Unstable Matters Chapter 11: We, the Lions (Part 1)
I would like to start by welcoming the respective dignitaries, assembled members of the League of Legends, and students of the Institute of War. My name is Reginald Ashram. As you all know, I have another title: High Councilor of the Council of Equity. I stand here before you today as someone who carries within him the true aspirations of the League of Legends. Do not think of me as Reginald of the Institute of War, but rather, as a son of our blood-soaked world!
The legacy the founders of this establishment left us was meant to stand the test of time for eternity, and so it is my pleasure and burden to make sure that it does. But that does not mean that I alone am responsible for the League of Legends! When one looks at our common history as humans, it becomes apparent more than ever that the creation of the League was an act by all of mankind!
Humanity has fought countless wars so that our cultures would not collapse from the pressure put on by others. Over a thousand years we have stopped living in caves and trees as our ancestors once did, and expanded our living space to any place we saw fit! Unfortunately, our success filled us with hubris and delusions of glory, creating evils like the Rune Wars! We mustn't repeat that mistake! I believe that the first step humanity should look to take after this Institution, should be a complete stop to the pollution of Runeterra! But many groups whose souls are pulled down by the past think only of ravaging it!
Tell me why at this turning point in our history, must we still fight among each other and further pollute the world? Runeterra should be returned to its natural state, and all of humanity be prepared to make its home in the skies someday! Otherwise, Runeterra will no longer be a paradise among the barren stars!
(Part one of three, "Dawn of the new Century" Speech written by Reginald Ashram, High Councilor of the Council of Equity.)
"...Zac, did you eat all of the eggs?"
"No, I only had a few."
Looking at the empty bowl in her refrigerator that had once been full, Ahri felt her eyes narrowing in scrutiny.
"A few? There were two dozen in here last night."
"Uh, a few handfuls, I meant."
Shaking her head, Ahri let the door of her fridge swing closed. Feeling the last puff of chilled air hit her bare shoulders, she consciously adjusted the top of her modern hanbok as she walked back over to sit at her kitchen table.
"You drank the milk, ate the all of the eggs, and now you're working on my breakfast cereals too."
"Well, we're going to be gone for a while," Zac said, not even chewing the mixture of grains and dried fruit in a bowl but pouring it into his mouth in small amounts. "I didn't want any of it to go bad. There's nothing wrong with that, right?"
"Do you normally eat this much?"
"Yep. I never skip breakfast."
Ahri groaned audibly at the typical one-liner she had set him up for.
"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad. Look, you're smiling."
"I am and I hate it!" Ahri snapped, giving him a sour frown before blowing a raspberry.
For the second night in a row she had slept soundly, despite having been kicked out of her own bedroom and onto a smiley couch.
And for the second night in a row, the haunting nightmares that had plagued her dreams weeks before hadn't returned.
But despite sleeping soundly, Ahri had woken up feeling more empty than ever. The haunting sense of longing from the evening prior was gone, but had not been replaced by any kind of satisfaction. Whatever sense of belonging and companionship she had felt toward Zac only a day ago was gone. Every word he spoke to her felt like it was coming from a complete stranger, as were her words to him. It was the damnedest thing she had felt from her heart and soul in a long time, and it frustrated her to no ends that she could not explain it to him.
Not that she had tried, with him stuffing his face with her food the moment they had gotten up.
"...I'm going out to get something sweet," Ahri decided, turning back around and heading for her door. "Don't go anywhere on me, okay?"
"What should I tell Riven?" Zac asked, looking back at the closed door to Ahri's room that hadn't opened once since last night. "You know, if she wakes up. Or something."
"Nah, she's probably still sleeping. She was trying to hide it from you, but I could tell that she was really exhausted last night," Ahri said with a carefree wave of her hand. Though he couldn't see her do it from behind the wall, something in her head told her that he was imagining her doing it. "Oh, and Zac?"
Stopping and turning back around, the nine-tailed fox peeked her head around the corner back into her kitchen.
"If for some...strange, and very, very stupid reason you think that leaving me behind is a good idea," Ahri said, her nails digging hard enough into the wall to scratch the paint right off of its surface. "I will leave the Institute and go across Runeterra to hunt your stupid green ass down. Okay?"
After a few seconds of silence had passed, Zac dumped the remaining cereal in his bowl into his mouth.
"Okay."
"Good!" Ahri winked cheerfully at him, turning around to skip out the door. "I'll be back in a little. Don't go anywhere without me, oppa."
