Forsythe slowed his horse to ride alongside Jarvan as the prince started to steer his horse into the turn. The towheaded corporal dug into his cloak and produced a crudely drawn map, glancing at it, turning it on its side and then he stuffed it back in his tunic.
"This should be the last turn, Prince." Forsythe growled, pulling his helmet from his belt and slipping it onto his head.
"You expecting trouble?" Jarvan said, his hand tightening around his own lance. The lance was hooked into the stirrup on the horse's right side so he didn't have to support all of it weight with just his arm, and it wouldn't bounce about if he tried to hold it on his shoulder.
"Maybe, sir." Forsythe said, shrugging with some effort between the horse's gallop and his own armor. "I just have a bad feeling about this."
"You seemed distracted earlier." Jarvan said, looking back at Delancey. The sergeant rode next to the Sergeant Major, carrying the prince's standard up right, the simple triangular, pale blue and yellow flag flapping as they rode. "Something happen between you and Del?"
"No sir." Forsythe said, shaking his head. "It was something she mentioned, though." Forsythe frowned. "The day before yesterday, when you and Del stopped by and you asked me to dig up the records on the General's daughter I started looking and found it pretty quickly." Jarvan frowned, but Forsythe looked almost conflicted as he looked at the prince. "Well, Del came back to visit me after she returned you back to your room. I was still doing some searching, and Delancey brought up the research you, that Lee character, and she had done not long after you had returned to Demacia. She was telling me about some of the tampered records you had found and something struck me."
"You saw a parallel with the records I had you just find, didn't you?" Jarvan asked, frustration starting to seep into his voice.
"Yeah." Forsythe said, shaking his head. "I originally found this Steelsword guy by searching for General Lorcan's daughter. From there I traced it back to the marriage records and then I found his personal records from there. They were mostly unremarkable, utterly so, but I dismissed it at the time, I had the info I needed. But when Del was telling me about the records you had searched, I went back and compared them to some of your findings. The registrations and errors from before were exactly the same as Steelsword's, albeit a bit sloppier. Steelsword was registered to have served with a unit that didn't exist, same as all the other falsified records you had found, same unit designations and everything."
"Lorcan said his staff had taken care of Steelsword though." Jarvan said, shaking his head as he tried to piece it together. "That means..."
"There's likely a mole or two in Lorcan's staff." Forsythe said, nodding. "You don't think the general's daughter..."
"I don't know how high this goes." Jarvan said shaking his head again. He grimaced, his hand tightening around the lance as he gritted his teeth in anger. "But I intend to find out. I'm tired of being used as a pawn in other people's games. It's about time I started taking things into my own hands."
Jarvan slowed down as they approached a lone path that stood out from the snow covered road. It had been carved through the underbrush that was gnarled and grown up around edge of the forest. The pine trees were covered in snow and the world around them was covered in ice. Jarvan's horse snorted as he steered it towards the path, tossing its head from side to side, opposing the prince's direction. The other horses started to buck and snort as they tried to turn away.
"Something's spooked the horses." Delancey said, patting her mare as the beast snorted and started to buck. "Whoa, girl... whoa." She tried to push her horse back onto the path but it reared up, neighing and turning away, shaking its head back and forth. Delancey tumbled backwards off the horse, though she landed in the snow as her horse trotted backwards away from the wall of trees, finally calming the down as it trotted to a stop. Delancey sat up, blowing several snow bound locks of hair from her face as she pushed herself up, grumbling quietly. She shot Forsythe a glare to forestall any response he could come up with as she dusted the snow from her person. "They won't go any further..." She reached down and grabbed the standard, pulling it from the snow, but she encountered resistance, the sound of ripping fabric echoing through the quiet forest.
"Aye, no wonder, look." The sergeant major said, nodding, pointing towards the path. Delancey dropped down, holding the standard still, following the fabric to where it had hung. She kneeled and began to dig through the snow, revealing a low lying barbed wire fence. "Someone doesn't like visitors."
