Several days passed where Quinn was plagued by indecision. Her actions, during the last night in the city, had been a little unreasonable. In her anger, she didn't think things through, and now she was alone, directionless and likely a wanted criminal. More than once, she thought back to her dinner with Luxanna, when the city hadn't seem like such an unpleasant place. But those thoughts were always disrupted when she remembered Luxanna was a Crownguard, and her brother was Garen. Quinn still believed he had a part to play in the failed assassination, but she couldn't quite frame how. Would he really have hired someone so inept, when a magic user – say, Luxanna – could have done the job instantly and from a safe distance? Something must have went wrong, and communications failed somewhere in their plan. Quinn was lucky, and she wouldn't forget it. Life could perish in an instant, and she didn't have any magic to give her second chances.
Moving east the past few days, her path had gradually curved north since earlier in the morning. If she did decide to catch a boat to Ionia, she was heading in the right direction. A few more weeks of travel and she would be at Piltover. Valor would be rejoining her in a couple days too, so she wanted to have a proper destination by then.
The forest was a place where Quinn had never been outdone. She lived and breathed with the trees, and her feet ghosted easily over the forest floor. Animals only noticed her and darted away when she'd already passed by them, and Valor flew above the trees, covering any danger from above. There was no enemy to fear, and tonight, they were on the hunt. A small contingent of soldiers had moved through the area. Heavy footsteps were left behind, grass flattened, and larger branches snapped carelessly – a sign they wore armor. She was somewhere north of the marshlands and probably a few days of travel from the Ironspike Mountains, which had been her destination before the soldiers so rudely distracted her. The signs all pointed to Noxians, but Valor didn't back her up on her hypothesis, and instead elected to remain silent. It instilled a sense of trepidation in Quinn, that Valor wasn't sure, but it made the hunt all the more exciting.
In two days, she had passed three campsites. None had fires, but flattened grass and rocks kicked aside indicated tents had been erected and then taken down. Most soldiers would sleep outside, rather than be granted the luxury of a tent, so there might have been royalty, or an unusually high ranking officer, in their midst. The campsites also gave her an estimate of their travel speed. She was moving much faster than them and was bound to catch up soon. Still, Valor remained quiet.
There was magic about. Heavy, roiling, dangerous. Enough so that Quinn almost backed off. It was nighttime. Despite the darkness, Quinn had a good sense of the terrain around her. There was no sign of a fire, but her targets were close by. They had chosen to stop at a hill, sparse of trees and easily defendable. Quinn, for her part, was moving forward in a low crouch, trying to get as close as possible. Her intentions hadn't been to get involved with magic, but it grew stronger with each and every step.
She felt respect for her unknown enemy. Magic users among them or not, they were dangerous. They were cautious enough to not light a fire, despite being many kilometers away from the nearest city, and their choice of campsite was strategically perfect.
Quinn stopped at a tree in her path, feeling a sudden urge to run, to escape and forget these mysterious travellers. She also felt anger, at the cowardice she couldn't ignore. A three day hunt wasn't supposed to end in failure – if she could just get eyes on the soldiers, the job was as good as done. Valor was somewhere in the night sky, trying to surreptitiously collect information.
Quinn could hear movement. People moving towards her, from behind. She turned, aiming her crossbow into the darkness. Despite her eyes being well adjusted to nighttime hunting, she still saw nothing. Maybe a squirrel passing by? She heard no owls and didn't think there were any in the area.
"Please don't move," an authoritative voice called out, causing her to drop lower to the ground. "We know you're there."
It was a female. An enchantress? Quinn couldn't fight magic users.
"Put your bow down."
Bow - not crossbow. Quinn made a split second decision. Pinpointing the voice, she fired a bolt. It was too dark to see any disturbance in the air, but a cloaked woman appeared in her arrow's path, stumbling aside, only for Quinn's bolt to rip through her raiment. Not wanting to stay any longer than necessary, Quinn dashed away, moving perpendicular to where she thought all her enemies were.
A whistle to her left shrieked, from atop the hill, and she fixed her course to keep away from it. Her enemies were skilled. Reckless too, she realized a moment later as a flame shot past her. Quinn stumbled, hesitating, not at the heat or proximity of the attack, but because it erupted into a small fire, quickly burning bushes at the base of a tree. Did they really want her so badly they were willing to burn down an entire forest?
It didn't matter; they weren't going to catch her by fighting in her environment.
And then, not two meters in front of her, it happened again. Invisibility dispelled, a mage appeared in her path. It was too late to stop, and Quinn brought her shoulder forward, intending to barrel through and continue. The mage, however, revealed a weapon at the last moment, and though Quinn went for her dagger, she was a step behind her enemy. Even before everything went dark, Quinn realized there was nothing she could do.
