Sivir hadn't been the one to roll back time. There was still a threat lurking in the city, and Quinn was kept on her toes, eyes locking onto every movement and checking every shadow. Yet for some reason, she didn't think anything more would happen. Her unknown opponent had plenty of chances to kill her, but had only managed to confuse her. Something else was at play, and she couldn't react until she had more information. In the end, she'd sent Valor to keep tabs on Sivir, and she had followed Gerrit away from the crowd and back into the institute's grounds.
He had insisted on giving her the tour of the Institute of War, and Quinn couldn't deny his excitement. He might have been trying a little too hard, but she didn't have the heart to tell him that. After all, a Summoner was a Summoner. He might one day grow to be as strong as Vessaria, and that would make for one good ally to have in the world. Or at the very least, one good non-enemy.
The center building was the main administration building. Easily five times larger than the second largest building in the Institute, it was massive. The capital of Demacia had some large buildings, but they all looked laughable compared to the one they stood in front of now. Larger than the Demacian castle where the Lightshields lived – though it's height didn't quite match the castle's – it held six floors, each of several hundred rooms. Piltover had a few taller buildings with smaller widths, but they were experimental structures, and Piltover had a tendency to experience earthquakes so they weren't too popular.
When Quinn asked what all the rooms were used for, Gerrit admitted they didn't quite use them all. Some were reserved for future senior Summoners and researchers. Offices and storage rooms were the most common usage for the other rooms, despite the library building itself having more storage rooms than Quinn could ever bother to count.
They passed through the Rift Room, the term coined because it was where champions were teleported to the Rift for battle. It was the single largest room Quinn had seen in her entire life, and probably for the rest of her life. The ceiling was too far up for her to make a proper estimated, though Valor could have told her in a second. The entrance to the room was just a massive length of missing wall. Wide enough to accommodate the fattest of champions, the entryway reached up to the roof, so its height would never be a problem. The architects of the building had certainly erred on the side of caution. With magic at their hands, though, it probably hadn't been overtly difficult to make such a gargantuan room.
In the center of the room was a magical object, emanating an aura so powerful, the Door of Acceptance was laughably weak in comparison. Quinn didn't stay in the room long, only enough to see the pyramidal object.
"What was it?" Quinn asked, once they were a safe distance away.
"The pyramid?" Gerrit said with a proud grin, as though he'd had a part in its creation. "That's the League's masterpiece, Suuntaava. It's a magical artifact that anchors the Summoner's Rift dimension to ours. It's quite a genius invention, siphoning magical energy from the other dimension into our own, in order to power itself and maintain the connection. With it doing its job, Summoners only need to tap into it and begin the teleportation to the dimension, then Suuntaava immediately takes over, pouring power into the spell and safely seeing the target through to the destination."
Quinn remained quiet, not electing to even try to understand teleportation magic. It would be a source of non-stop headaches if she were to attempt.
Once done with the major buildings in the Institute of War, they left through the front gates and headed west. The buildings immediately outside the Institute were all single floor commercial buildings. A newspaper company, a barber's, a bakery, and a generic red bricked building with shutters covering the windows that didn't fit well with all the upscale buildings. She couldn't even venture a guess as to what its purpose was.
And finally, they arrived at their destination, Demacia Avenue. Every region from around Runeterra had a street named for them. If a noble from the region wanted to move to Senta, then they would receive a plot of land on their street, able to build a house exactly as they desired. It was where the champions of the League lived, excepting those who were prisoners - they were kept locked away in some clandestine location, probably deep underground and well guarded.
With just a few words, Gerrit bid his farewell. Turning his head down, he disappeared with his usual puff of gray smoke, leaving Quinn standing alone on the center of the street. She moved off to the side, watching as a cart full of apples passed her by. Hitting a rock on the road, the cart bounced and one broke free of its container, jumping out to meet its demise on the ground below. She stared at it, realizing how tempting it was.
Now that the pressure of being on the stage was over, her hunger was slowly coming back. She would have to find something to eat, but first, she needed to pay a visit to her prince. There was the ever present possibility of being arrested, but she couldn't stay in the city without the Demacians hunting her down. She wanted to go to them, rather than have them come to her. It was an attempt to keep control of her life, though it was also a big risk.
