Redefinition

by Enth V

As the Demacian Mage Rebellion begins, a group of Noxians is sent to further the empire's agenda. Led by the mysterious "Left Hand of Noxus" - a man who was once Demacian - the group aims to bring down the current regime. But, as the civil war breaks and the group's ideals are tested, only one thing is certain: the Left Hand knows more than he should... [SI-OC Fic]

32. Chapter 32

Journal Entry N-113:

You'd think after all that I've been through and what I can do, I'd never have a restless night. To my shame, I thought that, yet here I am in my own dream world - of which I have absolute control - and I can't get it out of my head.

So what better way to shrug it off than inscribe it in my subconscious, right?

For whatever its worth, I'm not writing this in the real journal when I wake up. No time for that, so none of those memory-enhancing effects of writing shit down for me. Not that I'm keen on giving these thoughts more of my time.

Anyways.

I mentioned last entry that high-com was looking for the decisive win to put the Helottans to rout. That was four nights ago, and we found it the day after. That was actually fun, since we were deployed at the perfect time; early enough to still get a lot of high-mark kills, late enough to not worry about the meat grinder. Me and Erret scored thirty kills between us (debating kill credit with some of them, but he's forgotten the conversation. Guess I get those three royal guards, heh.) whilst Gerris bagged the head of a prince. When that happened the slavers went into full retreat, whilst the rest retreated.

As per usual, Noxus gained citizens from that win, not that I'd accept all of them. A hundred twenty-four professional soldiers and forty-six elite guards accepted the offer of amnesty. Maybe some of the regulars are fine, but those elites were definitely slavers. You'd think a nation claiming egalitarianism as strongly as Noxus would execute them on sight, but no, their oaths of renouncement have been made.

On the plus side, on account of their past occupation, they only get to swear their oaths of allegiance after getting through Draven. So, my wish will most likely be granted in some way.

Unlike them, the three hundred twenty-nine ex-slaves we freed were assigned straight to the various warbands for service. They were ravenous for vengeance, that's for certain. We were projected to, from that victory, reach Helotta within a week. With the aid the ex-slaves got us, we cut that timetable down, and we're now within a day's march of the slaver capital.

Which brings me to today's events.

With the bulk of their forces beaten in the last fight, it should've been an easy march to Helotta. But, one last strike got in the way. Nothing major physically; the chariots we downed were well beyond their prime and few in number, and though the phalanx men were disciplined their gear and training couldn't compare to ours. We cut them all down within an afternoon. But on the topic of those phalanx men...

They were slaves. Each and every one of them. And even after their masters fell, they refused to surrender.

I killed five of them.

I don't get why. Why they were so damn insistent on fighting and dying on that hill. Their masters were dead, so it wasn't like they'd be punished. There wasn't any threat of hostages being killed in the city either; I saw from their corpses that they were fucking castrated. No family to be worried about, and from the scars I doubt they held any love for the slavers.

I don't get it. Was it some religious faith? Helotta was once of the Shuriman empire, so maybe the delusional bastards thought only Azir or some emperor could free them? Maybe it was just brainwashing and conditioning?

I don't know. Perhaps I'll never know. All I can hope is tomorrow I don't have to ask myself these same questions. It'll be a bloody day, and if there's one small comfort I have, it's that some of the blood I spill will be deserving. Beyond that... we'll see.

- X.

---

It was a distant memory that she rarely reflected on, but she could still remember when she'd asked her father who, truly, her mother was.

Like her mood then, the weather that day was tempestuous. All her life she'd been a wanderer. She and her father never stayed long enough anywhere to settle in, yet cruelly it was enough time for her to grow envious for those who could. As she'd grown it had gotten worse, and finally, on that overcast afternoon, the question forced itself out of her lips in a growl. Her father - despite what some thought due of him due to his magical nature - spoke plainly and answered. He did not try justify his actions. He didn't refuse punishment. He spoke truthfully, without deceit.

She could not repay his honesty with what it deserved. Fury spread her wings for the first time, and cruelly, when her anger faded, it was too late. Her draconic nature had lit a beacon in the world, and her mother got her chance at vengeance.

Shyvana never got the chance to apologise to her father.

Nor did her mother get the chance to reclaim her child. But then again, if reclaiming her lost child were the goal, surely the great drake Yvva would've shown restraint? Not once from that point till the end did her mother do so. The roads Shyvana avoided for all but the briefest moments were destroyed utterly just for her short presence. The forests she hid under burned, their serene scenes desecrated for all time. Worst of all was the small trading town in the mountains which Shyvana never even entered.

At times she wished she did; even if it cost her life, surely she could've at least saved one innocent soul in that town?

The rest of the time, Shyvana could only be content with what did happen. She could only treasure the one soul she did save, as well as the allies she found at Wrenwall; the allies who helped her finally put her demons to rest. In the end, for all the flame she spread, Shyvana's mother died cold-hearted and alone. And now, her skull lay in the royal hall for all to see. Yet Shyvana herself could barely stomach the sight.

Who is my mother... the half-dragon could only curse the memory, A question I should've never raised. My mother was a monster who could not tell her own daughter apart from a layman.

Or perhaps she did, and tried to kill her anyway. Shyvana wasn't sure which answer she preferred.

She met the gaze of her mother's empty skull and stared deeply. Each preserved horn, each protrusion and hole... she searched all for answers. The void within Yvva's eye sockets stared back and left her wanting.

"Lady Shyvana?"

The familiar voice took Shyvana away from her troubled thoughts, and the half-dragon was quick to respond.

"Jeyne Spiritmight. It is good to see you."

The Spiritmight scion was looked far better than the last time Shyvana had seen her. She'd been filthy and bruised, then, being on the run for so long from Demacia's enemy. Of that damage, only a healed scar on her right cheek remained. That, and the confident gaze she held.

"Same as well to you," the Spiritmight scion said, "Though I must admit, I hadn't expected to see you so soon."

Shyvana's eyes furrowed, "My escort and I were ordered here by the king. You are not here to bring us to him?"

Jeyne's eyebrows rose as she replied, "Cousin Jarvan? No, I was unaware he'd called you. I'd assumed he might be here, but I suppose after seeing to the court processions for so long he got tired of it."

"Should we look for him together?" The Half-Dragon suggested, "I've only been to the capital a few times; I wouldn't know where to look."

Jeyne squinted, surprised, "Jarvan didn't show you around last time?"

Shyvana was quick to respond, "He did. Spent much of his time doing so... about a day, I recall. The late king wasn't pleased then-"

"Is that so?" Jeyne leaned closer to Shyvana and sported a wide smirk as she spoke, "A whole day, and yet you don't know your way around?"

The half-dragon backed away, "Er, well, it's di-"

"Very interesting," the Spiritmight scion retracted and composed herself with a sigh before stepping off, "In any case, let's be off. I have a few ideas for where my royal cousin is hiding."

With a huff of confusion, Shyvana followed. Again her mind traveled to the past, but with a more pleasant understanding. She'd been surprised when Jarvan sent her away to Wrenwall, and had even argued for staying by his side. It hadn't made sense then, but she'd learned over time to not take her hidden gift for granted.

She'd not have lasted long in Demacian politics.

If even Jarvan's relatives are like this... Shyvana shook her head with a musing chuckle, No, I forget which of Jarvan's relatives I'm speaking with. Surely Lady Jeyne is an exception?

It was possible. Like most of those related to Jarvan, Jeyne Spiritmight sought to serve her country. Where she differed was methodology; where Jarvan took up his spear and his late father took up the accepted, Jeyne Spiritmight took to maps, charts, and hearsay. Though not as extensive or powerful as other nations, namely Noxus', Demacia too had a network of spies and scouts. Lady Jeyne was one of its heads.

If her men hadn't spotted Kadregrin's approach, we'd have lost much more stopping him...

Her odd display aside, Shyvana could only respect the Spiritmight scion. It was in the same way she respected the Ranger-Knights despite their similar proclivities for cunningness, or the way she respected the other Demacian soldiers despite the judging looks of suspicion they gave her, and even the way she respected the Mageseekers despite their open contempt for her.

... perhaps not that last one. I'd understand being cautious, but surely they could at least restrain their contempt before me? We both seek to serve the same kingdom, do we not?

The question rang in her head twice that afternoon. Once when Shyvana and Jeyne ran into a pair of Mageseekers at a hallway between the main hall and the castle barracks, then again at the barracks themselves. They hadn't found Jarvan there; it surprised Shyvana, given how often she'd found him training with the royal guard when she'd first come to the capital. Said royal guard, however, seemed apprehensive of magic eyes watching them. Shyvana was grateful for Jeyne Spiritmight's ushering her out of the yard quickly.

The pair didn't run into the king at his solar, either. Only a clerk and a desk made messy by piles of paperwork greeted them there. Given how busy Shyvana knew the king to be, the half-dragon figured it was probably for the best. The royal apartments seemed empty as well, and Jeyne Spiritmight seemed ready to call it quits for the day at the sight. But, the scent of burning called to Shyvana as they stepped past the living room's petricite-wood doors. She knew where Jarvan was.

As expected, she found him in the private royal gardens. From the childhood stories Jarvan told her, she knew it was one of his favourite places in the castle. No doubt it was home to many a nostalgic memory, yet Shyvana was greeted with her friend paying homage to a bittersweet one. The King of the land sat on his knees before a shrine of design foreign to his kingdom, meditating silently. Recognising the sight, Shyvana stepped lightly out of respect.

Jeyne Spiritmight recognised the sight as well, but her response was the opposite of Shyvana's.

"You know, I'm sure Ren won't complain if you only visit once a week," the Spiritmight scion jested.

Shyvana's eyes widened at the blatant intrusion, but her worry was dissuaded by Jarvan's chuckles.

Though only halfway - she couldn't miss the half-mournful tone they were infused with.

"Ironic coming from you," Jarvan shot back, not turning from the shrine, "All the same, he definitely would be complaining. Though for the opposite reason: I've been spending a lot of time here..."

"More than you should?" When her assumption wasn't corrected, Jeyne added another question, "... do I want to know why?"

Jarvan sighed, "You're smart enough to know that, cousin. Do you... do you think he'd be proud? He always wanted me to be the best king I could be."

"And you are?" Jeyne seemed confused at the question, "Why would that be in doubt? I'm sure if he was still here, he'd be serving right by your side."

