Chapter I
Sunlight burst through the open window, illuminating Taric´s bedchamber. The blue drapes frame accentuated the trim of the carvings on the canopy bed, contrasting with the white petricite walls. Small flasks with essential oils, herbs and wooden soap boxes sat on the shelf near his bed. Sweet and sharp fragrances floated in the air, in a mixture that could allure any mortal.
Feeling the warm water trickling on his robust body, the Knight's brown eyes admired the chandelier above his head. He gazed at the delicacy of the well-crafted wave shapes, like a beautiful piece of art. As he lathered his arms, the smell of coconut filled the bath. Someone knocked on the door.
'Come in.' Taric washed the bubbles away.
'Excuse me, Sir.' A lad with a ponytail, dressed in doublet came inside. He carried the Knight's silver steel armour, blue cape, shield and a hammer in a wooden cart. 'You are late for your training.' He carefully placed the equipment nearby.
Taric's eyes stared at his armour, his mind wandered off to a tall marble building. He recalled statues of soldiers, holding their shields defensively, lined up outside the gates. Inside, a large square where a white banner with golden borders showed a symbol of a horse's head with wings, rising on the top of the building.
Two groups of soldiers on opposite sides, carrying shields with spears, swords, hammers, maces and battleaxes, gazed upon one another. A tall, muscular bald-headed man walked among the recruits. As he roughly barked out 'Middle Guard!' his authoritative voice echoed through the yard.
'Hurrah!' all the soldiers tilted forward their shields.
'Charge!'
'Demaciaaa!'
The groups charged furiously, holding their shields firmly while raising their weapons. The place became like a battlefield. Rushing forward, pikes thrusted on armour. Whirling with precision, the blades clashed angrily. Swinging around, maces collided against battle-axes savagely. Hitting mercilessly, hammers bashed on shields with vigour.
'This shall never happen again!' A man with heavy white armour said, with harshness in his voice. 'This is your duty to the kingdom. Our family has held this honour for generations.'
A knot of men was striking each others' shields. Their swords clashed on armour as they searched for weaknesses.
'Doesn't the training start after lunch?' Taric looked at his father.
He stared at him sternly. 'Don't you dare avoid your responsibility,' as if the Knight had said something sacrilegious. 'Your training starts now!'
Taric wanted to protest but decided to keep his mouth shut.
His father laid his hands on the knight's shoulders. 'Now pay attention.' He pointed to the crowd of recruits fighting. 'As a family member, you have to serve. This is your only purpose. So, justice must prevail above everything else.'
Taric had heard this before when he was a little boy. He used to listen to his father talking about a great song immortalising the Demacia's history forever, but in the end, they were still only mere words.
His father smiled at him. 'One day, you will represent our country and king with pride,' holding Taric's face. 'You will be the greatest hero of Demacia. Never forget that.'
Despite all the aggression on their faces, the sweat rolling down their skin, their heavy hot breaths, the strain their muscles were being put through the training, the recruits' movements were smooth and gentle like the wind.
All their determination to perfect their combat skills was worthy of admiration. Yet, the knight's eyes tracked a shadowy figure approaching a tree. Flying with vanity with its blueish black wings, a butterfly perched upon on a leaf. What a beautiful creature! Taric smiled with relish.
'Sir?' the lad's voice brought the Knight back to his bedchamber. 'Sir?'
'Sorry, sorry.' Taric laughed. 'My mind was distracted.' Getting up from the bathtub, he grabbed a towel drying his body.
'Don't get me wrong, sir, I don't mean to be impudent.' The squire held his leather clothes. 'But your father specifically told me to remind you, your training starts early morning.'
'You are not being impudent, young man.' Taric raised his arms. 'The day is just starting. No need to rush. After all, my training doesn't require me to stay in the yard.'
'It's none of my business but what kind of training? If you don't mind me asking,' The squire helped the Knight put on his shirt.
'Getting prepared to become a protector of course,' Taric replied, as he buttoned up his topcoat and pants.
'But without your weapons and physical exercise,' the squire struggled to put on the Knight's chainmail 'how are you supposed to become one?'
'Hmhm…' Taric chuckled. 'It is true that fighting skills are essential for defending those who need most of our aid. However, there are other styles of training that people barely pay attention to.'
