It most certainly took longer than it should've, but finally, they'd returned to Demacia.

At least, according to the map he held. If Erret wasn't wrong, Sylas' secret path - through a hidden cave that led into a low valley - had taken them past the border and into the kingdom the previous morning. They still had miles of forest and stone to go through before reaching the nearest settlement, but being past the border gave Erret some comfort.

Adding to the saboteur's improving mood was the climate. As loyal to Noxus as he was. Erret would admit Demacia was a far more beautiful country; perhaps the most beautiful country he'd ever been to. Erret was in no rush to go sprinting into a snowstorm again, and it seemed their new tag-alongs were of similar minds. It was amusing to see the hardened Freljordians go soft with awe and comfort as they trekked the temperate forests. Though some of the more thickly dressed men whined about the relative heat, Demacia in general seemed to accept the raiders with open arms as well. Their first day had seen a bountiful harvest of wild berries and the small animals who fed on them; Demacia's welcome feast had been an enjoyable meal indeed.

And yet, despite their mission coming to a pleasant close, Erret noted that Xander was getting antsy. As they'd approached the border, Erret had noticed the Left Hand of Noxus consistently walking the sidelines of the raiding party. Though yesterday had relieved some tension, every time they passed by a snowy patch following the at point - a sight not too uncommon in the still alpine terrain - Xander's nerves seemed to grow. Xander brushed it off, of course, when some curious tribesmen asked him about it. And why would they press further? They were addressing the host of the spirit of vengeance; they were probably imagining it, as Xander said he'd told them.

As if I'd buy that. Perhaps he was more scarred by the ice cave in from before... Erret mused, Oh, who am I kidding, it's definitely something else.

"You look like you've swallowed something vile, Noxian."

And suspect one for that something else...

Erret would give it to Sylas; he was a good actor. Around the rest of the tribe, he presented the image of friendship Xander hoped he'd find in him. Of course, Erret and the Left Hand both knew otherwise; they'd both taken to sleeping with knives in hand, not to mention only sleeping after Sylas had done so. The Unshackled could hardly leash his own hate; not in private, nor in front of people who knew what to look for. They'd be fools to ignore that threat.

So, Erret let a wary gaze fall on the one who'd addressed him. Ironically, the taunt Sylas gave matched his own appearance. Though he wasn't frowning, the lack of Sylas' usual confident smirk clued Erret in on an apparent discomfort. His body language seemed off as well; Sylas commonly strode around the camp with a proud, wide gait, yet here he crossed his arms, hands gripping the chains from his shackles, ready to strike.

Yin's lessons are paying off…

"What do I owe the visit, Sylas?" Erret asked.

Sylas responded curtly, "Where's your master?"

"My commanding officer..." Erret corrected, then hummed with annoyance, "... I don't know. I've been looking for him for a few minutes. You?"

"Brokvar said he was with Thorva last he saw," Sylas replied, "...I need to speak with her."

Sure you do.

"And I need to speak to Xander," Erret shrugged, "Shall we search for them together?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Sylas turned away, "I'll be sure to tell you when I find them-"

Erret lay a single hand on Sylas' shoulder and gripped hard at the fur coat covering it. Sylas stopped in his tracks and sent a look of contained rage Erret's ways the gaze faded when Erret replied with a murderous glare.

Sylas glanced around and sighed. It turned to an awkward chuckle, "Of course I'll wait, you can come with me."

Erret nodded, content, before turning and wiping the frown of his face. Sure enough, there were people watching. Brokvar stood with a cordial smile and a spear wrapped to his back, though not one that Erret recognized. The Freljordian warrior then asked something of Sylas. The revolutionary paused before replying roughly in Freljordian. Brokvar laughed and approached.

"He'll be following," Sylas said, a light grimace on his face as he started to walk, "He's looking for both Thorva and Xander."

Erret caught up and mirrored Sylas, "Why? Is it the spear?"

After fifteen minutes wandering the camp and nearby clearing, asking the occasional sentry along the way, Erret was able to confirm that, yes, it was the spear. That said, Brokvar's would be gift was not needed; in fact, the Freljordian may have regretted his work. He and Sylas watched with increasing nervousness as Thorva, sparring with Xander, was forced on the defensive. The Left Hand was armed with a spear of his own - or at least, that's what they'd identify it as. Needless to say, the Left Hand was superior to the Freljordian, and having fun with her. Erret could only groan.

If the trial was a decisive win, Xander's performance was a mocking victory lap. The Left Hand of Noxus was clearly holding back, parrying Thorva's strikes and forcing her new spear - the one Xander had crafted after the trial - into unwieldy positions before countering rather than simply replying immediately. A smirk was on Xander's face, though, and some manner of sweat had grown on his brow; perhaps, Erret thought, he'd underestimated Thorva.

Alas, the fight ended as Erret predicted. Thorva over extended, and her spear was locked in place between Xander's shoulder and his own weapon's shaft. Before a follow-up could be made, Xander shoved his weapon's bulky blunt end into Thorva's face, sending her crumpling to the ground.

The Left Hand raised his weapon with its sharp end pointing down, prompting yells of his name from Sylas and Brokvar. It fell down anyway, not stopping until it hit the floor next to Thorva's head. Erret sighed in annoyance.

"Did you have to be an asshole about that?" The saboteur asked, trotting forward with hands in his coat.

Xander turned and shrugged, before lending a hand to Thorva.

"You're getting quicker," Xander said, pulling Thorva to her feet, "You learn quick, too. The Scarmother should watch her back."

"You're still better," Thorva curtly noted.

"You're younger than I am... which is crazy to think - gods, this is a cruel world," Xander glanced to the newcomers, "So, what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was looking for Thorva," Sylas said, approaching the Freljordian woman's side.

Xander smirked, "Discussing assassination attempts on old me, eh?"

Brokvar cut in with a question, "Assassinate?"

Thorva winced and spoke some Freljordian. Brokvar nodded good naturedly before clearing his throat.

"Before I go... I would like to assassinate you," he declared.

Whilst Erret was able to contain his snicker, Xander couldn't resist a shit-eating grin, "Oh?"

Brokvar unstrapped the new spear from his back and handed it to Xander. With his free hand the Left Hand accepted the gift graciously.

Brokvar spoke again, struggling with the clearly-not-pre-prepared phrasing, "You already have, but..."

"It's a fine gift, I will use it well," Xander assured, glancing from his new gift to his... less-new weapon, "Wanted to keep this thing secret anyway... er, translation?"

