Quinn woke up on what was probably a flea infested bed in an unnamed hotel she had found the night before on a unknown street somewhere within the city. Surprisingly, she felt refreshed and ready to take on the day's challenges – of which she had two lined up. Her first task of the day was to find a real place to spend the nights. From her previous investigations, she knew there were many choices. Lots of people who lived in Senta rented because they had just emigrated from their kingdoms and couldn't afford to buy a house.
Alone, she checked out of the hotel and entered the city's morning crowd.
Since her arrival in Senta, she and Valor had drifted apart. He spent his time in the forest, hunting prey, while Quinn was trapped in the city, dealing with people and magic. When she slept in an inn, like the previous night, Valor wasn't able to join her.
A Yordle by the name of Tinns found her the perfect place. He was an estate agent, who for a small fee brought her around to all the available housing in the area. He tried to hurry them through the outer city district, but Quinn refused to listen. The slums, as Tinns had called it under his breath, was the perfect place for her to live. Geographically, it was in the middle of both the forest and the Institute of War, making it a convenient place to spend her nights. The house she found was on the edge of the slums, closest to the forest, so Valor could join her whenever he desired, and it wasn't as busy as a place in the residential area would be.
The house was cheap, too, so it wouldn't cut too much into her budget. But the best part of all was how few summoners lived in the outer district. Unsurprisingly, magic was weakest in the slums. Here, people minded their own business, grouping together with known associates. Nobody would bother Quinn, and likely no one would recognize her as a champion of the League of Legends either. The people of the slums lived a laid back lifestyle, which Quinn could appreciate.
She briefly met with the landlord of the house she would be renting. Charles, a man with an accent as heavy as his gut, was a rich businessman who owned and rented out many places around the city, and when he heard she was a member of the League of Legends, the entire process proceeded smoothly.
Standing alone inside her house, Quinn realized she had no personal belongings to move in. The bed frame was lacking a mattress, no dishes were in the kitchen, and her book collection was scattered in dozens of hideouts in the Demacian forests. She didn't even soap to wash herself off in the shower.
It was a quiet and lonely place, and it reminded her of her house in the capital, though this one was much smaller and in a greater state of disrepair. The temptation to buy tea and dishes and other amenities to liven the place up was strong, but knew she was just delaying. It was time to visit Luxanna, and the more she delayed the harder it would get.
Quinn took a few steps past the place, before convincing herself to stop and turn around.
The house reminded her of a cottage she had stolen food from, during her first month after running away from home. White picket fence surrounded a neatly trimmed front yard that was too small for a garden, but too large to leave empty. Luxanna had chosen to plant red roses and pink tulips, alternating, across the front of the house, giving the place a bright, colourful atmosphere. It was like Quinn had been transported to fairyland when she hadn't been paying attention.
The house itself, painted yellow, was surprisingly small. Shorter than both Garen's house on the left and another on the right which she didn't know the owner of, the cottage had a large porch which Quinn cautiously stepped onto. Next to the door, there was an wrought-iron swinging bench with large cushions. For a distinct taste of Demacia, Luxanna had umbrella plants on either side of the bench.
The cottage really didn't belong in Senta, but that could have been said about many of the houses around the Institute of War. She had seen a Piltovian house earlier that had walls made entirely of glass, and a Bilgewater place that was actually a miniature castle surrounded by a moat and drawbridge.
The jingle of a wind-chime suspended above her head startled Quinn.
She approached the door, taking a deep breath and running through the words she would say for the thousandth time. It was a quick, simple apology. Nonetheless, her heart was pounding as though she were about to engage in battle and the adrenaline had yet to kick in so she couldn't focus.
There was no reason to be tense, she told herself. The most likely scenario was that she would apologize, and then Luxanna would tell her to get lost, and then she would, and it might not be something she would be able to accept right away, but at least she would have tried.
Quinn swallowed, realizing then how dehydrated she was. Maybe she should return later – run a few errands and return when she felt more up to the task.
Subtle movement at the periphery of her vision caught her attention. At Garen's house, the blinds on a window shifted. Someone had seen her, and Quinn realized she couldn't stand there forever. Hoping it hadn't been Garen, Quinn gave the door three quick raps.
A few seconds of silence passed, the house silent.
Was Luxanna not home? That was entirely plausible – she was probably a very busy person. Why had Quinn assumed she would be home?