Trying his best to hold the breastplate, the squire found it quite difficult to lay it correctly against Taric's chest. Admiring his effort, the Knight pushed up the lad's large hands in a friendly way. With his chest covered, the squire took the blue cap. Adjusting it, the lad covered the Knight's shoulders with his pauldrons.
'Sir, forgive me for being so blunt.' The squire dressed the Knight with his vambraces and gauntlets. 'Whatever your preparation consists of, it doesn't seem to be very helpful.'
They convinced him that my methods are useless.'That's what they want you to believe,' Taric winked. 'I never felt so focused before. And my weapon skills are efficient! To prove that—'
'Sir, there's no doubt, you are doing what is in your best interest,' the squire gave Taric a sign to raise a leg to wore the Knight's greaves. 'But, if you keep your situation like this, you will never be the protector you desire.'
'Your concern for my reputation is really appreciated,' Taric watched the squire put on his greaves. 'Yet, you can rest assured the situation is under control.'
'Your helmet, sir,' the squire stood his hands.
'No need today. Thank you,' Taric walked to his desk. Approaching the window, the Knight grabbed a comb.
At the centre of the table, a feather was resting in an ink holder. At the top, books of history, art, literature and philosophy piled on top of one another. In the middle of the secretary, there were open books of romance and poems. Papers and sealed letters were organised inside the shelves on both sides. A bell was laid closer to the candle near the window.
'Are you sure? Because—' the squire laid his helmet on the bed.
Taric pushed his hair back smoothly. 'It's alright.' While combing it, as he walked to a large ornamented mirror of leaves in whirling shapes.
Smiling at his own image, Taric admired his armour shining radiantly. His cape floated as he turned, watching closely his hair being combed. Winking to the mirror, he held his chin, turning his face to check his teeth. Perfect. Satisfied, he laid the comb back on the desk.
The squire shook his head. 'Your father—' watching the Knight approaching the shelf near the bed. Grabbing a flask with a yellowish liquid, Taric rubbed some on his fingers gently, pressing on his neck, and back.
'He desires to speak with me again. Doesn't he?'
'Yes. Right now, sir.'
'Very well,' said Taric as the squire placed the hammer in his leather scabbard. 'Would you please be so kind as to tell him I will be down soon?' The young man finished adjusting the shield on the Knight's back.
The squire opened the door. 'Of course, sir,' leaving the Knight's bedroom.
Leaving his room, Taric walked downstairs. He looked at the dining room that was illuminated by the brightness coming from the window. On the wall, a white banner with golden lines around the cloth was suspended. At the centre, there was illustrated a symbol of a shield, where two swords with wings crossed. Closer to the window, cups and jars were on a wooden buffet table. Inside the drawers, spoons and knives with other catering utensils were arranged.
As Taric reached the end of the stairs, there was a painting above the fireplace. A woman wearing white light armour gently held a baby. At her side, a soldier in bulky white armour proudly laid his hands on her shoulder. Father talks very highly of you. I wish you could still be here.
As the squire approached the large table in the middle of the room, where an Elite Knight sat writing. The strong smell of coffee came from the man's mug, occupying the room as a guest. Aside, there were books with papers serving as bookmarks and a letter closer to the Elite Knight's helm.
'He is here.' The squire stepped closer to the man.
Rolling up a scroll, he said, 'Give this to the king.' The Elite Knight sealed it, giving it to the lad.
'Right away, sir.' Nodding, the squire walked to the main door.
Taric smiled gently. 'Good morning, father.'
As the door shut, the Elite Knight turned his face. His small dark eyes contrasted with the heavy shadows on his face, wrinkles denoting his lack of sleep. His father didn't open his sharp lips, as if waiting for the right moment to speak.
'By Targon's Peak! You look tired.' Taric ran to his father. 'The mission of the mages is exhausting you. Today, you have to rest.'
A massive deep scar crossed Taric's father left eye, twisting his face. Half of the Elite Knight's lip had no flesh, looking like a wild beast had eaten it. The injury ended on the throat, as the skin had been sewed.
'It's admirable, your concern for me, son,' Taric's father laid a feather in an ink, 'But as a Demacian, this is my duty and responsibility.' The Elite Knight looked at his son. 'And speaking of it— sit, we have to talk about this,' pointing to a chair.