Jarvan's shoulders slumped with another sigh; he clearly didn't agree. Shyvana could understand why. The days after she'd saved him wasn't all sunshine. Though half the time he seemed in good spirits (he was always curious and excited to learn about her), the other half was spent in despondency. From beyond the thin walls that divided their rooms, Shyvana had heard him questioning his worthiness for his royal title, regretting his actions, and weeping for every soldier slain under his command. She couldn't offer any words to console him then; all she had was the distraction of their budding friendship.

This time was different.

"It wasn't your fault things happened the way they did," Shyvana finally interjected, "This hardship was thrust on you, and you're doing the best you can. I may not have met him, but I know your brother would be proud of that."

"'Ana?" Jarvan turned quickly to face her then slowly smiled, "... thanks for that, Shyvana. I... hope you're right."

All the while, Jeyne watched, humming in a pensive tone.

Jarvan rose from his sitting position before addressing his guests, "Thank you for coming, both of you. Now, I imagine since you came to see me personally that you have something important to say. So, we'll start with you, cousin?"

Jeyne stepped forward and first asked, "Did the High Marshall tell you of the journal we found?"

Jarvan's smile faded, and the shadows of his brow darkened, "The one Sylas' rat hid in his cot by the docks?"

"The very same. We've made a lot of progress on the records within."

"And?"

"Well, not all of it's been decoded. We found that every month Sylas had his men switch to new ciphers. But, with them being minority edited Mageseeker ciphers, we've cracked all but one of the monthly chapters."

"The last one being?"

"The last chapter before the search started," Jeyne shrugged, "The two most recent months were the hardest to crack; they switched from Mageseeker ciphers and started from scratch."

"I see," Jarvan frowned in thought, then shrugged of his concerns, "What were those logs' contents?"

"Mostly reports and information for missions in the kingdom's center. I imagine the High Marshall will be able to determine their current plans shortly by analysing the common trends," Jeyne explained, "But, earlier logs also have reminders for where other logs have been hidden. The descriptions are vague, but spare Mageseekers have been sent to possible locales."

"Good... did the logs-"

"Contain mentions of where they might be hiding? Yes, but unfortunately they're even more vague. Only thing we can say is that they're spread out and seem to move headquarters every three weeks."

Jarvan's brow twitched in anger, but quickly regained composure.

"...Then a decisive strike won't be possible," the King concluded, "We'll have to draw them out and break them with our counterattack."

"I'm afraid so," Jeyne nodded, "Of course, once we get an idea of their larger plans we can direct forces to more obvious targets; dissuade the rebels from their targets. Lord Xin Zhao's probably setting up the city chain in the northwest, so at the very least we'll have an uninterrupted flow of resources and manpower."

"Small blessings," Jarvan sighed, then addressed the other woman in the room, "Shyvana, do you have anything to add? Any insights on the report?"

Shyvana shrugged, "Based on what we know, your plan seems the most prudent... at least, if not for the events at Falconclaw. That skirmish was a major loss, even with the efforts of Lady Kahina. If we can expect similar showings from the rebels going forward, I fear we won't be able to stand on equal footing with them. If we want to win decisively, it would be better to catch them off guard, not the other way around."

The King's frown deepened, but he did not speak. Jeyne, for her part, didn't distract Jarvan by bringing up another counter argument. Instead, the Spiritmight scion gave Shyvana cautious support.

"The world's really throwing everything it's got at us, but it's not like we haven't survived that before," Jeyne gave a weak grin, "I'm sure my scouts can pull a miracle out from air. We caught Kadregrin with a fluke, didn't we?"

Shyvana smirked, "So you've said."

"We'll need more than a fluke to bring my father and the countless dead to justice," Jarvan forced a smile, "But if anyone can do it, I'm sure you can, cousin. At least, after you recover-"

"After?" Jeyne's brows furrowed in feigned anger, "I'm up and about, and I can think coherently. I'm more than recovered, your highness."

Jarvan flinched then chuckled, "Right, right. Don't call me that in private, and I won't bother you about it."

"... of course."

"Thank you for your restraint," Jarvan shook his head then recomposed himself, "Now, with that out of the way... I imagine you were confused when you received my letter, Shyvana?"

After remembering why she was in the capital in the first place, Shyvana quickly responded.

"I admit I was," the Half-Dragon shrugged, "I imagine it has something to do with the rebellion?"

Jarvan nodded, but his reply didn't mention the mages, "If I may ask, how goes your and Lieutenant Jerik's training of the Dragonguard?"

Shyvana answered, "Well, I suppose. Kadregrin's assault, if anything, proved our plans worked effectively. Most of our soldiers were blooded with that fight, and should stand strong against any other dragon incursions that come."

"Do you think the Dragonguard can be effective without your presence?"

The half-dragon couldn't help the perplexed blink she gave before replying, "If necessary; only an attack from a beast of Yvva or Kadregrin's scale would require my presence, and of their kind not many remain near our borders... why do you ask-"

"Cousin, respectfully, I think moving Shyvana from Wrenwall will only be a detriment," Jeyne interrupted.

Shyvana blinked again, only this time in disbelief and confusion.

That's why he invited me over? If he needs me here that badly he could've just ordered; he's the king. And if he had doubts, surely we could've discussed these issues over letters?

As Shyvana pondered the situation, Jarvan defended its reason for being.

"Cousin, the war is to the north, not the south. Raiders are breaking through the border and mages are plaguing our lands. And they're doing it effectively, both," the King argued, "Shyvana said it herself; we can't wait for an opportunity. The more we give them, the less of a chance we'll have in the long run."

"That bodes true for another of the kingdom's enemies, cousin," Jeyne chided, "Have you forgotten what lies beyond our southeast border? It's not just dragons we keep watch for over there."

Jarvan squinted, "I thought there hasn't been any sign of Noxians beyond the border-"

"But there have been sightings within the borders, or have you so quickly forgotten?" Jeyne's tone dipped into real rage as she advanced into the King's personal space, "They may be acting passively, but make no mistake cousin. They're watching, and the kingdom can't afford a third war."

"And what's to say that isn't inevitable?" Jarvan countered, advancing a step to reassert himself, "This civil war's been going on for months. My father has been dead for months. I'd be shocked if they don't have something planned. Surely it would be best to deal with our current issue as soon as possible? Shyvana could help with that."

"I... fear that's not right, Jarvan."

The King turned slowly to Shyvana, causing the half-dragon's heart to skip a beat momentarily. Shyvana expected to see judgement or rage in Jarvan's eyes, but found no such emotion therein. Instead present was a familiar blend of surprise and cautious curiosity... and shame?

No, not that last one.

Shyvana blinked away the sights of the past and continued with her explanation.

"As much as I would gladly serve by your side to claim justice for your late father, to do so now would only expose us to the risks Jeyne noted," the half-dragon justified, "As it stands, we don't even know where the rebels are hiding..."

Slowly, Jarvan understood, and nodded.

"… Alright then. With the army we sent north, you are the only major force guarding the south. It would be foolish to retract you from your position," the King sighed in acceptance, then forced a smile, "I should hope our fears aren't realised, but if they are I can think of nobody better to hold the line."

Despite seeing the exaggerated claim for what it was, Shyvana couldn't help the small smile that spread on her lips.

"Of course. I have and will serve to the best of my ability," Shyvana claimed, "... and, if your father's killers dare show their faces in my territory, I'll deliver them to you post haste. I won't let them take anymore from you or the kingdom."

A bittersweet smile grew on the King's face. Some part of the half-dragon flinched, wondering if bringing up Jarvan's late father was a mistake. Yet, the rest of Shyvana was content in seeing that they had their friend's approval.

Jarvan's lips twitched, stopping what Shyvana assumed to be unrefined thanks. The words that left Jarvan's mouth were simple, but still Shyvana accepted them kindly.

"Thank you, 'Ana," the King said, I appreciate your loyalty. More than you know."

"I value yours as well," the Half-Dragon replied, "More than you know."

At Shyvana's words, Jarvan positively beamed. The half-dragon could only reciprocate. Unbidden, Shyvana recalled the first time she'd seen that smile. It was far from where they were now; not in a curated garden, but in the ruins of battle. Wrenwall's bricks were blackened, and the scent of blood rang in the air. Yet in that hellish, Shyvana had seen for the then-Prince of Demacia for who he was the first time; a proud leader, who she was glad to call friend.

A friend who deserved to smile more, even if he didn't realise it.

Jarvan didn't quite frown, but his eyes betrayed something sour as he asked, "Jeyne, what is it?"

Shyvana glanced behind her to the Spiritmight scion and fought her frown. Jeyne seemed relaxed, but like with her cousin something in her eyes hinted at discomfort. The words she spoke only added to the dissonance.

"I, er... something came up. The High Marshall respectfully suggested I get your opinion," she said.

Inexperienced as she was in politics, Shyvana still understood the euphemism before her. Or at least, she knew it was a euphemism, but for what she couldn't say.

Jarvan seemed as in the dark as her, asking with some curiosity, "On what, Jeyne?"

"It's about... engagements," Jeyne's smile was far from sincere, "... I haven't really looked through the betrothal offers sent my way."

Shyvana narrowed her eyes, Why would a young, still-unmarried king be the authority for that? Surely Jeyne should just ask her paren-

"I... fine, we can talk," Jarvan nodded, ever willing to help, but not before addressing his friend, "Shyvana, did you...?"

"My men and I secured a bunk in the military district before I came to meet with you," the Half-Dragon assured, "If you need anything, send for me. I'll be right there."

Jarvan's smile only went halfway this time, "Of course."

Shyvana nodded respectfully then turned to the Spiritmight scion, "Jeyne, I wish I could help, but I'm no good at politics. If you need my aid the same applies."

Jeyne nodded as well, eyes downcast, "Thanks for the sentiment. I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

"Right..." Shyvana paused, sighed, then bid farewell, "Until our next meeting."

The king sounded as if she already missed her, but kept his half smile, "Until then, 'Ana."

Dismissed, Shyvana gave a final nod then left the garden. Her wide gait carried her through the garden then through the royal apartments quickly. Bitterness brought an unseen smirk to the Half-Dragon's lips as self-loathing thoughts came to her.