In total honesty, Quinn didn't want to screw Demacia over. It wasn't her intention to make them look unorganized and weak at the League, but that's what was going to happen. Even if she never fought on the Rift, people would be talking about her. If she was arrested and never seen again in public, then Jarvan would be getting lots of questions. She didn't want to get involved with them – with everything. It was best to stay on guard, and make it a quick meeting.
Before Gerrit had left, he had pointed out the Demacian headquarters. It was in between Jarvan's and Garen's houses. Gerrit had even said the prince was inside. How the summoner knew, Quinn wasn't sure. Cautiously, she began her approach. Her mind was all over the place, making a hundred different predictions a second at how everything would play out, none seeming any likelier than the other. She would simply have to go with the flow. Apologize for her reckless entrance into the League, pepper in a few plausible lies, and finish her business in Senta as soon as possible.
Hands, appearing out of nowhere, wrapped around her neck, as someone tackled her. Quinn stumbled forward a few steps, took a deep breath – thinking it might be her last – and brought her elbow up to strike her attacker, before recognizing the voice.
"Quinn! You're alive!"
Quinn ducked out of the hug, and spun around.
Multiple courts-martials. The Crownguards were her enemy, and the rest of Demacia's nobles, too. Despite the innocent girl's exceedingly wide smile and friendly demeanor, she wasn't an ally. She was a complication. She was also Quinn's superior, in the army, and Quinn took a second to gather her emotions. Once she was confident she could speak civilly, Quinn greeted the girl.
"Major Luxanna," she said, lowering her head a little in attempt at showing respect.
The girl's smile shrunk a little. "Lux, you can call me Lux."
"I can, but I won't."
"Everyone else does," she said, probably referring to her fellow Demacians in the League. Quinn remained silent, causing Luxanna to fidget nervously. "Glad to see you're... well, you're alive. And congratulations. Though you never sounded very fond of the League so I'm a little surprised you're here."
Quinn shrugged, rubbing her neck where Luxanna's arms had wrapped around her. The unwelcome contact left her skin tingling.
"Look," Quinn said, crossing her arms. "We aren't friends, and you don't have to pretend otherwise."
Luxanna recoiled, taking a step backwards. She actually looked offended at what Quinn had said.
"We – we're acquaintances, at least?" she said, looking up at Quinn hopefully.
Quinn sighed. "We both know what happened – why I left Demacia. It's not something I'm going to forget, so if you guys leave me alone, I'll do my best to leave you alone."
Luxanna shook her head slowly, as if she didn't understand. "But I don't want you to leave me alone."
"What?" Quinn said, honestly thinking she'd misheard the girl quiet voice.
"I want to be friends with you."
"That's-" Quinn hesitated. It was, wasn't it? "That's stupid. We're too different. You're a mage. We live completely different lives. You don't need to befriend everyone you meet, you know?"
"I know," Luxanna said, as she began walking towards the headquarters. "But I want to be your friend. I was really hoping – listen, let's talk after you meet with Jarvan."
Luxanna opened the door to the building, and motioned for Quinn to enter.
All too soon, Quinn found herself in the building. She forced the girl out of mind, wanting to focus on the situation at hand.
It was a traditional log cabin, unfitting compared to the rest of the buildings on the street, and on the streets back in Demacia. On both the left and right, stairs led up to the second floor. The first floor was left wide open. Like a dining hall, it featured a long table and many chairs tucked neatly in. All made of wood. Didn't the League have a pyromaniac? It probably would have been in bad taste to point this out.
Jarvan was seated at the head of the table, looking princely with his shining armor. Garen was on his right and, to Quinn's surprise, Taric on his left. She had never actually seen the Gem Knight in person before, so it was a little surprising. He didn't have his armor on, like Garen did. Instead, he wore a thick brown robe with countless gems embedded in it, seemingly at random. All the gems were small and of varying shades of blue, making it look like he had been dunked in a bowl of birthday glitter. That wasn't to say it didn't fit him. Upon closer inspection, there even seemed to be some sense to the random layout of the gems. A magic diagram? She had a feeling that it offered better defense than a standard set of armour.
She pushed her hesitation away and stepped forward. Having approached the table sufficiently close, she dropped to one leg, bowing her head.
"Your royal highness, prince Jarvan the Fourth, I apologize for my unannounced arrival."
"Rise," came the sharp and immediate response.
She rose, daring to look him in the eyes. He seemed to be just as unsure as she did.
"You are alive," he noted.