'Very well. As you wish, father.' Taric sat.
The Elite Knight rubbed his face. Moving his hands up to hold the long grey hair, Taric's father mechanically took the letter from the table. 'Please read this,' he said, giving it to the Knight.
Taric recognised the sigil in the wax seal, a sword with wings, as the royal Lightshield family's, that had been ruling the country for three generations.
The Knight knew what was inside. This situation had repeated itself for so long. His father is prepared to give the same sermon the Knight was used to hearing. 'Greetings from The King of Demacia, Jarvan III, to my dearest friend and Elite Knight of Cavalry, Ser Daniel.' Taric glanced at his father.
'Continue please.' The Elite Knight waved to his son to read.
'Although you have served our country, and my family with great honour for many years, it is with great disappointment this letter reaches to you. Your son, Taric, being the commander responsible for the heavy cavalry, didn't arrive at the regimental meeting on the second of Decméria.' Taric paused to look at his father.
The Elite Knight's hands slid down on his skin. Feeling the soft grey beard, Taric's father gripped it hard. He took an exhausted deep breath, shaking his head; seeming as if he had no available solution at hand to settle the situation. However, the Knight knew that his father would never give up. He always admired his strong discipline. Taric knew his father soon would attempt to find a way to control, to put order to the issue at hand.
'Your son is a formidably gifted man. The last thing we need is another Demacian wasting his natural talent on something worthless,' Not this again. 'We have been aware of his absence. Because of that, to restore his honour, he must come today. The Lightshields are counting on your family to do what is just and right. As your kind and ruler of Demacia, I will expect results. However, if your son doesn't collaborate, do not hesitate to contact me in private. Best regards, Jarvan III Lightshield.' After reading, Taric laid the letter on the table.
'Do you understand what you must do?' the Elite Knight asked, picking up the letter to seal it back.
Taric leaned forward to the Elite Knight. 'Father, you are looking for a problem that doesn't exist.' He smiled. 'We discussed this many times before, why do you keep insisting?'
'Why? Because clearly your king is angered at your attitude.' Ser Daniel said, narrowing his eyes annoyed. 'And yes, there is a problem. Have you read the letter with proper attention?'
'It will be strange if not.' Taric grabbed the letter like it was a beautiful parchment for a poem. 'The content was explicit, which leads me to think you worry too much when it isn't necessary.'
'Not necessary?' Ser Daniel's lips twisted hard as his voice became severely aggravated. 'Do you expect me to stay still while others question your honour-nay, the Family's honour?'
Taric pushed his chair, getting closer. 'Father, listen to me—'
'No! Listen to me this instant, son,' the Elite Knight turned annoyed. 'This is your career. Your future! All these years, you have worked so hard to be where you are. Do not disappoint your king.'
'And what does the king have to be discontented about?' Taric asked, moving his fingers on his knee like he was a nobleman. 'He knows my well-versed skills in battle.'
'Even so… this is your duty,' the Elite Knight said, in a morose tone. 'Many families wish their children had your talent. And because they lack it, they spend years training exhaustively never knowing if they will have the privilege to fight in the name of the king and Demacia.'
Taric rubbed his father's hands with affection. 'And that's why you worry too much about me.'
'It wouldn't be necessary if you do as your king commands.' Ser Daniel signed explosively, his anger reaching a breaking point.
'Your problem, father, is that you let others unnecessary deceive you.' Taric held his father shoulders, smiling radiantly. 'And you know better than anyone else of this kingdom.' The Knight kissed his father forehead. 'I love you.'
'Truly… son?' Ser Daniel said, as if the Knight's words were a broken promise. 'If you love your father from your heart, then take your duty seriously and go to your training this morning.'
We will not get anything from this. 'But you know your son is training.' Taric noted. 'And let me tell you it's having fantastic results. To prove that—'
In that instant, the Elite Knight's hand reached his face, continually rubbing as a way to wash the shame away. 'Protector help me please,' Taric's father murmured impatiently. 'Son, you are a commander. Your crew is one of the best. The king was generous enough to grant you one of the most prestigious positions in the kingdom.'
'You are hoping for me to be proud,' Taric said assertively.
