrases and words to help them when they arrived. If Zac were being generous, he would describe Sett's efforts as an admirable attempt. If he were being honest, he would have to admit that Sett was not a skilled linguistics teacher. He grew frustrated quickly, his personal speech mannerisms clashed with trying to teach proper pronunciation, and most of his explanations were "I don't know why it's like that, it just is."

Mercifully though, Zac had always been a quick learner and he found that his innate ability to absorb the emotions of those around him also aided him with learning language, especially if he heard the same words and phrases repeated again and again. Zac learned the curse words first.

"Is this the one?" Zac heard one sailor say to his companion.

"It stinks like Zaunite cargo, so yes, it's the one."

The voices were now right above the crate. There was a thump on top as one man pat the top of it.

"What do you think is in here?"

"Honestly, I don't care."

"That man paid quite a bit for us to get it through. It's has to be something weird if it's from those cities. Aren't you the least bit curious?"

"No."

With that response, the men lifted the crate, causing Zac to lunch inside the cask. In that moment, he was reminded of how strong Sett was. Even taking the additional weight of the wooden crate into account, it took these two humans to be able to lift what Sett was able to do by himself.

"Damn, it's heavy," one of them cursed.

"Does it make you the least bit curious about what's in it?" his companion said, a slight mischievous tone in his voice.

"No. Damn it, no. It's probably some awful chemical. It's what that cesspit of a city is known for, isn't it?"

The other sailor chuckled.

"So, how do you really feel about Zaun?"

"That we shouldn't even be trading with them," he answered in a far, far less jovial tone, "Piltover, fine, but Zaun, no. Not after what they have done."

This confused Zac.

"What did we do?"

He had no idea what the man was talking about, but he could feel powerful emotions of anger and pain radiating from him. Zac shuddered, making the crate rattle.

"Careful, careful," the sailor with calmer emotions cautioned, "don't drop it."

"I'm not going to," the other snapped before taking a breath and speaking again, "sorry."

There was an uncomfortable minute as they moved the crate in silence before the more curious of the two began to speak again.

"It was only one man serving Noxus."

"I don't care how many Zaunites there were, the end result is still the same. My brother is going to be blind for life."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know he was there."

"It shows. Now come on, I want to get the rest of my money and be done with this."

There was no more talking as they went. When Zac felt them reach the stairs, he worked his best to shift his weight around in the cask to balance it in a way that would make him easier to lift. He wasn't sure if it helped, but he knew it didn't hurt and right now, that was enough.

Zac focused his attentions and trying to image where he was by feeling and sound alone. The steps of the sailors grew steady again as they came up onto the dock and then he felt himself slosh downward as his crate was walked down the gangplank. Along the length of the pier they walked before a harsh voice told them to stop. Then there were hushed whisperers he couldn't fully make out and then the soft jingle of money exchanging hands, and then, they were moving again. Before long, the men stopped moving and half placed, half dropped the crate on the ground.

"Hey, easy with that," a familiar voice snapped, "that's precious cargo."

The sailor grunted a response. The thud of Sett's steps approached and circled the crate before the large man let out sigh of approval. He gave the top of the crate a hard slap. By how it trembled, Zac couldn't help but wonder if Sett had perhaps damaged the crate more than it being put down roughly had.

"Alright," Sett said, "here's the rest. 'Preciate your work."

Once more, Zac heard the sound of money exchanging hands followed by footsteps retreating. When they had faded away, Sett spoke to him.

"You in there?"

"I am here," Zac responded.

"Good. I'm ready to get goin'," he said before switching back to the Piltovan tongue, "alright you two, let's get him loaded up."

Zac heard the others approach the crate. It shifted to the side as he heard the grunt of a man and whirl of machinery, alerting him that it was one of the Zaunites Sett had recruited to a combatant in the arena.

"Just follow my lead, kid," the gruff Zaunite grumbled.

"Yeah, of course."

It was Isidor's voice that responded and though they were now on shore, he still sounded frail with seasickness.

"Count of three," the older man said, "One, two, three."

On the count, they both lifted, though from how he shifted, Zac could tell which of the two of them was carrying more of the weight.

"Just a few steps to the cart," Isidor said in a strained voice.

"Don't waste your energy on talking," the other Zaunite said.

With a thunk, the crate was loaded onto the back of a carriage and Isidor let out a sigh of relief. More noises could be heard all around and Zac did his best to paint a picture in his mind of what was going on. There was a latch locking into place, the huffing snorts of a large animal, and footsteps all around.

"Hello, Zac," a gentle voice came from somewhere near him.

It was the voice of Isidor's mother.

"I'll be riding with you. I'll make sure you don't get lonely, but until we get out of the town, you will need to be quiet please. A talking box will attract too much attention."

"I understand," Zac said.

Zac could be quiet. He had experienced stretches of days in Zaun before where he spoke to nobody as he traveled through the immense duct ways of the city, simply feeling the emotions of others was social interaction enough. And as far as the feelings of one to absorb, Mairead's were pleasant. They reminded him of his own mother.

"We'll let you out when we get into the country," Sett cut in, "no crowds and if anyone does stop and gawk we can keep movin' and if they take issue with you, well it's none of their damn business who I hire, is it? They got problems, they can take em' up with me."

"You didn't hire me," Zac said.

"Ah-ah, temporary contractor still counts," Sett rebutted.

"But-"

"Don't object to me sayin' that I'm gonna stick' up for you, okay?"

"Okay."

With a creaking of wheels, the cart began to move. Zac wished he could peek outside the crate, even if only for a moment. After so long in the dark, and after feeling the curiosity rolling off the other Zaunites, he was desperate to catch a glimpse of this new land. As it was, he could only hear the docks and feel the general mood of the people milling about there and, if he were being honesty, it didn't sound or feel too different from what he had felt around Piltover's docks the few times he had been brave enough to venture up there. There was still a chorus of several languages being spoken and creating a tangle of words that was impossible to listen to all at the same time. There was still the harsh laughter of gulls, and the creaking of ships, the sloshing of water, vendors barking about their wares, kids excitedly calling to each other, animals throwing their own voices into the mix, cargo being moved about, hurried footsteps, meandering footsteps, mourning farewells, joyful greetings, and so many more sounds.

But in time, all of that noise faded away until only the sound of the wagon and Sett's little troop remained.

"Nothin' but farmland 'round for a while," Sett final said, "you wanna get out and stretch, big guy?"

"Yes," Zac responded so quickly he was speaking over Sett's final words then, not wanting to appear rude, he then quickly added, "please."

There was the click of the metal latch being opened, the creak of the wooden lid, and the muffled rustle of blankets pushed aside. Then, Zac looked upwards and saw the bright, midday sun shining brilliantly in the clear blue sky.