She knocked one last time, but before she could turn to leave, she heard a bolt being slid aside. The door cracked open a centimeter.
Quinn hesitated. "Luxanna?"
In response, the door opened slightly wider. She could see the inside of the cottage. It wasn't lit well; only a dim lighting from the windows illuminated the quaint little house. Quinn took a small step forward, opening her mouth before choking on the words she'd practiced countless times.
Luxanna was wrapped in several layers of thick wool blankets with checkered brown design, her face concealed and her posture slouched under the weight of the blankets. Her stance, defensive. She was half hidden behind the door, her left foot conspicuously against its frame to prevent anyone from pushing it open wider.
"Luxanna," Quinn said. "I just want to talk. I need to tell you something."
A hand appeared from within the blankets, pulling them tighter to her small form, but no response was forthcoming.
Quinn faltered. She hadn't expected the girl to be anything less than rainbows and sunshine. Rather than stumble through an apology, Quinn kept silent, reevaluating her plan. Luxanna had no words either, and the two of them stood at the door, wordless. For how long, Quinn didn't know, but footsteps behind Quinn alerted her to someone approaching.
"Leave," Garen commanded, stepping up onto the porch, his head nearly reaching the ceiling. "You're not welcome here."
Quinn turned around. Both Crownguards were her superiors, but only Garen truly seemed to play the role.
It was a lost cause, apologizing. Luxanna wouldn't want to hear it, especially not in her current state. Was she sick, had Quinn just woken her up, or did she always walk around the house bundled up like it was winter?
In any case, Garen was right, and the realization pained Quinn a little. She had had the opportunity to befriend a noble and a mage, and while the notion seemed ridiculous, it was entirely her own fault for screwing it up.
Quinn didn't nod or meet his eyes, but she went to step away from the door. A hand, however, caught her. With a sudden change in momentum, Quinn was pulled inside the house. Garen shouted his sister's name, but it was too late. The door slammed shut.
The inside of the cottage matched Quinn's expectations of the place, but not of its inhabitant, who quickly let go of her wrist and took a step back.
The place was dark. No lights had been turned on and the only lighting came from beyond the windows, but there were enough of them that she could see the layout of the place.
The two of them stood in the entryway, only a couple steps from the living room. The kitchen was open to the rest of the house. There were dishes piled at the sink, which surprised Quinn. She had expected Luxanna to be the type of person who would wash them after every meal. There wasn't much counter space, and what wasn't occupied by dirty dishes was used to hold a variety of spices and teas.
The living room showed no signs of the modern day they lived in. Resting against the right wall was an old fashioned box television. Its screen was dusty – a sign it hadn't been used in a long time. Most people had Spheres, a modern type of TV which would display holographic images. It seemed odd that Luxanna had forgone the luxury.
The largest piece of furniture in the room was a couch positioned in front of the television. Next to it, there was a coffee table with an assortment of colourful threads and a large knitting needle. They seemed to be haphazardly thrown aside, indicating that Quinn had likely interrupted Luxanna's knitting. It seemed ill-fitting of a champion of the League to have such a hobby, but she wouldn't judge. Maybe that was Luxanna's coping mechanism for the League's horrors.
Quinn tried to refocus. The fact that Luxanna had allowed her inside and was giving her this very opportunity indicated that maybe things weren't too far gone. If not friends, they could at least be acquaintances. For this reason, Quinn felt more pressure than ever before. There was a glimmer of hope, inside the cabin, and forgiveness wasn't an impossibility.
Dust particles floated past the window where the sunlight beamed in, and it made the atmosphere seem so much more calming. It felt like time had stopped flowing decades ago, in the small cabin. She took a deep breath. Words wouldn't come easy to her – they never did, and the pressure didn't help. She had one chance, and as long as Garen didn't start banging on the door and shouting, she believed she could do it.
She would take her time, and be as honest as she could.
"I fucked up," Quinn said.
Those weren't the exact words she had in mind, but they worked. Luxanna lifted her head, pulling the blankets down to her shoulders for the first time. Quinn couldn't read the cerulean eyes that regarded her, making it all the more difficult. But Luxanna had created the opportunity, so Quinn wouldn't squander it.