"...Oppa?" she heard him question out loud, before closing the door to her apartment behind her.
Pulling the door to her apartment closed with a tail, Ahri barely waited to hear the door close behind her before she started making her way back into the depths of the Institute of War down a tree lined path. Walking at a brisk pace wasn't helping clear the tugging sensation still biting at her heart and soul. Was it anxiety? Maybe even fear?
That was ridiculous, Ahri would tell herself as she continued to walk down the worn concrete path. Though she had traveled the length of Ionia in the past, she had only read stories about other places in the world. Getting to see the towering skyscrapers of Piltover and the exotic ports of Bilgewater sounded like an adventure to her. Going to see places in the world that she would normally not have a reason to leave the Institute of War for. Anxiety? Fear? What a ridiculous idea.
Maybe it was something else, Ahri's mind wandered as she felt her own ears twitch involuntarily. Something that words would fail to describe, no matter how hard she could try. Something like… Like…
Distracted by her own thoughts, the nine-tailed fox didn't notice the small white puddle of liquid ahead in her path. Walking at her quickened pace, her foot stepped onto it with a sticky plop.
Jerked to a sudden stop, Ahri looked down to see a thick strand of goo stretching from the bottom of her flats, tethering her to the concrete like a giant wad of gum. "You've got to be kidding me," she grumbled, looking down at the strange puddle of glue-like substance that had captured her foot.
Its color blended in very well with the concrete, which was why she hadn't seen it ahead in her path. Tugging on her stuck shoe, it felt as if there were a hundred rubber bands attached to her. She could only pull her leg a few inches from the ground, before the strength of the gunk would pull her back down.
Distracted by her sticky predicament, Ahri did not hear the quiet sounds of her trapper walking across the branches of a tree she had passed by on her path. Her back legs working to spin a thick netting of threads in the palm of an open hand, Elise could barely resist letting out a small giggle at her prey's struggles. Liquid spider silk was such a crude form of bondage to capture her targets with. Catching someone like Ahri, who prided herself in her grace and agility, tickled the Spider Queen to no end.
Satisfied with the size of the work in the palm of her hand, she clutched the small cocoon net in both of her hands gently before taking aim at her rooted prey. Oblivious to the danger behind her, Ahri had begun trying to free herself by bending down and wrapping her hands around her ankle.
Taking careful aim as she had done countless times fighting on the Rift, Elise tossed condensed ball of spider silk at her target. No bigger than a grapefruit, the cocoon net flew lazily through the air before exploding outward right before it would have struck Ahri. In an instant the ball of threads had expanded to their full length, wrapping up the nine-tailed fox from her ankles up to her neck.
"Elise!" Ahri shouted the name of her attacker, recognizing her predicament in an instant. She tried to turn around, but could barely keep herself from falling over with her foot still firmly glued to the ground. "What is this!? What the hell are doing!?"
"You missed movie night last night," Elise said, ignoring her victim's indignant protests. She began plucking the web strings suspending her from the tree's branches, as if playing an instrument. "Attack of the Giant Ants, or some nonsense like that. Morgana and Evelynn insisted that it was a horror film, but I couldn't stop laughing through the entire thing."
Stopping to watch Ahri's pointless struggling (garnished with a mix of flustered grunts and muffled curses), Elise uncrossed her legs and descended from the branch where she had launched her ambush from. With nine tails pinned in with her arms, her target looked like a thrashing sack stuffed full of silk and white fur. Since she hadn't been graced with a reply yet, the Spider Queen wondered if the nine-tailed fox had even heard her through the sheer mass of her own tails.
Elise reached out to help turn Ahri around to face her, trying to best to hide her amusement as she did. "You were supposed to deliver your report to her last night, remember?"
"I was busy," Ahri lied, stopping her struggles as she was turned to face her captor. The threads holding her were nowhere near as thick as the bundles used by the Spider Queen on Summoner's Rift. But without the use of magic, it was pointless to fight against the deceptively strong webbing keeping her bound.
"I don't believe you." Two of Elise's legs behind her began to work on something invisible, before giving a sharp tug on it. Immediately Ahri felt the threads binding her constrict, like her entire body was being lifted off the ground. "Only the spider is safe in her web. You shouldn't lie when you're caught in that web. Or is it parlor? No… Home? Well, whatever that saying is."
"I'm not lying," Ahri growled, her frustration from her own unwilling bondage building in her voice. "I was busy, alright? I'm not one of her groveling servants, or drooling dogs. I've never failed to get her what she wants, so I deserve the freedom to do what I want!"
