Unstable Matters Chapter 9: Playing the Fool (Part 2)
Breathing in the rich aroma of the espresso wrapped in her fingers, Fiora Laurent sighed happily. Her morning had begun with a quick fight on Summoner's Rift, with everything falling into place so that her lane had snowballed in her favor. It had been such a landslide, that the enemy team had surrendered at the twenty minute mark.
Even if the fight had been a practice one between two teams of novice Summoners, her duel in the top lane had been satisfying enough. In some ways more than others. She felt a little guilty for slicing up that furry little creature, with his constantly babbling tongue and big eyes. (Nocturne, when he had come to gank, was another matter.) The Summoner assisting him had not been accurate with his bone boomerang; a fault that had cost him his life many times over.
After the match the hyperactive mess of fur seemed fine enough; always bouncing away, laughing in awe at the world with the Summoners of the Institute who took care of him. C'est la vie for any Champion, one could say.
Maybe everything that happened on any Field of Justice was a giant game to him; some weird world where the (exceedingly violent) fun never ended. She doubted he had any understanding of the complex causes Summoners fought each other through Champions for. Not when she watched him leave lane to try and catch fish in the river with his bare hands. He had no real responsibilities, other than to take the advice of the voices that spoke in his head every now and then. Mostly because the voices were trying to stop him from dying a violent death, over and over.
"Instructor Laurent?"
Taken out of her thoughts by a sudden voice, Fiora looked over to see a young man standing hesitantly at her side. By his uniform, he was one of the new student Summoners that had been brought to the Institute a week ago. The same whose training she was supposed to be overseeing in the afternoon.
The dull gray scarf around his neck, signifying his unranked status, explained why she couldn't quite place his name. Looking him over quickly, he did seem to be just at the right age for a new Summoner recruit. Yes, a young man just at the peak of his cuteness.
"Finished with your practice forms already?"
"Yes, instructor," the young man answered, snapping off a hasty salute as he did. Fiora smiled to herself, bringing up the cup of her coffee to hide just how hard she was.
"Not bad. You must be into it today," Fiora said, looking him over with a touch of class so as to not make it seem like she was just pretending to have x-ray vision. "Do them again, then."
"...I'm sorry?"
"I said, do them again," Fiora explained, taking a small sip to help the ruse. "I want you to go through your stances again, but this time I will be watching. I want you to put effort into them, am I understood?"
"Yes, ma'am—"
Fiora cleared her throat loudly, her blue eyes narrowing into joyless slits that would be sharp enough to cut his body into a hundred pieces. Realizing his verbal gaffe, the young man cleared his throat too before saluting once more.
"Er… Yes, instructor. By your instructions."
"Better. Now go. Allez. And remember, I'll be watching."
"Yes, instructor! Thank you!"
Watching the young man go intensely, when she was sure he wouldn't notice, Fiora let a happy smile free and took another sip of her espresso. Yes, the morning so far was going very nicely. Which meant that it would only be a matter of time before something inevitably happened to ruin it all. Some would say that such a view was pessimistic or unrealistic even. But an ounce of prevention could go a long way in a world where forces that could destroy the world were being contained by jailers much weaker than their prisoners. In fact...
"You get a kick out of their fear, don't you?"
"Don't be so dramatic," Fiora chuckled gently at the truth being said so bluntly, turning and looking at Shyvana who was standing next to her. "It's nothing so serious; fear is also a way of showing respect. Don't take it out on me that the Prince couldn't keep his word."
"Hmph," Shyvana grunted, and Fiora could swear that a lick of flame had escaped her mouth as she did. Beneath the ragged red hair and hardened eyes lay a lot more than a wild girl who was still trying to adjust to living in a modern civilization. She had heard stories about the strange girl Prince Jarvan had arrived back with after his excursion into the wilds south of the Great Barrier. Fighting in the League had certainly given them a chance to know each other, much better than through the normal political channels of Demacian politics.
It was no secret that a lot of people were intimidated by Shyvana, and not just because of her ability to transform into her "true" form at will. But Fiora never saw it that way. She could never shake the comparison that Jarvan IV had brought the half-dragon home similar to how children brought home kittens and puppy dogs found in dirty alleyways. Whatever arguments that had gone down to convince the King and Queen to keep Shyvana were better left unanswered.
"Just like them to pull Jarvan from me after we planned this weekend for a month. I swear they do it on purpose."
"They probably do," Fiora remarked bitterly, and not just because of her espresso. She brushed aside the red streak in her own hair, leaning onto the table between them. "I can't stand the games those government dogs all play with each other. Always feeling the need to compete with those barbarians who come from the wastes. It's ridiculous. We're becoming more obsessed with following Noxus than Noxus is with fighting the world."
"Not a fan of the Crown?" Shyvana asked, maybe knowing that it was stupid to ask such a loaded question. Fiora let out her own fire breathing grunt in response.
"The Crown and the crowd the surrounds it are two different things, dragon. Never forget this. Our constitutional monarchy can only function if all six families balance each other out in the courts. My House will never support these wild goose chases to keep track of those stone banging imbeciles known as Noxians."
The unbelieving face she was getting from Shyvana irritated her more than it should. The clumsy footed dragoness had been spared from the political arena of Demacian politics, probably by and for the loyal circle of King Jarvan and Prince Jarvan. As tame of a wild beast as she was, it seemed like every day there was something to add to the list of problems she took center stage in. Sooner or later there would be a reckoning about her heritage, and clueless education when it came to the affairs of the political elite. Even if Demacians were much more tolerant of other non-human races on Valoran, a wild half-dragon marrying into the royal bloodline seemed more apt for a bad comedy than real life.
That being said, even Fiora couldn't help but envy the treatment Shyvana had gotten, since there had been no mercy for herself after she had taken control of House Laurent. Fighting in the League was a peaceful interlude compared to the struggle of rebuilding her family's reputation. The stains of her father's treachery would someday become an irrelevant footnote of the past, but not during her lifetime.
"You'll understand someday, whether you want to or not," Fiora said, trying to make it seem like she wasn't speaking from too much experience. "Consider it the price for getting a chance to live happily ever after with a man like the Prince."
At least this time the uncommitted grunt Shyvana let out seemed a little convinced of her words. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Fiora rolled her eyes before noticing that the dragoness was still sticking around for some reason.
"...Did you want something?"
"Did you forget? We were supposed to spar after you finished with their training," Shyvana explained, pointing at the group of recruits.
"Ahh, how could I forget," Fiora said, groaning as she did. "Because running circles around you is so much fun. Why are we even doing this again?"
"Don't make fun of me. You're supposed to be helping me learn how to fight against lighter sword users," Shyvana complained, now pointing at Fiora accusingly.
"...Why?"
"What?"
"I asked, 'why?'" Fiora repeated. When Shyvana simply looked at her with an incredulous look, she sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Didn't you want to beat King Jarvan's seneschal? Xin Zhao's fighting style is nothing relatable from my own. Someone of your caliber fighting moi is just a waste of both our time. It's obvious that the only reason they have you tagged to me is because they're just trying to give you busy work."
"Why would they do that?" Shyvana asked. Resisting the urge to present the truth bluntly, so that it would make it through the politically inept half-dragon's thick skull, Fiora paused for a moment to pretend that she didn't already know the answer.
"Well, it's because that's all you're good for."
"Excuse me?" Shyvana said, shooting Fiora a look that could make her espresso boil.