Quinn nodded. Something along the lines of 'excellent observation skills, your highness' crossed her mind, but she refrained. She could hear Luxanna behind her, whispering "I told you so," to someone in a teasing manner.
"I expected you to keep in communication with Demacia," Jarvan said.
Quinn nodded again, this time more slowly. "I ran into some dangerous enemies and couldn't spare Valor."
"And you're in the League now," Jarvan stated.
Quinn tensed, but remained silent.
"Why?"
"Sir – it wasn't intentional on my part. The door, it – it," Quinn shook her head. "I didn't want it to open, I was just passing time while I was recovering in town."
"Interesting pastime," Garen noted under his breath, but loud enough for almost the entire table to hear.
Quinn pointedly ignored his existence.
"I'm conflicted," Jarvan said, his words giving Quinn a terribly sinking feeling inside the pit of her stomach. "You put us in a difficult position, so I need to ask you one question. Quinn Attridge, where does your loyalty lie?"
It might have been just her, but it seemed at that very moment, everyone in the room stopped breathing. For a Demacian, the answer was second nature. There should be no hesitation, nor a single second of silence. Quinn knew the answer, yet she couldn't bring herself to say it. She lied all the time, and it never bothered her, so why couldn't she lie now, and avoid so many problems? It had nothing to do with pride, but maybe her anger had finally reached a breaking point. She couldn't say Demacia, because it had tried to kill her time and time again, and in return she got nothing.
That wasn't to say some other kingdom had earned her loyalty. Despite her friends in Ionia, she cared little for the kingdom. If Ionia ceased to exist, but not a blade of grass in the village changed, she would be content.
"My loyalty lies with my friends," Quinn said, her voice strong and sure.
The response was immediate. Garen slammed his right hand on the table, sending a resonating boom throughout the room. A few people gasped, and out of the corner of her eye, Quinn saw Luxanna move to stand up, only for Sona Buvelle to quickly clasp a hand on her shoulder.
Jarvan looked away, trying and failing to hide a frown.
"And what of Demacia?" he asked, clearly trying to give her a second chance.
Quinn had already chosen her path. "Is Demacia my friend?"
"Demacia is your home kingdom."
"So it is."
Jarvan nodded. "Then you will have the opportunity to prove your fealty to your kingdom. My father isn't yet aware of this – this situation, yet. We shall inform him and wait for a response on the matter of your courts-martial." He whispered something unheard to Garen, who shook his head in response. "In the meantime, we have a meeting on the Summoner's Rift tomorrow. Lady Shauna, you will sit this one out."
Vayne straightened slightly at being addressed by the prince. She gave a curt nod before turning to Quinn, looking annoyed and perhaps a little curious. Her focus wasn't as sharp as one might have expected from a demon hunter, and there were noticeable bags under her eyes, as though she'd only gotten a few hours of sleep recently. Quinn pretended not to notice her stare, and focused on Jarvan.
"Your death certificate will be revoked, as soon as we send message back to the capital. We'll need your signature for that, but it can wait until later. As for your living situation, we have an unused house next to Lady Laurent." Fiora shot the prince an undisguised look of disapproval. "Unless you have a preference for lodgings?"
"Actually, sir, I have a room in town." A lie, but it could be mended within the hour.
"A temporary place, I presume?"
Quinn hesitated. "Yes," she finally said, knowing a negative wouldn't have been believed.
"We do have some empty plots, should you want to design your own quarters." Garen snorted, and Quinn felt as if she were missing something. Jarvan turned to address the table. "You are all dismissed, I have further matters to discuss with our ranger, in private."
Slowly, everyone shuffled out of the building. Shauna passed close by and for a second Quinn thought she would speak, but her slouch posture continued, until she left the headquarters and was out of sight. The Crownguards were the last to leave. Garen looked as though he wanted to say something to her, too, but remained silent as he exited. Finally, the door closed and only her and the prince remained.
Jarvan rose from the head chair, bringing himself around to lean against the table nearest to Quinn in a more casual, friendly manner. For a second, Quinn could imagine they were back in Demacia, having returned from a week long mission and discussing the intelligence reports that had piled in the meantime.
"Is Valor all right?" he asked.
"He's hunting."
"And you?"
"Sir?"
"Are you alright? I was worried something might have actually happened."