"Freedom?" Elise repeated, the word being said with a foreign distaste. "Ah-hah, well, I suppose that's true." Tapping her own chin with her razor-sharp fingers, Ahri could hear her captor let out an audible sigh. "Why so tense on such a beautiful morning, dearie? Try to relax, won't you?"
"Save it," Ahri spat, glaring as fiercely as she could at Elise for her feinted pleasantries. "Whatever you're going to say, I don't want to hear it. I don't care about LeBlanc and her stupid games. If she wants me to do my end of the bargain, she should leave me alone so I can."
"Hmm, fair enough. I agree with you." Elise reached out and patted Ahri on the head patronizingly. "I'll tell her what you've said, and that I agree with you. After all, you know that the Black Rose has eyes and ears everywhere."
"Save me the melodramatics. I've heard it a million times about how LeBlanc and her cronies see and hear everything. If that old bat is so powerful, how come she has me running around doing so many stupid things for her?"
"Temper temper, dear. You're going to give yourself wrinkles, now that you're off your diet of human essence." Sighing audibly, Elise gently slid a finger under Ahri's chin so that she could inspect her features more closely. "Are you taking care of yourself? Hmm? You look a little...stressed."
"Will you let me go already!"
"Tsk. You're no fun sometimes, you know that?" Removing her finger, Elise sighed audibly. "I'm just here as an innocent messenger spider. Don't get angry at me. But before I let you go, I have a question for you that's on the tip of my mind…"
Taking her silence as a reason to continue, Elise slacked one of the invisible lines that suspended Ahri in the air. Taking a step back after making sure that her prey could keep her balance despite being tied up, the Spider Queen continued.
"I know how to sense emotions, dear. Fear in particular. On a level that I'm sure you're even a little familiar with." This was something Ahri did not doubt, though she would not give her the pleasure of admitting it. "I'm not talking about fears so primal that you would soil yourself. Even just a little fear; enough where most people don't realize that they are. But I don't sense any coming from you, and now I am very curious why..."
"Because I'm not afraid of you," Ahri said, but she flinched when Elise reached up with her hand again and stroked her cheek.
"Not afraid? I'll humor you and say that you aren't. But wary? You should be, and you know it." For the first time since she had been turned around, Ahri could see the playful smile on Elise's human face disappear. Replaced now with something...else.
"Something has changed. Yes; you've changed. We may just be acquaintances, but I can tell that something inside of you has changed. But I wonder what?"
"Don't you have anything better to do!?" Ahri demanded in a final bout of frustration, but Elise seem to determined to find her answer to whatever nonsense her imagination was envisioning.
"Not really. Why else would I be here playing with a little brat like you?" Elise laughed lightly in the way that made her fur bristle on end. "Well, forget I said anything. Maybe it is my imagination, after all…"
Like blades being held high to slash a foe, Ahri could see the four legs on Elise's back arching back like they were ready to strike. At the mercy of the Spider Queen, she let out a pitiful yelp when all four legs struck, cutting across the threads binding her. Like a magic trick, the countless threads tying her up slackened before dropping down around her in a heap. Gathering them back up with blinding speed, the cocoon that she had been caught in was already back in the palm of Elise's hand in the form of the small silk ball it had probably started as.
Before Ahri could say or do anything in retaliation (like ripping out a fist-full of the shape shifter's essence), something was thrust into her arms. From behind her back Elise had pulled out a small wrapped box neatly tied up with string, handing it over to her without any warning.
"A gift," Elise explained, noting her puzzled look. "Take it."
"...For who?" Ahri blinked in surprise, taken off guard by the box.
"Not for you, if that's what you're asking. They're spider donuts," Elise explained, noting the disgusted look Ahri then gave her. "Not made with them, you stupid fox. Made by them. Morgana helped too. She told me to tell you that you should get Zac to eat them for breakfast. She never said why."
"What? All of them?" Ahri asked, accepting the box that supposedly contained half a dozen pastries with suspicion.
"All of them. She was quite adamant on that." Turning to walk away, Elise gave Ahri a wicked smile as she did. "I'm sure if you asked nicely, he'd do it. Go use those feminine wiles before he sees you for the animal you are, okay?"
Giving the Spider Queen's backside one last seething glare, Ahri let out an audible huff in frustration. The nerve of her, talking down as if she were something to be pitied. Being treated like a child by a so-called priestess who worshiped a so-called god, and tricked idiots into being fed to the mindless beast.