"Or someone is expecting us." Delancey said, kneeling down and getting a closer look at the barbed wire. "This is new wire, probably not more than a few weeks." She looked up to Jarvan, the prince looking deeper into the forest. "What do we do, sir?"
"Dismount and lead the horses through the forest." Jarvan said, starting to slide off his massive horse. "We can tie them up on the far side of the forest and continue on if need be." The others nodded and followed suit.
"Got any wire clippers, Forsythe?" Delancey said looking back. The knight nodded as he dropped to the ground, holding both sets of reigns in one gloved hand. He rustled through his satchel for a few seconds and then produced a compact set of wire clippers, tossing them forward. "Thanks." Delancey said as she set about cutting through the wires. "We're clear, sir."
"Good." Jarvan nodded, looking up into the darkened pines. There was an uncomfortable silence that had settled over the forest. He looked down to the ripped standard and shuddered. "We need to move quickly, I don't like the feel of this forest... There is an air of malevolence about it."
"Agreed." The sergeant major growled, his hand resting on his saber as he moved forward, trudging past the sergeant, holding his horse by the reigns. The horse protested but let itself be led into the forest. "The sooner we're out of here, the better."
Forsythe and Delancey nodded as they started into the forest, Delancey following the sergeant major and Forsythe following the prince, turning and walking backwards every once in a while as they pushed deeper and deeper through the ancient forest. There was no wind, the air deathly still. The trees were a pale gray, with deep green needles that looked black as night under the impenetrable canopy that towered above.
Jarvan raised a fist and his unit ground to a halt. Hands hovered on weapons and only the occasional snort of a horse broke the silence.
"What's wrong?" Forsythe whispered softly. There was no wind to carry his whisper, and he craned his neck as he looked to the trees above. "Trouble?"
Jarvan nodded. "We're being followed."
"Sir?" Forsythe said softly, looking again to the trees above. A bird passed along one of the small patches of pale white light from the sky above.
"Quinn!" Jarvan shouted, his brow furrowing as he craned his neck, following the creak of branches above. "Quinn, if that's you, come out!"
A distant thump in the forest cause Forsythe, Delancey and the sergeant major to turn and step forward. They raised weapons, the sound of cold steel ringing in the forest. The crunch of snow starting to break the perfect silence. A bird swooped down through the forest cover, screeching violently as is wove through the trees it passed over Jarvan's head, headed for a darkened figure that was fading out of the dim light. The bird settled on an outstretched arm as Quinn stepped out of the darkness.
Delancey dropped low, holding her weapon out in front of her. "Identify yourself!"
"Easy, Del." Jarvan said, waving the sergeant back. "She's a friend." Delancey looked angry, but Forsythe set a hand on her shoulder and tugged on her arm gently. Delancey looked to the prince and then scowled, sheathing her sword with a sigh.
"How did you know it was me?" Quinn said aloud, grinning.
"Valor gave you away." Jarvan said, turning back to his horse and exhaling softly. His heart was pounding in his chest. This terrain would make for a perfect ambush. "There are few other birds who would brave this weather."
"True." Quinn said, smiling as she scratched the eagle under the beak. The blue eagle ruffled its feathers hooting. She looked back to the prince, her brow darkening as she looked over her shoulder. "You're being followed."
"I thought so." Jarvan said, shaking his head. "How many?"
"Two that I know of... Valor." Quinn whispered, her hand hovering over her crossbow for a few moments before she turned back to the prince, tossing Valor into the air, the eagle shooting up into the air and disappearing into the canopy. Quinn shivered, watching the eagle climb away before she turned back to the prince. "They started following you just after you left the city walls. They're keeping their distance though." She shrugged, looking back to the prince. "And here I thought you had forgotten about me."
"Not likely." Jarvan said, looking behind him and then back to his men as they continued to watch their surroundings. They were all on edge.
"How're you doing, Forsythe?" Quinn said as she stepped up to the young soldier, grinning as she looked up at him. "It's been a while... taking care of your scar?"
The young man blushed but nodded, grinning. "It's good to see you, Quinn."