'You must be,' Taric's father said, with a straight face. 'The king, your superiors, and your best friend recognise your gift.' The Elite Knight smiled. 'Watching my son fighting bravely for our kingdom makes me proud.' He looked at the picture. 'She would be proud.'
'Mother is already pleased—' Taric looked at the picture.
'Not until her son fulfils his responsibilities.' The Elite Knight grabbed the letter. 'Do what you must. Go to the training today with your comrades.'
Taric smiled. 'Everything is fine,' he said, grabbing the envelope. 'For now, all this seems to be a great problem, but rest assured tomorrow you will see that was nothing after all.'
The Elite Knight's tired eyes glowered at Taric's gentle ones. 'Don't make me repeat this again!' his voice raised. 'Go to your training now!'
Taric felt authority in his father's voice. Although, the Knight wasn't intimidated by his father order, rather he respected him for what he believed. But that didn't mean Taric will do as his father said, on the contrary, the Knight was determined to follow his own ideologies.
Everyone, including his father, was wrong about him. Why can't they see he didn't need all this? The king knew his skills with weapons were formidable. The Demacia's code of honour was ingrained in his mind. Taric had knowledge of his duties and responsibilities of his position in the kingdom. So then, why would he need to keep training? Taric was not concerned, after all, he was a brilliant man that didn't require such a fuss with all this organised schedule. And he had finally realised his true propose as a Knight, since his king, and his superiors had blinded him from so many years.
Sir Daniel looked at him with fierce eyes; waiting for his son to say something in return. Taric said, 'my dear father,' patting and rubbing the Elite Knight's hands tenderly, as a gentle smile escapes on his face. 'All this means nothing. Go rest. You won't be needed for today. Your men will need their commander tomorrow.'
'Did you hear what your father said?' Ser Daniel responded back in fury like a mad beast unleashed.
'Crystal clear.' Taric nodded with serenity, holding his father hands.
Sir Daniel stood up fast, pointing to the door. 'You will do as it was instructed, and follow your king commands.' He said sternly.
Taric kissed his father forehead. 'Yes, my dear father.' He held Sir Daniel's face with care.
Although Taric's gestures were gentle enough to shake any heart, his father wasn't very keen on his affection. The Knight could see Sir Daniel's eyes burning with fury and discontent. Lowing his head with respect, Taric turned walking to the main door. One day you will understand me. You will see father, that they were wrong.
As Taric was about to open the door. 'I promise,' the Knight turned. His father was holding his hand on the table, as if he was holding all his frustration. 'To the Protector and to your mother that you will do your duty as a true Demacian.'
'Promising to two women it's always dangerous, specially Demacian.' Taric said, holding the open door. 'Fragile as a delicate flower but tough like steel, ready to crush men's heart. No wonder Demacian men are so masochist.' Sir Daniel looked at his son in disbelieve, as if the Knight was trying to make him look like a fool. As he was about to speak, Taric smiled. 'See you later.' Waving to his father, who's shoulders sagged in defeat.
There's nothing that will change his mind. He can't see that all this is useless to me? Sounds of men and women came from the tall white building. While some searched diligently for the weaknesses in their opponents using their weapons, the majority of them were already breathing heavily due to their intensive training. Between the groups, the muscular, bearded General with his hands behind his back as he checked the soldiers.
Taric remembered a scene from his adolescence in the training yard. Grabbing a spear, the General gazed at them. 'Present Arms!' he shouted to the group of recruits grasping their weapons. 'I am your enemy. Face me!'
Taric admired the power and authority in the General's voice. His recruits were so disciplined that each of them trembled in fear. Their minds could do nothing but to command their hands to hold their weapons. Each young knight, grabbing a little of their courage, lined up.
A young man rushed at the general, raising his mace, hoping to land a blow upon the bearded Knight. However, despite his bravery, the general pierced on his armour. The young knight rolled over on the ground. The next recruiter sprinted like the wind at the General, holding his shield and sword. Although he successfully struck on the General's spear shaft, his defence was like a child trying his hardest to impress. He paid the price. And so many tried their best to defeat the General until only Taric was left.
The yard became utterly silent. The wind whistled through the grass and trees as Taric's eyes focused on the General. Holding his shield and sword firmly, the Knight waited for the General to make a move. Every soldier murmured between themselves, like a crowd in a coliseum. And so, they waited… expecting to see the battle.