The mighty Half-Dragonmade a fearful little lizard at the thought of marriage talks...

If only that were the issue. Perhaps she in particular wasn't being singled out, but Shyvana knew she had no place in that discussion. Not a noble, not a human, not a Demacian-

No, never that. She was still a Demacian, no matter what everyone else thought. If they took issue with it, they could take it to the King.

She'd serve for his sake, if nothing else.

---

As he dismounted from the carriage, the only thing that Erret could think about was how surreal the scene before him was.

Sharpstem in general gave the saboteur that vibe, not that he'd noticed at first. From the outside it was as Demacian as any other settlement in the kingdom, but as those first days had passed by, he began to see it. He'd seen it in the wide roads that turned in harsh, predictable angles. He'd seen it in the folk of the town, who despite their Demacian manors held much grit and no hesitation. He'd seen it in the form of Sharpstem Manor itself, which he'd realised was but a bastion rendered in Demacian stone and given minor local ornamentation.

For all its outside appearance dissuading the idea, Sharpstem was still a true Noxian holding.

And it seemed they were embracing it now.

As their carriage had passed by the town, Erret had noticed the additions made there. How the cargo carriages and wagons' structures were reinforced, how even regular citizens - those who hadn't signed on to his and Gerris' new militia - carried knives on their belt. On the topic of the militiamen, he'd noticed their presence in the town too, not that he should've. The saboteur had seen one of the hunters he'd trained perched on a roof, keeping silent vigil. He'd been garbed in light Demacian leathers and a faded blue cloak, but his stance was that of a warmason on the prowl.

Were he not a soldier, Erret doubted he'd have noticed the change. Were he not specifically trained to be a scout, he doubted he'd have noticed his man on the roof. Were he not a street rat of Noxus Prime further enhanced by years of training under reckoner's, then a crash course in Noxian politics, he doubt he'd have noticed the collective effort. All in all, the change in Sharpstem was a subtle one, and Erret hadn't been able to help being impressed.

What wasn't subtle, however, was the scene Erret found himself beholding. The way Gerris ran his warband meant there was never time for formalities... at least, that was before they started getting called to work directly for the Grand General. Even then, Gerris maintained that their job was to kill enemies of the empire, hold land in its name, and train for those objectives when unoccupied with tasks; being a pretty sight for some noble wasn't part of that.

And yet, here was their militia men, standing in parade formation before the entrance to Sharpstem manor.

Wonder what changed?

That oddity aside, Erret had to say: his men looked great. The militiamen he'd helped train seemed to have potential last he saw them, and with Gerris' guidance they seemed to have developed backbone. The sight wasn't perfect, what with the men being garbed in presumably second-hand Demacian silver-steel instead of Noxian dark iron. In the back of his head, Erret also knew that the sight meant nothing; until he'd fought side by side with these men, he wouldn't truly know their worth. But, he could at least count on them being a decent distraction now. That was something, at least.

As the saboteur dismounted from their carriage and helped usher his lover from it, he paid attention to their leader. If Xander was weirded out by the odd display, he didn't show it. With familiar amusement the Left Hand of Noxus approached Gerris and saluted, as per standard Noxian protocol.

Gerris responded with lax fluidity, not even finishing the display before breaking down formality.

"You took your sweet time getting back," the ex-reckoner chided, "The hell have you been doing?"

"Let's not be coy here, I'm sure you've heard," Xander shot back, "But enough about that; we'll get back to it for the report. Now, what's with the display, Captain? You've never been one for decorum."

"No, I'm not," Gerris forcibly tightened his voice through a smile, "Our recruits, however..."

The ex-reckoner sent a glare to the men on his right. To their credit, they didn't respond to the address. With rigid discipline they remained standing stalwart. Even as Erret approached with a smirk, recognising his men beyond their helmets, they didn't react. Not a single side-glance, not a flinch, not a smile.

You could only get a stoic face like that from veterans, Erret thought, Or maybe it's just the Demacian stick-up-the-ass Xander talks about... though how it coexists with all the bullshit they can come up with is beyond me. Surely one of them thought forming up like this would garner suspicion?

But that assumes a commune ruled by a Black Rose member would tolerate another party's spies...

As Erret shook his head at the absurdity - an absurdity, he noted, he should've gotten used to long ago - the usual source of shenanigans gave a low whistle. Xander's thoughts clearly matched his own.

"We haven't been gone that long, have we?" The Left Hand asked, genuine surprise meshed with his amiable tone.

Gerris was never one for delusion; when his reply went against Xander's optimism, Erret could only be disappointed.

"No, these guys are just committed," the reckoner explained, then continued with a low voice, "... not that I get why, what with... in any case, I can't complain. They're not legionnaires yet, but they're damn driven to get there. They've made good progress."

Gerris glanced over Xander's shoulder and smirked, "Isn't that right, Erdrich?"

The man Gerris had assigned to be Yin's escort for her mission to Falconclaw near wilted at the call of his name. Erret could understand why. Though they'd been few and far between, but he'd disappointed Gerris his fair share of times. It wasn't something he was keen on doing. Sadly for Erdrich, he hadn't been given much of a choice.

The would-be soldier crept from his cover behind the carriage to speak, "Sorry, sir. I wasn't able to get into the action over there."

Gerris narrowed his eyes, disappointment and disbelief apparent within, "Really now?"

"The first few days were just spent in the town trying to not look suspicious," Yin interjected, "Then, during the actual battle, our carriage got knocked on its side. He got stuck in the coachman's seat. Good thing, honestly; even if your training kept him alive against the knights, it wouldn't have done well against the mages."

"I had petricite," Erdrich protested.

"So did the Mageseekers, and Sylas kicked their asses," Yin turned her attention back to Gerris, "Don't worry, he was a great escort. But, the skirmish at Falconclaw wasn't a fight for blooding rookies."

"I see..." Gerris grinned, "Well, that means you'll be able to work through that with the rest of your brothers-in-arms."

"Right," Erdrich stood a bit straighter, relaxed, "... should I get in formation?"

"Can you get in gear in five minutes?"

"... my gear's at home."

"Then you can just stand there," Gerris chuckled, "Don't feel bad; that's what training's for. We'll get you up to speed quick, be assured."

Erdrich gulped nervously, but shrugged it off, nodded, and smiled.

Good man. Take it on the chin.

Gerris grinned, then turned to Xander, "Anyway, what do you think?"

Xander shrugged, "They definitely look good."

"They're more than boys in fancy plate, let me assure you, Gerris then smirked, "Would you like a demonstration?"

Xander hesitated, "That sounds great and all, but I don't think it'd be wise to keep our host waiting."

"You already have been."

Erret's eyes followed the voice to the manor entrance, where the mistress of Sharpstem stood. Lady Elia de Recht looked much the same as when Erret had last seen her. Just another sophisticated woman of noble birth and with little idea of hardship... though to be fair, most aristocrat ladies Erret knew wouldn't bother walk down from their offices for some returning party. Even the most exalted nobles he knew would rather wait for their men to come to them then the reverse.

... right, those fuckers probably made us come to them for some power-move. Bastards. Guess I should be thankful our host isn't such a prick...

Lady Elia descended from her manor's door with a smirk.

Or not. Maybe there's some play to this...

The mistress of Sharpstem's grin widened as she noted, "Of course, I am a busy lady, so I had things to do to pass the time. Your men, however, have been standing here since just before noon... I think you owe them an apology."

Xander mumbled something about the situation not being his doing before raising his voice.

"Err... Apologies, men," the Left Hand seemed at least a little sincere as he spoke, "I imagine you expected me to get back to base as soon as possible, hence the morning wait. Alas, I had some business at Meltridge; the delay costed your time."

Gerris chuckled, "You know it's your time to waste, right?"

"They decided to be on best behaviour. I couldn't. Doesn't seem right, no?"

"Hmm... you're turning Demacian again. Since when does the Demon Hand of Noxus apologise like a-"

The Demon Hand glowered and cut off his mentor, "Ok, shitter, get on with it then! Show me what they got!"

Gerris laughed and clapped Xander on the back before sending a glance to Erret.

The ex-reckoner's grin widened before announcing to the militia, "Men! Your Master-Sergeant has returned, not to mention his soft fool of a friend, Captain Xander! Show them your respect!"

The men responded with one voice and rose their weapons in salute, "Welcome back, sirs!"

Erret chuckled, impressed, "Thanks for the welcome. I see you haven't been slacking off, not that Captain Gerris would've let you."

"No sir!" Came the united reply.

Erret nodded, then glanced to Xander, "Captain Xander wishes for a demonstration now. Don't disappoint him."

"Sir! Yes sir!"

Xander rolled his eyes with a laugh before approaching, but his casual demeanour disappeared quickly.

"Both rows, shield wall!" He ordered.

With a synced clash of steel and barely any time between hearing and executing, the men before the Left Hand got into formation. Demacian shields, large as they were, made the formation not as tight as a Noxian wall, but that was of little concern. Cohesion and strength were what mattered, and as far as the former was concerned, the garrison looked to be passing. At least, that was Erret's opinion.

The Left Hand hummed in thought before commenting, "Synced up quite well."

"Given who's to be their commander, I figured that'd be the most important thing to train," Gerris explained, "Your plans need to be done exactly to the letter to be effective, right?"

"Yes, but militiamen aren't assassins. Precision and cohestion's good to have, but that isn't the most important thing for them..."

Xander paused in thought for a moment before testing his criteria. He hovered a hand over the rims of the shields, humming as he walked down the line. Surprising Erret, Xander came to a stop before one of the larger men in the militia. One of the few people in the Sharpstem milita to rival Erdrich, the man named Arrn rippled with muscle. Whilst Xander had a bag of tricks that could intimidate anyone, Erret was sure he'd need to dig deep to get a reaction out of-

Clever bastard.

Instead of dealing with Arrn, the Left Hand instead pushed against the man to his side; a scrawnier fellow by the name of Ilem. At least, that was how Erret remembered the face. Clearly the man attached had grown muscle under his armor, as he didn't budge at Xander's sudden shove. The same could be said of Klemen, the soldier to Ilem's right ,who was only slightly taller than the first would-be victim.

After a moment, Ilem and Klemen held firm, but Erret noticed a flash of effort in their eyes, then concern, and perhaps cold sweat. The reason was clear enough. Xander wasn't giving them an easy test, shoving hard with muscles enhanced by hemomancy. Clearly, Ilem and Klemen wouldn't be able to hold on.