Sylas glanced to Thorva, who began the requested process. The Unshackled glanced at the Left Hand's weapon with confusion as he crossed his arms.

"What is that thing, anyway?" Sylas asked, "I can see how you could use it as a spear, but..."

"Say, have you seen a crossbow before? Held one?" Xander asked.

"... it's a ranged weapon," Sylas deduced, focusing on the weapon's thicker blunt stock.

"Yep."

Xander stood straighter and held the weapon to his chest. He aimed its sharp point at a nearby shrub and channeled his magic into the grip. The weapon's petricite shaft channeled the magic to its end, where the magic condensed and was fired. The pulse shredded a significant chunk off the bush's mass, prompting a barely contained gasp from Sylas. Though he straightened up and restrained himself, awe and envy was clear in his eyes.

Erret watched apprehensively.

"I don't have the regular ammunition for this thing on hand currently, but my petricite modifications allow me to use magic in a similar way," Xander explained, "We can discuss the details later, perhaps tonight, or during the day's trek if you're impatient enough. Maybe when you're done discussing your assassinations with Thorva, you could check up on me."

Sylas glanced to Xander's weapon with a grimace; Erret wondered if the revolutionary felt insulted that the weapon wasn't his. With a frustrated grunt, Sylas turned away to speak with Thorva. Erret watched him take his steps away before sighing and addressing his friend.

"If you wanted to spar with your new toy, you could've asked me."

Xander chuckled, "Apologies. I was planning on keeping it under wraps till we got back, but when Thorva asked for spars with spears I just kinda said 'screw it', you know?"

"Yeah I know. It's only your worst habit," Erret deadpanned, prompting more awkward laughs from Xander. The mirth faded at Erret's next question, "What's the problem now?"

"Problem?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You're looking at snow like sand back in Shurima. And you did have Nocturne pull your musket out of containment, so you clearly want in case of a worst scenario."

"... that bad, huh?"

"Well?"

Xander sighed, "My... sources say there'll be a fort ahead. Somewhere snowy, probably a mountain peak on the way to one of the cities."

"Ah, sources..." Erret inches closer to whisper, "Can we change what's coming?"

"Maybe; what I know isn't solid," Xander admitted, "But the fort isn't the problem. Who's there is; Lux."

"Lux? What's she doing here?"

"Don't know, but if my sources are correct, her... magic abstinence may end."

"And we obviously don't want that..." Erret gave a low whistle, "What's the plan?"

"Nothing so far," Xander grimaced, "Best I can think of is to try delay any raid on whatever castle this is and scout ahead."

Erret mirrored his boss, "That'll have to do..."

"Yep," Xander glanced over Erret's shoulder, "You done so soon?"

Erret turned to face Sylas and Thorva's gazes. A bitter look was held on both of their faces, though Thorva's held a hint of pondering to it. More notable to Erret, however, was an absent man.

"Where's Brokvar?" the saboteur asked, ignoring Sylas' own question.

"Ahead to pack," Thorva answered, her eyes betraying more internal consideration, "He will go back to guide more raiders through Sylas' path."

Erret glanced to Xander and found him frowning and frustrated. Clearly Lux wasn't the only issue he had on his mind now. The part of his brain that had rotten from boredom since the trial mused that he'd get to spar with Xander and test his new toy's capabilities. The part that was a loyal friend felt a crawling worry.

Before one part of Erret's mind could gain dominance over the other, Xander spoke.

"Why Brokvar?"

Thorva paused before replying quietly, "I don't know."

Sylas looked to the Freljordian; Erret noted that unlike him, the Unshackled clearly was of one mind.

"We can ask the Scarmother herself later," he all but snarled, "For now let's get back to camp. We'll need to pack up too. The march will start soon."

Sylas began to walk, striding ahead even of Thorva. He didn't look back, only leaving a final parting retort, "If you aren't with us when we leave... well, I'll make your friend's death quick for proving me right."

Thorva sent a glance of mixed emotions before following Sylas. There was some resentment in her eyes, to be sure: Erret suspected Thorva was hoping to one-up Xander in their spars to make up for the trial fight, only to be beaten down again. Not to mention the political dependency that Xander had likely put her in… yet, Thorva was far more responsive and rational than expected. It almost seemed like she was holding back an apology. Perhaps she hoped they could help her somehow, but didn't want to admit it.

From the pensive look in Xander's eyes, Erret figured the Freljordian hadn't done a good job. The ghost of a smirk teased Xander's lips soon after. He'd seemingly figured out some angle...

Not that he'd share it immediately, the mysterious bastard; Xander shrugged, seemingly waving off his idea, and began to walk, "Well, let's get a move on. Our shit ain't packing itself, and we've got a pissed of revolutionary to prove wrong."

Though they were deep in Demacian territory, Xander knew they still had a long way to go.

Even discounting the fact that the two nearest major settlements - Fossbarrow and High Silvermete - were miles away, the terrain on its own would be treacherous. The path ahead was filled with untamed forest, sheer cliffs, and... well, those in truth weren't what worried Xander. They were inconveniences, obstacles, setbacks. But, enough of those and the Left Hand feared someone just might catch up.

A familiar bird's cry echoed, and Xander felt his grip on his musket tighten. Some of the raiders ceased moving at the noise, yet none seemed to understand what was happening. Erret didn't either, but from how he gripped his blades' handles it seemed he had an idea. Alas, if the worst came to, Xander knew they really wouldn't help. The Left Hand stepped ahead and called on his host.

"Sylas."

The Unshackled heard Xander's call from his drüvask mount. When Xander glanced up, Sylas nodded in understanding and muttered something to Thorva, who rode her mount by his side. Sylas, Thorva, and the Scarmother then began a brief dialogue before the Scarmother finally shouted an order. The Freljordian raiders quickly leaned into to whatever shadow they could. Eyes were sent to the sky, watching for the threat Xander heard.

But hearing wasn't enough. From his coat, Xander procured a narrow wooden tube; a prototype scope. Unlike the telescopes commonly in use by the Noxian maritime navigators he'd served with, the scope Xander had had made was as compact as it was limited in range. Though it was designed only to help him tag targets with the musket it was meant to be attached to, the scope was useful enough on its own.

Xander was quick to identify shadow in the sky and assess that it was far above the range of any bow. Unfortunately, it was also likely beyond the range of his musket, especially with his lack of recent practice with it. Xander couldn't see the details, he'd recognized the call well enough. Close as they were to High Silvermere (relatively, anyway), it made sense that the city's famed Raptor Knights would be present patrolling the area.