"I'm a terrible person," Quinn said, meeting her eyes. "I'm not going to lie. I – I'm not going to come up with excuses. I hate magic – always have, and probably always will. It's a part of who I am, and, honestly, I don't hate that part of me. What I hate is how I treated you, as a result of it. I know I shouldn't be forgiven for what I did to you, and – and whether or not you want to even hear this – I regret what I did. You've only shown me kindness. You've reached out to me on multiple occasions and each time I treated you terribly. And for that, I'm sorry." Quinn almost choked on her words, and she took a second to get back on track. She wasn't an emotional person. "I'm really sorry. And I feel selfish and in the wrong to even ask this – but please, Luxanna, forgive me. I'll do anything to make it up to you."
The last bit had been completely unintended, but as Quinn spoke, she realized how badly she wanted to fix things between them. And... hadn't Luxanna said those exact words to her, only a couple days ago? Even then, Quinn had responded horribly.
She might have expected a protracted silence, while Luxanna contemplated her words, but Luxanna's reaction was almost immediate. The mage held up three fingers. Quinn faltered. The gesture wasn't familiar to her. Was it something Demacian noble used?
"Three," Luxanna said.
Quinn blinked.
"Three conditions." Luxanna's voice was a half whisper. "No matter what you say, I don't really think how you acted after our battle on the Rift is really you. And anyways, we all make mistakes. On three conditions, I'll forgive you."
"What are they?" Quinn said, not believing her ears.
"One: tell me your favorite colour."
"Fern green," Quinn said immediately. Earning Luxanna's forgiveness wouldn't – couldn't – be so easy. Quinn was being toyed with.
She waited patiently for the next condition, preparing herself for something absurdly impossible.
"Two: call me Lux," Luxanna said, now scrutinizing her.
Quinn wondered if she was dreaming. Any normal noble or mage would have pushed her away, but what Luxanna was asking of her was going in the completely opposite direction, wasn't it?
Mouth dry, Quinn nodded.
Lux gave a half-smile. "Three: dinner."
"Dinner?" Quinn said, failing to understand.
"Take me out to dinner. I'm hungry."
Lux was both hopeless and insane, Quinn realized. Hopelessly insane.
Or maybe Lux was playing the long con, and planning to put Quinn into debt. Her restaurant of choice was a five star establishment in the innermost district, which by Senta's standards was two months' pay for a member of the League of Legends. During the intervening hours before they met for dinner, Quinn had dropped by the bank, where a banker had been alarmingly eager to lend her money when he had learned she was a member of the League of Legends. Earlier, she had even used her name to easily secure a house – the advantages of being a champion were apparent, but Quinn couldn't believe it was worth the cost.
On their short walk to the restaurant, Lux had claimed that there were even a few restaurants that were even fancier, but Quinn had a hard time believing it.
The dining floor could have been mistaken for the interior of a cathedral. Massive stone columns located throughout the room were supporting the ceiling, which was several stories high and from it hung massive chandeliers, immersing the entire place in a brilliant light.
Waiters were milling about, taking orders and pushing trolleys of food hidden underneath large, chrome covers with a practiced ease. A live band was playing at the stage in front, but Lux and Quinn took a table as far away as possible from the noise. Whether it was intentional on Lux's part or not, Quinn was glad they were far enough away that they could easily talk without raising their voices.
Still in a dazed state, Quinn half realized that Lux might have still wanted to be friends. Otherwise, they wouldn't be eating out together. Quinn didn't deserve it, but she wanted it. She wanted to befriend Lux and look past the girl's magic and social status, and enjoy their time together. Not only because of Lux, but for herself, too. She wanted to prove to herself that she wasn't such a jealous, resentful, self-centered person. Wasn't that, in itself, narcissistic?
Quinn didn't want to dwell on it.
Conversation wasn't broken and stilted, as she expected it would be. One of Lux's many skills was carrying a conversation, no matter how awkward the other person was. Quinn could have almost believed their conversation back at her house had never happened, along with the past few days. Within minutes of sitting down, things felt normal, which was odd because she was in a completely foreign environment that only rich people with refined palates should have been comfortable in.
"So," Lux ventured, "I heard you spent yesterday with Karma?"
"Who told you that?" Quinn said.
Lux nodded, her suspicions apparently validated. "Janna dropped by yesterday. I was a little surprised to hear you two are acquainted."
"By chance, really," Quinn said, watching as a pair of summoners were seated two tables over. "Why was she visiting you? You two know each other?"
"We do, we do. She's from Zaun, but she fights as an independent. Back when she first joined the League, Jarvan somehow recruited her in a match, and since then we've been good friends. She really knows her weather magic, and I think that's how we got along so well. Not many..."