Not without help, that was. A clang heralded aid as Arrn moved the side rim of his shield behind Ilem's. Klemen conceded some ground to Xander to repeat the move on Ilem's other side. In a perfectly practiced motion, the three men shoved as one, pushing Xander back.

Xander, of course, recovered easily, and gave his opinion with a chuckle.

"Excellent work," he complimented, then turned to the opposite row, "Hmm... left row, tortoise formation!"

"Sir!"

Xander's feet tapped five times before the left row finished their formation. Like their shield wall, it had its odd kinks. Erret recalled the hour of brainpower he and Gerris had put into deciding how best to accomplish that Noxian formation with Demacian shields. The end result was different from local legions back home, but Erret was impressed with its tightness.

Add some spears to the mix and we've got quite a dangerous force on our hands. Definitely a sight scarier than a plain wall. Those oversized pigeons won't be setting us to rout... hopefully.

The Left Hand surveyed the men with a predatory gaze, hunting for flaws. His steps were slow as he circled the formation, his expression unreadable. When he returned to the formation's front, he nodded, then backed away.

Then he dashed forward and sent a powerful jumping side kick to the first shield he saw. The Left Hand was met with a shove of steel which caught his foot cleanly. A grunt of pain echoed under the clash's thud. The formation held up, whilst Xander was forced to land with a roll.

C'mon, Xander, that was an easy read.

"You've... done a damn good job with these men!" The Left Hand grunted again, hissing as he shook pain off his foot, "... they might last a couple minutes if we're found out by the king."

"A couple minutes?" Gerris feigned offence.

"They'd give the garrison at Meltridge a run for their money at least, don't get me wrong. But, when the crown discovers the one noble family they trusted with petricite trade was comprised of Noxian sleeper agents the whole time, I doubt they'd send anything but the Vanguard," Xander explained, "Still, to be anywhere near comparable with those fuckers after about a month's worth of training? It's good work."

The Left Hand hummed in thought, then turned to Lady Elia.

"We've got the men... what of the steel?"

"My father was quite diligent in his preparations," Elia smiled with no small amount of pride, "If I recall correctly, we should have enough weapons stored around the territory to arm and armor everyone in Sharpstem twice over."

Xander blinked twice, Erret assumed; the saboteur'd blinked in sync with him the first time.

The Left Hand spoke his friend's thoughts, "That many? Well, shit, great... but how? Even if your father started it, surely someone would've noticed?

Lady Elia shared a smirk with Yin before explaining, "People notice when you steal from the army, bribe or no. People notice when you buy extra ore, bribe or no. But, would people notice if you bribe the people recycling the old gear? The broken tools at the mines, or the torn-up armor?"

"It's a slow trickle, but Lady Elia's family's been doing this for two generations now," Yin noted, "... considering a quarter of the Grey Legion's arms are recycled, its only natural."

"... your mom stole that trick from the De Recht's?" The Left Hand guessed with a chuckle.

Lady Elia shrugged, "Yes, but admittedly we stole it from the Taum'Vins at Urzeris. Clever bastards over there..."

"Scavenger culture's quite strong in Shurima. Makes sense given that any given right turn could lead you to the ruins of a bygone age," Xander mused, "But enough about steel, we've still got men to assess... Gerris, I'm sure you have no favourites, as a good trainer should... but seriously, who's your best soldier?"

The ex-reckoner turned to his favoured soldier and unsheathed his axe from his belt , "Erdrich, you up for a fight?"

"Yes sir," the soldier stepped forward and took his mentor's weapon.

As Gerris handed his weapon to Erdrich, the ex-rekoner looked to Xander, "Who's Erdrich to fight against?"

"You're the one who trained me; you know what I'm looking for."

Gerris snorted, then called up the next three men, "Gorsen, Ilem, Hael; you're team two. You'll be facing Erdrich solo in that order."

Erret watched the three lesser soldiers with curiosity. Of the three, he only had high hopes for Hael; initially, he'd been the clean average of the militia by skill, but an injury'd taken him off training last Erret saw him. Given how he looked largely the same as when Erret had last seen him, it clearly cost him. By contrast, the short and slim Ilem had put on some mass, and the clumsy Gorsen had a strong, wide, controlled stance.

Against Gorsen's wide stance, Erdrich's was loose and casual. If not for the axe he rested on his shoulder, the man wouldn't seem a threat.

"How bloody do you want this?" Gerris questioned.

The Left Hand shared a look with Yin before speaking, "Basic spar. We're too tired for healing today."

"That's no fun."

The Left Hand stifled a yawn, "No, it isn't. Begin!"

Erdrich didn't waste his time, and struck first with a low chop targeting Gorsen's lead leg. Gorsen crouched and lowered his shield, catching the blow before countering with a thrust of his sword. Erdrich leaned past the strike then patiently waited, allowing his foe to stand up and reset. Gorsen stayed low, however, creeping forward with his shield raised.

... and, he'll... now!

As predicted, Gorsen burst forward shield first. Erdrich sidestepped it, but was caught for it; Gorsen predicted the move and followed the favoured soldier with his sword. It was an excellent attack, but unfortunately for Gorsen Erdrich was too quick. He blocked the horizontal slash with the grip of his axe and motioned to raise it. The battle stilled there after silently; no words needed to be exchanged.

Xander nodded, "Soldier Gorsen, good effort. Soldier Ilem, pro-"

Ilem didn't let Xander finish, dashing forward with a jumping thrust of his sword. Erdrich barely blocked the blow, scratching the broad side of Gerris' axe's head. The favoured soldier replied with a telegraphed horizontal slash that hid a punch behind it. It was a commonly used technique of Gerris', and Ilem didn't have answer to it. The man crumpled to his knees, unable to control the coughs prompted by Erdrich's throat punch.

Xander tapped him with his foot before helping him up, "Ilem, has Gerris started pain-training yet?"

"P-pain traini-ack!" Ilem cleared his throat, "Pain training, sir?"

"I'll take that as a no," the Left Hand sighed, "You'll need to get to that ASAP. Can't let a little injury like that debilitate you. You'd be dead if this were real."

"Right sir."

"Of course. Now, Soldier Ilem, your sword?"

"Sir?"

"..."

"Right sir! Erm, here!"

Xander's grin took a predatory tone as he stepped forward, pointing his blade to the two remaining soldiers.

"Change of plans. You two, against m- hah, bastard!"

The Left Hand laughed as he backed away from Hael's sudden spear thrust. He swatted its follow-up aside before advancing. Not even an intercepting slash from Erdrich got in Xander's way as he slid underneath the cut and further closed the distance between himself and Hael. The soldier blocked a front kick from Xander with his shield, then intercepted a side-stab with it. The Left Hand kept up the offensive, shoving at the shield before sending another array of slashes to it.

When Hael finally countered with a spear stab, he found flesh. But, it wasn't Xander's; Erdrich grunted when his side was grazed by Hael's spear. Thankfully the favoured soldier hadn't returned the favour, his axe having stopped just before colliding with Hael's shield. Weak as the arm using it was, though, Xander only needed send a hemomancy-enhanced kick to knock Hael to his back.

The Left Hand pointed his sword at Erdrich's throat and chided, "Good attempt. You'd definitely be a match for the average soldier, but any Dauntless veteran would abuse your aid attempts."

"... What do we do then, sir?" Erdrich questioned, lowering his axe in defeat, "We were trained to work together."

"What to do... Beyond getting better?" Xander returned his lent blade to its owner before helping up Hael, and only then did he reply, "You trust your brothers to fight by your side. You can trust them when they aren't there either."

Hael asked up, "Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

"I was already at the end of my rope, sir," the soldier explained, "I think Erdrich knew that; he did fine."

"I disagree," Xander stated, "On both ends. Hael, right? I think I recall your trainers discussing your progress and injuries before my leave. You could've been more aggressive."

"But sir-"

"I would've beaten you, of course, but I'd at least know the depth of your aggressive skills as well as defence. If your sword arm's as strong as your shield arm, you could probably brute-force your peers just fine..."

"...yes sir."

"I'll sit in on at least one of your training sessions before my next leave," the Left Hand noted, "Show me then what you haven't today."

Hael nodded, "S-sir! Yes sir!"

"Damn right," Xander grinned, "I'll look forward it to it. For now, you four- er, three... get back to where you were before."

"Sir!"

As the soldiers did as commanded, the Left Hand turned back to his compatriots. His gaze focused on their host.

"Lady Elia, your thoughts?"

"As good as yours; I'm no expert. They look pretty good. I might bring a few of them around as my personal guards for my next meetings," the Lady of Sharpstem shrugged, then turned to Gerris, "But, it does strike me as odd that you've trained legionnaires for what I imagine to be a hit-and-run campaign."

"You need to train basic tactics and soldering before more niche situations. At least, that's the traditional Noxian way," Gerris explained, "But to that end, Erret and I did work on that with the local hunters. They're to be our ranging scouts."

"Where are they now?"

"In the town or the outskirts, I imagine. I've had the men patrol the territory, but since they're on display the scouts had to take over for them. I'm sure you've seen them around."

"Were they watching from the town itself?" Xander questioned.

"They should be... you didn't seem them?"

"This isn't hostile territory. Hell, it's technically not even Noxian territory. Forgive me for taking a nap in the company of friends," the Left Hand mused, "In any case, I'll want a report about that, and... say, men, if you run into them, tell'em that I'll head into town tomorrow to find them. If they survive until noon, I'll consider them ready for live deployment."

"Just for passing morning search?" Gerris narrowed his eyes, "Don't you think that's rushing it?"

"Do you have so little faith in me?" Xander grinned.

Gerris shook his head with a chuckle, "Alright, fair enough. Don't be too rough on them, now. I still need them able to report for training."

"Remind me tomorrow morning and I'll see what I can do. As for now," the Left Hand cleared his throat before addressing the militia, "You've done well today. You're dismissed, but don't think you're finished yet. You've got a long way to go, and if you want truly wish to help the Empire, you'll need to be better. Report to Gerris as per usual, and keep on your toes; I'll be around, and I can be quite creative with challenges. Now, Captain Gerris?"

