Chapter 8
The trap was set and ready. Kat hid her figure inconspicuously along a low tree line, invisible to all but her comrades. They were all hidden in a chokepoint along a narrow mountain pass, forcing the caravan to tread through the treacherous path. Only harsh rocks and hundred feet drops formed the unfriendly terrains, eager to claim its next victim.
Kat remained still as the windless leafs and checked her arsenal of daggers and knives one last time before spotting the distant silhouette of the approaching caravan. She could feel the coolness of the morning air as it chilled the countryside. More so now her head and especially her neck felt the coldness without the warm protection of her once long hair. She gave a gentle shudder as her body tried to acclimatize to the new conditions.
She gazed across the dirt trail and mentally pictured the hidden Talon within the trees and how he would coordinate his strike with hers. A simple cinematic of their planned actions replayed through her head. It would be quick, clean and decisive just like all her previous works.
After some time, the faint clip-clops of the caravan's horses could be heard. They were much slower than usual as it carefully traversed the perilous mountain pass. Kat counted in her the frequencies of the clops and decided that there were no more than seven or eight horses and caravans. This would be an easy mission as she was briefed; minimal guards, unarmoured caravan and all going through unfavourable combat terrain. It was truly an assassin's delight. Her team comprised eight trained members, including Talon and herself. Thus, each of them could handle their own caravan and simply eliminate the horsemen.
Soon enough, the small convoy came into sight. While not massive, each of the caravans held important weapons, chiefly magical tombs and staves, to supply the war effort against the rebels. Destroying this would indeed prove to have significant effects on the Demacia garrison.
The assassins waited until the caravan approached.
"Hold it steady men! These cliffs will be the last of us if we aren't careful," the horsemen of the lead caravan ordered.
As they went across the narrow mountain pass, rubble and dust would continuously form mini avalanches down the steep cliffs. Those who looked down are constantly reminded of their own fate should they make the wrong step. Even the horses seemed reluctant to press on any further were it not for the whippings and shouts.
"We have only three days after this cursed mountain till Demacia. His Excellency is expecting these weapons in time."
"Can we not have a rest after? We've gone two whole days with no sleep already. Even the horses are weary," one of the younger horsemen requested from the back.
"Do you want to be a little tired or punished by the military?"
"Eh…"
Kat wielded her knives and daggers and arched her body atop the tree's branch like that of a preying lion. The sharp edges were immaculate in its shine and reflected the unsuspecting faces of her targets. She allowed the first caravan to past her until she was directly above the middle of the convoy, ensuring that there would be no escape. Then, as silent and quickly as a moment's breeze, Kat drops from her concealment and lands atop the hapless horsemen. Her knife smoothly plants itself into the back of his neck in one graceful manoeuvre into instant death. At the same time, the other assassins, along with Talon, all accomplish their tasks swiftly as though it was all an orchestrated, silent performance. In less than a second, eight people were dead.
Even the horses were not disrupted by the assassin's skilful lack of presence. The convoy simply came to a halt without its masters. The thrill of the kill surged within Kat's body, bringing back a nostalgic, revitalizing feeling like oil to a rusty machine. Her killer instincts had become sharper than her weapons as her trained muscles acted on their own memory, creating a natural fluid movement befitting of a top assassin.
From within the caravan, a few armed guards instinctively readied their arms. One of them of them peered out the drapes on the rear.
"What's wrong, why are we st-"
Before he could finish, his throat was already sliced open by Kat. The group of assassins quickly dashed into the caravans and with the element of surprise eliminated any remaining guards.
Everything was over already like a single flash of lightning. The mission was completed and all of the caravans had been captured.
Kat ordered the assassins to regroup and confirm their kills.
"It is as headquarter says, there must be at least an entire garrison of mages' worth of magic stuff in these caravans," one of them reports.
"Should we gather what we can and bring it back?" another assassin asked.
They looked to Kat as she surveyed the situation.