Thorva's voice called to Xander, "What was that?"

"Was that a silverwing?" Sylas asked.

Xander nodded, "We'll need to stick to the tree line for a while."

Thorva nodded and relayed the information to her brethren, and soon they were on the move. The previously rowdy party silenced up as they moved further into hostile territory. The silence that came from Sylas, however, held different meaning. Xander, whenever he wasn't looking up to check for raptor patrols, noted a pensive look in the revolutionary's eyes. Eventually, as the raiding party approached a clearing in the forest, a question came.

"You recognized the raptor's cry..." Sylas noted, "How?"

"I visited High Silvermere rather often in youth," Xander explained, not a lie in his breath, "A family friend often brought us to see the raptors at the Aeries. It's hardly an experience to forget."

Xander smelt a smile creep on his face at the old memory. Whilst Xander wouldn't hesitate to lay curse upon curse on Garen and Lux's aunt and uncle (especially the latter), he found their parents pleasant people. From his further distant memories prowling the halls at night, he knew they got along well with his own father, which was a plus. Perhaps seeing the soldier he and their son would become, the Crownguards were eager to show them Demacia's special cavalry. The beasts were majestic, if a little intimidating. In another life, Xander wouldn't have minded joining the Raptor Knights. But alas, it never came to be.

"Were you born noble?"

The question snapped Xander out of his trance. He looked to Sylas, who held a judging look. Xander snickered.

"Technically. Dad was an up-and-coming commander, so he rubbed elbows with a few fancy folk. What of it?" The Left Hand smirked, "You're not judging me for the circumstances of my birth, are you? Cos well..."

Erret hissed at him to shut up from behind, but Xander figured it was already too late. Sylas' eyes darkened at the implication. The silent grimace on his face suggested he had no counter for the point raised, though.

So, the revolutionary asked another question, "Why'd you leave, then?"

"Why betray Demacia, you mean?" Xander chuckled bitterly, "The nobles and their friends may get free passes more often than common folk, but that's more a result of subconscious biases than choice. If mageseekers catch you redhanded using magic, common or noble they'll still condemn you."

"So you went from there to Noxus?"

Xander squinted in half-amusement, half-incredulity, "Not directly. I was a kid who'd been trained to be warrior elite. Never mind I had a mind-altering magic and was educated in other useful skills.

More mixed memories rose to Xander's mind, "If your revolution had started, I'd probably have joined you. But, as it was, all I could do was travel the countryside, taking off jobs or stealing. Eventually got conscripted for the Argent Mountain campaign, then got captured by Noxus. Not much of a choice there if I wanted to live."

Sylas seemed like he wanted to agree, but wasn't thoroughly convinced.

"There's always a choice," the revolutionary said.

It wasn't a sullen mumble, but it also wasn't a prideful declaration. Xander hoped it was progress, but he couldn't be sure with Sylas. So, he continued his argument.

"Die a martyr? For who? The prince?"Xander snickered, "Fat lot that did. I actually did do that, you know? And my idea then was if he got inspired by a Mage's sacrifice to make reforms, I'd come back home and rat out the Noxians. If not, well..."

"Here you are, helping me bring down the Crown," Sylas deduced, "So your masters can stroll in and declare themselves our new overlords?"

"Technically they could do it right now," Xander admitted, "Believe me when I say Noxus as it is right now could dominate Demacia in a war. The prince lost his army to a regrouping empire spread relatively thin, not to mention they were in the middle of an exchange of power. The empire's a lot more organized right now, and the bulk of the Legion is on Valoran. Never mind that with your rebellion popping off, the Demacian army is now the one spread thin. If the Noxian Legion just ran it down with no plan, they'd probably still win, albeit in a Pyrrhic victory."

A baleful gaze was sent by Sylas, "So why haven't they?"

Xander chuckled, "As I said, Pyrrhic victory. Even with everything in their favor, the most likely result would be a costly conquest with further debt gained trying to restore order to the new territory. But, my bosses would be remiss to ignore the opportunity you've given them."

"So they've sent you to conquer us? They should've sent someone taller, bigger, more intimidating."

"Ha. Ha. Very mature," Xander sighed, letting his gaze rise to the thankfully empty sky, "Frick'n hell, same shit as Aislynn. In one ear, out the other. Part of the expense problem that kept Noxus from conquering Demacia is keeping it under control. So, if making a vassal is out of the question, naturally an ally would be the next best bet."

"Really? And how'd you convince your bosses about that?" Sylas asked, "How did you convince a conquering warlord to not do what his nature entails?

The reply was on Xander's lips when Erret lightly jabbed his back. The Left Hand sent a questioning glare.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Shhh. Tree to the left," Erret whispered, "10'o'clock, if I recall your system correctly..."

Sylas stopped his mount's movement and whispered something to Thorva, who in turn began whispering Freljordian orders. As the raiding party tensed and quieted - save the curious snorts of the drüvask- Sylas spoke.

"10'o'clock? What does that mean?"

"Seriously? That-" Xander shut himself up, "-Doesn't matter. Your left, high up. If something's there, it's in the trees."

Sylas squinted, "Nothing I can see. You have that tube."

Xander hummed in agreement and took up his musket. Attaching the scope with one hand and raising the weapon to bear with the other, the Left Hand slowed his breath.

Xander couldn't see anything at first. The forest was dark and still - the latter, Xander imagined, was due to their supposed attacker realizing he was suspected. That and any potential prey not wanting to be eaten by potential predators...

"Is there anything out there, Xander?"

"Not that I see," the Left Hand replied, "The drüvask seem to smell something, though."

"They don't seem to be catching on," Sylas muttered, "Are you sure there was something there?"

"I trust Erret that much, not that you need to..."

Someone has to be out there. Erret's eyes are impeccable; he sees you, then that's it. He notices things...

"Erret, what exactly did you see?" Xander whispered.

"Movement on the trees," came the reply.

"Not a bird?"

"... anywhere else absolutely, but you do have big birds around here."

Thinking to the raptors patrolling the skies and the eagle that a certain Demacian ranger had in employ, Xander could only agree at the possible mistake.

Erret continued, "I don't think the thing was flying though."

"Could be a falling branch or something," Sylas muttered, "It's fall, after all."

Sylas isn't wrong there either, Xander thought, But there's as much as there's a difference between a man and a bird, branch and man's the same. Something or someone is out there... but they're not gonna move until they're safe.