"You heard what I said," Fiora argued, refusing to pull her punches. "Everyone here has some responsibility to Demacia. Luxanna is spying on people. Garen, Xin, and Jarvan are back in Demacia for the annual King's Council meeting. Galio and Poppy are forging necromancy resistant armors. Shauna and Quinn are off doing...something. You're the only one who has nothing to do when the Prince isn't around."
"...And what does she do?"
Fiora turned herself around in her seat to look at where Shyvana was now pointing. Behind them some distance out, Sona Buvelle laid sprawled out on a large lounge chair next to a table station similar to their own. Underneath the shade of a large striped umbrella staked into the grass, the Maven of Strings was soaking up the rays of the artificial sun in a modest one-piece swimsuit that still left little to the imagination. Her hair was braided up into a massive gold and blue bun, instead of the twin ponytails held up by her iconic hair ornaments.
Somehow noticing that she was being looked at, Sona raised her sunglasses and waved a silent greeting their way.
"...More than you would believe," Fiora commented slowly, not returning the friendly gesture as she turned away from Sona to Shyvana. "Have some consideration for the seul souls here, and don't change the subject. You already know exactly what I'm talking about."
"Then that's why I have to get stronger," Shyvana defended, clenching her fist in the air resolutely. "I have to be strong enough to face anything in the world. Anything that could threaten his Highness."
"You misunderstand. I'm not talking about some ambush by Noxian assassins," Fiora explained, resisting the urge to roll her eyes again at the half-dragon's immaturity. "You may win over les gens by breathing fire like a circus performer, but that won't do anything against the people who really matter.Le politicien, are what they are concerned with. It's the real reason why you're never allowed to be with the Prince at public events."
The days were growing shorter for Fiora, and she did not want to tell Shyvana that it was because there was trouble building up just over the horizon. Most of the time, in her experience, it had little to do with Noxus. Whether people would admit it or not, there was always something going wrong in Demacia. In the army there were officers who sought to keep the world at peace by finding conflicts to fight. There were merchant guilds up in arms over high prices for things they inflated. Politicians campaigned for causes they had no stakes in, and were paid to argue against causes that would benefit them. Becoming the head of House Laurent had been like opening up a window in a room that she had never known was there. But was no fresh air to be breathed; there was only the stench of inequality, ineptitude, incompetence, and occasionally karmic apropos justice.
"It's not your fault, you must understand. Maybe your induction into the League was premature," Fiora relented, her own mood swayed by her own self-bombardment of negative thoughts. "You're still a stranger to human culture, yes? I would not be surprised if your inclusion as a Champion was to safeguard you and the Prince. It would be a wise decision by the King."
"I don't know anything about that," Shyvana admitted, turning away from what Fiora could only assume was being hit with some bitter truths so bluntly. "I just want to make myself useful. I hate the idea of being a burden to him, not after everything we've been through."
"You say that, and yet," Fiora said, trailing off her own thoughts and stopping herself from saying anything more. After a little, she then looked to Shyvana seriously.
"Answer me this, girl. What does it mean to be a Demacian?"
"What does it mean?" Shyvana repeated, blinking as she did. Seeing that Fiora was quite serious about the question, she mulled it over in her head for a few seconds before answering.
"Maybe...it's the pursuit of justice. Purging the world of evils like malice and selfishness."
"You would think so, yes? Certainly, those seem like traits many Demacians would wear as badges of honor," Fiora said, withholding too much agreement dubiously, and taking another sip of her espresso slowly. "But that is not what makes you a Demacian. I know this very well."
"Alright, then what?" Shyvana demanded, still staring Fiora down with all of the skepticism just as before. "Since you know the answer to everything today, you tell me. What does it mean to be a Demacian?"
Shyvana tapped her foot impatiently, suspecting that the Grand Duelist didn't have the answer either, and was just stalling for time to think of an answer. She waited and watched as Fiora took another long sip of her espresso, mildly surprised that the small cup hadn't run dry already.
"It was a trick question. There is no answer," Fiora explained finally, turning away as she did. "To be a Demacian, you don't have to understand anything. All you have to do is die for what others say they understand. Do you understand me?"
When Shyvana didn't have anything to say back, Fiora knew she had finally struck through the thick hide of the half-dragon. Satisfied with herself, she gave Shyvana's confused figure a once over with her eyes before looking back at Sona thoughtfully.
"You know… Why don't you take the day off?"
"A day off?" Shyvana repeated, maybe dumbfounded at the suggestion. "Here? Now?"
"That's right. A day off," Fiora repeated, jerking a thumb back at where Sona was still sunbathing behind them both. She then tugged at the tight yellow tank top she was wearing self-consciously, which had the Demacian standard in silver running across her left breast. "In fact, I have a good idea about how you should spend it. BUVELLE!"
Shyvana jumped just from how sharply Fiora had snapped a single name. The mute woman in question leaned up from the chair where she still lay, unperturbed by the loud interruption, and turned to them while lifting her sunglasses off of her face. From the distance she could see that Sona was pointing to herself. Shyvana watched as Fiora waved her hand in the air only once in return. With a touch of haste, Sona slipped on her brown sandals that lay at the side of her chair before walking over obediently. The golden etwahl that always accompanied the Maven of Strings came to life as well, lifting itself into the air and following behind its master silently. Fiora waited for Sona to make her way over to them, before explaining why she had called her over.
"I'm giving Shyvana the day off. Rather than training her myself, I want you to teach her… How do I say it? How about...how to relax," she ordered, ignoring the half-dragon's attempt at protesting. Looking at Shyvana the same way Fiora had moments before, Sona nodded along in understanding. "Loan her one of your spare suits, if you have one. And get some of the servants to bring you another chair too. Maybe after we can take her into the city, if she promises to behave herself."
"And what if the military asks about today? How are you going to explain this?" Shyvana asked, sensing that any say in her own future no longer existed.
"I'll tell them that this was an alternative training exercise," Fiora offered, waving off the half-dragon's concerns without too much care. "My mission was to make the new recruits less afraid of you. I think it will work très bien. How about that?"
"You can't be serious. We can't just—" Shyvana protested, before giving up. Watching her being towed away in the iron grip of a musician, Fiora sighed happily at her own work. The ability to pass on a problem to someone else was an undervalued skill, in her opinion, and it was good to know that she hadn't lost her touch in such matters.
Peace at last, the Grand Duelist thought to herself, closing her eyes and letting them stay shut. One day of peace is all I ask. Oh Dieu, if you would be so kind.
"Ahem. Fiora?"
Merde. It never ends.
Bringing her espresso cup up to her lips to cover how deeply she was frowning, Fiora turned slowly to see that Luxanna Crownguard, followed by a small entourage, had somehow snuck up behind her. The clean and positive energy that seemed to radiate obliviously from the young light mage was present, as always. She had always figured it to be some sort of unnatural and deranged phenomenon that had come as a side effect from her military training.
"...Crownguard," the Grand Duelist said into her cup, after a moment had passed. She looked past her briefly at the mixed group accompanying her, then back to her again.
"We have company, I see."
"Yep! Now, I know we've all met while on the Rift, but—"
"Yes, yes, I know who they are. A soldier, a wild animal, and my favorite pelote à épingles," Fiora interrupted, ignoring the indignant look Ahri in particular shooting her. "Crownguard, what have I said about bringing uninvited trash into our home?"
"Now now, Fiora," Luxanna said, in a sickly sweet voice. "They're here because they need our help with something. Something I think you can help us with too."