"No. Our trip back is still long and tedious and carrying so much weight can dangerously slow us down when we cross open areas. Our top priority is to destroy them and disrupt the Demacia garrison," she replies.
"Understood."
With a nod, the assassins scattered and pushed the bodies into the caravans. They released the horses and lined them up for the journey back. Then, using a cocktail of flammable liquids, they lit the makeshift firebombs with rags and set the entire convoy aflame. With several heaves, they pushed the flaming caravans down the nearby edge of a steep drop and watched it plunged into the abyss. The flame grew dimmer and dimmer in the blackness like it was being consumed by a gaping maw. Satisfied with the work, the assassin's each rode on their newly captured horses back the way they came.
Kat and Talon rode in the middle while the remaining assassins at the rear and front for one reason to guard against any incursions and two to keep a watch over the two. They had orders to immediately retreat and attempt to kill Talon and Kat if she were to resist had the mission turned out differently. Still, against Valoran's best assassins, it would've most likely been their lives taken instead. Silently, they gulped with relief but still intently watched their subjects with suspicion.
However, this was all but unknown to Kat. For once she was not an intricate part of the information network as she once was in Noxus. She felt like just another pawn of war, though not unlike from her past under Swain, with the only difference being no longer a commander but the commanded.
Having tasted the adrenaline of action again, Kat's body was eager once again. Bit by bit, she remembers the feelings of a killer as an intrinsic part of her existence. Oddly, even despite acting against her former brethren, it was a joyous thing. Like a bird that was finally freed after being caged for too long, she felt the freedom of action in the wild once again. It was perhaps the first bright point in her life after having been captured into the rebel's side.
"Well that was fun," Kat unconsciously muttered to herself.
Talon was aware as he continued observing from her back. He mumbles in a dissatisfied manner but remained silent.
Kat then stretched her arms as her body loosened. As she threw her head back however, she could feel the rough ends of her shortened hair bristle against her nape. Reflexively, she arched over at this unaccustomed feeling and ran her hand through her hair as though inspecting for damage.
Well, this killed my mood, she thought and gave an inaudible sigh.
The journey back to headquarters lasted for a few days without incidence.
There was a small but hearty celebration after their return from the mission. Even though Jarvan knew of the dire situation the rebellion faced, as a leader of men once and now he knew that something as small as this was needed to keep morale and a sense of humanity. If people could forget about the fact that they could die anytime now, they could still fight for the cause. The two pronged attack worked splendidly; the weapons caravan was thoroughly destroyed the assault on the nearby village succeeded with minimal causalities, even if Jarvan was the only one who knew it was merely a ruse.
Despite the obvious shortages, there was always an abundance of alcohol and more alcohol in part due to Gragas' excellent brewery service.
"Oi Kat, here, drink up!" the large bartender offered while drunk himself. It was more than what Kat could handle and she quickly excused herself from the main hall where the party was held. Besides, the celebration was not even focused on her first successful mission but simply on the fact that it was another day where everyone lived.
She escaped from the overwhelming stench of ale and beer to a balcony for a much needed break. She took a deep evening's air and felt the crisp, refreshing wind course through her lungs. Leaning over one of the rails, she fascinated herself with the darkening sky. It was a faint orange canvas that gleamed with the onset of a starry twilight, a beautifully blended mosaic of day and night.
It was a relaxing sight from the long mission, but only a temporary break and this she was never more certain. Soon again, she will have to kill for the rebellion. At this thought, the patriotic part of her heart ached. While by no means as fervent to the Noxus homeland as Darius or Sion, the fact that she had to kill her own countrymen was not an escapable fact. She reminded herself that Noxus was not the enemy but Swain. Yet, she realized then that this was a no different ideal than the rebels. If possible, she would've liked to not have the life of her former comrades, but knew this was nothing more than a naïve wish.