Magic was simply impossible and unfair.
Every kingdom, every faction, every person operated differently. How their soldiers were treated, how innocent civilians were handled, and what they did to prisoners of war, it made everything so obvious. That was why, when Quinn awoke with an aching head and feet and hands completely immobile and bound, she couldn't understand her situation. Noxians killed, and when they didn't, they dismembered. They cut and tore and sawed off body parts so their prisoners couldn't escape or show defiance.
At Quinn's feet, there was nothing but dirt. She kept her breathing steady, rather than letting a sigh of relief escaped her lips.
"She's awake," a dispassionate voice said.
Quinn brought her head up to see someone – a woman, one of the magic users, most likely – before dropping down again when the pain in her neck became too unbearable. Instead, she listened. There were sounds of a campfire being started – had they waited to capture her before they cooked their dinner? Footsteps and gear being shifted around indicated a small contingent, as she had suspected. It took her a few minutes, but she estimated around eighteen soldiers, including the mages and whoever led the mysterious group.
They took her shoes, Quinn noted. She was tied to the center post of a tent, kept standing by the rope rather than her own two legs. The Noxian-styled military tent had been erected quickly, its rectangular shape covering a large area of dirt. They were probably on the top of the hill she'd been approaching earlier.
Quinn had been deprived of her two daggers, her quiver, and of course, her crossbow. They hadn't striped her naked, but she didn't want to dwell on the implications of their kindness. She wiggled her toes in the cold dirt, the refreshing feeling keeping her alert, like stepping into a cold stream of water.
Someone approached, and Quinn didn't bother looking up.
"I know you," it said.
Quinn's head snapped up, momentarily forgetting the pain. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she blinked repeatedly as she stared at the man before her. When her eyes didn't tell her it was a lie, she turned to her other senses. There was magic in the air, and she was already aware of the high-level invisibility they could perform, but the man before her was untouched. He was clean. He was not an illusion, nor under any other magic. Not even a defensive shield – not that Quinn could move in the least, to harm him.
His words bothered her, but his existence did even more.
Before her stood a man who disappeared from the face of Runeterra thirteen months ago. Dead, the optimistic proclaimed. No one came forth with news regarding his whereabouts. Without a body, those who had been around him – by family ties or by the fake bond formed from Noxus loyalty – could never shake the feeling of discomfort. A man as great as him, experienced in war beyond even the Lightshield family, wouldn't simply die to an assassin and never be heard of again. Talon was living proof of his invincibility.
What on Runeterra was going on?
Du Couteau smiled. "And I suspect you know me."
Father of Cassiopeia and Katarina Du Couteau, both champions of the League, his disappearance had been inexplicable and had thrown Noxus into turmoil, as the strongest fought for the newly vacant position at the top of the military. And here he was, camping in the northern forests, just south of the icy wasteland that was Freljord.
He knelt down, letting Quinn see him without needing to strain her neck.
"Good," he said. "I shall do you a favor, here, and perhaps, some time in the future, you might see reason to repay me."
Quinn struggled against the bonds that tied her – something she hadn't tried before. "A favor?"
Du Couteau nodded, his confident smile slowly leaving his lips. "You aren't appreciated in Demacia."
Quinn bit her bottom lip. Keeping words to a minimum was the best strategy for staying alive.
"I won't say you would be appreciated in Noxus," Du Couteau continued unperturbed, "or even Zaun. Had you been born in either of those places, your hard work and strength would have seen you rise to the top, a position not unlike mine, but you would never be appreciated. Perhaps you would think you didn't belong, despite having power many people dream of. Unfortunate. Piltover isn't for you either. You're a warrior, not a scientist. Nor Ionia, a land of religion, which I do believe you have forsaken. A pity. You don't belong in any of these places, but I daresay you aren't alone. This world, in its current state, hasn't found balance. Have you ever heard of the Kinkou Order? Yes, I know you have."
He looked away for a moment, before rising to his feet. She could hear his feet on the dirt floor as he began to circle her, like a vulture waiting for its prey to falter.
"Ionia was perhaps the only region in Runeterra which was approaching a proper era, one fit to be written about proudly in history. And then Noxus came along," Du Couteau said, and Quinn could detect a note of remorse in his voice. "Noxus destroyed its people and lands, setting it all back centuries. The Order shattered under the feet of its enemies during this chaos, and Ionia weakened."
Behind her, his feet stopped. She could hear him lean in, and then feel his hot breath on her ear. "I will undo this, but not for Ionia. For the entire world."