"We're wasting time." Delancey snapped, glaring at Quinn and Forsythe. The young soldier nodded sheepishly, though Quinn looked surprised.
"You're that brutish little girl who attacked Forsythe in the hospital, aren't you?" Quinn said with a smirk, watching as Delancey went red in the face.
"Delancey is right." Jarvan said, sensing the tension starting to build between the two young women. "We need to move."
"Sir." Delancey hissed softly, though she watched the tracker with distrust.
The rest of the journey through the forest proceeded in silence.
When the forest finally opened up again, the clearing that was lain out in front of the Demacians was almost picturesque. A large, ice covered pond was spread out over the majority of the clearing, though a small, homely looking hovel sat off to one side of the body of water. Smoke drifted skyward from the house and another out building.
"Quaint." The sergeant major quipped as he tied his horse off to a tree. He accepted the lead for the prince's horse as well and tied it off on the same tree while Delancey and Forsythe did the same. Quinn had moved ahead towards the pond, kneeling over the edge of it. She reached out and knocked on it. The ice pinged slightly as it settled when she stepped onto it.
"Who goes there!?" A man of slight stature and thinning hair stepped from the outbuilding clutching a sword in one hand and a torch in the other He ducked his head, wearing a darkened and sooty leather apron. He raised his sword up higher, pointing it towards the prince and waving his torch across his body. "Who are you!? Don't come any further!"
Jarvan waved his men down, most of them having drawn weapons and turned to the new threat. The prince took a deep breath as he lowered his own lance, raising a hand to show he meant no harm.
"Are you Constantin?" Jarvan asked officiously, watching the man's face twitch at the question.
"Who are and what do you want?" The man snapped, raising his sword back up from where it had slackened at his side. "What brings you military types out here?" He frowned, looking to the standard that Delancey carried and the uniforms the others wore.
"I wish to inquire about your work." Jarvan said evenly, his brow creasing slightly. "I'm here on official business."
"I don't do work for the military." Constantin growled, casting nervous glances back towards where Quinn had come around the corner of the out building. His eyes went wild for a moment, but as Jarvan waved her down as her hand went to her weapon, she nodded and approached the prince. The man ran a hand over his face and exhaled softly. "I stopped doing work for the army years ago, and I don't do commission work except for the highest bidders. You look like you might have enough money, though..." He stroked his chin slightly, the wispy hairs poofing up every time he ran his hands over them.
"I work for Holven Lorcan." Jarvan said evenly. "I just have a few questions." The man's eyes went wide and he immediately bowed.
"Excuse me, sir! W-why didn't you say..." The man stammered, sheathing the blade and lowering the torch. He narrowed his eyes and glared at the prince before his eyes went wide again. "Prince Jarvan!?" He bowed quickly. "I didn't mean any offense, your highness, we just don't, ah... we don't get visitors out here..."
"It's fine." Jarvan said, shaking his head, offering the man an easy smile. "I wished to ask you about some blades that you made, if you would."
"Yes, yes, of course." Constantin said, waving the prince forward, towards the outbuilding. "If you and your friends want to step into my forge and out of the cold..."
"I shall decline." The sergeant major said, nodding his head. "I'll stand guard here with the sergeant." Delancey looked slightly angry but she nodded, keeping her hand upon her sword and turning back towards the forest.
"I don't like the lack of vision." Delancey muttered. "Quinn, right?" She looked to the tracker where she had sat on a low stone wall and started adjusting her crossbow. Quinn looked up and nodded, tucking a small knife away in a pocket on her hardened leather armor. She pulled herself up to her feet and looked around.
"I'll take the high ground, yes?" Quinn said, nodding at Delancey and then looking to the prince. Jarvan had stopped in the doorway to the forge, Forsythe standing next to him and looking back over his shoulder back at Del. Jarvan nodded and disappeared into the forge. Quinn clambered up onto the roof of the forge and disappeared over the edge of the roof. The tree beyond shivered as she started climbing.
"Yeah." Delancey muttered. "You do that."
