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Chapter 13

Chosen Path

"That would certainly elucidate the gargantuan bird of death," Ephrial examines an abandoned pile of drums bearing chemical byproducts.

Riven kneels down to look at the side of one of the containers, glaring at a label that has not yet fully corroded away. "Zaun..." she reads through gritting teeth.

The mercenary takes note of the aggression in her voice. The few details recorded in the summoners' briefings on the League's champions are written from an outside perspective, and not from the point of view of the subjects themselves. Her past is no secret, yet the true nature of her resolve escapes the understanding of those other than herself.

"We should get moving. The Institute may need all the help it can get. If it still stands, that is."

Riven raises herself upright, and takes a scrutinizing scan of her surroundings, paying mind to any possible trails of further Zaunite activities. The chaotic city-state is known to leave a messy wake of their reckless and unorthodox conduct. A set of toxic barrels around this area is not entirely out of the ordinary, seeing as how Zaun and Noxus share an alliance. Witnessing the blatant disregard for the very land of her beloved nation only adds to her discontent with such an arrangement.

The two pick up on their journey again, surrounded by the vast viridian fields of Noxus' Western province. Isolated journeys of their respective wayward years have made both warriors accustomed to traveling solitarily. Such reclusiveness will only prove to be counter-productive, and Ephrial attempts to shift things into a more cooperative atmosphere

"So... I take it you, too, were teleported in the middle of Noxus during the attack?"

"Yes."

"You've been involved with the League longer than I. Any ideas of what could have gone wrong?"

"No."

"I see. Where were you during the event?"

"Fighting."

"Is there a chance you could be a little more...responsive than one-word answers?"

"You were the one that decided to join me. I travel alone. That's the way it has been. The way it should be..." her voice trails off.

"Why do you insist on being alone?"

"I told you - only the strong survive!"

"The Noxian way, is it? Though, I don't recall isolation being a key factor in the code."

"This is my path! Mine alone! You may tag along, but you don't understand what it truly means..."

Ephrial pauses, taking in the spirit of her words. "...You're right. I do not know what this truly means to you. However, I chose to ally myself with you for reasons that belong to myself, as selfish as it might sound."

"I don't like being used for the purposes of others..." she glares, remembering the betrayal she had felt during the invasion.

"I've no intentions of 'using' you. I merely wish to quell the violent storm Noxus has stirred."

"Then why not join Ionia?"

"They see Noxus for what it is, and rightfully so. However, they do not see what it can be. Perhaps, even what it was meant to be."

The self-imposed exile's hostility begins dissolving with a kindling, but wary curiosity. "What do you know of how Noxus is meant to be?"

"Well, I suppose being raised under relentless oppression and prejudice made it easy to see how much of a lie the Noxian creed really was...-is," he corrects himself. "It did, however, give me time to think of how things could have been if such an ideal was held true to its word."

"...I see."

"...What of you? Noxus clearly means more to you than anyone."

Riven halts her steps, holding a silence in deep thought. She loves her homeland, having taken orders and fought mercilessly without question. Her unwavering devotion became salted with doubt during the infamous invasion and occupation of their neighboring island-nation. A long period of aimless travel in solitude has allowed such questions to turn in her mind, yet has never crafted a distinct answer. Even when asked why she wanted to join the League at her judgement session, she could barely muster up a response for the inquiring summoner. The dense cloud of emotions inside her begins stirring.

"...It is my home...and I will save it from what it has become..." a complexity of determination and inner-conflict.

"That, among other things, sets you apart from other Noxians."

"I'm not the only one loyal to my nation."

"No. However, your sights are set inward, as opposed to the other zealots you have in mind. Sure, perhaps not all denizens of the city-state may agree with Noxus' present condition and leadership. Yet, you're the only one taking a direct stand; and by yourself, no less. A true Noxian standing up for the true Noxian way. I would not be surprised if you've collected an underground following within the very walls of that place."

"You praise me highly for someone who doesn't like Noxians."

"Rules always have those few exceptions, I suppose," Ephrial titters.

"What makes me an exception, exactly?" she asks for a direct answer.

"…Your eyes."

A small flinch in shock at an unexpected mote of what she perceives as flattery, "Excuse me?"

"From our first encounter, though you do not remember it, you looked at me like an equal. The way an honorable warrior acknowledges another, on or off the field of battle. Your eyes did not change, even after learning that I am a half-blood. No contempt...no prejudice."

Riven thinks upon his words; their trial-forged meaning seeping into her mind like rain on a patch of dry earth. "...You fight with direct intent in every move. There are no signs of hesitation in your strikes, and no trace of weakness, even when surrounded. Of course I would not disdain you." A grin flashes across her face. "You're wrong about one thing, though."

The mercenary raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She turns to him. "I do remember you. Not everyone wields a blade of fire, after all."

"Of course," he snickers lightheartedly, resting a hand on the elegant hilt. "Everyone recalls the flaming sword."

Her brief smile dissipates, her tone returning to grave remembrance. "You said something that day...'strength has to have a purpose other than death'... Did you mean that?"

Ephrial smirks, having somewhat recently seen that very moment play out vividly in the Institute's chamber of Judgement. "Yes. ...However, I don't think that statement alone does justice to what I believe in."

"What is it you believe in, then?" further analyzing the mercenary-knight.

The ardent swordsman sighs deeply, gathering a slew of lessons and insight gained through vast experience and hardship. As a living product of opposite natures joined together, having had the task of forging a balance out of the resulting chaos within himself, he bears the answer in the form of an observant simplicity.

"Strength is like a flame. Properly guided and looked after, it's light in the darkness. Without that, it only consumes."

The self-exile lets the words churn in her mind, finding solid truths in them on a variety of levels. Strength had once consumed her, executing commands and opponents in battle, without moral or ethical pause. For so long, she had followed the principle that might makes right. Ephrial's creed does not contradict that Noxian principle, but rather, completes it. True strength is not all about being able to overpower others, but to be able to conquer one's self. Strength to choose one's own path; not to let it be chosen for them. Strength to determine one's own value.

"...You speak like a well-disciplined blade cuts. Your words are steeled with certainty and a reaching depth." Riven exhales, giving her spontaneous ally another thought. "...Very well. I will accept your assistance. Also, I will try to be...easier to cooperate with."

"I appreciate that."

The acquainted legends exchange a friendly nod, then resume walking the long stretch of grass ahead of them. Two paths converge, each born of unlikely conditions and events. Both seek the same destinations for different reasons, and their understanding of each other has only just begun.

Ephrial's cerulean eyes look onward, his mind delving into the thought of what lies ahead. After a long pursuit, the alliance he had hoped to achieve has finally been forged. Yet, the real challenges lie just on the horizon. Once their alignment is made known, word will spread fast, especially through the League. It's as good as official now; any route involving a partnership with Ionia has been sundered for the sake of a greater outcome, though far more difficult to attain. That suits him just fine. For so long, he has endured the hatred, violence, and isolation brought upon him by his mere existence. Though, things appear to be different now...

He looks to his side, at his new partner. She has held up to the hopeful suspicions he had built so far. The answers he still seeks behind his sister's tragedy remain tied to the endeavors that lie ahead, though seemingly connected to far more than he had ever thought. The Zaunite chemists and Noxian legacy of tyrants responsible for destroying so much will answer for their abominations of war and death. Now begins his true journey; a war against outnumbering odds.

Only this time, he is not alone.