Gerris nodded, then addressed the men, "You heard Captain Xander. You're all dismissed. But before you go... what is the price demanded of you?"

Erret saw giddy grins on his men's faces before they gave their reply, "Our lives!"

Gerris nodded and asked again, "How will you pay it?"

The following declaration was given thunderously, "WITHOUT FEAR!"

"Damn right!" the ex-reckoner laughed, "... Alright men, off you go."

"Sir!"

Even as they left, the men did not break formation. They marched for the manor grounds' exit in lockstep, prompting another chuckle from Xander.

"... we've got quite the showmen on board," the Left Hand commented once the men were out of ear range.

"I can see where you get it," Gerris shot back with a grin, "Thankfully your oddities aren't the only thing you share in common with those lot."

"Oh? Brilliant; Nocturne's always interested to meet others of his kind."

"Heh, were we so lucky. If you want specifics, well, as I said; they're damn driven," the ex-reckoner sent a suspicious glance to Lady Elia, "I assume you having something to do with that?"

"Not that I can think of," Lady Elia sounded unsure, "What do you mean?"

"Well, even the core territories have their squabbles and rebellious phases," Gerris elaborated, "Your men are among the most loyal to the Empire that I've seen, and they've never even set foot in it. That sort of thing? To even come close would need a lot of work."

Lady Elia shrugged, "I'm just doing my duty, as my father did and his father before him... they were the ones who did the heavy lifting. I just keep the machine running."

The explanation seemed to Erret more like deflection; he frowned, suspicious.

An enclave of would-be Noxians living for years outside of the Empire's territory, yet still remaining loyal.. what are the odds? Perhaps one family could make it out all these years without deviating, but a whole town? From Lady Elia in her manor to the men and women working the port town... who taught them our ways? Who kept the Demacian influence from their neighbours at bay?

The saboteur didn't bother even try keeping his questions to himself, "What does that entail, Lady Elia?"

"Mmm?"

"To keep the machine running?" Erret elaborated, "I'd assume it'd take more propaganda than even exists at the core of the empire. Or..."

The Lady of Sharpstem turned and raised an eyebrow, paused a moment longer, then replied, "In a sense you're right... but not quite. It takes more than oaths and deeds. Since Sharpstem's founding my family's arranged bi-monthly private town halls to keep the town unified. Every patriarch or matriarch of every household is invited, and it is up to them to teach the next generation... reaffirm our oaths too, to the Empire"

"But traders and travellers still come from afar, right?" Yin noted, "Hell, that's what Sharpstem is according to everyone else. How'd you deal with the influence?"

By her side, Xander frowned, "... I sure hope those fields on the side aren't commonly fertilised..."

Ever the Demacian... Not that I disagree. With how long it's been... That's a lot of bodies.

"If you must know, the last time we had to do that was before my time," Lady Elia explained, "According to my mother's journal, her father had to off some up-jumped knight. Thought they could fight their way out, but didn't expect the illusion that dropped them off a cliff."

"... that simple?" the Left Hand snorted, "If I didn't doubt you were Black Rose before..."

"I aim to please. But to answer your questions..." The mistress of Sharpstem's expression fell, and a sigh left her lips as she walked past the hemomancer, "Well, as I said, my predecessors did the heavy lifting. Them and Mistress LeBlanc, most likely, now that I think about it... In summary, Sharpstem is the literal culmination of Noxus' spying operations in Demacia. Mistress LeBlanc started sending men since before the Warlord Sion's campaign. That old brute had to know where the old king was to kill him, after all."

"I'm sure that old brute would have words with you if he heard you say that," Yin jested.

Lady Elia chuckled, but her expression remained pensive, "Hopefully that would be all... in any case, that's over two centuries' worth of spies being sent. A merchant family there, an uncaught assassin there, never mind the spies planted for the purpose of laying long-lasting seeds in the ground... it took much effort on my grandfather's account to lay the foundations for Sharpstem, then for my parents to coalesce it all into something this tangible. The companies I brought together were fine, but it doesn't compare. Thanks to their work, everyone in this town is directly descended from a Noxian, sent here to serve ten, twenty, perhaps even a hundred years ago."

The mistress of Sharpstem turned to face her guests and delivered her final musing with a proud grin, "And here we remain, still serving. Does that answer your questions, guests of mine?"

A well-deserved silence followed.

"That's... well, it's the greatest matchmaking operation every achieved, for one," That it took Xander that long to come up with a jest was testament enough; if he had barely any words to his name, what, Erret thought, could he hope to make?

He decided on one, "... indeed."

Lady Elia chuckled, "I'll accept any apologies from you concerning your doubts for my men and I. We're as Noxian as the rest of you; I hope you've seen that."

"Eh, I figured that much," Gerris shrugged, "Thanks for the history lesson, though."

"One of the most powerful assets the empire has, and I doubt even half the aristocracy knows about you," the Left Hand paused for a moment before his smirk returned, "I'd be terrified if I couldn't still kick your collective asses."

"Were I one of those aristocrats I'd be offended," Lady Elia mused, "Alas, I've never really intended to intimidate."

"Only serve?" Xander narrowed his gaze and widened his grin, "Maybe once this is over Mistress LeBlanc will invite you over. Or perhaps the Grand General; he does value loyalty to the Empire above all else…"

"So I've heard," the Mistress of Sharpstem chuckled, "Which begs the question why he has you under payroll. If anyone here has dubious intentions, it'd be you."

Erret blinked at the blatant accusation, but Xander only laughed it off.

"Hey now, how about you don't question my loyalty, and I don't question yours?" the Left Hand offered.

"I find these terms agreeable…" the Lady of Sharpstem stopped before her manor's door, "If you can dissuade my doubts. Giving that report would be a good start."

The Left Hand sighed, shook his head held, then opened the manor door, "Of course. I won't be spare any details. After you, milady."

"And if I ever doubted you were Demacian," the noble laughed, "Spare me nothing, Demon Hand. I want to know everything."

And Xander would, Erret didn't doubt. And even if he didn't, he would, as it was his duty. Even with what he knew, there was no way he'd let some noble who hadn't even seen Noxus Prime - much less smelt its blood-and-filth-stained streets - upstage his loyalty.

But he wouldn't doubt there was a challenge there. Not anymore.

---

Perhaps it was the long discussion that got him awake and curious, or perhaps it was some subconscious urge telling him to abuse Lady Elia's newfound inclination to share info. Either way, Xander didn't know or care.

The silence that followed their discussion didn't even last until they reached the first stair case.

"You know, I was surprised that you sent Yin to Falconclaw," he told Miss de Recht, "Thought you'd play it safe whilst I was gone."

"Our operation waits for nothing," the Lady of Sharpstem mirrored Xander's actions as she replied, "And, opportunities like that are rare. I wouldn't dare pass it up."

"Fair, but still; it's quite the risk."

Yin feigned offence as she interjected, "I'm plenty competent myself, you know."

"Of that I'm aware," Xander assured, "But that wasn't my concern. I was more noting that if there was a failure of any kind, the chances of our operation being found out would've been high."

"My plan didn't involve summoning the Mageseekers to a trap," Lady Elia explained with a shrug, "Without them in play there wouldn't have been much risk."

"Touché," the Left Hand rolled his eyes, "... anyways, what were you hoping to achieve with that visit?"

"Only making one of the most powerful houses in the nation indebted to us, not to mention acquiring a potential hostage," Lady Elia's words turned sour as she continued, "... a shame someone had to hand Lady Sona to some rebels in the forest. Our lodgings would be so much more to her liking..."

"You know, you're probably not wrong. Sona's always been cultured individual; I suspect an agricultural life may need some getting used to," Xander conceded, "But, it's probably for the best. For one, if she saw my face, Sona would probably recognise me. And that-"

"Won't be a problem if she doesn't ever leave, would it?"

The Left Hand smiled, but he knew that Lady Elia had noticed the sudden stiffness in his gait, "Well... you're not wrong?"

Elia shook her head, then motioned to the door ahead, "Go on, you Demacian, you."

So, what, our agreement's off? the Left Hand chuckled, Well, I suppose I haven't given the report yet...

With a sigh split between bemusement and irritation, Xander complied with his Demacian nature. He ushered the lady into her office, then his men soon after. What he saw past the doors was a far cry from the busy office space he'd last seen. The lady of Sharpstem's office for once looked like a Noxian feature. Of course, there were some Demacian traits; the language the documents on Elia's desk were one example, but the more blatant one was the only weapon in the room being a ceremonial sword displayed in a golden case. More eye-catching, however, was the map of Demacia set-up hastily on a table at the office's center. Set up with labelled pins dug into points of interest, its purpose was clear.

We're really going to war, huh?

Lady Elia was the first to touch the war table, plucking a pin from Falconclaw and two from the north before returning them to Sharpstem. His pin, Yin's, and Erret's, the Left Hand figured. The pins joined two others at Sharpstem before the Noxian enclave's mistress regarded him with an expectant look.

"Alright..." She didn't even wait for him to make eye contact before ordering, "Report."

The Left Hand nodded and moved to begin... but froze. He glanced back to the map, then ran through his head for symbols. He sniffed, closed his eyes, and channeled mana through his being.

"Captain Xander?"

The Left Hand ignored his host's tone and felt for blood and heat... The image his mind's eye produced wasn't clear, but he could feel it's meaning all the same.

With a smirk, the Demon Hand questioned, "Lady Elia, where are your manners? You have yet to introduce me to someone..."

Shuffling behind Xander told him that his men had gone on alert. Both Gerris and Erret flinched, and were widening their stances as they surveyed the room. They wouldn't find anything, of course, but that was why Yin was there. The Left Hand could feel the activation of more powerful magic by his side.

Xander opened his eyes and glanced to Yin, "Can you...?"

"I... I can feel them," she confirmed, voice trembling slightly, "Who's that?"

Xander glanced to Lady Elia who, despite her surprised appearance, held a look of awe in her eyes. But, she wouldn't spill the beans.

So, the Left Hand did, "You can come out now. I won't bite... unless you want me to. I'd be remiss to not spar with someone of your skill."

No response. The Left Hand tapped his foot on the floor thrice, then posed a rather blatant threat.