Quinn was surprised with the lack of guilt she felt. At one point in time, she had greatly admired the prince and dedicated herself to her work to prove herself to him. Now, she couldn't even say if she trusted him. No, maybe that was too rash. She trusted him. It was the other nobles of Demacia she had to keep an eye out for. Fiora had seemed particularly displeased by her arrival.
"I'm fine."
"Good, good," he said before hesitating. "What you said, about testing the Door to pass time, that's not true, is it?"
Quinn bit her tongue.
"And what enemies did you run into, that you couldn't send Valor with a message to at least tell me you were okay?"
More silence.
"If you didn't want to talk openly because of the other champions – if there's anything you want to say, anything at all..."
She could tell him about Du Couteau, but what would happen then? The prince would, naturally, declare him an enemy and send out scouts and assassins to stop him - and that was assuming Jarvan believed her. While she wasn't sold on the Noxian's words, he had piqued her curiosity, and sending Demacia after him didn't seem like the right decision at the moment.
Quinn shook her head, even as she was second guessing her silence.
"I see." He sounded disappointed, as though he should have warranted more from Quinn, as if she could tell him everything. Crossing his arms, Jarvan sighed. "Are you not curious, then, of your assassin? You left Demacia in a hurry. Before investigations could even get underway."
Quinn regarded him carefully. She didn't care, she told herself, as she did every night in the first week since she'd left the capital. An assassin was an assassin, nothing would change that.
"Rest assured," the prince continued, "or perhaps not assured at all – we weren't able to link him to anyone. His name was Barker. He made a few hits around the city before, but never before such an important target as yourself."
"So that's it?" Quinn asked, bitterness not withheld. "I think I would rather not have been reminded."
"Was that not the reason you're declining a house on our avenue?"
"Neither me nor Val would be comfortable living in the middle of the city. The forest is to the south, so that's where we'll be."
Jarvan crossed his arms. "I wish you would be a little more cooperative."
Quinn wasn't about to make any concessions. She had no reason to.
Just as she was preparing to excuse herself from the building silence, Jarvan looked up.
"You may go. We're on the Rift at exactly noon tomorrow. Show up at eleven. This conversation can continue later – we still don't know my father's decision regarding your quick disappearance from the capital and then reappearance in the League."
Quinn nodded.
Maybe she was afraid of burning her bridges to Demacia, but Quinn felt as though she needed to offer something to Jarvan, in hopes of establishing an understanding, no matter how weak. After all, they had been close at one point in time. He had been her first friend and ally in the world, since running away from home all those years ago.
"No love is lost between me and them," Quinn said, referring to the other Demacians in the League. "I wouldn't be happy living here, and neither would they. You understand that, don't you?"
Not wanting to hear a response, her feet carried her quickly out of the building.
Clouds moving in from the north indicated an impending rain, and Quinn looked about the street hopelessly. She needed a place to stay, some food, and then new armor and weapons. The armor and weapons could wait until tomorrow morning, but the food – she was starving. To confirm her thoughts, her stomach gave a candid grumble. Food was first on the list, and unless Valor swooped in with a vole or other fresh meat, she would have to fend for herself. Actually, even if Valor did bring her food, she couldn't simply start a fire in the middle of the city. Quinn turned to give the headquarters cabin one last glance. No treason, she chided herself.
And as before, she only made it five steps before a hand came down on her shoulder. This time, she didn't react, not even to break stride. Luxanna, taken aback by the lack of response, did her best to match Quinn's pace.
The mage's abuse of light magic to stalk her really ticked Quinn off, but she kept it to herself. Already, she'd been quite rude to Luxanna, and as a Demacian, it was dangerous to disrespect superiors. She was already in for some sort of punishment from the king, so keeping quiet and laying low would be the best strategy. Besides, that was what she excelled at.
"What do you want?" Quinn said, picking a road that would hopefully lead to the inner commercial district.
"Well, you could start by being a little happier."
Quinn took a deep breath. The forest was much easier to handle than people. "My apologies, major. I've had a long week and the exhaustion is catching up to me."
"I said happier, not politer," Luxanna said, practically skipping to keep up with her.
"You don't ask for much, do you?" Quinn growled.
Luxanna slowed down, now walking in line behind Quinn. "Is it really that much?"
The question, as Quinn interpreted it, was much too personal. Instead, she offered silence as her eyes scanned the roads, picking ones at random in hopes of making it out of the mess of buildings. A few minutes later, she left through the upper gates, the telltale sound of Luxanna's steps still behind her.