Lux's words faded to silence, and Quinn gave her an inquisitive look.
"Enough about that," Lux said, waving her hand dismissively. "Tell me what you thought about Karma. I've never really gotten along too well with her – though that's entirely my fault – but I was wondering what you think of her."
"She's interesting," Quinn said, mentally slapping herself for such a lackluster response. "I think if she really had power, like on the scale of Demacia or Noxus, she would be changing the world."
"She treats the world like a puzzle," Lux said.
"And she read my fortune, too." Quinn wouldn't say anything about the love reading – that was too embarrassing – but she wanted to hear someone else's thoughts about the rest of it. "I was told that I would die, if I left the city and went on a 'journey'."
Lux made a complicated face. "Why do you look so bothered? Fortune telling isn't accurate. Just forget about it."
Quinn shook her head. "It's real, I think. There's something in the forest that wants me dead. I couldn't really sense it, but I know it's there."
Before she could say anymore, their waiter arrived.
"Good evening, women. Would you like menus today, or are you ready to order?"
"Menus, please," Lux said.
He handed two over. "And will you be ordering alcohol tonight?"
Lux shook her head. "We won't."
Quinn wasn't about to object to it. Even if she had had enough funds to buy a thousand dollar bottle of wine, she hardly ever drank and wouldn't be able to enjoy the taste at all.
"Very well," the waiter said with a curt nod. "The special tonight is Demacian bisque, made from lobster caught in the Bay of Vines. Let me know when you are ready to order."
Their waiter left, moving at a surprisingly fast pace. His speaking, too, had seemed rushed, as though he were nervous.
The restaurant was beginning to fill vacant seats as it approached dinner time.
"In the forest?" Lux said, picking up their conversation where it had left off. "The patrols would have handled it by now, but I haven't heard of any serious problems out there. Not to mention, I didn't take you for a very superstitious person."
Quinn sighed. "I'm not – but when something wants me dead, I take it seriously."
They fell into silence. At the very least, Quinn had voiced her concerns to someone. It felt nice, to share in her troubles. Valor had heard enough of her complaints, throughout the years, and human interaction was something Quinn had always lacked.
Lux flipped back and forth between pages of her menu. "If you wanted, we could head down there later and I'll take a look, see if I can't find anything."
Quinn frowned.
"It was just an offer," Lux rushed to say. "I mean, I already forced you into a meal, so I'd understand if you were tired of me."
"That's not it. I'd actually appreciate the help."
Was Lux too kind for her own good? Quinn had just wanted someone to complain to. She hadn't expected advice, let alone an offer of help. As a noble and champion of the League, Lux had to have been a very busy person, yet she'd insisted on eating supper together, and now was offering more of her time?
Quinn pushed away her suspicion. Mages were cunning. Lux was cunning. But, just this once, she wanted to take things at face value.
"Well," Lux said, eyes sparkling, "I'm glad to hear that."
Nearby, another table was filled by red robed mages.
"Are there usually so many summoners?" Quinn said.
Lux shook her head, looking bothered. "No. We might just have bad luck. What do you think of the lobster special? Interested?"
"Fish isn't for me," Quinn said.
"It's not fish."
Quinn glared at Lux, who was hiding an obvious grin. "I've seen enough of the Demacian coast – I'm not interested in fish unless I'm a couple hours away from starvation."
"Fine, fine. You don't like fish. Or crustaceans. Got it."
"What about you?" Quinn said. "Are you gloating, here, because you'll eat anything?"
Lux flipped to the first page of her menu, scanning the small print with her finger. "My mother did say that a sign of maturity was not being a picky eater, but... here we go, number eleven."
Quinn quickly opened her own menu and searched the list of appetizers. Number eleven was a very modest food, considering the restaurant they were in. "Chips and bean dip? Are you telling me you don't like chips?"
Lux huffed. "No. It's the dip. It has olives in it. I can't stand to eat olives."
"That sounds like a good appetizer," Quinn said, smiling. "I think I'll get that."
"This is what I get for revealing my secrets to you?" Lux said with a mocking gasp before quickly resuming her normal behaviour. "By the way, you didn't want to order any alcohol, did you?"
Quinn shook her head. "I'm not much of a drinker. Why did he even ask us?"
"The sommelier," Lux said, matter-of-factly.
"Come again?"