Xander looked for a few more seconds before lowering his weapon, "Doesn't matter. If something's there it's still. We can move."

As Sylas and Thorva began ordering the people to move, Xander walked as well. He remained close to the raiding party, but watched the shrubs and trees for movement. With the tribe moving and their would-be eavesdropper likely too far to make out exact details, he'd believe they didn't see h-

There.

There was a flicker by one of the shorter trees. It could've been a trick of the light, but the appearance of a lighter patch of movement confirmed something was there. Perhaps it was just a wolf or deer or some other natural animal, but...

The Left Hand felt for his weapon. Commissioned after his victories against the Black Rose - and presented in an ostentatious ceremony by his public rival in combat, Draven - the musket Xander held in his hands was everything he'd dreamed of. A weapon out of his own mind, his musket's petricite lining melded elegantly with its white wood frame. Said wood frame, long and angled, was designed by the best weapon dealers Noxus had for range superiority. It would've carried a bullet far - more so than any crossbow. But for magic?

Well, mid-range was as good as it needed to be.

Magic crawled from the Left Hand's fingertips into his musket's petricite casing. Charged as the stone was, it could not accept that which Xander imbued onto it. So, the energy was forced out. Channeled by the shape of his weapon - and boosted by some of its contents - the bolt that left the musket's tip flew out like a comet.

It missed, but caused a whistling sound to emanate through the forest. The tree next to the light patch got hit by the magic bolt, prompting a twitch of movement. Something was there.

Xander charged and fired again. Another miss, but it did hit something.

A pained whine echoed across the forest, accompanied by a man's pained yell.

Xander winced as the realization of what he'd shot caught up with him, Shit, I shot a dog!

But, the Left Hand had other ideas. Leaving the cover of his tree, the eavesdropper was now visible. Wearing the telltale blue cloak of the Demacian rangers, he looked from his pet, cradled in his arms, to the Left Hand, fearful all the while.

Doesn't matter... I have you now.

He'd already taken three steps and bounded over a fallen log before the others called to him.

"Xander!"

Erret was by his side, but Thorva and Sylas all called out his name from behind him. Perfect.

"We've got an eavesdropper," Xander muttered, pace accelerating, "The rest of you stay back; Erret, with me!"

It wasn't long before Xander was in full sprint. Ahead of him the spy ran, his covered blue cloak fluttering in the wind. If not for the man trying to calm down his wounded pet, Xander may not have heard him; seeing him was hard enough.

Alright, I didn't kill the dog, but I got the owner running scared. Just need to line up the shot-

The ground rose beneath him, and Xander suddenly found himself suspended in the air by a net. Erret ran past his position, headed for the spy. He wouldn't make it in time, though, so the Left Hand made the most of his predicament. The petricite of his musket, fashioned to have sharp edges, cut through the net's restraints just enough for Xander to aim. The Left Hand calmed his breath and released another shot. It struck low.

Low enough to trip the ranger.

Erret was on him soon enough, a blade against his throat. By the time Xander reached the two, the Ranger's spats of rage had calmed and mixed with fear. Yet, not for himself.

"Rigby, stay down boy, please," the ranger asked of his furry friend, before turning back to his new captors with hate in his eyes, "You shot him, you bastards!"

At the ranger's fury, restrained as it was, Xander couldn't help but grimace.

Aye, I did. Well, tick that off the villain list... or at least, prepare to... haven't taken the step yet. Probably will, but...

Xander lowered his weapon and reached into his coat. His right hand produced and uncapped a final vial of blood. Red mist flowed from it and onto the ranger's dog. The burnt hole from his magic bolt slowly healed, and the dog's pained mewls quietened.

The ranger watched in awe, "You healed him... but-"

"Erret, hold the dog."

Erret was quick to comply, capturing three dog in his arms. Strong and wild as it might've been, the dog wouldn't be breaking out of Erret's grip. The ranger looked up with fear, but before he could speak Xander addressed him.

"I've used up ten milliliters of blood to heal your pet," the Left Hand coldly stated, "Now, you're going to make each of those milliliters worth it. You're telling me what I want to know."

The ranger shivered in anxiety, but still held defiance in his eyes, "G...Go to hell."

Xander didn't even need to speak. Erret seemed to tighten his grip, or at the very least Xander's poor healing job showed itself. Ten milliliters of blood was only barely able to heal the dog's wound, cleaning the hole and leaving a shallow scar in its place; it still burned. Rigby whined, and the ranger flinched.

"I'm running low on blood," the Left Hand noted, "Maybe I'll take some from your pet. Or from you."

"Don't hurt him," the ranger said, "T-Take what you want from me, but don't hurt him!"

"Sure, sure, I'd be happy to," the Left Hand said, signaling to Erret with a glance to loosen his grip, "But, in case your misunderstood my demand, I'll rephrase; I want you to give me information. Could you-"

The sound of shuffling leaves made Xander turn his head. Whilst it thankfully wasn't another ranger hiding in plain sight, what it was put a frown on the Left Hand's face. Sylas, Thorva, and the Scarmother stepped forward.

"I told you guys to stay back," Xander snarled.

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" Sylas shot back, seemingly insulted by Xander's previous order.

Thorva ignored the order entirely, "Who is this?"

"Other than an enemy spy who could tell the whole kingdom about us. I don't know," Xander replied coldly, "I was in the middle of interrogati-"

"So they were telling the truth..."

Xander turned his head and found the ranger staring wide eyed at him.

"I..." the ranger gulped, "I shouldn't have said that."

The Left Hand smiled and crouched down, "Well, don't stop on my account. Your pet's life depends on it."

The ranger paled, "No, w-"

Thorva glanced dismissively at the dog, "It's not long for this world. Better to kill it now."

"Let him go," the ranger raised his voice, "I'll tell you everything. Just..."

Xander glanced to the dog. White fur, black eyes, and most importantly, no extra apparel. No leash or collar, no leather vest that could carry anything. The only oddity of it was the burn marks left by Xander's musket.

Can I not cross out the kill-a-dog part of the villain list if I only used the dog as a hostage? Eh, probably not, this was still terrible. But, at least I can say I didn't kill it and not be lying.

Xander closed his eyes and emptied out his blood vial. In a blur of red, Rigby's wounds healed.

"Erret, drop it," the Left Hand looked to the ranger, "You have ten seconds."