"Is my happiness all you wanted?" Quinn said, voice laced with sarcasm.
"I'm not Nocturne," Luxanna whined, catching herself a second later when Quinn gave turned her head back to give the girl a blank look. "Evil champion, makes nightmares. Anyways, quit making it sound like I'm sucking all your happiness away."
Quinn turned back before smirking. "Maybe you are."
To Luxanna, the statement probably meant nothing, but to Quinn, there was truth behind it. Magic was generally incomprehensible, but that didn't mean she could ignore it. Since she had arrived within a kilometer of the capital, she could begin to feel it. A massive collection of magic, like a thick smog hanging indefinitely over the city. She could sense it even now, and she could begin to pick it apart and analyze it. Most of it was from new Summoners and other magic users who were only beginning to learn their magic. Controlling magic was supposedly hard to do, and for beginners, it often escaped their grasps and leaked into the atmosphere. This magic was disorganized and lawless, and if she tried to make sense of it in her mind, Quinn would only feel sick. Combining the useless clutter with actual magic that had remained in the air for days after its spell was cast, the city seemed to have another layer of chaos to it, aside from the millions of people going about their business.
She could sense Luxanna's magic behind her, somewhat distinct from the rest. It was gentle and much sparser. If she didn't pay attention, it would slip away from her. Luxanna's magic wasn't as suffocating as others, but rather it felt slow, unwilling to approach Quinn. Maybe it was patient? Either way, Quinn found it odd that she could only sense it when Luxanna was visible. Twice, the girl had managed to sneak up on Quinn without making a sound and without letting her magic – which was cloaking her body – be detected. An amazing power, and a dangerous one.
And then Quinn gave up, letting the magic of the city drop to the back of her mind. Ever present, but no longer capable of taking up her every thoughts. Eventually, she would grow use to it. A couple more days in the city and she would hardly realize there was magic infecting every single object around her. It had happened during her short stay in the Demacian capital. Of course, she could regain such a sensitivity to magic by spending another few months in the forest.
"So what did you want? Why are you following me?" Quinn said.
Luxanna smiled, or at least Quinn, without turning around, assumed she did. "Didn't I say? I want to be friends."
"Is that it?"
"Well, no," the mage answered after a short silence. "There's one more thing."
"And that is?"
"Here." Before Quinn could react, Luxanna had grabbed her left hand and began dragging her towards a nearby building.
"Hey!" Quinn shouted, resisting for a moment before realizing it was futile. Something like this had happened before, hadn't it? It wasn't very ladylike of Luxanna, but maybe that was why Quinn didn't mind so much. The girl seemed so much more distant from what Quinn expected of a Demacian noble, especially at times like these. Was it perhaps not such a silly notion, to befriend her?
When Quinn noticed they were making a beeline for a restaurant, she picked up her pace even more, so Luxanna no longer had to pull her along. The thought of food effectively shut down any and all complaints she had. As Luxanna led her inside, the smell of stir-fried noodles immediately caught her attention. The smell was so intoxicating that before she'd even taken in the room, she was licking her chops.
It took her a moment to realize Luxanna was still holding her hand. The girl's hands were soft - pleasant, but unfamiliar and distracting. She never had much human contact before. Even when she had been on good terms with her family, they had never been very touchy-feely. Quinn pulled her hand away.
Her eyes adjusted to the room a second later. It was slightly darker than outside, being lit by only a few ceiling lights that clearly lacked brightness that magic usually granted. Immediately, Quinn loved the place. From the outside, it looked like a small hole in the wall, but the inside was a larger, open space. A few tables – made of spruce and seemingly fashioned by hand rather than magic – were organized across the wooden floor and the place was relatively void of people. The walls had vines climbing up them and into the rafters above. Some vines were flowering red, others had nasty looking thorns on them. All of them Quinn failed to recognize by name. A few leafier ones she thought she had seen before, but most looked like they came from south of the Great Barrier. Maybe even a few from Bilgewater.
Beyond the front counters, Quinn could see the kitchen. Large pans of noodles sizzling over the stoves, a chef grabbing colorful spices off a rack that reached up to the ceiling, casually adding them to the noodles as smoke began to fill the air. Luxanna stepped forward and a waitress immediately appeared and curtsied. Apparently, Luxanna was a regular at the place.
They were seated quickly, and before Quinn could even think to ask why Luxanna dragged her in here, the mage spoke.
"I have a confession to make."