Lux searched the restaurant, discreetly point out one of the waiters who was dressed slightly different from the rest. "They serve wine. This restaurant only has one sommelier. There's a few places in town where every waiter is an expert, licensed sommelier, but unless you have a real taste for wine and a large pocket, you won't ever be going to those restaurants."
"Sommeliers serve wine, and..." Quinn said, waiting for an addendum.
No one could possibly make a career from pouring alcohol, could they?
But Quinn's silence served another purpose. The restaurant's atmosphere seemed to change in a moment. Though the band continued playing unperturbed, people stopped moving their forks and the tables fell silent as eyes turned to the front entrance of the restaurant. Quinn could feel a shift in magic, as though a powerful, ancient artifact had been dropped into the middle of the room. Everyone else's presence, as thin and weak as they may have been, willfully backed off to be replaced by one much greater.
Two summoners entered the building.
She caught a glimpse of one of their faces. An older man with a grayed beard yet long, spry legs. He wore a purple robe, but the significance of it escaped Quinn. The other was much shorter, adorned in a gray robe like a wise, old wizard from the fantasy books she'd read. The shorter man kept his features hidden, not looking in either direction as he moved forward.
She looked to Lux for an explanation.
"High Summoner Irvin," Lux whispered, eyes narrow as she watched the man in purple robes and his company cross the floor.
And his cohort of bodyguards in red robes, who entered much earlier to secure the building, Quinn realized.
Their own waiter seated the two new arrivals, and slowly the place lost interest and everyone returned to their own meals.
"Is this a common occurrence?" Quinn asked, wishing Lux had chosen a different restaurant.
"No. Not common, no." Lux hesitated a moment. "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry," Quinn repeated, a little incredulous.
"I should have let you pick the restaurant, I seem to have bad luck. I get the impression you'd prefer to avoid summoners. You weren't even assigned an assistant for your first week in the League, were you?"
Quinn did prefer to avoid summoners, but it went beyond just them – not that she would say it aloud.
"I was," Quinn corrected. "Gerrit, I think his name was. I'm supposed to meet with Vessaria soon to review him, or whatever, but we've hardly interacted at all. He did see me to the Summoner's Rift and back, in one piece." Physically, at least.
Lux raised a brow. "You got the pupil of a High Summoner? Odd. You must have caught Vessaria's attention in some way. I was thinking it strange that she was in your garden, and when I realized she was performing the interview, too, I didn't really know what to think."
Quinn frowned. "You said that last time, too. 'Your garden'. Why do you say it like that?"
Lux set her menu down, though it was more like a large leafed novel than anything else. "Because, it's-"
She stopped mid sentence, a dawning look of realization crossing her face. "You don't know about the Garden of Judgement, do you?"
Quinn bit her tongue, choosing to avoid any sarcasm. Judgement was an ominous word. "No."
"Oh, jeez," Lux said, her forehead creasing. "It's rather confusing, because, you see, it's not actually a garden, but in your case it is."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning the Garden of Judgement is a field, named a garden, that takes the shape of almost anything. Shape-shifting magic," Lux clarified. "It's not a magical artifact, because it's normally just a field of grass. Its transformation is unique and depends on whoever enters its area of effect. There have been lots of theories as to what exactly determines its shape, but anecdotes from the champions of the League indicate that it's nothing so clichéd as to show what you want the most, or what will make you happiest. Like a lot of the magic around Valoran, it's so old that nobody is around who can actually say what its original purpose was. Some people get relaxing places, while others get seemingly random forests or empty villages."
This was all new information to Quinn, and it explained Lux's previous guilt – she had seen something very personal to Quinn.
"But this garden is out in the open, anyone can see it?"
"If you're in the right spot," Lux said. "It's just inside the back entrance, but everyone uses the front door to the Institute of War, and since the Garden only ever transforms for League champions and other worthy people, it's not like anyone is going to watch it twenty-four seven, waiting for the right person to come along. It really was chance that I saw yours - but since we're all such forgiving people, you aren't the least bit bothered by this, right? Right?"
Lux's eyes twinkled mischievously, and Quinn realized that she was completely right, no matter how much she manipulated the situation. They were completely even, except for the two meals that Quinn owed her. But maybe this meal counted as two, considering the accompanying price? Though Quinn wouldn't mind if it only counted as one. In either case, Lux had already experienced the guilt and apologized, and it would feel naive to worry about it any longer.
"Very funny, Lux," she finally said.