Was she then no different than these men and women fighting around her? She did not see a Demacia or a Freljordian or Piltoveran in them. Instead, she saw people, a single unified cause that fought, albeit foolishly and futility in her taste. Nonetheless, she only wanted to know the answer to one question, that is, should she fight for them? Or maybe this was a battle for her own selfish desires; to kill Swain and free her father. If the rebels and her goals aligned, even if indirectly, then perhaps she could see a justified end for her acts.
"So this is where you went," a voice sounded behind, shaking her out of her thoughts.
Kat looked around and saw Garen climbing onto the balcony. He was not dressed in his daily armoured garbs but instead in a light, leather tunic and pants. It was a strange sight but even then he still had the boisterous frame of a trained, muscled warrior.
"Sorry, am I interrupting?" he asked.
Without saying a word, Kat turned back to gaze at the skies.
"Uh… Can I take the silence as a no?"
After a few tensed moments, Kat relented to his persistence.
"Do whatever you want," Kat coldly replied. Still, to Garen this was a small victory. At least he wasn't being completely ignored, the last he wants is to be treated like a tree.
"Alright, coming up then."
The wooden construct of the balcony creaked as it bore his weight. He found an empty spot next to Kat on the rails and joined her. He then took his emptied ale mug and placed it on the rail, much to Kat's discontent.
Garen had hoped for some sort of response or greeting from Kat but was met with disappointment. Still, he would not give in so easily. After a brief moment of silence, he attempted at a conversation.
"Congratulations on your successful mission," he began.
Kat did not reply, nor did she even give him eye contact.
"Uh, well, that was good. I suppose."
Still no response but Garen kept the battle intact.
"You look nice with that hair."
Kat silently grimaced, leading Garen to retreat for a moment to access the field once again. He then too gave himself to the beauty of the darkening skies and took a moment to absorb the natural wonder.
"I remember seeing this type of sky," he continued in a reminiscent tone, "back in the days when I was general I took a battalion to Kaladoun against some bandits. They've been harassing the villagers for ages, those dogs. Pretty bloody battle, lasted the entire day but in the end I was rewarded this sky. And a round of ale from Jarvan no doubt."
Garen took a pause and lifted the ale to his mouth but as slightly surprised to find it empty. With a disappointed mumble, he continued on.
"The good fighting days are over, at least that's what I thought when Demacia fell. But Jarvan took me up and gave me a sword and said fight, and now here I am. Makes me wonder what we are really fighting for."
Back in the manor, the sounds of the party softly rumbled through the walls, breathing life into this vast wild expanse.
"But, I don't think that's the matter here. As a soldier, and still am, you don't need to care about these things. You fight because you are ordered. You feel it's right because it is ordered. That's what I told myself back then, and still do. But for the first time, I get to see more. More than just orders, more than just soldiers and swords. I look around myself and I see a Piltoveran, a Demacian, Freljordian, Ionian and now even Noxians. Then I ask myself, does everyone here really know the goal? It would be a hell lot easier if you were all troops from my command, I tell you one thing and that's' it, you go and accomplish it. But Jarvan and the rest showed me that it doesn't matter what we fight as, but what we fight for. And he made that reason for fighting clear for everyone and we all knew. This is a goal that we have to achieve, there is no or else. I think this urgency really gets to people."
Garen then gave a light sigh and once again tried to drink the imaginary ale only to find it empty. Kat casted a side glance at him and noticed his slightly flushed cheeks, a result of the alcohol.
"I think that this is the reason that is still keeping me on. I could never forget what happened back in Demacia, never…" Garen's voice trailed off weakly as his face fell into a deep despair. Still, he would not shed a tear and battled his emotions back. He had made a promise to Lux to not cry for her and fight.
"Listen, I- um…" Kat began, trying to find her words.
Sympathy was not her strength, and she found it exceptionally difficult in these situations to provide any comfort. What could she say? To get over with it? She never knew Lux personally too well but she did know that her energetic aura was inescapable. Though she did understand Garen's feelings, conveying was a challenge on a whole new plane.
"I'm sorry for your loss," was all Kat could manage.
Garen, realizing the difficult situation he had out her in, quickly snapped himself out of it.