Jarvan looked around the inside of the outbuilding.
The room was dark, only the soft orange glow of one of the furnaces on the far side of the room lighting the walls. The room was dirty, with darkened sheets of metal and tools laying everywhere, a layer of dust and soot coating everything. An anvil sat in the center of the room, a hammer laying atop it. Gas lights flickered on, and though it fought back some of the gloom of the room, it only served to reveal just how dirty the forge was.
This doesn't look like somewhere that could produce a high quality blade like those in the general's office. Jarvan looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of glimmering steel, even the blue shimmer of a single tool that could have served as a lead to the weapons he had found.
"So, what can I do for the general?" Constantin said, leaning up against the anvil and putting on a frown. "You are a courier for him, correct? I didn't think there was anything else than needed to be said after I last talked to him."
"You are the general's son in law, Constantin Steelsword, correct?" Jarvan asked, leaning his lance against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Yes, what of it?" The man said testily.
"Where is your wife, the general's daughter?" Jarvan asked, looking around.
"She's visiting family with the city." Steelsword said with a frown. "So what?" Jarvan frowned, looking at the weapons around the shop.
"Tell me, did you make this blade?" Jarvan said, drawing out the blade the sergeant major had secreted from General Lorcan's office. The man frowned slightly, looking down at the weapon, accepting it from the prince to examine it. He held it up to the light, frowning slightly as he peered at it.
"It looks like one of a set I made for General Lorcan when I wed his daughter." The man growled. He picked up a pair of glasses that hung from a beam that ran across the ceiling and slipped them onto his face, peering closer at the blade. "This is definitely a blade I made though, the pattern of colors is a unique layering of dissimilar metals fired together to form a single blade. It's unmistakably my blade."
"How about this blade then?" Jarvan said, pulling out a dagger of similar appearance. Jarvan handed it over to the blacksmith and stood back, waiting for his word.
"Hmm..." The blacksmith flipped a second lens down in front of his right eye, looking closer at the blade. "It kind of looks like one of mine, but the colors aren't right." He pushed the glasses up on top of his head. "You see this band of white next to the band of blue? There should be a band of silver between them."
"I'll take your word for it." Jarvan said, frowning. "So it was meant to look like a fake, then? A counterfeit of sorts?"
"Yes." The man said, setting the second blade down on the workbench next to the first. "A well done fake, yes, but it's the little details that the smithy missed. Like the specific order of my colors, and the fact that I never include such gaudy badging as the second one. Whoever forged this knew of my work but had never seen it before, would be my guess."
"I see." Jarvan said softly, frowning. So someone wanted to send me here. Jarvan's blood ran cold. They're not hunting me... they're hunting the smithy and I led them right to him.
"I have one last question for you." Jarvan said stiffly as he drew the last blade he carried, carefully unwrapped it. He handed it over to the smithy. "Did you make this one as well?"
The smithy flipped his glasses back down and looked at it closely, looking at the material. "Possibly. Same color patterns, no badging... it's definitely..." His voice cut off abruptly and his eyes grow wide. He dropped the blade down on the table and stepped away, making a big show of dipping his hands in a barrel of water and wiping them on a dirty rag, dirtying them again. "It's not one of mine. A fake again."
"You hesitated." Jarvan growled menacingly. "Who did you make this blade for, Constantin?"
"No one!" The man snarled angrily. "I told you, it's not one of mine! Never seen it before in my life!"
Jarvan slammed a hand down on the table and snarled angrily. "Don't lie to me! You made this blade for an assassin hiding within Demacia! Tell me who it is!" Jarvan glared at the man, fury burning in his eyes. He stepped back from the man letting him and squirm in the awkward silence that filled the void. "We know you're a Noxian Defector, Constantin. We know that is not your last name as well, and we don't care. All I want it to know who you gave this blade to."
"I told you I didn't make the blade!" The man slammed his hand down next to the blade bouncing it to the ground. He screwed his face up and then sighed, running a hand over his face, again wiping soot and dirt over his cheeks. "I did come from Noxus, aye, but I didn't... I didn't make that damnable blade! It's not something from my forge!"