With this new information, Quinn realized that Vessaria might have actually taken in interest in her. The High Summoner could potentially be more troubling than she had previously thought. The magical flames and garden had accepted her, but in the end it had been Vessaria who had had the final say.
"So," Quinn said as casually as possible. "What's the garden for you?"
"A beach," Lux responded without hesitation. "Waves crashing into the shore, the sun beating down on the sand as you walk through it, feeling the warm rocks sift between your toes. You step into the reach of the waves, and when they wash up the shore the sudden coldness makes you curl your toes as they're buried underneath the sand and by then the waves are already pulling back, pulling the loose sand back into the ocean and erasing the footsteps of those who'd been there before you, as you stare out at the horizon and the orange sunset."
Lux cleared her throat, blushing a little. "Something like that. Are you ready to order?"
Quinn nodded.
She hadn't expected Lux to actually answer her, but the description brought up a memory that she had all but forgotten. Back when the two of them were fighting Thresh, Lux's protective magic had, for an instant, instilled a very similar image in Quinn. Did Lux like the ocean so much that it even affected her magic?
And that Lux had been so willing to describe her garden – which Quinn couldn't for a moment believe was a lie – did it mean she trusted Quinn? Her words were the truth. She wanted to be Quinn's friend, and this was evidence of it.
Yet still, there was something more she wanted to know about Lux.
In Ionia, what did you do that the Demacian military hid from the public?
But Quinn couldn't ask the question. It was either not the right time, or place, or perhaps both. Quinn didn't know, but she wouldn't ask the question. It would almost feel like she was exploiting Lux's kindness. Instead, Quinn should be happy that Lux revealed as much as she did.
And Quinn was.
"You ordered salad again," Lux complained.
"Oh, I'm sorry, am I too boring for you?"
"The complete opposite – but this is your chance to try something new!"
"And Bilgewater prickle fruit is something new."
What was the complete opposite of boring, Quinn wondered?
Somehow, conversation until their food arrived had turned to the champions of the League. Lux started testing her knowledge and filling in the gaps until Quinn began to have a larger image of all the members. Each member seemed to have their own unique abilities and powerful magic, which further cemented Quinn's belief that she was completely out of their league. Which, unfortunately, she wasn't.
Sitting in her cushioned chair in a five star restaurant in the inner district of the largest city in the world, a thought occurred to Quinn. What counted as magic? Because she did have an ability that, though everyone else had, hers seemed to be above average. Her ability to detect magic. It bothered her because she was overly sensitive, but it allowed her to detect magic from a greater distance, or weak magic, like those in the chandeliers far above that gave their candles unending wax pillars.
It was a weakness, distracting her at times, but it could also be used as a strength. Was magic detection not magic?
Their food arrived, and Quinn decided to save the question for another day, knowing Lux would only be too happy to offer her insight.
When Quinn cut into her steak, Lux crinkled her nose. Quinn had ordered it rare, a habit Quinn had learnt from Valor, who would always be done eating before Quinn if she tried to cook her food too long.
The steak was good, Quinn realized as she took a bite. The bison hadn't been killed by magic. A sign of quality meat in the city was that it had lived its entire life without being fattened or processed with magic. In a way, it was odd that a lack of magic was considered high grade, but she wasn't going to complain.
The rest of Quinn's plate consisted of freshly baked buns, steamed potatoes, and a large helping of salad. Lux had opted for the special, even though Quinn hadn't went for the olive dish as she had said she would. The only positive thing she could say about Lux's lobster bisque was that the texture and colour looked pleasing.
Quinn arranged her first bite of salad to contain Bilgewater prickle fruit and cranberry, intent on enjoying her first bite of salad, but the blue eyes from across the table watching her every jaw movement as she chewed was too distracting.
"Is there a problem, Lux?"
"How's the salad? Worthy of a five star restaurant?"
Quinn could hear the teasing in Lux's voice. "Well, actually, I think I'm quite adept at rating salads. I've had them at every restaurant I've ever been to."
Lux smiled. "You have."
"And this merits three stars," Quinn concluded with a quick smirk.
Lux scoffed. "I can't tell if it really is mediocre, you're a harsh critic, or you have terrible taste buds."
"Maybe it's all three."
"It's all three," Lux nodded with finality. "I guess you'll have to give up on being a salad connoisseur."
Quinn shrugged. "I think I could do better, anyways."