The ranger didn't waste them, cradling the dog in his hands, despite its confused wriggling, "Rigby, you have to listen. You have to go - go back home, ok? You have to go-"

Xander fired his musket into the air, looking up and away from the tragedy of his making. He distracted himself with the hopeful thought that it hadn't made enough noise to alert any Raptor patrols. His thoughts weren't enough to deafen out the dog's muffled mewls as it ran away.

When silence returned, the Left Hand leaned down again, "Let's start with what you shouldn't have said. Why'd you think that?"

The ranger gulped, "Erm-"

Xander picked up a stray hair on the floor, and glanced up at Thorva.

"Our drüvasks can track the dog," the Freljordian confirmed.

"Alright, alright," the ranger spoke, "I'll talk. I shouldn't have- I..."

Xander shook his head, "Breath. In and out."

The ranger complied.

"What's your name?"

"Dalin," the ranger looked down in burning shame and hate.

"Dalin. Alright, Dalin, as you were saying. Tell us everything. Starting with who 'they' are."

"They?" Dalin bitterly chuckled, "I found mages tried to sneak by here a week back. A patrol found them. Started interrogating them. Just two days ago they said they were looking for him."

Sylas raised an eyebrow as the ranger looked his way. Anger filled his eyes as he approached.

"What did you do to them?"

"Me? I did nothing; I didn't even believe they were telling the truth. But the Captain wanted me guarding these woods, just in case. And now I'm here..." Dalin straightened up, "I didn't see what happened to them, but... But if this is truly what you mages are like... then-

Sylas stepped forward and channeled his magic into menacing glare, "I wouldn't continue that sentence."

The Left Hand tapped Sylas to move aside, then, when he did so, continued, "So, you have mages trapped. Somewhere nearby, if you're not lying..."

"You were a Mageseeker once, right?" Dalin looked at Sylas, still defiant, "You know where they are, then. And soon… soon, you'll join them."

"Hopefully not," the Left Hand said, looking to Sylas briefly to stop the Unshackled's would-be attack. Once Sylas backed down, Xander went on, "Now, you're holding our men; or rather, people you work with are. I want names and numbers."

"For numbers, I couldn't help you if I wanted. And believe me, I don't," Dalin cleared his throat, "But if you want names… one such name is hoping for a rematch with you, Sylas."

Xander grimaced, "Captain Crownguard…. Who else? He isn't the interrogator type. Who's asking the questions?"

"Other than the loud mouth in front of me?"

After a pause, Xander snickered, "Okay. That was good, ranger. But seriously, who is it?"

Dalin shut his mouth in a tight frown.

"Your life is still in our hands," the Left Hand reminded, "And, your pet should still be traceable by our mounts."

Dalin sighed after a pause and confessed, "Senior Adept Cadstone heads the investigation and… along with his apprentice, Adept Arno."

That sounds familiar, but… I'll need to check my memories next time I nap.

A hearty laugh brought Xander back to reality.

"That old ass-kisser finally got what he wanted, eh?" Sylas' smirk turned dark, "Perhaps I'll spare his pig snout the smell… and break it when I free my men."

"That'll never happen," Dalin said, "These words I've said mean nothing; you'll never make it pass Captain Crownguard. He'll bring you to justice, Sylas. You, these savages you've brought along, and your Noxian conspirator."

Xander's breath hitched as a single thought went through his mind: He knows.

The Left Hand focused his gaze to a knife's edge, yet it was disarmed by its accompanying whisper, "What did you say?"

Dalin chuckled, "I wasn't able to figure it out at first with you threatening Rigby, but that probably should've been my first clue. Second was how you healed him. That blood magic? You only hear than from stories from Noxus."

The ranger turned his gaze to Sylas, amused malice in his eyes, "And you… you call yourself the true Demacia, and you side with them?"

"That a true Demacian like him would even consider accepting my help speaks to how far this kingdom's rulers have fallen from its ideals," the Left Hand muttered bitterly, as though a foul concoction had stained his tongue, "Now, I think we've heard enough. Sylas…?"

The revolutionary glanced at him, then asked after a pause, "You want me to kill him?"

Xander squinted, confused, "He knows we're here, that I'm with you, and that we're with the raiders. He's too much of a risk alive. Surely we're on agreement on that?"

Sylas sent Xander a pointed look before a bitter laugh sent his gaze down.

"Enabling a murderer? That's just like you, Noxian," Dalin moved his smirk from Xander to Sylas, "But as it turns out, even the worst Demacian is better than you. Won't that be a story to tel-"

"Xander," Sylas' smirked with dark, daring eyes, "If you want him dead so much, you can do it."

Dalin's face morphed in confusion, "Eh?"

A beat of silence followed before bolt of magic burned Dalin's face off. As the ranger's corpse slumped down, the Left Hand stood up, a grimace on his face. Once more, the forest was quiet. Xander looked away for a moment, trying to wipe away the memory of the dead ranger's face. When he succeeded, he returned his gaze to the group and found three surprised faces looking at him.

Sylas wasn't a fish out of water, but clearly he hadn't expected the act, "You actually..."

"I told you it was necessary," Xander spoke curtly, "I just thought you'd want the kill, but if not I was always going to pull the trigger."

Sylas was silent for a moment before shrugging, "Better you than me, Noxian."

Erret cut in, thankfully, seemingly not willing to risk Sylas having cold feet with their alliance, "They have your men somewhere nearby… we'll help you storm the place. The ranger said you'd know?"

Sylas slowly nodded, closing his eyes with pained reminiscence.

"Yes... I do," the Unshackled confessed, "Now, let me tell you about Aron's Defiance..."

Aron's Defiance was an old fort situated on a small, snowy plateau. Named for an old Captain of the Dauntless Vanguard, the land it was built on was the site of said captain's final stand. It was said that a horde of Freljordians once believed the southerners so weak that they could conquer the kingdom. The horde, primarily composed of a single tribe, wasn't as numerous as the Winter's Claw was now - something Thorva had noted with giddy enthusiasm. In the absence of manpower, magic had propelled the Winter's Claw's predecessors on. So naturally, old Captain Aron, a secret mage who'd worked with the Mageseekers, ended up the man of the hour that day. Saving lives at the border fortresses, then rallying the Vanguard on the plateau, Captain Aron died protecting the country he loved from its most dangerous foes. To honour the man, a fort was built around his grave, and the tradition of mageseekers and common soldiers working together continued on it to the modern day.