"No, it's fine. It would be an insult to her if I failed now. Her last words to me meant more than her farewells, they were encouragements and a promise that I vow to never break."
Garen straightened himself and took a deep breath like getting a burden off his chest. He felt better now, having been able to at the very least talk to someone, even if that person was cold as ice.
"I'm truly glad, that you have joined us instead of against. It would've… pained me to meet you as an enemy. We can now only hope for a victory, and I believe that Jarvan can deliver us to one," Garen said as he left the balcony.
Kat was alone once again but she did not feel like it. Garen's words were truth from the depths of his heart, she knew it. Perhaps an opening effect of the alcohol but nonetheless she understood him thoroughly. This rebellion, she thought, was maybe more than just a flimsy attempt at the impossible.
By the time she noticed the skies again, the stars had already dotted the deep, black sky.
Darius sat, arms crossed, on a wooden stool that seemed to barely support his massive form. His face bore a perpetual look of anger, a fearsome visage. It looked like anyone who dared cross him would meet a swift end by his even more frightening axe.
He sat inside a metal hut, darkened by soot resulting from the nearby industrial flames of Noxus. It was situated high in a towering construct which overlooked a large part of the black city. From here on out, one could witness the roaring flames of factories and electric lights span across the horizon in the nation that never sleeps. The strong will always be out there trampling the weak.
Darius shook his leg with impatience and his face seemingly getting angrier by the second. Suddenly, a rally of fanfare sounded outside the hut.
"Sir! His Excellency the Grand Marshal of Valoran has arrived!" a man announces. Soon, the door of the hut swung opened and entered two soldiers who then stood by the doors, welcoming their Lord.
"Tsk, about time," Darius muttered under his breath.
Swain hobbled into the hut and ordered the two men to leave. The door gently closed behind as Swain made his way to a chair across Darius. As soon as he sat down, Darius slammed the poor table with his massive gauntlets.
"I want to know what happened to the convoy! The garrison there isn't getting their supplies. What if an attack was made on the city?!" he asked, almost shouting.
Swain made a light chuckle.
"Do not forget I am your superior here, general," Swain mocked in his raspy voice.
Darius' expression did not change once and continued to stare at the Grand Marshal for answers.
"Fear not, Darius, did you really think I would make such a novice mistake? Nothing escapes my calculations," Swain continued. He then reached into his pocket and retrieved a piece of bread crumb and fed it to his raven which sat on his shoulder.
"Then what of the supplies? You cannot deny that they are gone," Darius pressed on.
"Indeed, they are gone. But the garrison will get their supplies no doubt. Understand that I have prepared a secret route to Demacia. The destroyed convoy was simply a ruse," Swain replied.
At the mention of this, Darius went from anger to suspicion.
"You knew the convoy would be attacked?"
"Hehe, one can never be too cautious in these times, no? I thought that this is what they taught in military academy, general."
Darius clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"You better watch it, Swain. Without the support of my army, you are nothing," Darius threatened. However, Swain did not lose composure and replied with another chuckle.
"Of course, general, how could I forget my indebtedness to your servitude? Your presence is crucial to this empire, and I am well aware of that. However, I ask too ask that you have trust in my command, no?"
"Then see to it that the rebels are destroyed. My axe grows impatient."
"In due time, general. You have your glory soon enough as long as Project Zealot is completed."
Swain then reached for another crumb and fed to his raven which hungrily devoured it.
"I do not care about your project. You better not soil the name of Noxus."
With that, Darius sat up and left the hut, towering over the soldiers guarding the door. Swain petted his raven and grinned underneath his mask.
"Ah, the all too aggressive pawn, a piece so easily appeased. It matters not though, he will carry out my tasks and I hope that you too will do the same," Swain said to a seemingly empty corner of the hut.
A shadowy figure stirred and saluted.
"Without hesitation," it spoke.
"Good. Now, continue on with your mission," Swain ordered as the figure vanished into the air.