"If you want a more permanent engagement, I fear you'll be displeased. My buddy here's a better hemomancer than I. I don't know why you'd want to kill me, but if you tried she could heal me and turn you to a meat puppet with a thought. And woe betide you if you go for her first; I'd be the least of your worries..."

The Left Hand gazed upwards, matching the feeling of blood he traced with his vision. The ceiling of Lady Elia's office was simple and betrayed little information. The strong wooden planks betrayed no change in weight, neither visibly or audibly. The cracks between them were tight, too; the Left Hand couldn't make out anything above them Still, Xander had confirmation twice over that someone stood above that attic.

Just need to bring them down, but…

"... I don't want to fight. That, to me, seems terribly unproductive. Unfortunately, it isn't my call to make," Xander shrugged, "It's yours. So, fellow assassin, what is it you will you do?"

Xander glanced to Lady Elia and found what would've been a smoking gun. The Mistress of Sharpstem's eyes were pointed up, exactly where he felt the Sinister Blade was. When she realized a pair of eyes not colored green was looking to her, Elia chuckled, sighed, filled a glass of red wine, then nodded.

"Katarina, stand down," Lady Elia sipped from her glass before continuing, "And come here quickly. I imagine you'll want to hear this too."

Xander fought the urge to chuckle at Erret's hitched breath. Even after the years of campaigning and months of playing at politics, the saboteur felt awed at the prospect of meeting Noxus' heroes. It'd gotten better with time; where he'd had an uncontrollable, giddy smirk when they first met Samira those years ago, Erret had mastered a respectful poker face when they got to the Black Rose politicians. And as for opposing them, well, he'd been willing to take the fight to Rell, hadn't he?

He heard Katarina comply before he saw it. The burst of teleportation magic that heralded the Sinister Blade's arrival wasn't so much a flash of light but a flicker. The whizzing sound of a blade flying was more obvious, though, not to mention the flutter of papers being sent flying. Instinct propelled Xander, and un-blinded as he was by the Sinister Blade's teleportation magic, it wasn't too hard to sharpen his instinct to block the oncoming attack.

As it turned out, had it been a combat situation, Erret wouldn't have even had the time to answer the question. If not for his hemomancy, Xander doubted he'd have reacted quickly enough.

When the arcane energies cleared, a silhouette garbed in Noxian black framed in scarlet stood before the Left Hand, her forearm stopped in place by an interception of Xander's own. A sharp dagger barely nicked the skin of Xander's neck, not that it would've been fatal with the hemomancy running in his veins.

The Left Hand fought the urge to make a remark or even whistle lowly. After all, Lady du Coteau was taken.

And I can see why, The Left Hand smirked,Of course, you'd think someone like Garen would be impervious to feminine charms, but I suppose even he'd have his limits… And she is a clever one. Hiding one of her shun-po daggers underneath Lady Elia's papers...

"As good as they say…" Katarina du Coteau growled as she retracted her attack, " I'll be keeping an eye on you, Demon Hand. You may have everyone else fooled, but I don't-"

"I think thou dost protest too much, Miss du Coteau," the amused flicker in Xander's eyes never died; still it glowed, stronger and stronger, "If I can't be trusted in this country, neither can you."

Katarina's expression betrayed nothing but indignant rage, "You dare question my loyalty-"

"Katarina, calm yourself," Lady Elia chided, "Assassin you may be, you're still a lady of noble birth. Do try act like it. For me?"

The Sinister Blade glowered at her master, but Lady Elia's gentle smile refused to fade.

Katarina bitterly snickered, "Well, I suppose I should be thankful someone remembered that fact..."

Xander couldn't resist to comment, "I haven't forgotten your titles, in case you haven't noticed-"

"I didn't ask for your input."

The Left Hand rolled his eyes before addressing Lady Elia again, "The Sinister Blade's been under your service this whole time."

"Given her accomplishments during the Argent Campaign, command saw fit to have her deployed here to minimise any potential Demacian threats on our eastern border," Miss de Recht explained, "When the letter came from Noxus Prime informing me of your arrival, I'd already sent her to... investigate recent investments the crown made to the Royal Navy. She should've been here sooner, but..."

"I had my own things to investigate. Namely, that botched operation at the capital, not to mention the identity of your commander," Katarina sent an evil-eye Xander's way, "I hadn't been told of your arrival, so... forgive me for not trusting you."

Xander didn't need years of political experience to know Katarina had no intention of making amends.

That's fine. I'll give you reason soon enough…

Ever the honest one – at least, that's how Xander thought of himself – he first admitted, "Well, I don't trust me either, so I can't blame you."

"That so?" Katarina's frown deepened, "As crazy as you are skilled, then… How you know I was up there, anyway? And don't say it's hemomancy; I've killed my fair share of your lot."

"Indeed... if not for your sister being under LeBlanc's protection, Lord Vladimir would've surely done something about you and yours. He can be awfully possessive," Xander's eyes were alight with amusement as looked over Elia's war map, "But I digress. To answer your question, Sinister Blade, your employer actually ratted you out."

Katarina blinked in realisation, then looked to Lady Elia's the world map. There lay a pin with the sigil of House Du Coteau, slotted by those of Xander's party by Sharpstem. The Sinister Blade could only gape in disbelief.

"Xander, do play nice," Lady Elia all but growled through her smile, "You two can talk more later. Now, Xander-"

"Right, of course, reporting now," Xander immediately disengaged from Katarina and cleared his throat before complying, "Sorry for the delay... now first, Miss du Coteau-"

"Elia told me everything," Xander guessed from Katarina's tone that she'd want nothing more than to tell him to fuck off; contrary to that, though, what she actually said was, "Get on with it."

"Okay… Lady Elia, I'll assume you got my letter saying I'd met with your Coldstone Company?"

"I did."

"Then I'll start there. After meeting with the company, they escorted us up north for four days. We journeyed for three days after before being found by Sylas after making camp. I got him to get in a dream with me that night, and from there threatened him into accepting a temporary alliance."

Katarina raised an eyebrow, "How'd you manage that?"

"I threatened to have my demon, Nocturne, possess his body to deceive his men. He decided it best to join of his own volition. Have some say in it all, you know?"

"… could you have had Nocturne possess Sylas?"

"If necessary, yeah, but it wasn't the best play… you disagree?"

The Sinister Blade nodded, "You should've just done away with that bastard. Cut out the middle-man and have the rebellion eating out of your hand. Now you have to pay lip service to a mad man."

A madman who's kicked your boyfriend's ass more than a few times, right? Sheesh, not even Erret and Yin were this obvious…

"Mercy has its uses," the Left Hand shrugged, "Also, parading his corpse around wouldn't have worked for long. Nocturne's mimicry skills aren't what they could be."

"That so?"

"He was summoned as a living weapon, not a scryer."

"In any case, the issue north wasn't convincing Sylas. It was dealing with his new allies," Erret interjected, "Sylas had joined up with Freljordian Raiders; the same ones that'd besiege Aron's Defiance. We can go over that later, but first, we had to convince them as well."

Yin chuckled, no doubt suspecting the answer to the question she posed, "And how did you manage that, dear?"

Erret explained with a bashful grin, "A ritualistic duel to prove our worth, in which we kicked our foe's asses."

"You were doing pretty well, but I had to rely on Nocturne for my fight," Xander admitted, "Using daggers against spears and ice magic just wasn't working out."

Katarina smirked cockily. The Left Hand met her gaze briefly, then conceded that win to her with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, you used him for more than that," Erret recalled, "Xander had a whole script to convince the Freljordians that we – or at least he and Sylas – were chosen by their gods to guide them to a righteous war. Nocturne's demon voice really helped."

"Indeed. Moving on, as we travelled, I made sure to set it in Sylas' head that riding with the raiders would only tarnish his image," The Left Hand noted, "It worked somewhat by then; he only intended to sneak the Freljordians into the Demacian heartland. For route, there are hidden passageways in the Rocky Highlands around here."

The Left Hand pointed to the map to explain, then sighed, "I imagine we would've made it to the heartland fine if not for the distractions Aron's Defiance posed. Are you familiar with the story of its founding?"

"The hero Aron putting a raider invasion to rout on that plateau?" Elia recalled.

"I'm sure you can imagine that they wanted payback," Xander shrugged, "Rather than charge the place, I suggested first doing recon there. Needed to be thorough, after all. Good thing, too; therein, we found the mage rebel Aislynn there."

Katarina's brow furrowed, "Wait, hold on, who is this again?"

Elia answered indirectly, asking the Left Hand, "The leader of the separate rebel sect at Meltridge?"

Xander nodded, "I'd told her of our excursion north, and she didn't trust us. Lucky for her she survived that mistake. We freed her, and from there we could've probably split off; we did so after the siege saying we'd organise the rebels to make a united front. But first, a sortie lead by Garen Crownguard ran into the raiders. We had to chase him off, and at that point..."

The Left Hand had to fight with all his might not to smirk at the widening of Katarina's eyes.

"Siege the castle," Lady Elia finished, "... the crown's reports did not mention Sylas' presence during the siege."

"They didn't? Good; my plan worked," the Left Hand smirked before explaining, "I put Sylas as far away from the frontline as possible. Told him he'd be of better use in the back, using his powers to concentrate the raiders' ice magic to be a one-man artillery division. Aislynn being more verbal on the whole raiders-are-bad-for-publicity thing also helped convince him."

"For what good that'll do, idiot," Katarina growled, "You spared Sylas the association, but the crown knows your demon was there, and your showing up later at Falconclaw-"

"Will be determined as coincidence," The Left Hand assured, "I capped off that affair saying Sylas hadn't accepted me into his ranks, despite my wishing for it. Furthermore, Nocturne showing up at Aron's Defiance associates him with the Freljordians. Not Sylas. Nor us Noxians, who they only expect to show up eventually."

"... Of course," the lady of Sharpstem nodded, seemingly content with the distraction, "Now, was there anything between Aron's Defiance and Falconclaw to note, or should we start discussing what we'll do when we do show up?"

"There were events between those two major skirmishes," Erret recalled, "We split from the raiders, as planned. But, not before making them more of a headache for the Demacian response force."

"I'm not sure if you got access to Mageseeker inventories from Aron's Defiance, but if you didn't, here's the summary: Nocturne ran into a mageseeker escort looking to export an ancient artefact from the fort, and stole it from them," Xander chuckled darkly, "It boosts ice magic to a terrifying extent. So, I handed it over to one of the raiders; one which, I think, could actually become a stable ally in the future."