Given all those details, Xander knew without a shadow of a doubt that Aron's Defiance was the fortress he feared. Along with matching physical descriptions, thematic matches with the fort's history matched as well. A secret mage fighting with the Dauntless Vanguard to stop a magic threat from the north? How was that not just setting up Lux's victory over Sylas - and it was Lux's victory, the regular soldiers were going to be overrun without her - with Galio? Could he be blamed for thinking it wasn't a coincidence?

Needless to say, Xander knew he had to act fast. All he could do was suggest caution rather than charging with no plan. The Left Hand proposed a scouting mission, and surprisingly the vote went through. It took a bit of magic-eye-glow intimidation and explanation, but thanks to Sylas agreeing with him - something Xander was surprised at - the all-clear was given. Erret was, unfortunately, told to stay behind. Officially it was to 'act as liaison between the rebels and raiders should the scouting party not return'. Xander read Thorva's words not just as Sylas', but as claiming an insurance. Of course, how Sylas could orchestrate Erret's death following their potential failure was beyond him, but Xander wasn't about to let it fall through.

And so, with sunset approaching, Xander led the scouting team down the canyon that Aron's Defiance guarded. The fort was built on a sheer cliff, with the only obvious entrance being a bridge connecting the canyon's sides. Whilst Xander knew they could've stormed the bridge by sheer force - and they likely would when they raided the stronghold - he figured there had to be a stealthier option ahead.

"Do you even know what you're looking for?"

Sylas followed directly behind him, hood up and a frown on his face. Thorva walked behind him, spear strapped to her back, and behind her were two scouts that had volunteered for the mission. According to Thorva, they were close followers of the Scarmother, but as far as Xander was concerned if they were a problem he'd save them for later.

Xander didn't look back to Sylas as he replied, "I do, actually. And you're gonna laugh when I say what it is."

Doubt was carried in the Unshackled's tone, "Really now? What is it, then?"

A change. I can already smell it, Xander shifted ahead and peered through his scope, Ah, there we go.

"I was looking for shit," Xander explained, then gestured to his discovery, "And I've found it."

Sylas caught up with him and grimaced. The river they'd been walking by had shifted had been vibrant and clear up to that point. Here, however, significant swathes of dirty browns swirled in the current. The fresh smell shifted as well; not quite the aftermath of a particularly filling dinner, but definitely not the refreshing chill of a winter breeze.

Thorva caught up and spoke with disgust, "Unclean! The water's unclean!"

"Indeed," Xander neared the water, "The result of a standing army's daily lunch, I'd gather. And its source..."

Xander pointed to an outcrop of rocks half way through the cliff, from which a dirty stream slowly dropped. At its end, almost halfway up the cliff, was a noticeable square of bricks; the exit of the fortress sewage system. Thought it would still take a climb, it would definitely be safer... their noses not included.

"How did you know?" Thorva wondered aloud.

"An animal leaves droppings; that's how you track one. An army's much the same. And if an army is staying somewhere for a long time, they shit a lot, usually in the same place," Xander explained, "Now, most people don't like looking at shit all day; they'd get sick. That means sewage systems often aren't guarded. So, Noxian spy standard procedure; if you need to ruin someone's day, up their shit hole you go."

"So the Noxian pig likes wallowing in shit," Sylas snarked, "How surprising."

Xander turned to counter, but paused as he considered his past. Thinking back, sneaking through sewers was a common act of his career.

"I don't like it, but if it works it works," the Left Hand finally said, "Besides, I'm sure you figured that one out. Did you not use the city sewers to escape?"

After a silent pause, Sylas conceded, "Touché..."

Xander smirked and walked along to the cliff side. The Left Hand gazed up, assessing the rocky surfaces. Whilst it was a long climb, a set of flat points would prove sufficient checkpoints. Not his easiest climb, but not his worst.

Before he could make the first step, Sylas asked another question, "Wait, how'd you here about that?"

"Aislynn told me about it," Xander shrugged, "I wanted to know about you, and she-"

"Told you everything?" Suspicion rose in Sylas' voice, "Just like that?"

Xander sighed, "Yes, just like that. She didn't know I was Noxian yet, so she was all too happy to to share info on you with a fellow mage."

"And after she learned?"

"We went our separate ways," Xander replied, "I had no reason to kill or hurt her, and she knows that if she does anything to me, there'll be a reckoning. So, we agreed to stay out of each others' way. If you want to check on her after this, she and her people live near Uwendale, but she didn't seem to want anything to do with either of us."

Sylas glared at him for a moment, but no words left his lips. Xander matched his gaze for a moment before turning away and beginning to climb. The sound of a stream flowing accompanied by leather on rocks became the only sound for the next few minutes.

The sun falling below the horizon by the time they reached the sewage pipe. The hole from which filth dripped was barely tall enough for a human to fit through, and was barred with thick steel. Xander touched the worn metal and breathed a sigh of relief when he found it wasn't runic. He then attempted to pull, but found the contraption stuck.

"Need a hand?" Sylas asked.

"Well... not physically," Xander produced his firestone from his coat, "I want to assume you'd have better control of fire magic than I do. I think we can cut through this gate with the heat."

Sylas nodded slowly then took the stone. It glowed a deep orange, and the air around it radiated. Sylas then touched the stone to the bars, causing the steel to warp. A clank heralded the breaking of the bars, followed by a hiss as the steaming metal cooled in the filth of the sewage. The smell of said filth spread, so the raiding party was quick to enter the sewer quickly, away from the burning.

Channeling a cooler flame to his hand, Sylas lit the way.

"I think I can guide the way," the revolutionary said, "Xander, we're roughly under the bridge, right?"

"Yeah," Xander recalled the shadow they went under, "Where'll you take us?"

Sylas stopped before a crossway and muttered to himself silently. After a moment's consideration, he turned back to Xander and the group.

"I only remember the Mageseeker quarters from my time here. Going this way should lead you to there, and I know it's close to the administrative area," Sylas explained, gesturing with his left hand, "But, there's nothing special for the raid tomorrow there. We go the other way, we should be able to get to the military branch; maybe steal some weapons, destroy the gate system... I wouldn't know where to go from there, though."

Xander cross his arms, "So what are you saying?"

"I'm thinking we split up," Sylas said, "You and the scouts deal with the military assets on hand, me and Thorva bust out our men."

... are you kidding me?

Xander scoffed, "You could try be less subtle. But no, we're not splitting up."

"Wh-" Sylas either stuck true to his excellent acting skills, or genuinely didn't realize it looked like he was trying to get Xander killed; the Left Hand rolled his eys as he spoke, "No, no, I'm not trying to get you killed this time."