Taking a step without thinking, nine-tailed fox almost fell over for a second time. Looking down at the culprit, her foot was still glued to the ground by the nasty little trap Elise had set for her in advance. She tried to scrape the gunk off of the bottom of her shoe by rubbing it against the ground, but the sticky grip of the goo refused to let her go. Giving a silent groan in frustration, she slipped her foot out of her shoe, deciding to leave it behind.
Why couldn't have I made some normal friends? Ahri thought to herself, now thankful that the paths through the Institute of War were clean and well kept. Looking down at the box in her possession, after some silent thinking she decided to continue walking.
How am I going to explain this?
How am I going to explain this?
Doing his best to ignore the intimidating look Riven was giving him, Zac gulped down what remained of the pomegranate juice in Ahri's refrigerator. This was after Riven had woken up uneventfully, and joined him in the kitchen after taking a shower. It was also after he had quietly broken the news that he might have told the nine-tailed fox a little too much about what had happened over the previous night. The night that had become two months with the amazing powers Zilean had control over; the two months that had been spent doing nothing but talking, fighting, and fighting talks about his existence. Finding the determination to backup his words with actions, whenever he wasn't getting bruised and abused by everything Kolminye had found fit to throw at him.
Maybe something similar had happened for Riven. He wasn't sure.
"Can't I trust you with anything?" the Exile growled, sitting down across from him where Ahri had been only an hour ago. With one elbow on the table, he could see the signs of weariness around her eyes. Despite the assurances otherwise, maybe it was impossible to completely erase the physical burden of two months with a single night's sleep.
"She must have used her powers on me," Zac said, knowing that it was both a lie and a plausible excuse. "It's funny, when I think about it. I never stood a chance."
"It's not funny, you idiot." For some reason, when Riven berated him calmly it hurt more than if she ever shouted or screamed. "Damn it. I told Kolminye that she was dangerous. Her brainless curiosity could end up being the end of everything. We should have just taken Yasuo with us after all."
"Ahri's loyalty is to herself. I don't think we have to worry about her going running off to Karma or Irelia about anything I told her."
"That's what worries me. You can't trust somebody who is only out for themselves."
"I think she can be reasoned with," he defended.
"I know she can. But how long until she gets bored with us, and uses what she knows to gain favor with someone else?" Riven asked, though he knew the question was rhetorical. "We can't be at the mercy of someone so selfish. If the time comes, we need a plan to get rid of her."
"You make it sound so sinister when you say it like that."
"Because I mean it. When did you become so attached to her?"
"Attached?" he repeated the word, taking a second to realize the accusational tone in her voice. "What? Me?"
"She's a soul eating vixen who like to play with her food," Riven said, stopping to take a bite out of the toast on her plate before continuing. "Another monster born from that war… Taking advantage of the ruined state of Ionia's countryside for her own enjoyment. She's just another monster that the Institute should keep under lock and key."
"You make it sound so sinister when you say it like that."
"Mark my words, Zac. She's going to drive a knife into your back, eventually."
"..."
In two months, Riven had kept her promise to make him prepared for the world. In her own words: no looking back, and no hesitation.
But for what he had gained, what had he lost? He had never stopped to think about it until now. Sitting across from the one Champion in the Institute who held the most animosity against everything he was. Everything he had been created to be.
Sure, he wasn't some Zaunite contraption designed to purge what little bits of dignity existed on the battlefield. And he wasn't some monstrous abomination created by twisted and desperate minds determined to make their mark on the world by removing others. But the unspoken truth between them was simple; from day one in that laboratory he was born in, he had been created as her replacement. A combat-ready alternative to the unreliable, vulnerable, and fragile species known as humanity. An alternative that couldn't be cut, smashed, pulverized, or demoralized by the million and one ways humans tragically were. A creation with endless fortitude and endurance, that could change the face of the battlefields forever by never tiring from danger, violence, and bloodshed.
But despite that, she had stayed at his side for an entire two months to make sure that he was strong enough to stand on his own two feet.
His own two feet, without the support of anyone else.
"Where is she anyway?" He watched her give a sideways glance around and over her own shoulders, as if the subject of her focus was going to spring out of hiding at any moment. "I slept through the night without any problems… Which I didn't expect."
"I slept with her last night," Zac said, only realizing the potential for misunderstanding after he had said it. "On the couch. Together. I mean, but not like that, okay?"