"Then who made it!" Jarvan growled menacingly. "This blade just didn't pop up, and it's not on any records within the Merchant Guild weapon registry. Which means you either made it for someone off the record, or you gave it to someone, at some point, and they used it to kill a Noxian Assassin within the city walls."
"This blade killed a Noxian assassin?" The man said softly, reconsidering it. He picked it up from the ground and frowned. "It... It could be one of mine I suppose. I made lots of daggers like these in the past."
"Then why would someone use it to lead me to you!" Jarvan snapped, his frustration mounting. "Why would someone want you to be found? Why would..." Jarvan frowned for a moment and then snarled incoherently.
"You've been spending too much time with Shy, sir." Forsythe said exhaling sharply from where he leaned up against the wall. "What now?"
"It wasn't the blade's wielder who was trying to lead me to the smithy." Jarvan said softly. "Someone knew the man who carried this blade possessed it. They forced him to use it, and then left it for me to find..."
"But why do that?" The smithy stammered. "I'm just a simple smithy, I don't know anything..."
"You obviously know something." Jarvan growled, frowning.
"What are you thinking, Jarvan?" Forsythe asked from near the doorway.
"What if..." Jarvan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What if they knew the spy was carrying the knife. A memento from the past or something similar. They can't deal with spy, they can't draw him out because he's gone into hiding."
"Lee." Forsythe said, his eyes widening. "They attack you to draw out Lee. They must have had a rough idea of where he was, and they realized that he wouldn't let any harm come to Jarvan because of what happened when they attacked you in the palace."
"So to draw him out, they force him to use the weapon." Jarvan said softly. "They know that if they can bring the weapon into play, I'll follow the weapon to its source, here in the forge."
"They want the smithy to use as leverage." Forsythe grunted, shaking his head.
"More likely they wanted to get me out of the city to force Lee into the open as well." Jarvan said softly, shaking his head. "Two birds with one stone. They take me out and they take Lee out." He opened his eyes, turning his glare back to the smithy. "You have to tell me who this blade belonged to." Jarvan growled, his eyes deathly intense. "Your life, my life... the life of my men, it all depends on your telling me who it belonged to! Now speak!"
"I told you, I don't know" The smithy stammered, taking a step back. Jarvan grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up to eye level, keeping him barely a few inch away from him, nose to nose.
"Tell me!" Jarvan snarled. "I don't have time for your nonsense!"
"Jarvan, he can't breathe!" Forsythe grabbed his arm and the prince dropped the man, turning away and grunting angrily. Forsythe looked down at the man as he coughed, holding his neck as he sucked air in greedily. "You'd better answer him, Steelsword. I don't know if I'll be able to stop him next time."
"It's too late." Jarvan growled softly. "We're not alone anymore."
"What?" Forsythe looked to the door. "What do you mean we're not alon-..."
A scream from outside cut the man off.
"Del!" Forsythe shouted, turning to the door and throwing it open, he dashed into the clearing of the forest and froze. Looking down at Delancey where she lay on the ground. Sergeant Major Perrywinkle stood over her, imposing himself between the distant forest tree line and Delancey. A few thin rivulets of blood dribbled from her shoulder, a long, thin rod of black ice jutting from her shoulder. She tried to grip the bolt, but she screamed again, releasing it and waving her hand about as if she had been burned. She sank back to the ground, writhing in pain, panting desperately. "Del!" Forsythe dropped down next to her, lifting her up into his lap. "Del, what happened?"
Jarvan exhaled sharply. "Stay on guard, men."
"What's going on?" The old man stepped out of the shack and then gasped as cloak figures dropped from trees and emerged from the shadows. "Who are you!?" He looked to Jarvan and frowned. "Friends of yours?"
"No." Jarvan murmured softly. "They're a Noxian Death squad."
"What?!" Forsythe and the old man snapped together, glaring up at the prince.