"This time? Well, not consciously then. If one of us gets caught, not only will they be screwed, being outnumbered on the opposite side of the base, but the other is screwed because the base will get into lockdown," Xander wasn't sure if one of his eyes twitched in annoyance, but he wouldn't have been surprised; there was a lot wrong with the suggestion, "Not to mention any future raid will likely fail, with the base going on alert. And that Captain Crownguard is apparently here; if he lives he calls the prince to send an army here, if we kill him Jarvan sends an army here anyway. No, we're not splitting up."

"Alright then, fine," Sylas backed away, surprised by the rant, "Okay... where do we go, then?"

Xander considered for just a second, "Admin quarters. Not only do you know it better, but generally speaking the rest of the fort is built around it. If there's a window nearby the scouts and I can assess where to go. That's all we need, then: when we raid we just hit the key targets hard then leave when we have what we want."

Thorva raised an eyebrow, "And what would we want?"

"Food for our travels, weapons and armor, so on... As for what I want - information like reports - I could pick that up now if I wanted to; sneak into an office, that sort of thing," Xander smirked mischievously, "But I doubt you trust me to go solo."

"No, I don't," Sylas deadpanned, "Alright then. We'll go through the mageseeker restrooms. Follow m- wait, Xander?"

"What?" the Left Hand smirked behind his mask as he tightened its strap, "Let's just say I have a recognisable face."

"More so than me?"

"Probably not. Sorry I didn't bring spares."

"Doesn't matter," Thorva muttered, "Get us out of this dirt. My nose is... broken, now."

Xander shared a snicker with Sylas before continuing. They trudge through the filth before reaching a tall shaft, thankfully given a ladder for traversal. Fresh shit nearly stained Sylas' coat as he climbed past in onto a final platform. A creaky wooden floor led to a doorway; Xander assumed it to be a junction for any janitors or engineers, just in case the sewers clogged. He sneaked to the door without a sound and leaned.

"Anybody there?" Sylas whispered.

After a pause, Xander pushed the door open, holding its handle before it slammed against the door. Save for a handful of old crates and brooms, nothing was in the room. There wasn't even an active torch. They were in the clear.

With slow, silent, deliberate steps, Xander moved on to the door. Sylas followed, making some noise, but nothing too obnoxious; at least, Xander hoped.

"Peek through the keyhole?" he suggested.

Sylas complied, "Mmm... can't get a good look... ah, wait. Alright, I see."

"What do you see?" Xander queried.

"We... should be in the basement," Sylas said, "There's a storage room opposite us where mageseekers keep any items held by Freljordian mages. If we go down the corridor, we'll pass an office. Pass that, we move to some stairs down to the brig. My men will be there-"

Sylas' breath hitched.

"What is it?" Xander asked, "Somebody pass by?"

"Cadstone," he muttered, "And his apprentice. Some green boy. And some others; there's someone with an escort, and they're speaking in the hallway. I can't see the light well. They're coming from the office area... maybe the brig."

"Armed?"

Sylas' eyes widened, and he backed away from the door.

"If their greymarks find us, it's over," he stated.

Xander nodded and backed away, deep into the room. Thorva and the other scout followed, but the last one stuck to the door.

"What is he doing?" Xander whispered.

"He is not Iceborn," Thorva answered, "He can listen."

A tense silence filled the room. Indistinct muttering briefly passed by - presumably the two mageseekers walking by - before the scout rejoined the group. Freljordian whispers filled the room before Thorva explained her scout's words.

"Five people. Three men, two women. All armed," Thorva listed, "He couldn't understand all of their words, but he heard one of the girls say 'they don't trust'."

"They were coming from the brig, then," Sylas deduced.

Xander considered what the scout overheard.

Don'ttrust... why would you think they'd trust you any- oh. So that's why she was here?

"Thorva, did your scout see the girl who spoke?"

Thorva translated the question then replied with her scout's answer, "She was the shortest of the rest. She had yellow hair."

Xander sent a glance Sylas' way.

The Unshackled's eyes widened, "You don't think..."

"I do," Xander confirmed, "That was probably Luxanna Crownguard."

"But why would she be here?"

"Her brother and her aunt know she was involved in freeing you," the Left Hand noted, "Perhaps they thought she'd be able to get your men to confess. Clearly they were mistaken, but..."

Silence filled the dark room again. Sylas' gaze was glazed, the revolutionary clearly deep in thought. Xander glanced from him to the scout at the door. A brief exchange of Freljordian whispers broke the quiet.

Thorva then confirmed the scout's words, "The hallway is clear."

"Right," Xander tugged lightly at the fur of Sylas' coat, "Come on. She's not our problem right now. Let's find your men."

Sylas recovered from his trance, nodded, and followed. As the revolutionary took point, Xander's own mind wandered. Lux was at Aron's Defiance, meaning not only the upcoming raid was at risk. If she so much as cast a blinding spell, Xander's knew his plan wouldn't work. Even if her magic resulted in a victory for the Demacians, there was no guarantee the local Mageseekers wouldn't detain her. And if they didn't, the revolution would simply be screwed; their case for the treatment of mages could be appeased by the new mage queen Lux... and Xander would have to return to Noxus empty handed.

If we're going to succeed, Lux has to go. I need to get her off the battlefield. But how? Maybe freeing the mage captives early? I was hoping to free them during the raid, make it look like they were just making the most of the opportunity. If they're freed right before the raid, it'll look suspicious... but maybe Lux would leave if the mages simply disappeared?

Xander put the skeleton of his plan away as the scouting party neared the bottom of the stairs. Sylas leaned against the stairs' support pillar, hiding behind it with his chains in his hand. Ahead, the sound of plate on stone briefly echoed. Indistinct muttering accompanied them.

"They heard us," Sylas whispered, "I think."

"Your chains?" Xander assumed. Sylas glared at him, prompting a smirk.

Footsteps filled the stairs. Thorva unlatched her spear, and her two scouts took out knives. Sylas tensed beside Xander.

Xander rolled his eyes and mouthed, "Quiet. I got this."

He took out a small petricite stone. Though it was smaller than the firestone, not to mention less refined and weaker in general, Xander knew it'd get them out of trouble. It was the first charged petricite experiment he'd pulled, after all.

I did say fire magic was the simplest elemental magic to manipulate. But, it wasn't the first type I charged petricite into. Watch this, Sylas...