"I know you didn't. You're not dumb enough to fall for her tricks." This was said with a quiet confidence that he hoped stemmed from their time together. "And even if you did… It's none of my business. Do you know where she ran off to?"
"Something about getting something to eat, I think." Looking around at the mess of empty dishes, peeled fruit skins, and empty bottles on the table, a small tinge of guilt began to rise in his throat. "Maybe I should have asked before eating everything in her home."
"Are you really that hungry? You never ate that much on the Rift, even without the aid of summoning magic." Riven took another bite of her toast, and finished her cup of coffee after. "This could be a side effect of Zilean's temporal stasis… You should be careful about eating too much."
"A little late for that now," Zac said with a laugh, trying to recall how many different things he had eaten after getting up that morning. As far as he could remember from the time he and Ahri had gotten up together, the nine-tailed fox had gone about freshening up for the day ahead when he had started eating. During that entire time, maybe an hour or two at most, the conveyor belt of food from Ahri's kitchen had been going down into his gullet without pause. On any other day he would have forcibly stopped himself from pigging out in such an uncontrolled manner. But there was something in the back of his mind that was telling him not to worry about being too full, for now.
"I bet she's going to go pick up a dead drop from LeBlanc, or something," Riven said, interrupting his thoughts with what he had considered briefly as well. "Or maybe she's leaving one for her, after you spilt the beans last night."
"I didn't tell her anything that important," he defended, finding himself looking at the last piece of toast on Riven's plate. "That magic brownout last night was probably more telling to some than anything I said."
Getting a grunt in agreeance, he watched Riven take up her last piece of toast and eat it with no intention of sharing.
The power given to Zilean to reign in his normally rampant chrono-displacia had cause two of the primary nexus' linked to the Institute of War's power grid to drop in their supply. Though the power that flowed through the Chronomaster's veins had been nothing on any sort of cataclysmic scale, the magic power it took to separate a limited space and manipulate the flow of time inside of it was nothing to sneeze at.
For only a split second, the majority of magically linked systems in the entire Insitute of War had found themselves without power, before replacement nexus' kept in storage deep under the ground had been connected had pick up the slack. To the ignorant, the idea of a magic brownout was something possible (or natural even) when factoring the human element to the maintenance of arcane engineering.
But to even those with the slightest lick of common knowledge about the Institute of War and League of Legends, a magic power failure was utterly unheard of. Bordering impossible, even. It would have been more likely that everyone in the Institute of War had blinked simultaneously than for a failure in magic to occur. In fact, to Zac it wouldn't have surprised him if all the headlines of the newspapers in the city would be filled with conspiracy theories about that one second absence of arcana the prior evening.
"So what's going to happen? When we leave with Katarina later, I mean," Zac decided to ask, realizing that he knew absolutely nothing when it came to Noxian military procedures.
"It will start first with a ceremony to send us off," Riven explained. He did not question how she knew. "Swain will probably speak to all of the Noxian summoners and soldiers here at the Institute. I don't know about what, but it won't last too long. Then we'll get onboard the convoy headed for Zaun, with Katarina."
Taking an extra large spoonful of sugar for her second cup of coffee, she mixed it in slowly concentrating on it as she did. Though he wasn't into the stuff himself, the potent concoction in her cup looked different from anything he had seen others drink. A dark brown that reminded him of melted chocolate, unlike the strange black pitch Morgana had served him at her bakery.
"Don't expect too much. We're not going off to fight a new war, or anything like that. Swain will only be there because he has to as a Champion and the Grand General."
"And what happens when we get to Zaun?"
"If my instinct is right," Riven began, and Zac made sure to listen carefully for what was about to come. "We'll immediately head to the port to get on that ship, the Garuda. Unless something else happens while we're there, that could be important enough for Katarina to investigate."
"Investigate? Isn't that kind of...uh...distracting?" he asked, wondering what kind of strange happenings in a place like Zaun would actually interest an assassin of Katarina's caliber. "Are commanding officers in the Noxian military allowed to just do that?"
"This is a special case. Katarina isn't leading by rank; she's leading by assignment," Riven explained. "For an expedition like this, it would be normal for the Grand General to assign a lesser general to oversee the entire operation. The assassin core is a separate branch of the military, or at least it was while Boram Darkwill was Grand General. Often times they're assigned as special soldiers to battlefields or hostile areas, so they can carry out missions separate from the main battle line. Resource acquisition also falls under their duty, if they find themselves in the right place at the right time."