"Like what?"
The follow-up question might have been predictable, but Quinn still fell silent. She had already abandoned the quiet farming life, and she hadn't yet looked back to regret the decision, so she certainly wouldn't now.
Many years ago, she had gone through a treasure hunting phase, so to speak, but had failed quite spectacularly at it. The lifestyle had appealed to her, and it still did. Exploring the world and following vague clues and rumours, where a successful hunt would earn a lump sum and several months vacation before it was time to resume her journeys, it was the kind of pacing she wanted out of life.
"A pirate," Quinn said. "And Valor can be my parrot."
Lux giggled. "If that's the way things are, then maybe I should introduce you to Sarah."
"Who?" Quinn said.
"Miss Fortune," Lux clarified. "Her Bilgewater title somehow followed her to the League."
They had just discussed Bilgewater's champions, but Lux hadn't mentioned Miss Fortune's first name, nor that they were close. What Quinn did know was the Miss Fortune juggled the three most popular career choices in Bilgewater: pirate, bounty hunter, and treasure hunter. She had found unnatural success in all her ventures, and people feared her because of it.
"And what about you?" Quinn said. "Is being a champion of the League your lifelong ambition?"
"If so, I would have a pretty boring life," Lux said. "At least, compared to yours. But being a champion of the League is a lifelong career. There's one hundred and eleven of us. None of us have yet to retire, and I don't exactly know how it would go, to call it quits. Speaking of which, Quinn, I want to know something." Lux's voice turned serious. She wrapped her hands together and leaned forward on the table. "What are you doing here? Are you going to fight on the Rift again? Are you representing Demacia, or are you independent? Prince Jarvan won't talk to me about you, but I think he's just as unsure as anyone else."
"That's-" Quinn stumbled, unsure of what to say.
Was that what the dinner was about? The opposite of boring was unpredictable? Had Lux been ordered by Jarvan to investigate her?
"Don't look at me like that," Lux said, dispelling her thoughts. "I'm not just asking for Demacia. No one knows who you are, really. Most people don't believe you're from a rural Demacian village, and we're keeping quiet on the matter but you aren't even living with us. If you don't make things clear, people are going to keep watching you and rumours are going to spread. I know politics aren't your thing – they aren't mine either, sometimes it's easier to act as pieces to be controlled – but no one knows who's controlling you. I – I just thought maybe telling me would be easier. You haven't had a debriefing with the military yet, so we don't even know what you did during the month you were gone."
"You want to know what I'm doing?" Quinn said.
Lux nodded hesitantly.
"I don't know what the hell I'm doing," Quinn said, the thought of people not believing her background angering her. "I was thinking of apologizing to you and then making my way out of town, but now if I leave, I'll be killed. If I stay, I'll probably be wrapped up in another battle on the Rift and lose my sanity, if someone like Sivir doesn't kill me first. Or Noxus. Or you guys." Lux winced, but Quinn didn't stop. "I've no fealty to Demacia. Your brother hates me and the military or nobles – hell if I know – want me dead and I can't count Jarvan as a friend any longer."
Beneath the table, Quinn balled her fists. It was anger and bitterness that she felt, thinking of Prince Jarvan. Their friendship had died slowly, ever since he promoted her to first sergeant, but she hadn't even spared a thought for it.
In retrospect, it was obvious. She had never wanted a promotion – though the money was a boon, she didn't care for social status and the army meant nothing to her, aside from a place to hone her skills. Jarvan painted a target on her back, when he gave her the promotion. He drew attention to her, even though he should have known it would be the last thing that Quinn would want. And Quinn resented him a little, for doing that, and it reflected in her interactions with him.
Quinn decided to keep going, considering she'd already denounced her kingdom. "And I can feel Valor slipping away every minute I spend inside this damned city, but now I can't go anywhere outside its walls because something out there wants me dead. And the fact that I'm even saying this to you, despite hardly knowing you, is because I have no one else to say it to, and-"
Something was off.
Quinn jumped to her feet, looking around the room.
Vacuum. Emptiness.
The atmosphere had changed. She realized she could no longer feel it pushing her back. The magic. Her eyes quickly located the table of the High Summoner and his companion.
Nothing looked amiss. They were in the midst of eating their meal. Quinn watched as a wave of confusion washed over the summoners in the room. They noticed it too. Lux stood up, alarm registering on her face.