The General laughed. 'What's the matter? Aren't you capable of fighting?'
He is taunting me. Taric kept concentrated as the man remained in his place.
'Such cowardliness for a Demacian!' the bearded General grinned. 'Afraid to dirty your pretty hands? Huh?'
Raising his sword closer to his shield in front of him, Taric sprinted towards the General. The other recruits joined together. Taric could hear them; they were whispering between themselves. 'Why doesn't he scream for Demacia?', 'Is he shy?', 'Why not for the King?', 'Is he ashamed to be a Demacian?'
Closer to him, the general stabbed his spear against the Knight's legs; however, Taric swiftly defended himself with his shield. He pushed the General's spear aside with his shield, as the young Knight moved his sword in circles. The General raised his spear to hit Taric's face, but his sword hit the General's helmet. The General parried with his spear, as the Knight's sword kept clashing on the spear.
The Knight didn´t stop. Moving around, parrying and dodging from each other's attacks, Taric did another whirling movement with his sword; as the General swung his weapon, making it fly. Taric saw the General big grin on his face. As his general began to strike at the Knight, Taric moved, backing slightly each time, protecting himself from the attacks. Looking around, he saw a hammer and grabbed it.
Thus, restarted the motion between them. After a long while of dodging, parring and moving around to spot a weakness, Taric moved his hammer, hitting hard on his General's spear. As he tried to defend himself, the weapon fell from his hand, rolling over on the ground.
The General smiled. 'Well done, Demacian.' However, he quickly grabbed his shield, hitting on Taric's stomach. 'And this happens if a Noxian notice your lack of concentration.'
'Next time, this will not happen, sir.' Taric nodded, accepting his lesson.
'Now that's the attitude.' The General patted Taric's shoulder. 'You proved yourself to me. You are capable of fighting. However, keep training.' The General smiled, satisfied. 'I know who you are. Your family is renowned in battle, and that's expected of them. Make Demacia and the king proud, son.'
That memory brought a frown to Taric's face as his father left with a sigh. The Knight walked through an arched passageway, where the children were chasing a cat on the streets. Taric admired the simple elegance of the house's structures and designs. Sprawling, symmetrical, stucco facades caught the eye with white petricite walls. Arched windows and doorways contrasted greatly with a strong fragrance coming from the flowers, forming beautiful gardens in the vast courtyards and masonry. Getting closer to the market place, the Knight reached a tavern of the name The King's Head.
Opening the door, a joyful rhythm came from a bard's lute playing in harmony with flutes, tambourines and tabors. Delighted with the ambience inside, Taric bobbed his head.
A fireplace in the middle invited the guests to feel at home. Pictures of landscapes and farms were exhibited on the walls. A scent of vegetables and potatoes cooked in an oven came from a tray as a waitress passed by. At the tables, soldiers, and merchants were enjoying their time with card games with bets, and chess boards. Closer to the musicians, a group of folks drank cheerfully upon their mugs, in unison with the music.
'Good morning!' cheerfully smiled a young redhead lady holding a tray with mugs. 'Welcome back.
Taric smiled graciously. 'Good morning, what a lovely day, darling!' looking to the bard, 'I see your artists have new companions,' he said, loudly.
The redheaded waitress nodded. 'They came yesterday,' she said, as waitresses passed through serving customers. 'Shame you weren't here. The boss liked their music.'
At a table closer at the entrance of the tavern, a group of adventurers and workers were sitting eating their breakfast. One of them, looking at the main door stood up.
'Lads! Sir Taric is here!' An old man cried out, with a joyful smile on his face, glad to see the Knight inside.
The rest of the people in the place looked at Taric's direction. 'Ask him to join us.' One of the men said, waving to the table.
Taric looked at the table that was crying his name. The old man moved his right leg slowly as if he was trying to not step on a bear trap that laid upon the ground, while he was grabbing the edges of the table. The Knight noticed the old man trying his best to not shake, as Taric knew the old man's left leg was amputated at the knee.
As the old man reached to the corner of the table, his fingers shook desperately as he tried to walk to the table. He will fall again! Immediately, Taric passed by a couple of waitresses, serving tables to reach the old man.