"I see. Well, if you're looking for swordplay lessons then go somewhere else," Fiora said, making a shooing motion with her hand as she stopped to take the last sip of her coffee. It had gotten cold over her lecture to Shyvana, but she finished it anyway. She then set the cup back down loudly on its saucer. "These training grounds are for the finest of Demacia to grow stronger, not a school for backwoods street brawlers like yourselves."
"Fiora," Luxanna said again, beginning to tap the end of her luminosity baton against her powder white gloves with some considerable force. "For someone whose wit is supposed to be as sharp as her blade, I thought you would be smart enough to recognize a request from the Crown when you saw it."
"The Crown?" Fiora asked, bringing up her empty cup to cover her mouth that was starting to slack. It wasn't even a question, really, and she saw the gentle reprobation in Luxanna's eyes. Fiora took a moment to force her mouth to close, and only then did she take another breath. She then remembered that they were supposed to be talking about something else entirely.
Still standing patiently behind Luxanna, Zac watched Fiora's expression change slowly, morphing from a dull and uninterested glaze to a piercing stare that wanted to peel back the layers of its target. Luxanna's own lip-thin smile remained unchanged, but there was an impish glimmer in her own eyes that seemed to be drinking in the Grand Duelist's suspicion. But then as if she had just remembered she was in the presence of others, Fiora's eyes dulled back over again, as if she were taking a moment to mull over her thoughts in private. She drifted back to the other fighters in the training yard still practicing, and then back to Luxanna and the three Champions with her.
"...Is that so?"
"Yep," Luxanna said simply, preparing to facilitate the last persistent push she needed. "I know how busy you are today," she said, offering up the faint praise as diplomatically as she could, "but it would mean a lot if you could help us with this."
"...Alright. Alright, fine! I gave Shyvana the day off today anyway. Maybe they'll be more of a challenge than that clumsy footed dragoness," Fiora conceded at last, standing up from her seat and picking up her sheathed rapier too.
"I think they'll be more than a challenge for you, Laurent," Luxanna said icily, before calmly walking over to a nearby weapon rack on the painted grass fields and searching through them. Zac watched Fiora shoot Luxanna's backside an unamused look, scoffing loudly as she did, before turning her merciless scrutiny toward them.
"So, who would like to be humiliated first?"
Without missing a beat, he felt Ahri and Riven place a hand on his back and forcefully shove him forward.
"Wait, what!? Why me!?" he demanded, his voice rising in volume propelled by the inconceivable blasphemy of having his strength put into question.
"I don't play with toys," Ahri said, with a little venom in her voice which he assumed was left over from what had been said before. Holding her open palm out, the subtle light began to glow from all of her nine tails as a spherical orb of magic essence threaded together in her hand. This continued until it grew in brightness and size, before it disappeared in a flashy instant.
"And I don't need them to survive. End of story."
"Katarina's fighting style isn't too different from my own," Riven explained, picking up from where Ahri had left off. She placed her hand over on the handle of her rune blade, gripping it firmly. Lifting it slightly from its large sheath, it gave off a dull green glow from the touch of its master. "Our weapon choices are different, but we were taught from the same basic disciplines in training. The only one unprepared for her is you, Zac."
"...Is it really that bad?" Zac felt compelled to ask, feeling betrayed despite knowing that they were both probably right.
"It's probably worse," Riven said without any subtlety.
"There's only one way to find out," Ahri shrugged, jabbing a finger toward Luxanna who had pulled out a large training sword from the mixed collection of weapons gathered on the field. "Go get her, tiger."
"And wipe that miserable look from your face," Fiora ordered. "You're getting lessons from the greatest duelist in Demacian history. What do you take this for? Have you no pride?"
"I'm not really used to this sort of thing."
"I can tell. Don't worry; I will go easy on you if it makes you feel better."
"Oh, well thank you so much," Zac rolled his eyes, noting that Fiora was now giving him a look as if something were on the tip of her tongue.
"Hmm… You know, I've always wondered about something."
"...And what's that?"
"Yes. I still don't get it," said Fiora in a curious tone, and Zac wondered where she was now going. "Explain to me; how did such a spineless creature like you become more popular than moi a year ago?"
"I don't think I can," Zac admitted grimly, resisting the urge to answer her snidely or out of some misplaced confidence in himself.
"Well try."
"Maybe it's because I'm good at getting beaten up, and you're not."
"...Aha hah, very funny," Fiora muttered, one eyebrow twitching irately as she stepped out onto the grass and motioning for him to follow too. "You have a sense of humor. That is good. I hope you are just as funny when you are in ten pieces."
"Well, I can still laugh when I'm in five."
Stepping out onto trimmed grass field, he could feel underneath his feet that the dirt and grass underneath them has been brought in by some outside source. Although it looked more natural than most of the Institute, it was still artificial in a sense. It was a disguise; a covering like the hundreds of gold and blue flags that bore the Demacian standard hung over and around everything in quarter. The unnatural and unfeeling design of the Institute of War was being masked by something that wasn't quite genuine itself. Yes, the Demacian quarter of the Institute was certainly softer than their Noxian counterpart, but there was the ironic similarity that both quarters worked to manipulate the space and design to resemble their own respective cultures.
Taking his place in a box outlined with white paint on the green grass, Zac was handed a large practice blade by Luxanna who gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder before leaving the field.
"This is just a practice match, so let's not kill each other today, yes?" Fiora proposed. "It is more important that you listen to what I have to say than to show off. I need to know how strong your own knowledge is first. Understand?"
"Right, I got you," Zac found himself agreeing, still trying to get a feel for the weapon in his hands. The weight of the dull iron blade felt strange in his hands; a sensation that he hoped would go away with practice.
"Oh, and lastly… If you get slime on my tank top, I'll kill you for real."
"Yes ma'am," Zac said with a sarcastic respect. "In case I do, just send me the dry cleaning bill in the mail."
Feeling the weight of the weapon in his hand, he then wrapped both his hands around its handle to get a better feel for it. The edge of the weapon was nonexistent, as far as he could tell, but the weight and size was identical to any sword some Demacian infantryman would be sent off with onto a battlefield. It reminded him of the Doran's Blade artifact the Institute manufactured and sold as memorabilia to the public. Not that he usually had Summoners buy an item like that for himself when he fought on the Rift. The only awkward things that he ever was forced to use were the strange array of arcane artifacts and mystical magics the item shop had for sale.
"...You can't be serious."
"What!?" Zac demanded, taken out of his thoughts by the disgust suddenly dripping from her voice.
"Have you looked in a mirror? You're just copying what you've seen," Fiora groaned, pointing at him while rolling her head back and face palming right in front of him. "And you look like an imbecile."
"I may be green, but I know what I'm doing," he defended, changing his positioning and holding the training blade in both hands to his side.
"Your hands are holding the handle the wrong way."
"Whatever, it's not like you can kill me with that steel toothpick anyway."
Fiora let out an unimpressed snort, rolling her eyes as she did. "Fine, but no whining if I cut you down into dessert sized servings, my dear pelote à épingles." She then raised her rapier vertically in front of herself, snapping off a quick salute to him. "Crownguard or not, a request from the Crown is not something to be taken lightly. Try not to waste my time, yes?"
"Same to you, lady," Zac said, raising his training sword back at her. "Let's not waste any time, okay?"
"As you say!" With her weapon raised at him, Fiora leapt back to take up a different stance. She then raised her other hand at him, waving for him to try and attack her. "Come! Mon garde!"
"Don't blame me if you get hurt!" Raising the iron training blade in the air, he held it above his head and took up a stance he had seen others on the grounds take up when facing each other. He could feel the oiled leather wrapped around the handle of the sword between both of his hands, as he consciously tightened his grip around it. He slowly focused out everything in the world around them; the shouting and clashing of other duels, and the encouraging cheers of Ahri and Luxanna off to their side.