"I had a bolt just like this in my shoulder." Jarvan said softly, looking at the bolt that had been sunk into Delancey's shoulder. He frowned as he turned back to the men that slowly approached. They wore oily black cloaks that snow clung to and looked of ice and damp fabric. "Is this all of you?" Jarvan said, looking around the group of men that now formed a loose circle around the clearing. "I expected more of you assholes, to be honest."
"You're a funny man, Prince Jarvan IV." The man at the center of the rough circle said aloud, stepping forward and performing a mock bow. "Unfortunate really, your sense of humor is wasted on present company. However, it is fortunate that our target isn't with you. Odd, considering he is supposed to work for you, but I suppose we'll have to make do with the smithy. Be smart and leave now. We have no interest in you any longer."
"Oh?" Jarvan shrugged. "Big talk coming from the man who brought seventeen men to kill one little old man." He set his lance firmly beside him, setting his stance confidently, defiantly as he glared at the men who now opposed him. He said the target wasn't with us… could he mean Shyvana?
"Well it seems you've made up your mind." The man said, his voice suddenly going cold. "Pardon me if I offer you no pity. Besides, we don't mean to kill him, not if we can't help it. We just want to capture him, we need answers first. But since you chose to defy us, it seems things are going to end poorly for you as well. You know too much, boy. People want you dead, though as fortune would seem, we've been given order not to deal with you if you try to oppose us, but just imagine the praise I would get if I were to bring back the head of the last prince of Demacia... They would sing my praises from every hall in Noxus. Lambert the destroyer they shall call me... However, if you simply hand the old man over, you and your friends will be spared any and all pain and allowed to go on your merry way." A cruel smile spread over his face. "But, oh how unfortunate. It seems you have learned my name. I can't just let you escape now that I can be tied back this little fiasco. My apologies." He bowed in a mocking fashion as his voice chimed a sing-song tone.
Jarvan set his jaw and grimaced. "Bastard, you intended it this way, didn't you." The man smiled, but the gesture was cold and cruel. "Answer me this then: who ordered this kill? What do you want with Shyvana!?"
Lambert tossed his head back and bellowed a great laugh. "Your little bitch of a girlfriend? We have no interest in her."
"Then who are you tracking down?" Jarvan snarled. "What do you want!?"
Lambert grinned, chuckling softly this time. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Tell me!" Jarvan shouted, his hand flexing around the barrel of his lance.
"You're not in a position to be asking, much less demanding things." The Noxian officer said nonchalantly, raising his weapon and leveling the crossbow at Jarvan. He pivoted slightly, aiming just behind Jarvan. "Ready your weapons, men."
Crossbows came up all around the circle, pointed at the little man at the center of the group. He sank back several steps. "W-w-what do you want with me?"
"I want you to die." Lambert hissed, ice cold. "But unfortunately, I have to bring you in to ask you some questions. Everyone else, not so much." He took aim and let a bolt fly, the crossbow humming as it snapped taut. A wave of bolts took to the air, descending towards the smithy, each whistling in the air.
Jarvan jumped in front of the man and clenched his fist, wisps of blue light dancing around him. His hair billowed briefly as a massive golden bubble formed around him. Jarvan snarled as he reached out, extending the shimmering golden barrier beyond him to encircle the others who were spread out around him. The warm golden globe hummed and shimmered, vibrating and pulsing softly as it enveloped the Sergeant Major, Delancey, Forsythe and the blacksmith. The shield shimmered and seized as the bolts struck and bounced away. Jarvan snarled and gritted his teeth, sending out of a wave of power that struck the others, crashing into them like the wave of the ocean. They crashed backwards, stumbling and struggling to regain their footing and firing stances, but their movements seemed slowed, as if they had been dazed by the shield.
"The shield of Demacia's kings... the Golden Aegis..." The smithy whispered as he watched the shield shimmer and evaporate. The blue wisps danced about Jarvan for a brief moment, slowly fading and dissipating. A chorus of tightening bow strings and primed trigger locks could be heard.
A smile spread over Lambert's face. "Welcome, Prince Jarvan, to your doom."