The old man stepped carefully as a waitress gave him space, but that wasn't enough to greet the Knight. As the old man took a step, he slipped and began to fall towards the ground. With no waste, Taric grabbed the old man in his arms.
'Careful.' Taric chuckled gently, grabbing the old man's waist with care. 'What were you trying to do, my friend? Did you compete at dawn for a marathon?'
'Those bones back in my days used to run like an athlete. A trouble maker I was.' The old man said, warmed by the Knight's kind words. 'But right now? The only thing to do is walk as much as my legs can.'
Taric smiled. 'You have to tell me one of your adventures. Your troubles sound a great joy.'
'Oh lad. This old man has plenty of stories to tell you, all day.' The old man said.
'However, next time ask for my help.' Taric in a gentle tone. 'These bones are not young anymore.'
'Ah lad, let me walk as much as these old bones want.' The old man said, warmed by the Knight's kind words. 'Let us enjoy your company, leave my leg to The Veiled Lady.'
Grabbing the old man's hand under his shoulder, Taric walked with the man towards the table. As they approached it, the Knight was greeted with great warmth by everyone. Even people from other tables got closer to see the Knight.
The soldiers, on the other hand, weren't enjoying the attention given to the Knight. They glared sharply at Taric, like they were witnessing treason against the king.
All of a sudden, a small creature with fur and big ears, began playing the flute, clapping his little feet. At the same time, tabors and more pipes played along. Everyone inside lifted their mugs joyfully.
'Your friend wasn't here today.' The redheaded waitress approached the table in the middle of the confusion.
'He hasn't been here at all?' Taric asked, as another waitress stopped at the table to serve a young man that raised his hand. Immediately he blushed as the waitress greeted him flirtatiously.
'No hon,' the waitress pushed aside some children trying to grab her skirt. 'The usual?'
'Please.' Taric nodded.
She winked. 'Straight away.'
The redheaded waitress ran to a table to wait for Taric's food. Siting among the people, Taric was delighted by their attention. He knew the people inside out; their dreams, desires, problems, fears and paths they wanted for the future. The Knight felt a great happiness inside of his heart as he started to talk with them, laughing at their jokes, feasting with his people, and giving advice where it was needed. The last time in the forest, it was a stunning discovery! If today's weather plays at my favour, it may reveal me more than just a species!
'Here it is!' The redheaded waitress came with a tray.
Taric knew this fresh aromatic aroma. The food that was arranged in his plate matched his taste. Toasted white bread was cut in half. In one part, there were two sliced grilled tomatoes, accompanied with slices of mushrooms. Atop two fried eggs with black pepper, salt and, little of coriander. Next to the other half of the toasted bread, there was half of an avocado, delicately sliced.
The waitress smiled. "For our favourite customer," she said, laying a tankard of hot tea on the table.
As the waitress left, Taric held the tankard closer to his nose, sniffing his drink. An enjoyable sensation reached his nostrils, by the soft, rich aroma of his tea. Puckering up as if about to give a kiss, he sipped the liquor. Slurping as the tea was moving around in his mouth, he breathed out through his nose. The liquid coated his tongue and throat.
At first, a sharp taste of mint sliced down his tongue. The second time, drinking slowly, a different smoky flavour of earthy reminded of oak. Without haste, he took another sip. A mix of different fruity flavours, cherry and strawberry, spread inside, although he could also feel cinnamon.
After this, Taric grabbed his sandwich. Biting it, the flavour of the fresh egg melted on his mouth, along with fresh mushrooms and tomatoes. Grabbing a slice of avocado, he stirred in the yolk on the plate, mixing it with the black pepper. The spicy, salty mixture touched his senses. He smiled, satisfied.
Of a sudden, a group of farmers enjoying their mugs with coffee, got together. 'Did you hear?' a lad with a straw hat asked, laying a spoon on the table.
'About the rare squirrels in the region?' another with an axe leaned against the table raised his mug to drink.
'Aye,' the lad of straw hat nodded. 'The animal can fly it seems. And the hunters are in search for—'
No! Taric got up in a flash from his chair. Those who weren't at the table, looked at him startled. The rest were too entertained to pay attention to the Knight. The old man looked at him, then he tried to walk at the same pace as the Taric, however the Knight was in a rush. Riding his horse Taric rode out of the city to investigate the squirrel's hunt. As the champion of life, I must stop this!