Letting out an angry shout, he brought the blade down like a hammer with enough force behind it that he almost struck the ground. But before the blade had even gone over the arc of his own head, she stepped to her side and let his training blade fly past.
"You're too slow!" Fiora shouted, after stepping back from avoiding his first swing at her. "It's a sword you buffoon, not a club! Use it as such!"
"Give me a break! I'm kind of new to this!" Zac defended, watching as her front foot would move behind her rear foot on her outside, allowing her to pedal backwards with her defensive guard still up. Each time before he even had chance to put any strength behind a strike, she was already in a position to avoid it.
Fiora said nothing in return after their initial exchange, dodging swing after swing with a graceful ease he had no time to envy. He could see her vibrant blue eyes staring at him, analyzing him with years of knowledge and experience that he did not share. He was supposed to be stronger than her in every way, but their duel to everyone watching was like a child with a stick fighting against a sword master. The definition of child's play, if he had to admit to it frankly, and between the two of them he was not the adult.
Planting his feet for a high vertical swing, he felt the goo muscles in his arm tighten like knots as he swung. Maybe before he had even decided how he was going to attack, or maybe she had been planning it from before his first attack ever came. Either way, Fiora dropped her empty hand to the floor and lowered her body under his oncoming blade. Before he had even finished swinging where she should have been, she had run her own blade forward right into his chest with blinding speed.
"Passata-sotto," Fiora whispered, pulling the tip of her blade out from where it had pierced into him. She smirked at the sight of his stunned face, barely able to hide her own amusement at the shock in his yellow eyes.
"Sorry, but I cannot resist a soft target when I see it," she apologized sarcastically. Bringing the point of her blade up close to her face to inspect it, she ran the tip between her gloved thumb and index finger to clean the little bit of green goo off of it. In that short window of time, the hole she had made in him had already closed itself up.
"Your reaction time is still slow, and you telegraph all of your moves too clearly. I hope for your sake that you don't think you can defeat Katarina as you are."
"Don't I get a handicap for being new?" Zac asked ruefully, feeling his ire rising at her arrogant smirk that showed no signs of going away.
"Ask Katarina if she will put that question on your gravestone. Your sword play is une mauvaise blague," Fiora said, rolling her eyes at his excuse. "A bad joke. You are safe because of your strange body, but that can become a liability too. Now get ready, we're trying again."
"Sooo… Riven?"
Sitting and watching with a rising interest, Riven was taken out of her thoughts by the sickly sweet tone Luxanna had said her name it. The kind that was both a hint and a warning to what she knew was going to be asked next.
Watching Zac and Fiora start their practice fight against each other was stirring up a lot of feelings in the heart of the Exile. The dance of two blades alone, clumsy practice or not, was causing her heart to beat faster. Time itself seemed to slow as she watched their duel. Her own body temperature was rising too, and she felt anxious in her seat. She knew what it all meant; there was no amount of time that could ever erase her discarded heritage.
"Have you put any thought into my offer?"
Riven let out an annoyed grunt, saying nothing else and turning away as she did. Ahri observed in silence, seeing the disappointment on Luxanna's face versus the irritation on Riven's. It didn't take her too long to piece together what Lux was hinting toward.
"Then… I take it that you're still not interested."
"I'm already an exile, Lux. I don't want my new nickname to be 'Traitor' you know."
"Are you just going to wander forever then?" Her question was rhetorical, and Riven knew it. She wanted to snap at the Lady of Luminosity that it wasn't any of her business, but knew that the concern being shown was genuine.
"One Champion can't take on the problems of the world, you know."
"I'm not trying to save the world. I'm just trying to live each day in a way that I don't lose sleep when I go to bed at night."
"But don't you miss it? The comradery? The unity? Being recognized for your strength and loyalty? What about—"
"Is it really worth it?"
Ahri interrupted Luxanna just before Riven could think of something say anything back. Something to absolve her of the responsibility justifying her own life, no matter how many times she already had done so to the Lady of Luminosity. It was the last thing she wanted to talk about, with the irritable mood she was in.
"Ionians dying for Ionia. Noxians dying for Noxus. Demacians dying for Demacia. Are all of these places worth dying for? Are they worth your soul?"
"Some things are worth dying for," Luxanna defended. "You probably think we're crazy, but some of us are happy with that idea. I don't think you would understand Ahri."
"Anything worth dying for is certainly worth living for too," Riven interjected. "You still have your youth, Lux. Don't be so eager to throw it all away for some grand vision that isn't even your own."
"Riven, you're younger than my brother. You shouldn't talk like that."
"Maybe I'm wrong, but… It sounds like you were talking from experience?" Ahri hesitantly asked.
"Maybe I am," Riven admitted, finding the words not painful to say at all. "I guess I really am, aren't I? I didn't even mean for it to sound like that."
"I'm a soldier too Riven," Luxanna said firmly, placing a hand on her polished silver breastplate and over her heart. "I may be a spy, but I've seen hundreds of things I wish I hadn't. I've seen corruptions, incompetence, and pigheaded ignorance. I've seen death, destruction, and all manners of horrors we inflict on each other. I just," she trailed off quietly, rubbing her own arm uncomfortably as she did. "I can't just leave it all behind like you did. Maybe that's why I keep asking if you would join me. Become an honorary Demacian. I don't know what I would do if I were in your shoes, and I don't know how you go on every day like you do."
"Honorary. Typical Demacian wordplay. You say it like being a second-class citizen would be some privilege," Riven spat, knowing that anything she had to say would probably be lost on the persistent young woman. "I didn't know what I was going to do the moment I left the battlefield. I don't even know if what I'm doing right now, if that means anything. But that doesn't mean I can just roll over and die. As long as I'm breathing, I have to live one day at a time."
"I wonder if that's what Zac thinks too," Ahri repeated, speaking in a misty and wistful way. Rather than have to explain the unknown thoughts that has floated through her mind making her say that, she decided to change the subject completely.
"I don't really know a lot when it comes to things like swords, but it doesn't look like he's learning anything."
"Maybe this isn't going to work after all," Luxanna murmured in a low voice, cupping her own chin in her hand. Watching just as passionately as she was, Ahri and Riven both let out whispered agreements.
Originally she had hoped for something unknown. It was hard to describe, thinking about it. Maybe it was something akin to waiting for a miracle to happen; as if Zac would be able to draw on some hidden inner strength as a bio-weapon to use other weapons. Like he had something in his genetic structure that made him good at fighting, or at least a quick learner. Something that could explain how he had become so dominant in the League at his arrival, only to slowly fizzle out without much attention as time had gone on.
In hindsight it had been a silly hope, but Luxanna had seen many things in the Institute of War that were more fantasy than reality.
"Maybe he just needs time to get adjusted?" Ahri ventured to suggest, cringing as Fiora both disarmed and stabbed Zac through his chest for a third time.
"No. He doesn't have any experience with weapons," Riven said matter-of-factly, so much so that Luxanna and Ahri both wondered for a second how she knew. "I wouldn't be surprised if he has some sort of mental block about using them too. Since he uses his fists all of the time, maybe you can try something with that?"