"Also," Riven continued, after stopping to take a sip of her coffee. "Assassins who are made officers are considered two ranks higher than their equals in the regular army. Katarina was a captain, during the time of the Barbarian Pacification campaign. Despite being the successful daughter of a noble general, she only has the rank of colonel in the field. Nothing special, when you consider how fast someone like Darius made the rank of general attached to the High Command without any lineage to assist him."
"Do you think Katarina's skill comes from her family?" Zac asked, making sure to word it in such a way that his curiosity wouldn't be misunderstood.
"Skill? ...Maybe. I doubt she's ever gone hungry at night, but owning servants means nothing when you're behind enemy lines. I never got the chance to see Marcus fight, when I was in officer training. I had heard stories though. He was Boram Darkwill's second-hand man for a reason." He noted that she was now looking very deeply into the silky brown pool in her cup as she spoke. "I saw all of the members of the High Command from time to time, at ceremonies and formal gatherings I was ordered to attend. Katarina, Cassiopeia, Darius, and even LeBlanc too. I think. They were just names, back then. Names with vague faces attached to them, doing their own thing somewhere out and away from my part of the world. I never would have guessed that things back then would become what they are now..."
"I think that goes for everyone you mentioned," he dared suggest. She did not look up at him when he spoke like she normally would. "I usually don't think about it when I'm fighting, but every time we do, we're making history for someone else."
"Making history, huh. That's not a bad way to put it. Maybe you're right." Standing up from her seat, Zac watched Riven turn and leave for Ahri's room.
"Maybe, huh?" he felt himself give a light sigh. "I guess I'll take it."
"Are you going to leave soon?" Riven called out.
"I'll stay here and wait for Ahri to come back," Zac said, his thoughts changing to what other kind of things to eat might be in the closed cupboards around him. It crossed his mind that the nine-tailed fox kept a lot of food in her kitchen, or at least a lot for one person with a very slender build like her own. "If you've got things to do, I we can meet up together at the ceremony grounds. We still have a few hours, even if we're going to be there early."
"I have to go pick up my armor," she explained. Emerging from the doorway, in Riven's arms was a massive mix of metal and tanned leather for her broken runeblade. Dressed in her normal attire of mix-matched armor over her white toga, she connected the massive sheath to an unseen loop on the back of the red wrap she wore around her waist. She quickly stopped to finish her coffee, before heading right for the door.
"We should arrive to the staging area early, but I don't want anyone to see that we all stayed here last night. You should stay here for another hour, before leaving too."
"Wait, armor? Did you say armor?" Zac repeated as he looked up at her, giving Riven a look of disbelief. And for an instance, he was treated to the sight of the Exile smiling ever-so-slightly.
"I'm done wandering." This was said as she turned her back to him, with a strain as though emitting sighs from some affliction. She then began heading for the door, her voice was low and timid, almost unimaginable for the woman he knew her to be. "You said it yourself: we're making history here. Well, I think it's time I start making history off of the Rift too."
"Making history, huh… I like the sound of that. But hey, you know, before you go," he began, dropping all pretenses and just taking a large drink from a pitcher of pink lemonade on the table. "Did Kolminye ever say anything about Vi and Caitlyn?"
"The sheriff and her enforcer," Riven said, stopping herself from leaving. "No… I don't remember anything about them. Why?"
"Nothing? Hmm…" Continuing his low hum, he began blowing bubbles into the lemonade pitcher. "I have a weird feeling about them. Like they know something that we don't. I don't know how to describe it."
"I taught you to trust your instincts. You proved to me that they can be trusted, on more than one occasion. If you can put them into words, tell me later when we meet up again."
"Roger that." Giving her a mock salute while guzzling more lemonade, he watched her roll her eyes at him before disappearing around the same corner Ahri had before. "Hey! I just remembered, I don't really own any formal clothes. Do you think Swain will care?"
"I don't think half of the Champions here know what formal clothes are. And besides, when do you ever wear clothes?" he heard Riven say, followed by sound of the front door to Ahri's apartment being opened. "Remember to get there earlier than noon. There's a ceremony we need to sit through before we leave, and it's important we're there before all of the summoners are."
"Yes ma'am," Zac said to the sound of a closing door, looking down at the stack of empty plates in front of him.
"I'll go save the world, right after I do the dishes…"
"I owe everything to you. What do you want?"
"For what?"
"For setting me up to come with you two. You convinced Riven, remember? And you spoke up for me to Katarina. So name what you want."