By then, Quinn could see it. The High Summoner's hand wasn't moving. His fork halfway to his mouth, he sat frozen. Another second or two passed, where Quinn expected to see his arm waver, or any movement on his part.
Simultaneously, she knew it wouldn't happen. His presence was gone.
A shrill scream echoed through the dinner, and in unison all the summoners rose to their feet, ready to fight. The band at the front stage stopped, and once the scream stopped, the building fell into quiet whispers. Still, the High Summoner didn't move. His companion jumped to his feet and made for the exit. Rather than running, he appeared to glide silently across the floor at an alarming speed. No one stopped him, as everyone rushed to the High Summoner's side.
"He's dead!?" someone shouted, though everyone else already knew.
"Secure the body," another shouted. "Don't let his acquaintance escape. Spread out, lock the place down. Lock the city down!"
Quinn wasn't the murderer, but that didn't stop her from panicking. Getting involved with the summoners was a bad idea. Earlier, she had scanned the place for all exits, so she knew exactly where to go.
She stepped away from the table and towards a side exit, but a hand reached for her.
"Quinn," Lux hissed. "Leaving will only make things worse. They already know we were here."
The opportunity was lost. A summoner appeared beside them, his robes swaying from the rushed movement. Recognition crossed his face as he saw Lux, and he stared hard at Quinn, and she could tell he was preparing magic, ready to attack if she even moved wrong.
"Come with me," he said, his eyes locked on Quinn.
All the guests, waiters, and chefs were corralled into the middle of the room, with a ring of summoners surrounding them. It startled Quinn how quickly they could bring order to such a large place.
"Stick close," Lux whispered to her.
The crowd was being sorted, as summoners identified nobles and moved them aside to be questioned further.
The implications of what had happened weren't immediately apparent, but Quinn had the feeling that this wasn't going to be an isolated, forgotten event. Something was building up, and everyone knew it. Had Quinn just witnessed the catalyst to a world war?
A passing summoner breathed a name to one of his peers, and Quinn flinched. A chill ran through her body. Beside her, Lux reacted by grabbing her hand.
Cassiopeia Du Couteau.
Du Couteau.
Petrification. Whether it was true or not, the rumours would spread like wildfire. Yet only Quinn would see farther than everyone else when they heard the story. Only Quinn saw the possibility. Cassiopeia could have been acting on behalf of her father, who was still thought of as dead by the world. It could have been his first step to fulfilling his promise – but to start with bloodshed didn't bode well for the new world he sought.
And it was all conjecture. There were countless other explanations. A Noxian murdering a High Summoner was cause for war. If someone wanted to frame Noxus, it was the perfect way to do so. It could have been a distraction. It might have been Swain taking the first, reckless move. He was similar to Du Couteau, in that he'd been biding his time. They were master strategists, and they had all the time in the world to plan.
"Names," a summoner said, approaching them.
"Luxanna Crownguard."
"Quinn Attridge."
He failed to hide his sense of apprehension when Quinn spoke. Had she already become a suspect?
"Ms Crownguard, please check out with Summoner Rohan," he said, indicating a line of people over his shoulder.
Lux didn't move, and Quinn realized they were still holding hands. She quickly shook her hand free, but Lux didn't step away. When the summoner cleared his throat, and Quinn gave Lux a nudge, she still didn't move to the line. Instead, her eyes bored into the summoner and he hesitated for a moment before reluctantly turning to Quinn.
"Ms Attridge, what is your business in Senta?"
"She's a champion of the League," Lux finally exploded, as though expecting the question. "How dare you question her!"
The man winced and stole a reappraising glance at Quinn, but didn't back down. "She was also was the first to move after High Summoner Irvin's... incident. I've spoken with others about it – most suspicious, when there's a full hall of people in between. She'll need to be questioned further before we can let her go."
Lux fumed, but before anyone could say anything else, a familiar voice called through the crowd.
"Heya, Ben? How's it going? Thanks for, uh, handling the guests, but I'll take over now."
Gerrit slipped between two nobles and joined the trio, looking harried. He ducked as someone shouted his name.
"Ben," Gerrit said. "Sounds like someone needs you. Don't worry, I have things handled here. Vessaria's orders."
"Gerrit, I think they were… never mind. I'll handle it."
Ben rushed off, as Lux gave Quinn a quizzical glance. She apparently recognized the name, but had a hard time believing it. Quinn shrugged in response.
Vessaria had chosen a very questionable pupil.