"It couldn't hurt to try. Not us anyway," Luxanna said, turning an eye toward the large dragon head gauntlets that were still lying on the grass next to their sunbathing owner. At some point she had noticed the return of Shyvana right behind Sona, in matching attire no less. But playing host to her fellow Champions had taken priority over satisfying her curiosity about how on Runeterra that had come to pass. Zac in the meanwhile was still floundering about, with Fiora evading everything he tried with relative ease. Tried with just playing around, everyone watched the Grand Duelist disarm the Secret Weapon effortlessly for the fourth time in the minutes that had passed.
"Don't test my patience, boy! Are you even trying!?"
"I'm going to test your face in a minute, lady!"
Stepping out onto the grass, Luxanna slowly and quietly approached the unmoving dragoness. Shelving her hands behind her back, she cleared her throat gently to first get Shyvana's attention.
"Hey, Shyv?"
"...What?" Shyvana growled, still laid out and unmoving.
Luxanna hesitated, a little off put by Shyvana's emotionless and flat tone. Next to her Sona leaned up, raising her sunglasses with her other hand and giving her an inquisitive stare of curiosity as she did. Shyvana, however, remained laid out and unmoving like a predator that was feigning its own inattentiveness.
"Can I borrow these?"
"What for?" Shyvana asked, just as unemotional as before.
Luxanna took pause, trying to think of the simplest explanation.
"I want Zac to beat up Fiora with them."
"...Really?"
"Really."
"...Fine," Shyvana said, waving for her to go away. She let loose a lazy yawn, adjusting her bathing suit's top slightly before stretched herself out further under the sun. "I just got them repaired, though. I don't want to see any holes in them, okay?"
"I make no promises, but thanks!" Luxanna said graciously, perhaps a little too much so. She quickly reached down and lifted with her legs to heft up the massive enchanted steel gauntlets before their owner could change her mind.
Walking back over to where everyone else was, she could feel the heels of her armored boots stabbing into the grass from her increased weight. It felt as if she were carrying at least three swords in each hand, but looks wise each gauntlet was probably made up of enough enchanted steel to make at least five. Maybe it had something to do with the strange transformative properties they held that allowed them to increase in size to fit on Shyvana both in her human and dragon form.
I wouldn't want to get punched from someone who can wear these, she mused to herself, and imagined Fiora would probably be thinking the same soon.
"This is plan B?" Ahri asked, inspecting the incredibly big dragon's head gauntlets for herself as Luxanna laid them on the table with a heavy clatter. Seeing them together, it could be clearly seen how both parts together resembled the skull of the fire breathing monsters she had only read about in books. With so many different predators in the world, maybe it was a small miracle that humanity had survived on Runeterra for so long.
"This is plan B," Luxanna agreed, turning and cringing at how badly Zac was handling himself. "Unless anyone has a better idea?"
"No. I think he's getting worse," Riven said, her face deep into the palms of her own hands. She let out a frustrated groan, parting her fingers momentarily to see that Zac now had no less than three different training swords sticking out of him in different angles.
"Alright, that's enough you two!" Luxanna shouted, waving her hand in the air to get their attention. "Come back over here, Zac! Let's try something different!"
Zac turned around to see Luxanna waving to him, and stopped to walk back over. "What's going on?" he asked, noting how Ahri and Luxanna were both holding back their amusement at something. He followed their eyes and looked back down at himself, and noticed that he still had two of Fiora's blades sticking through him like a skewer.
"Oh come on, I was just getting the hang of it," he muttered, pulling the blades that had been run through him and dropping them onto the grass. Ahri and Luxanna both laughed, and Riven just rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"Just try these. That was painful to watch," Riven ordered with a rasping snort.
"It wasn't that bad, was it?" Zac begged, looking at the three ladies for the slightest drop of sympathy.
"It was that bad," Riven said, shooting down any and all hopes for his new career as a master swordsman. "It's pretty clear you had no idea what you were doing."
"What can I say? At least I owe my lack of success to no one but myself."
"...That's one way to look at it," he heard Riven mutter under her breath, before Luxanna pulled his attention back to her.
"Instead of a sword, how about trying something close to what you're used to?" Luxanna suggested. Lifting one of the dragon head gauntlets to him, she waited for him to grab it by the handles inside of it before offering the other one too.
"Wow, these are nifty," Zac commented, holding his arm up and looking at the dragon design of each gauntlet under the light of the sun. The detailing of each was probably for decoration purposes more than lethality, but they were still very impressive to hold in his hands. He could feel the raw weight behind them, and it felt as if he could punch holes in a solid stone wall if he felt like it.
"Poppy designed those for Shyvana a long time ago," Luxanna explained, waving a finger at him threateningly. "Now I know you've got a lot of strength in you, but they have sentimental value. Don't go getting them damaged, or Shyv will get mad at us."
"Alright, I get it," Zac said, throwing a punch in the air. He could feel his body twist with the weight on his arms and over his fists. It was different from throwing a punch with his bare hands, which was for sure. There was more there. More presence. More weight. More...
"Hey, can I shoot fire out of these things? You know, like flame breath or something?"
"One thing at a time, Zac," Luxanna laughed lightly. "It's more important that you're comfortable with who you are before you start casting spells everywhere."
"Yeah, I get what you mean," he agreed, throwing one jab after another into the air. One fist followed by two, and another two followed by more straight jabs. Relaxing his arms, he could feel the added weight of the weapons pulling his arms down. He wondered if he would have to arrange the portions of his body differently if he was going to fight with them, or even if he were to wear something similar for a long period of time. These were thoughts he had never been forced to consider, considering his personal aversion to using anything other than his own body.
Masking his own satisfaction with his new choice in loadouts, he quietly walked back out onto the grass where Fiora remained waiting for him. Her face bore an expression of acute boredom that he felt the increasing need to knock off with a punch to the face.
"Back for more already?" Fiora mocked, raising an eyebrow at his toys brought along with him. "And a change in weapons? Already? We were making such progress too."
"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up lady," Zac shot back, raising his fists like a prizefighter in a boxing ring. "I'm a whole new secret weapon now."
"Oh, is that so? How interesting." Fiora raised her own blade, snapping off a quick salute just as she had done before. "Come! Show me what you're made of!"
"Hold it! Hold it! Hooold it!"
Everyone stopped what they were doing, looking around for the source of the new voice. They all recognized it; a voice belonging to a unique individual and a fellow Champion, but pinpointing where it had come from was another matter. In a puff of green greasy smoke, Twitch the Plague Rat burst out from thin air. Standing next to where Zac was still out on the grass, he ran his paw over his scraggly whiskers in a prideful and proud display to his own sneakiness.
"Out from the sewers comes… Me!" Twitch said dramatically, bowing to the surprised collective faces of the other Champions around him. "Hah ha! Surprised to see me, are you!? I've been watching what you've been doing… You can't hide anything from me!"
"You! What— How—" Luxanna spluttered, before shaking her head. "How did you get in here!? This place is for Demacian Champions only! What are the guards doing!?"
"Ha ha! Be amazed at my powers! You fools never saw it coming!" Twitch exclaimed, dancing about as he did. "Except maybe the fox. She's scary like that."
"I knew I smelt a rat," Ahri mumbled under her breath, disgusted from just looking at the stained and soiled ensemble that Twitch wore wherever he went. Just looking and listening to him caused a shiver to run up her spine. In the back of her mind, she often wondered if she had lucked out in taking a more beautifully humanoid form after absorbing the magical essences that made her who she was. Twitch was a wonderfully disgusting example of a fate she may have barely avoided.
"And why is he here?" Riven asked, not sounding any more interested from the sudden surprise.
"Give him a second. He'll probably tell us himself if we don't ask first."