Riding through the vast vegetation, the tall, ancient trees were aglow with sun's radiance. It was a place where wildflowers grew, with a soft pear and grape scent, fresh and sweet as if a perfume had been spread, capable of making a gardener jealous.
Turning off onto a separate path, something suddenly fell on the grass. The horse, agitated, raised its front hooves. 'Easy,' Taric patted animal's face gently. 'No need to be afraid.'
Responding to his kindness, the animal obeyed him. From the corner of his eye, Taric saw something climbing down from a tree. It was a small monkey-like creature jumping down to grab a fruit. As Taric rode in the dense vegetation, suddenly, a loud metallic sound echoed nearby.
'Step by step, slowly,' Taric whispered to the horse.
I hope the creature isn't in danger! The Knight looked around. As the horse trotted on the grass; a little agitated, a squeal from an animal echoed through the glade. Taric scanned the ground, hoping to find the creature. Getting closer to the tiny voice, he finally saw it.
It was a squirrel, stuck in a trap. Its small fingers were covered in blood, and the creature licked them in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. Dismounting, Taric opened the trap gently. The animal tried to fly to the tree; however, he fell on the Knight's hands.
'Careful.' Taric observed the squirrel looking to the tree. 'You aren't in the best condition to climb, little one.'
The animal's beady little eyes stared at the Knight in protest. Stubborn like a spoiled child, the animal cocked his back, ready for a second attempt. He jumped forward yet again; his sharp nails slid down the tree.
'Don't be scared.' Taric caught the animal. 'It's true you are not with an Illuminator's priest, but let me help you with what I can.'
Taric laid down his shield and hammer. Resting on the grass, his fingers touched the delicacy of the crystal shape creamy flowers.
Taking off his cape, Taric cradled the squirrel on his chest, like it was his own child. Searching through inside of his belt bag for bandages, the Knight grabbed leaves nearby. Holding the animal's tiny hands gently, Taric wrapped them with bandages.
'There.' The Knight petted it with tenderness. 'I will bring you later to the temple. They know what to do.'
Taric's eyes shined to see such a rare, beautiful creature. The animal's large ears twitched, climbing blissfully over the knight's shoulders. Oh, so cute! The Knight touched its soft reddish fur. Scurrying down to his legs, the animal closed its eyes, moving its tail to cover itself like a blanket.
As the animal went to sleep asleep, the Knight noticed some movement in nearby bushes. Don't tell me it's the hunters? Taric stared to the bushes covering the wounded animal.
Soft steps could be heard on the grass. Nearing, with no apparent concern of being noticed, the shadow suddenly shouted. 'Hey.'
'Hail!' Taric kept his eyes on the shadow. 'Are you a hunter? Or one of my recruits?'
The shadow finally revealed itself. 'Neither,' a young man pulled off his goggles. 'Do you know where the cave is, with a map?'
'Cave with a map?' Taric asked, bewildered.
'The one rumoured to have—' the young man began, yawning tiredly. The stranger covered his mouth. His hands rubbed on his half-opened eyes like something was twitching inside.
He is exhausted. Taric looked concerned. 'Please come, friend,' pointing to a tree next to his. 'You must have travelled from far to come here. Sit. Have a rest.'
'Why not?' the man shrugged.
The stranger sat on the soft grass. As birds flew overhead singing, he closed his eyes resting his body. 'Not a big fan of the forest to be honest.' The stranger put his hands behind his head. 'But not a bad place to laze around.'
'You can't deny this brings you comfort,' the Knight said, covering the squirrel with his cape.
'After a long day of research, sure.' The stranger took a deep breath. 'However, the noise of the machines, the pressure of the day, all these things remind me of home.'
'Where are you from?' Taric moved closer to the stranger.
'Not Demacia, that's for sure.' The young man winked. 'Though… are you truly a Demacian?'
Observing the stranger, Taric noticed a lot of ocean-like fur encircling his neck from the lapel of his short leather coat. Where did he get that? 'Body and soul,' the Knight pushed his hair back with vanity. 'Why are you asking?'