"I don't want anything from you."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"That sounds fair," Ahri said pleasantly, turning back to the proceedings in front of them.
Despite arriving early from their own business, the routine proceedings of a Noxian military ceremony had been slow to fall into place.
First and foremost had been the arrival and loading of all the cargo that had been sent to the Institute of War over the last months. Most of which were spoils of war the Darkwills had taken from from Ionia, after the first defeat of the Ionian team on Summoner's Rift. They had been sent to the Institute of War in preparation for the operation, and as proof to the Council of Equity about the sincerity of Jericho Swain's proposal. Inside of the plain and discreet looking wooden crates were probably tons of priceless imaginables, most of which Ahri couldn't find herself imagining. Priceless riches? Precious artifacts? Gold and jewels from ancient Ionian cultures? Maybe an even mix of both.
While the loading of the spoils of war had begun before noon, slowly the common rank and file members of the Noxian quarter had begun to arrive at the ceremony grounds. The space of the ceremony grounds arranged like a traditional military briefing; standing room for the lower rankings, so they could stand at attention with their superiors speaking to them from a stage in front. She did not know whether every man and woman in the Noxian quarter would be attending, but it went without saying that it would have looked more impressive to have the entire space of the ceremony grounds filled.
"Why do we have to sit through this?" Zac complained, to no one in particular. Still standing next to him, he heard Ahri give him a sharp hiss for his bemoaning.
"Shh, I want to hear what he's saying," she whispered, elbowing him gently in his side.
He looked her dubiously, not sure of her sincerity.
"You do? When did you start caring about this sort of thing?"
"I've never been a part of something like this," she explained, with what he hoped was not eager interest be part of a Noxian military operation ever again. "This is new for me."
"...Right."
Tracking Ahri's gaze, he could see that her focus was not on Jericho Swain, who was in the middle of his speech to the various military soldiers and Noxian Summoners who lived and worked at the Institute of War. It was quite the sight to behold; so many different men and women of different ages, heights, sizes, and weights gathered together in one place. Zac could count at least three hundred heads, if not more standing in orderly rows with their backs to him. All focused on the Grand General speaking to them, like an small army of toy soldiers. Did other city-states have as many people working in the Institute of War? Maybe more?
Glancing back at Ahri, it took him two tries to realize exactly who she was looking at. The nine-tailed fox was keeping a sharp eye on LeBlanc standing behind Swain, dressed in her usual split-thigh dress with cape and all. Opposite of her stood Darius, dressed in his own usual mace-like shell armor that seemed to shine in the sun. The symbolism was obvious; both hands of the new Noxus standing at the sides of the brain between them.
And yet…
Behind all three of them stood the unmistakable figure of Katarina Du Couteau, sporting her usual attire seen on the rift: black leather, spiked armguards, blades, throwing knives and all. It was impossible for him to tell from where he was standing, but Zac could imagine the barely hidden dull disinterest on the assassin's face from having to stand like a statue through a proceeding being led Jericho Swain. Work in the field had probably let Katarina avoid the monotony of the military lifestyle more than once in her lifetime. But considering the controversy that surrounded the disappearance of her late father, it seemed strange that the new Grand General had no qualms about exposing his backside to her while she was armed to the teeth.
Was it arrogance? Confidence? A silent trust in Darius and LeBlanc to protect and support him? Or was it something else; something that only those who knew Jericho Swain behind his mask could anticipate. The same mystery element that allowed a crippled recruit to rise to the rank of Grand General in a city-state of soldiers.
"...You're wondering why LeBlanc and Darius don't mind standing on stage with Katarina, aren't you?"
"Not quite," Zac lied. He did not turn away from the center stage to look at Riven. "I was wondering what Swain was thinking, actually. But I bet you know the answer to that, right?"
The loud cheers of the gathered summoners of the Noxus drowned out the first words of Riven's answer. At some point Swain had finished his speech, and was stepping down to retake his seat between Darius and LeBlanc.
"Katarina is Noxus' most famous Champion in the League," Riven began again, with a confidence he had learned now to trust. "Despite their own reputation and ranks in Noxus, Swain and Darius aren't very popular among Summoners in different divisions. Kat has never been one to avoid the spotlight, despite how busy she was during Boram Darkwill's reign." When she frowned slightly, he could see hints of scrutinous speculation in her eyes. "I wonder if Marcus had her cooperate with the Institute's publications, so she could keep her distance from him. Maybe he was aware of the shadows behind him. Or maybe Cassiopeia's experiences taught her how to use fame as an advantage. Either way, since Swain wants to enable his plans through the Institute, it's impossible to completely exclude Katarina from them."