"And what do you want?" Fiora demanded, a sickened disgust dripping from her voice in syrupy tones. "Go back to whatever hole you crawled out from! These grounds are for true fighters!"
"Funny how I don't really see any," Twitch muttered, holding a paw up and scratching the inside of his ear. Cleaning some grime and scum out from his fur, he casually flicked it off his fingernails her way. "I don't care about whatever you weirdoes do in your spare time. I'm just here to help a dear friend in need, got it?"
"Uh…" Zac hesitated, not sure where Twitch was going. "I'm almost afraid to ask but… How?"
"Trust me on this. I saw what you've been doing, from the shadows of course. They're trying to unlock your 'true potential' and all that junk," Twitch said, making air quotes with his three finger as he did. He reached out and gingerly patted Zac on his knees as if he were assuring a small child. "But this isn't a fairy tale! These idiots are looking at it all wrong. You can't get things done with stupid magic and pointy clubs!"
"Is that so?" Fiora said in a low tone, leveling her pointing her steel rapier right at his head. "What say we test that fact?"
Without warning Twitch reached his arm around his pack and slung around his customized hextech crossbow. He leveled it with both hands, jumping up and on his hind legs. "Spray and pray!" he shouted in a shrill voice, letting a bolt fly from his crossbow.
Before Zac could say anything to stop him, Twitch pulled the trigger and let fly a single bolt. With incredible speed Fiora side stepped the projectile just as smoothly as she had all of his attempts to strike her before. But instead of counter attacking, to Zac's confusion, she turned to look at something behind her. Taking the hint and looking over too, he spotted exactly what.
Behind the Grand Duelist stood a straw stuffed training dummy tied to a wood and iron cross staked into the ground. The bolt from the crossbow sailed in the air, the missile landing right in between the red rings painted on the dummy. The first bolt had clearly impaled the target with a hard thump, with its tail end vibrating violently in the wind from the abrupt stop.
"Shooting is easy! Aiming is the hard part," Twitched declared proudly, lowered his crossbow and slinging it back over his back. "I bet you can do it too! I mean, at least your eyes aren't on the side of your head."
"Hmm. Not a bad suggestion at all," Fiora said before Zac could say anything, already putting away her sword back into its sheath. "I have no interest in running around all day with you chasing after me. Go with what that little abomination is suggesting."
"What? Am I not good enough for you?" Zac asked with a bit of indignity. The Grand Duelist didn't even bother to turn to look at him before she responded.
"I said it before and I meant it before; when it comes to swordplay you are a bad joke. I don't know where you are going or why, and I do not care. Trying to teach you anything about swordplay is waste of both our time. Deal with it."
"Well thanks for nothing," Zac muttered, watching Fiora walk back over to where everyone else was still sitting.
"Hey, do you want me to shoot her?" Twitch asked, sniggering at the thought.
"She's not worth the ammo," Zac said flatly, putting down Shyvana's dragon-head gauntlets down onto the grass and taking Twitch's crossbow from him when it was handed up to him. "So, how do you handle this thing?"
"It's easy! Just point it where you want to go, and use your booger hook to pull the trigger! She works fine; I licked those bolts myself this morning."
Holding her sheathed blade in her hand, Fiora let its weight hang at her hip as she walked back over to the table her unwanted guests were all corralled at. She blew the red stripe of her hair out from over her eye in frustration. Not bothering to say anything, she pulled up the chair she had gotten up from and sat back down on it firmly. All she wanted to do was go back to her own personal time, but the expectant look a certain blonde pain in her side was frustrating.
"Crownguard, a word?" Fiora said emotionlessly, standing up in her seat and motioning for Luxanna to follow her. She didn't bother to say anything to either Riven or Ahri.
"Fiora, what are—? Hey—!" Luxanna shouted, as Fiora reached across the table and pulled her right out of her seat impatiently. "What the heck!? I—" she stammered, looking back at Ahri and Riven in embarrassment, but neither seem to care.
"What was that about?" Ahri asked, watching Lux being dragged away quite some distance that was most definitely on purpose.
"Don't know, and I don't care," Riven answered faithfully, standing up from her seat. "But I think that's our cue to leave. What do you think?"
"Yeah, I get you," Ahri said, watching Luxanna being dragged farther past where Sona and Shyvana were. The sunbathing duo were looking up from where they were laying at the spectacle too. "I think we've overstayed our welcome, don't you?"
"Yeah. Go grab Zac for me. I have a plan that I think will work."
Still being pulled by her arm some distance away, Luxanna finally snapped out of her shocked stupor and dug her heels into the ground. With some force, she stopped Fiora from dragging her too far away. They were far past hearing distance for Zac and company, but probably still in range for Sona and Shyvana to get an earful of what was to come. "Laurent! What's gotten into you!?"
"What are you playing at, pulling me into your farce!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Luxanna said, shaking her arm to loosen the duelist's iron grip on her. "I just thought that you could be of some help since you have so much time to yourself!"
"Don't include me in your stupid Demacian Security Brigade games, Crownguard. Lying about the Crown is more than taboo and you know it."
"I wasn't lying," Luxanna insisted, holding her head up pridefully. "Making sure that Zac is prepared to fight Katarina is of national importance! Just because you're not in the loop, doesn't mean that—"
"Are you insane!?" Fiora demanded, snarling resentfully at the light mage who was glaring at her. "What were you expecting!? The art of swordplay is something mastered over generations Crownguard, not in an afternoon."
"Well so much for the greatest Demacian duelist being of any help," Luxanna said, puffing her cheeks out in a pout as she did. Fiora's brows knitted together angrily.
"Crownguard, as much of a genius as I am, there's nothing I can do to teach someone who doesn't want to learn!"
"Doesn't want..." Luxanna repeatedly what Fiora had said in a slow and deliberate manner, as if trying to understand them for herself. Unseen to them both, Sona and Shyvana exchanged silent looks at each other over the new revelation. "Wait… Fiora, what are you talking about!?" the light mage demanded, as if she had just been struck by a horrifying realization.
"Are you really that dense!?" the Grand Duelist demanded in a hushed whisper, unaware that the subjects of their conversation were already leaving on their own. "Did you see how he was behaving!? That wasn't the fighting style of a monster who spent his first months here being first pick or first ban by Summoners in every single match! He's pretending to be a clueless idiot so that he stays out of your eyes!"
"And don't you dare insult me by questioning how I would know," Fiora continued, not waiting or caring about anything that was going to be said back to her. "I have spent years fighting in the top lane of Summoner's Rift. Fighting against men and monsters alike who know how. That green spineless splattering of jam is no different."
"But why? I don't understand," said Luxanna, who began massaging her forehead warily with an expression of pain.
"Do I have to spell it out? Obviously it's because he doesn't trust you," Fiora accused, in a voice lowered deferentially. "And why should he? He's not stupid. It's obvious why you're offering any help to him at all! You and every military branch are all scratching your head over why Swain choose him. I can just imagine you all, running in circles and threatening each other over questions no one in the universe has answers to. Mon Dieu it is so infuriating!"
Fiora forcibly stopped herself from continuing on her own tirade, warily watching Luxanna massage her own forehead still and beginning to feel the same aching pain in her own. Taking a deep breath before breathing out swiftly, she looked around to make sure that they hadn't brought too much attention to themselves.
"You should contact the head of the Security Brigade. Or your brother. Pass it through whatever channels you use," Fiora said, resting a hand on the Light Mage's shoulder. "Tell them that they must give you more flexibility to act as you see fit. You can tell them that I recommend it as well."
"What do you mean?"