"... and why did you gamble on this raider with this artefact instead of taking it for yourself?"

"It's True Ice: only ice mages from the Freljord can use it without being turned into icicles themselves," The Left Hand answered, "Now, it might be possible for LeBlanc to break it down into something usable, but considering how much trouble it took Nocturne to just bring it from the fort to our camp nearby, well..."

Lady Elia's expression was one of dissatisfaction, but she was quick to move past it, "... then? Falconclaw, or something else?"

"Something else. Hell, Falconclaw was honestly a major coincidence," Xander mused, "We only headed to Falconclaw because it was our last option: Sylas had spies patrol the northern territories, and getting to them was our key to the rebellion's whereabouts. Only the Falconclaw spy remained."

"What happened to the rest of them?"

Erret took his turn, "Hunted trying to recruit people to the cause. We had a close call with a bounty hunter of some kind; a woman named Shauna Vayne... that was her name, right?"

Xander nodded, "She's the last scion of the short-lasting Vayne family. If you have anything on her, please pass it over. It'd be very useful."

"I'll have my spies collect all they can, but the Vaynes never did last long enough to make a meaningful footprint..." Lady Elia glanced to Xander with a pensive look, then assumed, "That wasn't all, was it?"

"Nope. I'll also need you to look into the Lover's Cult. From what Sylas has told me, the Mageseekers should have reports on them-"

"The hell does a cult of love have to do with the mage rebellion?" Katarina questioned.

Why the interest? Xander grinned, but didn't speak his unimportant thoughts aloud.

"Nothing, honestly. I'm sure they'd rather keep a low profile, and if they didn't have such an obvious use I'd probably save them for after the operation's finished," The Left Hand kept his gaze on Lady Elia as he explained, "As it stands, though? The Lover's Cult is headed by a demon. The same one our dear Lady Vayne claimed killed her parents, if you've heard the rumours. I wouldn't trust it with anything, but that doesn't mean we can't use her, so…"

"I'll see what I can find on that topic as well," The Lady of Sharpstem seemed slightly paler, but again moved on, "And from there, finally, Falconclaw?"

Erret answered, "Yes ma'am. Xander met his informant the same night Yin got back. He used his dream magic to get a sit-rep from her, and from there secured a temporary alliance."

"Temporary?"

"We're still Noxian; they trust us as much as we do them. I imagine Xander will work to improve that."

"I'll trust you all to see him to that end," Lady Elia glanced to Katarina briefly as she spoke, "... the reports I've gained from Falconclaw were all rather detailed. I understand you convinced the Buvelles that the mages were the safest option, then had your demon cover for any loose ends on their part. Is that right, Xander?"

Xander blinked in realization, then grinned wider.

"You were there, huh?" the Left Hand shook his head, then moved his gaze from the Sinister Blade to Lady Elia, "That would be correct. As you say, the Buvelles are a powerful house; I didn't want them on my back. And, making Kahina Buvelle a local hero only makes her more valuable with our influence over her.

"We'd have more influence over her if you'd kept Sona here," Katarina spoke with a non-chalant tone, but Xander couldn't help but notice a predatory tinge in her mood, "Just saying."

The Left Hand took it on the chin, "I suppose in the short term you're right. But, as I've discussed with Lady Elia, having Sona here's a risk factor. Her recognizing me straight away could put a crimp in my plans, but there's also the fact that she's a powerful mage who may have a grudge against us Noxians."

The Sinister Blade's eyes gleamed dangerously as she questioned, "Between us all, do you really think she'd be much of a threat?"

"She wouldn't be a threat here, no," Xander admitted, "But, that's more to do with our petricite stores than skills. On that topic, though, Sona'll be more useful out there than in a cage here. At the very least, when the Meltridge mages start running missions for us she can heal their men. At best, though? Someone who can render shields' worth of soldiers just by playing a motif? All the while healing the sick and maimed, and possessing a noble name?"

"Quite an asset," Lady Elia finished.

"And, if it comes to it, I suppose we know where she is..." Katarina added.

Xander frowned, but did not refute the point, "... Right. If it came to it."

Lady Elia nodded approvingly, let silence settle for a moment, then asked, "Is that the end of your report, Xander?"

The Left Hand glanced to his compatriot; Erret didn't have any counterpoints.

"... yes ma'am," the saboteur replied, "Our report is ended; we have nothing else to say."

"Very well then," The Mistress of Sharpstem looked to Yin, "Miss Noradi? What of your excursion? I imagine you have a different perspective?"

"Nothing Lady du Coteau wouldn't have noticed," Yin remarked, arms crossed, "But to sum up... Quinn's in service to the Buvelles, naturally, and is in deep with them. As for the Buvelles, they have sympathies. They'd rather spare all the mages in the land - myself included, not that they know what I can do. But, they have an excuse not to do that with Sylas being a barbarian."

"Good thing that excuse is fading, what with Sylas actually showing signs of reasonability and new mage leaders popping up," Lady Elia smirked Xander's way, "It seems your plan is working as intended."

"Indeed," the Left Hand nodded, "Not quite there, but it shouldn't take much longer before this turns from espionage to a military campaign. So, mayhaps take as much time as you can relaxing. Once things start they won't end until we're successful or dead."

"Thanks for the recommendation," Lady Elia glanced to the set of pins on her map, "Now, until then, what will you be doing?"

"For the immediate future, I'll be keeping contact with our buddies as much as can be," Xander explained, "Tonight I'll be having a meeting with them through my dream magic, so I'll be able to update you on Sylas' location tomorrow. As for Aislynn, she and Sona should be at the Meltridge hideout by now; I'll check on them physically within a week, give or take."

"Giving yourself a break?" Lady Elia grinned.

"Just a short one," Xander admitted, "Also need to check up on the men a bit more. Speaking of, it won't be for a while, but eventually I will need to borrow Captain Gerris so he can train Sylas' mages."

"Not Erret this time?" Yin questioned.

"Gerris is a better trainer, and from your questioning I take it Erret's a better lover," Xander jested, ignoring the tomato blush he prompted as he moved on, "Also, Erret's more useful, so having him free on the side gives us more options."

Yin didn't frown, but her disappointment was obvious, "Well, of course..."

Erret wrapped an arm around Yin's shoulders, held a pensive expression, then asked, "Say, what options are you considering?"

"Other than securing Yin a bodyguard? You can train the men here or at Meltridge if they ever get off their pacifist asses. Or, you can pull some assassinations here and there, or hell, even just recon."

"... I don't suppose that you're going to use me as a body double?"

"... that is oddly creative for you, Erret," Xander mused.

Erret grinned, "What can I say? You're a terrible influence."

The Left Hand rolled his eyes, "Damn right. On both ends; here's hoping that influence makes you effective, if I decide to pursue that route."

"Seems you've got your team sorted," Lady Elia noted, "And, when this happens, what will I be doing?"

"Just more of the same. All the info you can get, resources you can provide, so on," Xander smirked, "If you want to get into combat, well, I'll have to spar you first. If I have to play babysitter I'd rather know earlier."

"I'd rather not, but with how your plan's set up, it's basically inevitable," Lady Elia sighed in thought, perhaps considering a schedule, only to be distracted, "... Katarina, your thoughts?"

The Sinister Blade spoke as Xander's gaze reached her, "What do you want me to do? I have to imagine you had something in mind when you asked Lady Elia to have me here."

... what?

Xander blinked, fought to keep a poker face, then glanced to Lady Elia. The smile on her face kept its gentle nature, and even her eyes seemed benign. But, the situation spoke for itself.

... just a report? Lying bitch...

Xander chuckled and closed his eyes, hopefully dissuading Katarina from the perpetrator.

Not that I can say much.

"Well, not in particular? It's just professional courtesy to keep your co-workers up to date, and I have to imagine we'll be working closely for the foreseeable future," the Left Hand spoke casually; he imagined Lady Elia didn't want to be ratted out, "I suppose for now you could set yourself up at Meltridge to make sure the local guards don't stumble into anything incriminating. Or, maybe kill some Laurent scions to get Lady Elia more power. Or, pop back over to the capital or High Silvermere to get more intel. All up to you, really."

Again, Katarina scowled, but considering it was more from disappointment than rage, Xander didn't give it much mind. In any case, it was directed at him, so he'd done his job.

Or so he thought; Lady Elia asked a rather obvious follow up, "That's all? I'd've thought you'd have had something more specific for her to do."

"A list of targets and locales not specific enough? I don't even need to ask to know she's done better with less," Xander said, "That is all she needs. As I said, I trust she can make some magic happen. Can you not, Miss du Coteau?"

Only the beginnings of a smirk surfaced on the Sinister Blade's face, "I'll show you, Demon Hand."

Still, Xander replied, "I look forward to it."

The Left Hand then looked to Mistress of Sharpstem and asked, "Will that be all? My men and I need our rest, and if she's been travelling this long I imagine Lady Katarina needs some time off too."

Lady Elia made a show of pondering her options before moving behind her desk and answering, "Your men may leave. You and Katarina, however, will be helping me with an issue. If you don't mind?"

..Oh, so that's how it is.

The Left Hand sent a glance to his men and nodded. Erret mirrored his act before leaving, Gerris and Yin following him. Only when the door was shut did Xander share a glance with Katarina.

She reciprocated briefly before looking unsurely to Lady Elia, "Well? What's the job?"

The mistress of Sharpstem smiled with amusement as she refilled her glass, then filled two spares.

"If it were just a job, I'd have kept Xander's men in here," Lady Elia mused, "Truth be told I don't imagine you'll have to do much. But first, please, take a seat. And a drink if you wish."

The Sinister Blade's gaze narrowed dangerously on Lady Elia before moving to Xander. The Left Hand noted it, but didn't face her, instead taking the offer of a glass. He sipped only a bit; the wine's bitterness seemed heightened by the moment.

Impatient, Katarina turned back to Miss de Recht, "Well?"

Lady Elia's smile remained, but her eyes mirrored Katarina's as she addressed the Left Hand, "You told me something concerning our Sinister Blade here, did you not? Quite a tall tale..."

Katarina's glare intensified, and her hiss was dangerous, "What lies have you told her?"