'You two.' The stranger pointed to Taric and the sleepy squirrel. 'Demacians by nature don't pay attention to that stuff.' His hands rested on his chest. 'I'm from the healthiest country of Runeterra. Not to mention our technology is the best.'
'Oh! You mean Piltover!'
'That's the place.'
Taric's eyes wondered at the stranger's untamed blond hair. Those strange glasses seemed not to fit right, too tight. Why does it have to be stuck so tightly on his head? Isn't that uncomfortable? 'Some Piltover citizens are living here. However, my changes to visit your country have been non-existent.' Taric approached the man.
'Eh, not surprised. We are everywhere.' but the stranger moved aside. 'Not to mention you are missing a lot. Piltover had a lot to visit. You will get lost to be honest.'
As Taric drew closer, he could see upside down triangles shine for just a moment in the stranger's upper cheeks lungs, then disappear. That just now! Could be? Taric observed thoughtfully. 'Now I am intrigued. You have to tell me more— my apologies! Where are my manners?' The Knight stuck out his hand. 'Please call me Taric.'
The young man looked at his hand. He smiled. 'My name's Jarro.' He shook Taric's hand, nonchalant. 'Jarro Lightfeather. Nice to meet you.'
Taric's eyebrows raised at Jarro. The young man was well-known in Demacia for the discovery of a treasure in the country, which until those days had remained an enigma. It involved the death of a famous actress who performed with a mask of a lamb. According to the tale, the actress died at the end of the play performing as a maiden.
Many looked for answers from him. How she died? What the cause of death was? What did the theatre company confide in him? Yet Jarro simply answered: 'Even for myself, it's a mystery.'
Since Jarro's name had been spread, the Knight was curious to meet him one day in person, he never thought it would be under these circumstances.
Yet Jarro name sounded odd as he presented himself. Not because it was a strange name, but mainly because the young man was lying. If it was the case, he had been using this name for so long, and many including Taric had believed in him all this time. Taric found it queer but decided to keep the appearances.
'Likewise.' Taric shook Jarro's hand friendly. Better keep in mind he will constantly lie. 'You mentioned a cave with a map.' Taric looked at Jarro's right hand.
What a magnificent gem! His, eyes hypnotised, stared at the large oval sapphires, covering half the stranger's arm. As Taric kept admiring Jarro's bronze gauntlet, atop engraved on an octagonal shape was a shiny sapphire.
'It's about a map of stone covered in gold, that is supposed to be around here.' Jarro looked not surprised at how the Knight kept looking at his gauntlet.
'Are you a scholar?
'Well… no, but I have a college degree.' Jarro said, adjusting the goggles atop his head with a smirk.
Taric studied Jarro's clothing. Now that he said it, it all made sense. Those strange glasses, his leather trousers and light shirt, his boots, the belts on his waist and legs. All these little details didn't fit with someone that has a high education. But still, the Knight was sceptical. Why do you keep lying? 'An explorer?'
Jarro smiled. 'For now, I'm just an adventurer. But in the future, everyone will know my name.' He opened his bag.
As Jarro's hand reached inside, he took out a small dark notebook. Taric looked at the handwriting upon the notebook's cover. By the Winged Sisters! What is the young man thinking? The Knight laughed. Piltover's greatest, fully accredited explorer!
'Ah! You are witnessing my life's work.' Jarro looked at Taric who gazed, greatly interested, at his notebook. 'One day this will be recognised,' grabbing a pen he began to write.
'For you say that it's because what you are trying to achieve will be important to you.' Taric approached.
'Uh-huh,' Jarro nodded as his hand kept writing.
What was he writing about? The map? Records? About them? The Knight couldn't contain this feeling of wonder. Moving behind of the adventure's back, the Knight tried to look over Jarro's shoulders. 'Jarro…'
'Yes, Taric?'
'Would you allow me to read your journal?'
Author's Notes:
My story starts when Taric was a Demacian Knight so many stuff I have to imagine how it was his lifelike. This chapter has nothing graphic for now, I will warn you when a specific scene will show you violence for example. I hope you guys enjoy this story as did I writing it. :)
Specially thanks for Drake Darkduke, ImaginaryEngineer and Ori-Boot for helping me with my English since I'm not an English native.