"Think of it as a fighter's insight," Fiora explained passively, turning and looking in the direction where Zac and company had slipped away without so much as a word. "You need to convince them that you're on their side. Right now they don't trust anyone but themselves, you understand? Trust is one of the hardest things to forge between people of different identities. You must be patient with them, and trust that your investment into them will pay off."
"Can I quote you on that if anyone asks?" Luxanna said, cracking a faint smile Fiora's way. The Grand Duelist's frown didn't change however, and after looking back at Luxanna, she turned to look back again at where Zac and company had left.
"If you must. Demacia needs to learn how to make friends better, because like it or not, it's another thing Swain has over us."
"So, what now?"
"That's the question everyone asks," Zac remarked for the second time in the same day. Again, he found himself being pulled forward somewhere deeper into the Institute's halls by Ahri, who had her arm tightly wrapped around his. Ahead of them Riven was leading the way in silence, walking with a direction in her steps, one after another. To his other side Twitch was keeping pace with them on all four of his legs, with the occasional stink eye aimed at the nine-tailed fox not going unnoticed by everyone.
"What a waste of time. I can't believe you just trusted them like that," Twitch said, looking up at Zac as he did. "Demacians are just better at hiding the stench of their trickery. You can't trust any of 'em I say!"
"Yeah, what was that all about?" Zac felt the need to ask. "So much for learning anything about Katarina. Why did we leave like that anyway?"
"She was just using you to try and get to me," Riven said, thinking back and frowning from the conversation that had happened. "She is a spy, after all. Subversive tactics are her thing. We're better off asking some League officials about information on Katarina."
"At the end of the day everyone just wants something," Ahri said with some air of disconcern. "It's… What do they call it? A rat race?"
"I take offense to that," Twitch remarked, "even if it's completely appropriate."
"Were you looking for me?" Zac asked, looking down at the Plague Rat. "I haven't seen you around in a while. How's it going?"
"Oh, you know how it is," Twitch said, laughing as he did. "I was looking for you since yesterday. Hey, did you know that two of those Noxian jerks broke into your home!? The one with the red hair, and the guy that's always wearing the cloak with metal tips. I saw them leaving your place while I was eating your food."
"Yeah, I know about—" Zac then stopped. "Wait, you were stealing my food!?"
"No!" Twitch denied, before turning away. "Stealing isn't the right word. I was going through your stuff to see if there was anything for my particular palette. It's nothing you wouldn't have given me anyway!"
"That doesn't mean you can just go through my stuff! Did you at least close the refrigerator door!?"
"Why would I do that? Nothing tastes good fresh. Everyone knows the best food in fine dining are things have been left to fester for a week or two."
"So I've got Noxian assassins, a destroyed home, and spoiled food everywhere. Gee, thanks a lot, man."
"Alright you two, don't fight now," Ahri ordered, suddenly feeling like the babysitting for two little kids. Two very unique kids. "Let's focus on the here and now, okay?"
"Yeah, are we going anywhere in particular?" Zac felt the need to ask, still being led by Ahri who was being led by Riven. Looking around, he could tell that they were heading deeper into the facilities of the Institute of War. But the path they were taking was definitely not one of the more standard routes.
"Wherever we're going, can we do it without him?" Ahri asked without any subtlety, shooting a glare at the mutant rat that was still tagging along. Twitched scoffed loudly, turning his nose up in disgust at her.
"Right back at you, lady. No one who tries to cover up that they smell like blood is trustworthy," Twitch shot back, still giving Ahri a look that made it seem like he was expecting to be attacked and eaten at any moment. "At least the soldier girl here doesn't try and hide it. I bet that ridiculous getup she's in is your doing."
Zac could have sworn he saw the slightest smirk on Riven's lips, despite having her back to them as they continued to walk along. Ahri let out a loud groan in frustration, still glaring daggers at Twitch as if she were to hoping for lightning to strike down from the sky and smite him where he stood.
Following Riven up another set of stairs, Zac wasn't surprised as they continued through another hall once reaching the top, only to be led to another set of stairs that they proceeded to climb down. Whatever pathway Riven was leading them through was definitely one off of the map. It was no secret that the Institute had separate halls and pathways for personnel to travel through; some were even off limits to Champions too, and he could only speculate what went on behind their closed doors. Maybe without realizing it, they were being shown how the Exile disappeared after her matches to places unknown.
With every step they took Zac could tell they were heading further away from the commonly populated areas of the Institute. The sounds of people were quickly being replaced by the low hum of the magic devices that laced through every part of the Institute's architecture. Descending down another large spiral staircase, everyone stopped when Riven finally stopped at a pair of large double doors with a sign above them. Written in bright red was a warning sign that read: EMERGENCY ENTRANCE. TRESPASSERS WILL BE VIOLATED. When Zac looked around at their surroundings, remembering all of the different halls and paths they had taken, whatever was behind those doors would lead them even deeper into the Institute's internal grounds. He could see that Riven's face had gone hard again as she turned around to face them, and it dawned on him that such a thing was a telltale sign for when the Exile was about to drop something onto them, whether they wanted to hear it or not.
"Ahri, I need to borrow Zac for the rest of the day."
"Hey, I'm here too you know," Twitch said indignantly, but was ignored.
Zac blinked in surprise, before noticing that Ahri was looking at him with innocent eyes that probably meant otherwise. She then looked back to Riven, who was still wearing the stoic face she always wore. Her lips began to purse tightly, her mind probably trying to piece together something from what was right in front of her.
"Alright, I'll bite. What are you thinking?"
"You may have heard me before. I need Zac for something, and...it's complicated," Riven explained, not really explaining anything at all. She turned away sheepishly, scratching the back of her head in frustration from being unable to think of an answer that would satisfy the gumiho's appetite for business that wasn't her own. "I know how strange it is to say it like this, but I need to be alone with him for the rest of the afternoon."
"When you say it like that, you know I can't help but be curious."
"Ahri, please," Zac said, using his judgment to step in. "Honestly? I don't have a clue what she's talking about. But I know you can tell that she's being serious about this. If you can sense that Riven means it, you should respect her good intentions."
Without meaning to, he had accidentally used Ahri's own words against her. Only after the words had left his mouth did he realize his own accidental wit. But Ahri picked up on it without missing a beat, and her curious puzzlement slowly turned into a conniving and malcontent sneer of understanding. Just looking at her face made Zac cringe, and he could only imagine the wrong conclusions that were swimming in her head.
"That's a nasty habit you're forming," Ahri remarked, with no intention to explain her context.
"Yeah, I know," Zac muttered in embarrassment, noting Riven and Twitch's confused looks. "If it means anything, I didn't mean to. Really."
"...Fine. I get it! I can take a hint! But only because you asked politely," said Ahri, letting out a light huff as she did. But before the Exile could say anything back, Ahri held up a finger to signify that she wasn't done. "In return for playing along with your little game, I have a condition of my own. I won't ask what you two will be doing, but in return, I want you two back in my home before midnight. Alright?"
It was a simple enough request, but Zac turned to see whether she would agree to it or not. Riven simply gave a silent nod in return, her features relaxing back to how they had been before.
"That's fine. We'll be back at your place before midnight, so we'll be prepared to leave tomorrow."
"Hmm. We never went shopping for you, you know. Don't think I forgot," Ahri noted, crossing her arms and tapping her chin with one finger thoughtfully.
"I already have everything I need. Believe it or not, I knew I would be taking this journey long before any of you did," Riven said, in what sounded almost like a confession rather than an explanation.