Xander didn't immediately address the Sinister Blade, first letting his glare settle against Lady Elia before answering.

"None, I don't think," the Left Hand shrugged, "I mean, you are romantically involved with Garen Crownguard, no?"

Xander felt his lips twitched as he caught Katarina's reaction. Anything that wasn't genuine confusion would've been checkmate, and Katarina more than walked herself into a loss. Her face was mostly unreadable, but her eyes did widen by the slightest degree. And, more obvious, was the way she slightly leaned back. The reaction didn't last long; instinct probably catching up after shock's delay. Were it anything else, Xander imagined Katarina'd have gotten away scot free. But, of course, he'd unearthed her dirtiest secret.

All things considered, she was taking it well.

Katarina's eyes fully widened, and as she spoke Xander realised he'd also been unable to contain his reaction.

"How did you know?" she whispered.

The reply came with a chuckle, "Demon Hand, remember? I'm good, but unlike you and your adoptive brother, I'm not a natural assassin. Good soldier, good warrior, duelist, whatever, yes. But, my real value's in the familiar I bagged. Access to any given person's subconscious is a hell of an asset."

The dangerous edge remained in the Sinister Blade's expression, but Katarina clearly restrained herself, "You looked in my mind, did you?"

"No, his," Xander lied, "But, that probably doesn't make it any better..."

"You..."

"So it is true?"

Katarina's hostilities ceased at the sound of the Mistress of Sharpstem's voice.

Katarina's eyes were widened not with rage, now, but panic, "Lady Elia-"

"It's embarrassingly obvious, in hindsight," Lady Elia mused, "I trusted you were sticking around because you'd gained a taste for Demacian blood, but it turns out you've been going native. Such a concept? The Sinister Blade, one of our empire's most vicious killers, falling into love with the most just knight in this backwater Kingdom? It's unthinkable, but then again so's the thought of you lying to me..."

"I didn't- it's not like-"

"Lies of omission are still lies," the Left Hand noted, "Or so I've been told. It's why I've had to tell everyone around who needs to know that I was once a friend of the new king."

The Sinister Blade's gaze betrayed some sense of curiosity beneath the panic. Accompanied with indignant disbelief as well, of course, but Xander didn't mind.

"As I said, both of our loyalties are suspect," he admitted, "At least as far as this country's involved..."

With a growl, Katarina tore her gaze from Xander and appealed, "Lady Elia, I can make this right-"

"No, you can't," Xander interjected, "At least, not well, you wouldn't. If your reaction's anything to go by, you're genuinely smitten with Garen. You could stick a knife in his back or lead him on into a trap of some kind, but if you pull it off? And he dies, or realises you've betrayed him?"

The Sinister Blade scowled, "Since when do you care about that, Demon Hand?"

"About Garen? Well, he and I were once acquainted," Xander mused with a small smile, "...and I don't mean our recent encounters."

"You knew Garen Crownguard?" Katarina couldn't have sound more disbelieving if she tried.

"I was childhood friend to him and the prince, long ago," the Left Hand explained, "My magic bloodline forced me on the run, which eventually led me to Noxus, then after service the past few years, back here... didn't Lady Elia tell you?"

Xander's question brought his and Katarina's gazes back to the Mistress of Sharpstem, who cheekily took a sip of her glass of wine before replying.

"It may have slipped my mind," Lady Elia's eyes gleamed as they pointed to the Sinister Blade, "Though perhaps I should've told you about it... fished out that treasonous lie sooner."

Katarina flinched at the accusation, "Treason?"

Miss de Recht's elaboration slipped out of her lips as smooth as a blade through skin, "What else do you call lying to a commanding officer?"

The Sinister Blade's expression turned sour, "So all those years of service meant nothing?"

Again Lady Elia countered deftly, "So my trust meant nothing?"

"...A minor offence."

The two ladies' attention went to the Left Hand, who sipped silently from his glass.

"Sorry, could you repeat that?" the Mistress of Sharpstem questioned.

"... scratch that, an offence, lying to a commanding officer. But not one worth an execution" Xander elaborated, "Not that either of you would know that, given your never being in Noxus, Lady Elia, and Katarina's strict childhood and habits..."

"It is still an offence, is it not?" Lady Elia questioned, "Am I to ignore this slight?"

"Lady Katarina's had an exceptional record since this revelation; I'm sure you can let her off with a slap on the wrist on the condition she redeem herself in the future."

Lady Elia narrowed her gaze, "If she can redeem herself, I could acquiesce..."

"... and what will redemption in your eyes entail Demon Hand?" Katarina questioned.

The question of hypocrisy went unspoken, but the Sinister Blade's eyes asked it all the same.

Xander answered with a smirk, "For one, breakfast tomorrow morning. I have many dark curiosities that you can sate... beyond that, I believe my expectations for you from my report still stand."

"... that's it?" Katarina's disbelief stood her up this time, her eyes gleaming with confused rage, "You expect me to believe you'll give me free reign? You think I'd believe that?"

"I believe that you're still a loyal servant of Noxus, and that you will act accordingly," the Left Hand stated, "Am I right in that assumption, or should I correct it post haste?"

The Sinister Blade glared at Xander, face a mask of rage and knuckles white like snow. Unbeknownst to the Sinister Blade Xander prepared accordingly, masking her vision with illusory magic and using its cover to prepare a vicious counterattack. Every fiber of Xander's body was alive and ready to pounce, all his arcane energy ready to be brought to bear. Like a dormant volcano, the silence of the solar of Sharpstem brought only dread and tension.

Katarina du Coteau broke it with an anti-climactic growl before stomping for the door.

That probably could've gone better... Xander reflected briefly, but as he head the office door snap open, a chuckle left his lips and a memory entered his mind, I'm a bastard for thinking this...

"Miss du Coteau," the Left Hand's smirk widened when he heard Katarina stop in her tracks, "... in truth, you ought to rejoice. Your wish to be with Garen Crownguard may at last come true."

"... through you?" Katarina's voice strained with anger, but in the end she made no moves to act on it, "... if I have my way you won't live to see it. Whatever you have planned, he doesn't deserve it."

The doors of Lady Elia's solar took the punishment of the Sinister Blade as she departed with a loud slam. When silence again reigned, coated this time with disappointment rather than tension, the Left Hand broke it with a sigh.

If only that were true.

Lady Elia mused, "Did you have to add in that last jibe?"

"No, but like the man I quoted, I am a bit of a fiend," the Left Hand shrugged, "Hopefully not as much as said man... Anyways, did you have to confront her about her eloping like that?"

"What were you going to do about it?"

"Bring it up in passing, probably to win some petty spar," Xander considered, "... Didn't need to make a big deal out of it."

"Really now? An issue that huge, with such massive repercussions?"

"I'd be lying if I didn't think about it, but trying to control her concerning Garen would be a lost cause," Xander noted, "Either she gets pissy because I'm having her betray perhaps the only person on Runeterra she loves, or she gets pissy because I betray Noxus. Either way one of the most dangerous women on the planet is on me in a bad way. Not that she won't hate me now, but at least its manageable like Sylas."

"That's not a good standard to match," Miss de Recht mused, "And not very effective... all very disappointing."

"Ehh, I have a history of going with the flow. I'd just act according to what she did. I can work with either option... Oh, and when you say very disappointing, did you mean my passive choice, or that we didn't come to blows?"

Lady Elia paused, finished her glass of wine, then asked, "How'd you figure that?"

"Why else would you antagonise her like that? Having that enmity between you will only hurt in the long run," the Left Hand noted, "Also, I didn't actually know until you confirmed it."

"Bastard," Miss de Recht cursed with a chuckle, "So, what now?"

"Now nothing. Day's over, I'm headed for dinner, or maybe straight to bed," Xander rose from his seat and made for the door, "I'd say you're welcome to join me and Katarina for breakfast, but I don't think she'd take kindly to it."

"You'll be dining on my food and drink in my manor, and I'm not invited?"

"We'll also be using your cutlery, and I have to say, your knives and forks are high-quality silverware."

"Point taken... you're free to go," Lady Elia sipped from Katarina's untouched glass, sighed with contention, then asked, "But first, might you answer a question of mine?"

Xander shrugged, "Fuck it, hit me."

Lady Elia obliged, "You're not going to command Katarina to compromise her relationship, yet all you've done since returning to Demacia is compromise yours. I can't imagine you weaponising your old bonds isn't taking a toll on you mentally... is it?"

After a pause to think it through, Xander finished his glass and said, "If you're anywhere near as smart as I think you are, you should be able to figure that out."

With that last deflection, the Left Hand vacated the solar. With the doors shut behind him, he let out a relieved sigh. He could practically feel the dream world calling him; a yawn left his lips unbidden, and his head felt light. A chuckle followed he yawn in short order, though; he had one thing left to do.

"Vile bitch. A rose thorn, through and through, Lady Elia is..." the Left Hand mused aloud, "... you want your knife back, eavesdropper- gh!"

The Sinister Blade's face betrayed no amusement even as she jested, "Keep it for the night, Demon Hand. You can return it at our meal."

And so, Katarina du Coteau left the corridor one dagger short and with a carpet steadily reddening. With a grunt of pain that woke him up, Xander pulled out the dagger he'd stolen and been gifted from hand. Hemomancy patched up the skin and blood vessels, but with that affliction he'd need to go get dinner.

Ehh, I was asking for it... and yet, I'll return with worse tomorrow, the Left Hand thought, That adoration... if my guess is right, it shouldn't be too hard to convince you that Garen does indeed deserve whats coming to him...

How absurd... And to think, this night's not over yet...

---

Author's Note: This chapter ideally would've been posted a lot sooner. The concept came to me quite quickly, with the first half being written in less than a week. But the second half? I've had to rewrite parts of this chapter twice now, and it's all because of the newest Noxian on board. For the purposes of this fic, Katarina's a tricky character to write; she's supposed to be fiercely loyal to Noxus, yet she's head-over-heels for Garen; she's a loose cannon, but a precise and efficient killer; she's been through a lot of shit, but, like basically all Noxians, she doesn't a vulnerable bone in her body with which to explore her trauma. I think I've got a decent balance so far, but I have my doubts; I'll appreciate any reviews with feedback on this matter.

Anyways, thanks for the support. See you next chapter, whenever that's ready to go... hopefully not more than two months this time.