I'm so sorry about the short, unexpected hiatus. This chapter should be the one to really get things moving. Hopefully.
The walk behind the Deceiver was one she thoroughly hated. The woman was always snobbish, acting as though she knew more than the younger ever could. Even if it may be true- which Dahlia doubted it was- it was horrid to see it written all over another person's face.
She always hoped the witch would die.
She didn't say anything, even as she was led by LeBlanc back to the Sanctum; now, knowing where she was being called, it looked less and less like a place of peace and more like a place of grief and horror. She squared her shoulders, even as the cocky illusionist stepped to the side and sarcastically gestured for her to go first.
She didn't meet her eyes as she passed. She barely acknowledged her existence.
The way to the General's Table was easy, a well-known path that was impossible to miss- no matter which main entrance you came from, all you had to do was walk until you reached the end of the hall. She'd never seen the inside herself, instead always stopping at the ornate, heavy stone doors that had stood there since before the Darkwill family had even existed.
Her hand pressed against the door, pushing it open for the first time; inside was remarkably silent for the fact it had the general of almost every official warband present. Regalia was worn by each and every present member; even Grand General Swain looked like he was about to be recrowned as leader of the Empire. There were still empty seats; generals still out to their campaigns or simply not replaced yet.
Her father's gaze was the only one she could meet.
"Iara Dahlia Vald, daughter of General Darius Vald and Smith Carryn Flameborn."
Swain's voice brought chills to her spine, even as she shifted her eyes from her father's softer gaze to the Grand General's stone one. She refused to let it show, even as she saw the lurking assassins in the shadows; Katarina and Talon both, though the redhead was clearly more amused by the situation than her brother.
"That is my name."
"The Generals have come to a conclusion."
Her eyes narrowed. If they were going to imprison or kill her over the failure on Demacia's borders, she was more than ready to fight tooth and nail before they did. Even as she braced herself for the worst, something told her it was a far different event than that. She supposed it was the fact her father was here and not personally fighting the Grand General.
"You have shown an exemplary bravery to speak out against superiors… and have a point in doing so. You have led your rather… insignificant… warband well enough that you could work almost seamlessly with your father, Darius Vald, the Hand of this Empire."
She cast a swift, confused glance to her father- and even from here, she could see the smug grin he was attempting to hide.
"You and your warband are to prove your worth to us, and you are to earn your right to a true warband, in going to Ionia. You are to lay siege to them for six seasons and return upon the end, regardless of how much you have claimed or how many lost. Your father will be accompanying you, as will Talon and Thorn DuCoteau. They will judge your methods and their effectiveness."
Swain's proposition sent a jolt down her spine. The chance to have her own warband at such a young age was something she should be jumping at- yet something told her she shouldn't be so eager.
"All warbands bring their own form of warfare. Remember your own, and above all else, remember your loyalty."
She felt like she should be more ecstatic than this. She knew it was a wonderful deal, a good thing to be so recognized so early, but a part of her knew it was dangerous, too. Her eyes were drawn to Talon and his daughter in the shadows, barely bothering to conceal themselves as they watched from their silent perch. Katarina herself was sitting in plain view, watching not Dahlia but instead the woman to the left of Darius-
And suddenly, Dahlia felt like she was a mouse in a pit of snakes that were too busy biting each other to notice her yet.
She nodded quietly, smile melting from her face as she bowed her head slightly. She didn't care lower herself enough to lose sight of those surrounding her; this place felt like a coffin for everyone inside.
"May your fight be well won, and return with your pride or not at all."
…
Her father walked beside her as they left, the generals dispersing with little more than sparse farewells. Swain vanished as easily as he'd appeared; others simply mounted their rides and left without a word. She thanked the stars that not all of them had been there- then it would have been a startlingly long procession to show off the strongest of the Empire.
From a distance, she saw the telltale cloaks of the DuCoteau roof-stalkers; Talon and his daughter Thorn were never ones to stick around, and never ones to skip out on overdramatic exits. At least, that was her opinion- who the hell wore a cloak with blades, and who the hell wore bright colours to kill someone?
Something in the back of her mind said the ones who were good at their job.
She felt like she should be celebrating, thanking her father for the opportunity. Yet she knew that an opportunity like this never arose in Noxus without strings attached- too many to keep track of.
The laugh that came from her father was enough to startle her away from those thoughts.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Your hair has been sticking up on the left side for the past half hour."
The ensuing squeak sounded more like a bird than a mouse as she tried desperately to pull the rebelling hair into some form of proper order. It didn't do much to stop the laughter from her father.
one season is basically six months for Noxus Prime. She's going to be gone for three full years before she and her father return, though this will PROBABLY be cut short in terms of writing. this major time gap is going to be filled with a lot of fun though, so... Ay.