After channeling some magic into the stone, Xander rolled it down the corridor. It fell down one step after the other, disappearing past the Left Hand's eventually heard the guard finding it, though.

"Found a rock," a boyish voice said, "Must be the mountain acting up."

"You don't know that for certain," an older voice called from bellow, "Check further ahead."

Too late for that, Xander mused, channeling his magic, Set... go.

An invisible pulse of magic was released from the stone. The only indication it was activated came from Sylas' magic tattoos and petricite gauntlets lightly glowing for a moment. Xander felt the magic on the guard, though, and channeled his power.

He felt the guard step closer, and imagined a silent darkness.

"Don't attack," Xander whispered.

The guard stepped into their view. The scouting party tensed despite Xander's order. The only reason they didn't strike was the fact that the guard's face betrayed no hostile intent. It looked as though...

"I don't see anything," the guard before them said, rubbing his eyes with a free arm, "False alarm."

"Alright then," the guard bellow responded, "Sorry for the wake up call. You have my coat for a pillow."

"Yeah, thanks," the guard before them yawned before turning back.

Sylas looked to Xander with a soft gasp, "How...?"

"Heard of daydreaming?" Xander snarked softly, pulling another rock from his coat, "I can control those as well as reggie dreams with my magic. That's where the stones come in."

"...Reggie?"

"Regular, now shut up," Xander flung the other stone. Another pulse filled the hall, "The first pulse was weak, I'm wasn't working with a lot. And now I've got two minds to control."

The raiding party began to slowly step down, Xander taking the lead. The younger one yawned again and took a seat on a stool set in the room's corner. The elder seemed equally exhausted, but was doing a better job hiding it. He had to, after all; he stood next to a bell, and it was presumably his duty to ring it if something happened. He handed his younger friend his coat, wrapped and folded into a fluffy pseudo-pillow.

Xander stood next to the younger man with his hand tightened in a fist.

"Don't take the old man's head off," Xander suggested with sweat dripping

Sylas rolled his eyes and prepared his own hand under the old man's chin.

"Sure."

Thorva, noting the Unshackled's stray chains, went to pick up the bell. She'd let the bell down when one of the guards noticed.

"Hey, Armet, did you see-"

Sylas shut the old man up with a vicious uppercut, instantly knocking him out and likely giving him brain damage. Xander was only slightly kinder, sending a right cross that sent the younger guard sprawling to the ground.

Sylas fished a key from the elder soldier, remarking, "That was easy."

"We still need to get out of here," Xander reminded, "Now, let's open it up."

The brig's steel door opened with the rasp of steel on stone. Past it, a barely lit corridor of barred rooms could be seen. Mumbles echoed within as the raiding party walked through.

"Thorva, have someone head back up top with your men," Xander ordered, "If someone comes to check in with the guards, I want an early warning."

Thorva squinted at first, then ordered her scout's to do as requested.

Sylas, meanwhile, went ahead. He glanced at each of the cells, frowning at their apparent emptiness. His breath hitched before one, and he gestured for Xander to come investigate it.

"Xander, is this fresh?"

Fresh?

The Left Hand went to Sylas' side and found blood on the walls of the cell. It was dried, of course, but that it still retained a crimson hue... Xander willed it to float his way, and absorbed it through his forearms.

"Two weeks, latest," he reported, "Magic blood."

"Sylas?"

Sylas' eyes widened in recognition of the new voice before he walked ahead. At the end of the corridor was a single barred room; perhaps the only one holding people. In the shadows Xander couldn't make out specifics. So, he followed.

"Sylas..." a hoarse voice called from the cell, "It's really you, sir."

Xander caught up to see Sylas kneeling before the cell. On the opposite side was a young man with shaggy brown hair and a cut lip. One of the mages hands held the nearest bar firmly. The other arm was shrouded in shadow, but if Xander wasn't wrong...

"I told you not to call me that, Happ," the softness in Sylas' voice surprised Xander, "What did they do to you?"

Happ raised his shadowed arm. It was caught in a cast, implying a previous break. More concerning, however, were the bruised, ever so slightly elongated fingers that limply hung from the arm's hand.

"It's fine... I did what I had to do..."

"That's far from fine, but... thanks for holding out as long as you did," Xander stepped in, "We'll get you out soon."

"I would've held out as long as needed, but..." Happ looked up at Xander, trying to peer past his mask, "Wait, who?... no, truly? You're real?"

Before Xander could snark back to affirm his state of reality, a familiar voice made his eyes widened.

"Yeah he's real, Happ," the voice said with acidic tone, "The Noxian Ghost, claiming vengeance on the Demacian crown on behalf of the mages persecuted by it. The stories are real... same with the Unshackled Revolutionary, that just defier of the crown... well, to an extent."

Xander was vaguely aware of Sylas backing away from the cell's bars with a gasp of surprise. But, the Left Hand's focus was taken by the figure coming from the corner. A broad shouldered bearded man with fire in his eyes watched him cautiously, but moved aside for his thin, bruised, yet still defiant leader. Dirty hands grabbed the bars with a speed like an uncoiled spring.

"So, how about a serving of truth?" the figure demanded, a fuming laugh under her voice, "Cos I've had enough bullshit from both of you!"

Both Xander and Sylas exclaimed in shock their addressor's name, "Aislynn?!"

"That's my name, don't wear it out," Aislynn mused with a jovial voice, but her eyes betrayed a thunderstorm's frustration, "Now, I believe I'm owed a conversation... No. I'm owed an explanation, or better yet, justification! For... everything. From both of you, you both know what you've done... So who's it gonna be first?"

Author's Note: So yeah, it's almost been a full month since the last chapter; my break lasted longer than I thought. But, here I have a 10k chapter, so I guess it's worth it?

Anyways, as for plot-relevant stuff, next chapter'll be a break from Xander and Sylas' dickish behaviour - and, if this chapter is testament to anything, it is that they are dicks. It'll be an interlude concerning the two mages in Aron's Defiance. I set up why Aislynn would be there last we saw her, and I just explained why Lux was there as well; next chapter will connect the dots. And after that, we'll see if the warriors show up, or if Xander's changes are enough to make a favourable ending for Sylas' motley crew.

Also, I've uploaded drawings for chapters thirteen through sixteen. Maybe I'll work on the ones for last chapter and this one, but I'll likely just press forward with the next chapter. We'll see.

I hope you've enjoyed my writing thus far. Please leave a review; I appreciate any feedback I get for the fic, as it can help me improve or show where I'm succeeding. See you next chapter.