"You told me a lot about how her father was some big name assassin for the previous Grand General, right?" he asked, his voice in a low whisper. Even though Katarina was now being led up to the podium to speak, he could not discount that she would overhear them somehow. "Marcus, or something?"
"Marcus Du Couteau was the kind of man who would have supported young talent like Swain." Riven's eyes narrowed, and Zac knew that there was more on her mind than what was being said. "But he was too close to the Darkwill family. He was one of Boram's right hand men for decades; the unnatural decades Boram lived for. It's possible that LeBlanc or Darius saw him as a threat that could influence Swain once he came to power."
"Do you think that they killed him?"
"I don't know." Riven did not turn away from the procession of the ceremony in front of them. "But I bet Marcus' heirs have their own ideas about what happened to him."
"If Kat just wants to make herself look good, I think she could be an asset to us," Zac said optimistically.
"Asset? That's two letters longer than it needed to be," Ahri said back with a grin.
"Very funny," Zac said morosely. Turning his eyes back to where Riven was looking, there was a grim silence that seemed to hang over the audience waiting for the crimson-haired assassin to speak.
"My fellow Noxians... I appeal to you all." When Katarina spoke, there was a look in her eyes that he had never seen before. Compassion? Sympathy? Or was it pity? Could someone like the Sinister Blade he imagined in his mind be capable of such things?
"Demacia is exhausted! It is low on troops! Low on ships, weapons, and courage! Why, then, should we pause? The answer is simple. My fellow soldiers, our true enemy was not wrapped in gold and blue, but behind us, in our own colors! How can we forget the arrogance of Keiran Darkwill, who demanded to be made Grand General only from sharing his father's blood? Hiding behind some notion of immortal authority, the Darkwills reduced our proud military to absolute indecision. Why should we, the future of Noxus, entrust someone who only spectates the battlefields to make decisions for us!?"
A dead silence. Not daring to turn away, Zac shifted his eyes from side to side as best as he could. Everyone in the assembly yard was listening to Katarina speak, in an attentive state like their lives depended on it. It was like they were all in a trance, and the permanent bustle of the Institute of War had been bent to the will of this invisible power. For this moment in time and space, nothing dared compete with the words of the Sinister Blade.
Taking only a second to pause, as to not lose her momentum, Katarina Du Couteau continued.
"Demacia, our ancient enemies, are hidebound by archaic ways of thinking, and incapable of realizing the potential for humanity through bloodshed and violence. Their own barbaric form of chivalry will be their undoing. Noxus will never be defeated by outdated, hypocritical, human relics! I am not a normal soldier in our armed forces, and even I have to admit that when King Jarvan rambles about our corrupt bureaucrats, he is correct. But, fellow Noxians, we must not be deceived by the Lightshields simply because part of what they say is true. Demacia may be across the continent, but that is no reason to believe its leader's prattling about the merits of his own kingdom!"
"Demacia must not be allowed to justify their visions of Noxus because of corruption in our city-state. Their words are the dogma of fools worshiping a dynasty of tyrants. Even if we recognize the merits of the Demacian monarchy, it does not mean that we must also sink to our knees before it! Noxus was founded on the premise of sovereign individual strength! We were able to advance out and into the world through our strength, which is itself a culmination of all Noxus' knowledge and experience. This expedition across our territory is the first step in a new plan to take what Noxus rightfully deserves! We must teach the slow-witted people of other city-states a lesson they will always remember. Now is the time for Noxians to stand up for the future! Hail Noxus!"
"Hail Noxus!" over three hundred voices spoke as one, as all of the summoners in the courtyard raised their fists in the air. "Hail Noxus! Hail Noxus! Hail Noxus!"
Looking down at her own work with pride, even from behind the fists of three hundred summoners, Zac could see Katarina smile before flashing off of the stage in a burst of magic. Reappearing off stage, she then walked off with a strut in her step to the loaded convoy, not once turning around to face the roaring chants of her audience behind her.
"...So, did you think Katarina made that all up on spot? Or maybe her sister helped her?" Zac said, barely able to hear his own words of the shouts and chants rallied by the words of the Sinister Blade. The frenzy in front of them seemed incapable of dying down, like a fire that would only burn out once it had consumed every last thing that could feed its appetite.
"No. She just spoke from the heart," Riven said, with what he knew was a painfully lonely look in her eyes.