Quinn remained frozen still as she processed his words. His way of speaking seemed distant from Noxus allegiance, as if he were a faction-less god, seeking to fix the cracks and tears in the world. Du Couteau's pacing resumed, a fraction slower than before. He didn't, however, continue to speak. A few minutes passed, and Quinn couldn't come to any greater understanding as to her position.
Finally, someone strode into the tent, pushing aside its covers with an air of importance.
"Sir, the bird had been subdued and the dead buried. We'll be ready to move out within the hour."
Without any further words, the man left again. Du Couteau stepped back into vision, his gaze lingering momentarily on the tent's entrance.
"I have abandoned Noxus. It has a bloody and violent history, and there are no indications it will change. Destruction is the only end possible for Noxus. Rather, you may think of me as the forerunner of a new world. But right now, I know what you're thinking. Self preservation is a great and powerful thing. You can't care about the world while you're caught and your safety is in jeopardy, so let me allay some of your fears. No, I will not kill you. No, I will not kill your pet. You will walk away from here uninjured, both in mind and body."
Again, Quinn searched for magic. None. Even the mage who had been in the tent earlier was gone, having slipped out some time during Du Couteau's speech.
"I trust," he said, "that in return, you will tell no one of this meeting. I will trust you to keep quiet on this, and we shall part ways today in a copacetic manner. But this won't be the last time you see me... no. I will reveal myself to you another day, and on that day, I will step out of the shadows. I will speak to all Runeterra's citizens, and I will challenge them. If we, humanity, want to continue surviving, we will require unity. So I will speak to the world, and I will ask all those who want to fight - who want to survive - I will ask of them to step forward, and join me under a new flag. A new faction of the world. One that will not dwindle and die out, that will not be destroyed by greed of Ascension, nor disregard for magic. One that will not use magic for games and politics, but rather for life and the advancement of humanity. Our people will all equally benefit by magic, rather than the selfish, destructive tendencies of summoners. Noxus is strong, too strong. Noxians are blind, in every other aspect of life. Demacia is unyielding in its need for the structure of life. Demacians cannot change, nor adapt. Ionia is too weak, Zaun too uncultured, and Piltover too strict. When the time comes to ask the world to join me, I will be looking to a select few to see their reactions. The worthy ones. You are among them. I will be looking to you. And I hope you will respond favorably."
Quinn rolled over. Her back was no more comfortable than before, now resting on a tree root sticking out of the ground. With a little reluctance, Quinn sat up, covering her eyes from the sun and squinting. The first thing she saw was Valor, perched on a tree above her. Their eyes met for a moment, before he continued to survey their surroundings. Valor was giving her time to wake. It was much needed time.
Du Couteau.
Quinn looked around, but no one was in sight. She felt for magic, but there was only the remnants of the previous night's ambush – whether that had been one or two days ago, she didn't know. The ground indicated she hadn't dreamt it – it had really happened. Crawling around on the ground for a minute, she even found the hole from the wooden post that she had been bounded to. Whatever the case, Du Couteau had kept to half of his promise. She hadn't been physically injured. Sore, but not a cut on her body.
She also noticed she was now wearing shoes. The thought of one of Du Couteau's soldiers putting her shoes back on was creepy, and she collapsed back onto the ground, crushed by a jumble of thoughts.
Phrases resounded in her head. Worthy ones. What did he mean by it? There was too much too analyze, but she didn't want to get ahead of herself. Magic was a powerful weapon, not just for killing, but for manipulating. The mind was weak. While she couldn't sense any dark magics on herself, Quinn wasn't an impartial judge. Someone who could look her over and say she was fine was now the most important thing to her. Then, she could figure out just what exactly Du Couteau had been talking about.
It angered her.
It ruined everything. She had been looking forward to exploring the Ironspike Mountain's rumored northern pass on her way to Piltover. Fire, invisibility, dark magic, it didn't belong in her life.
The sun indicated midday. Quinn stood up, looking around the hilltop.
"Valor," she called, letting her comrade hear how defeated she was. "A little help? We need to head to the closest large city. Actually, no, scratch that. Demacia won't be welcoming, and despite our pleasant visit with Du Couteau, Noxus won't ever be. Senta is nearby, isn't it?"
She crinkled her nose at the thought of visiting Senta, but for efficiency's sake, there wasn't much choice. It was probably the closest city anyways. Valor came down from his tree and perched on her shoulder a minute.
"I'm fine," Quinn said, the words heavier than she might have wanted.
And then Valor took off, leading the way south, towards Runeterra's largest city, and home to the League of Legends.