"Oh really? Is that so?"
"I'm a daughter of Noxus," Riven continued, shrugging as she did. "I have to be ready for anything. It's in my blood to get involved with things that put me in harms way, so what can I say?"
"Hey! What about me!?" Twitch demanded, standing up on his hind legs to get as much commanding height as possible. "Don't I get a say in this?"
"What about you? You aren't a part of this. Even if you're friends with Zac, why would you care?" Riven asked, to which the Plague Rat took pause to think a little before answering.
"Hmm… I guess I don't. But I don't like being left out of things."
"Fine. Twitch, is it—"
"Yeah, yeah. Do whatever you want," Twitch interrupted, before shrugging with indifference. With his stuff still slung over his back, he adjusted his ragged coat before walking away to leave. "I can just sneak aboard that ship as a stowaway anyway. Not to brag, but I've been everywhere in the Institute at least one. Their security isn't that good."
"Great to have you with us," Riven muttered, watching him go. She then turned to Zac. "How in the world did you two become friends?"
"I don't really know," was all Zac could say, watching as Twitch disappeared in a puff of greasy smoke just as he had appeared out of the blue. "He kind of just...showed up one day. We've been friends ever since, or something."
"Before I go," Ahri began, and Zac felt her tug on his shoulder gently. Standing up on the tips of her toes, she whispered into his ear. "Remember what we talked about before, okay? Real trust goes a long way between friends. Especially if they're a man and a woman."
Lowering herself down, Ahri let out a girlish giggle when Zac smiled back at her and Riven narrowed her eyes at her in suspicious. Taking one look between her two compatriots, Ahri then turned to leave them with her tails a flutter and an energetic skip in her step. They watched her go, the nine-tailed fox whistling some sort of song that was unfamiliar to them.
"...So, what were you thinking?" Zac asked finally, after it seemed Riven was satisfied that Ahri and Twitch had left them both alone.
"Come with me," Riven ordered, pointing to the unwelcoming double doors in the same voice that made him trust her instinctively, like so many times before. But this time he did not. He stood his ground, staring her in the eyes and trying to understand the mysterious urgency in hers.
"...Why? What is this about?"
"I came up with a plan to make us both stronger. I'll ask Kolminye about it, and she'll get it organized by tonight."
"What are you talking about? We've got less than a day before we're both leaving tomorrow. What can we do in that short amount of time?"
Riven was about to answer him, before he watched her stop herself purposefully. It was the same kind of alert urgency that he had seen on a myriad of different people's faces in the same day. Looking around to make sure that they were truly alone, Riven motioned for him to lean down so she could explain it to him as quietly as possible. Complying with her request, Zac leaned down and waiting patiently for the Exile to explain herself to him. From the moment she began explaining her plan, he began to regret having ever offered her the chance to explain herself at all. Everything about it made him uncomfortable, and when she had finally finished, all he could do was look at her with a face of doubtful disbelief.
"Come on," she demanded, not failing to notice the look he was giving her. "What's with that face?"
When Zac didn't answer, Riven pressed him harder.
"You're the one who wanted to get stronger. Or was that just a lie?"
"You can't be serious. All I want to do is live forever, or die in the attempt," Zac conceded, trying to make it seem that he meant it. "My only mission is to come back from whatever I do, alive."
"You have to be strong to survive. You know that, don't you?" Riven said sternly. "This isn't the time to be a coward. Think about how strong you could become if this works."
Riven was one of the best top laners because she never failed to secure a kill. Or so he was told. Her attacks were always on point, with abilities used in rapid succession that could throw an opponent out of their pace, if not outright kill them. Her situational understanding of the battlefield was top notch as well, and a lot of Summoners had no problems working with her. Zac had been demoted on the list of primary picks over the recent months because he no longer gave a damn whether he killed his opponent or not. The role of a "tank" had changed in the year since his release, and his only job it seemed was to fight with his team, and come out of every fight alive. It was all mathematical, theoretical, and compositional in ways he didn't always understand.
The other Champions loved fighting with Zac, who could come barreling over the walls of Summoner's Rift from all directions and every height, climbing and diving and twisted and turning in so many ways that all the other four Champions could focus on what was in front of them. Riven could attract just as much attention, but for different reasons in different team compositions.
Zac, secretly, did not give too much of a damn if he hit his target or not, just as long as the other carries on his team did their job so he wouldn't have to clean up whoever was left. Maybe it was the fact that the woman in front of him was so incomparable to himself, that he was hesitant to accept something he would have normally gone along with.
"Do you know how crazy this sounds? Why should I even try it?"
"Because we've both got troubles," Riven said, snorting scornfully. "You're one of mine, and this is the answer to both of ours. Why are you being so damn stubborn to the idea?"
"You're acting like a soldier Riven, even now," Zac said, feeling that what he was about to say was the most honest thing he had said to her yet. "And I know you look at me like I should be too. I may have been born in a flask in some Zaunite laboratory to kill, but that doesn't mean that I want to live my life like that. What you're asking of me..."
"I am a soldier Zac, and I know that people will always have differing opinions," Riven said. Balling her fingers into a fist, she placed her hand over her heart before pointing to the world around them with her other hand. "Look around you. What the Institute offers here can't be found anywhere else. The world isn't square."
"But that's because…"
"The worst kinds of people are those who will only criticize, and not do anything on their own."
The rebuttal Zac had been expecting to be hit with cut through him as fast as the owner's runeblade. Again, like so many times before, there was nothing he could think of to say back. Nothing in his defense, and nothing that could convince Riven abandon the mad scheme she had come up with. In resignation he swallowed his saliva, and could only stare at the brown eyes that reminded him of the earth beneath his feet.
"You're a member of the I.S.C.P. just like me. I'm sure Kolminye will agree to this, when I explain it to her. You had a choice whether or not to accept this responsibility, and you choose to go out into the world. Like it or not, you're already a part of it."
"This is…too one-sided for me," Zac groaned, finding her logic to be everything he had imagined about her. "The reason you're dragging me into this is because I have some sort of potential, right? Isn't that what Lux was trying to do earlier? You think that I can get stronger from this?"
"...Yeah, I do," Riven finally said, taking longer to answer than she should have. It seemed to him that it was almost paining her to answer such a simple question with a simple answer. "That's one of the reasons too. I don't know what Lux was thinking, but she didn't just come to us to solicit me. I know that she was trying to do something to help you."
"Did Kolminye tell you that? Or…?"
"No. It's my instinct as a soldier."
"And what do those instincts tell you about tomorrow?"
"We won't last in the world if we don't get stronger," Riven answered, in a matter-of-factly way that just seemed all too grim for him. "We're throwing ourselves in the middle of a lot of powerful people. If we don't have the strength to stand up and be accounted for, we'll be destroyed."
"...I guess I don't have a choice then," Zac finally said after a little, frowning morbidly as he did. "Do you think she'll consent to something like this? I'm sure Zilean could do it with his powers, but—"
"The only way we're going to find out, is if we ask first," Riven said, stepping forward to open the closed double doors in front of them. "Ready?"
"Not really," Zac said, following behind her obediently, "but when have I ever been?"
Stepping in through the double doors, he turned and shut them closed quietly. Looking ahead, he watched Riven walk over to one of the nearby walls, reaching for something in the darkness of the room. Standing in place and waiting for her to find it, he eventually heard a loud snapping click. In a sudden burst of brightness, the hextech lights in the ceiling turned themselves on, revealing what else was in the sealed off room to him.
"We're going to teach you how to choose your own path. No looking back. No hesitation."