They moved away from the road and the reporters, so nobody could overhear their conversation.
"I wanted to talk to you earlier, but you were always so busy," Ashe said.
"Busy. Right." Quinn wanted to leave – she didn't need reminders of her past, especially not of when she had been so weak and so stupid.
"And then the attack on High Summoner Irvine – did you hear they're going to announce his death, officially, tonight?"
"I hadn't heard."
Lux reached out, grabbed her arm, and pulled her closer.
"And then this banquet – well, really, its implications – have been keeping me busy," Ashe said, half turning to the nearest Institute building. I don't even have long now – there's still some things to wrap up before it all gets underway, but I would like to catch up sometime."
"Yeah," Quinn said.
"And, wow, this is long overdue, but here."
She fished something out of her pocket and tossed it over to Quinn, who caught it on reflex. A long forgotten sensation covered her body, and she nearly dropped it.
"But it's yours," Quinn said, staring at the fat blue coin in her hand.
"Finders keepers. I was just borrowing it... for a really long time."
"I've no use for it. It's a Freljordian artifact – it should belong to a Freljordian."
"We really have changed," Ashe said with a grin. "Gotta run, now. Bye."
Quinn made no move to stop her – still a little stunned at receiving the Nadir Coin, and at the nothingness her skin felt – and in seconds, Ashe was gone.
She only reacted when Lux poked her. The girl was watching her closely.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
Quinn tightened her grip on the coin. "Yeah."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Okay, then. You need to explain, because that was really, really weird."
"What?"
"It's Ashe. She doesn't hug people. She doesn't smile like that. She doesn't – she isn't – not since her parents were killed."
"Her parents were killed?"
"Don't change the subject," Lux said, pulling Quinn back on the path so they could continue on to the banquet. "How do you know her? Explain. Are you friends?"
"I met her a long time ago. Like she said, seven years ago. I got lost in Freljord – well – more like I got caught in a blizzard, and she saved me."
Lux seemed to relax at the answer. A few seconds later, a smile crossed her face. "Is this the part where you tell me you're secretly Gragas in disguise?"
If Quinn hadn't spent the first half of the day reading up on champions of the League, the joke might have escaped her. Gragas had supposedly met Ashe in similar circumstances, and had ended up doing her a large favour. Quinn had, too, by giving her the Nadir Coin, but Lux didn't know that, and though the girl eyed the coin curiously, she didn't ask about it.
"Someone say my name?" a gruff voice said.
A man – unmistakably the one they had just been talking about – approached. Not only was his stomach massive, but he was a good head taller than Quinn, and his beard hair ran halfway down his stomach – longer than Lux's hair, though comparing the two was a little insulting to Lux. Though it shouldn't have been surprising, Quinn recoiled a little at his lack of shirt. Massive scars ran across his barrel chest, the skin dark and rippled as though it were a war-torn landscape.
His hands were bare of any alcohol, but it was almost certainly a temporary absence. Gragas grinned, pulling Lux into a one handed hug.
"You're back," she laughed, returning the hug. "Just for the banquet, or longer?"
"Banquet?" Gragas said as they broke off the hug. "All this pizzazz doesn't suit me. I came for another reason."
"Haven't found anything to match your true ice brew?"
"I had an epiphany while wandering the liquid lacking lands of Shurima. The brew isn't everything," he said, as though telling her an unbelievable old wives' tale. "There's more too it. Drinking is a story, and the brew's ingredients are the words. But what about the page's material? The front cover? The language it's written in? And where is the story being read? The outside atmosphere – what is it?"
"So you aren't here for the banquet?" Lux said, unaffected by the man's passionate outburst.
"I am."
"Oh." Lux seemed to be at a loss for words. Gragas' contradiction clearly hadn't escaped her notice.
He shifted, his belly swinging side to side. "Ashe is a good, strong woman. She can handle her own, but there's more than just politics and food at this banquet. I'm looking for something to titivate the drinking experience – to find my front cover – if you catch my drift. But enough about my adventures and desires – you're looking mighty fine, as always, Luxanna. Who's your nice lady friend, waiting so patiently behind you?"
"Ah." Lux seemed relieved at the change of subject. "This is Quinn. Demacian, and newest member of the League – though that might change tonight, by the sound of things."
Quinn stepped forward, but before she could speak, or offer her hand, Gragas swept her up into a tight hug. She held her breath, completely immobilized. The hug was incomparable to Ashe's, in so many ways, and she accepted her fate. A couple long seconds later, he released her.
"Pleasure to meet you, Quinn," he boomed. "Demacia needs more people like you – no offense, Luxanna."
"None taken," she replied, apparently entirely by instinct because a second later her expression turned to that of confusion. "Wait – what's that supposed to mean?"
"Your ineptitude for alcohol is no secret. I've always thought Demacians are too lightweight, but Quinn here looks like she can hold her booze well."
Lux offered her most innocent smile. "I'm curious to see if that's true. And if you did want to lend your support to Ashe – or just say hi – she's already inside."
Gragas nodded, scratching at his beard. "I suppose I should tarry no longer. The night is young, and there are undertakings to plan!"
As soon as they entered the banquet hall, they came across Soraka. The woman was standing alone at the entrance, perhaps waiting for someone, or otherwise watching the ongoing activity inside the room. Her bright orange dress, which clung to her body to reveal her shapely curves, indicated she, too, had deemed it appropriate to dress up for the banquet. If Quinn was the only female wearing casual attire, she would have some choice words for Lux – not because she cared how she looked, but because it would draw unneeded attention towards her.
Soraka turned to them, nodded, and then did a double-take, her eyes widening.
"Lux," she said, stepping forward to block their path. "You're here? I heard you weren't to be discharged until tomorrow morning."
"Ahaha, of course I made it," Lux said, dodging around her. "What a silly question. Silly, silly, silly. Oh, there's Karma! Let's go, Quinn. Can't keep her waiting."
When Quinn turned her suspicion onto Lux, the girl grabbed her arm and forcefully pulled her along, leaving behind an exasperated Soraka.
As expected of the Institute of War, the banquet hall was overwhelming. Even if it had been empty of people and tables, its sheer size was intimidating. The architecture was grandiose – a high vaulted ceiling, stain-glassed windows, and pillars that reminded Quinn of the Rift Room, which held Suuntaava and the teleportation pedestals. Eleven massive banners hung along the walls, unique crests sewn on each one, which further reinforced the feeling of a place of gathering for global powerhouses. Clockwise around the room – and true to their geographical positions relative to Senta – Freljord, Ionia, Piltover, Zaun, Noxus, Bilgewater, Yordle Land, Shurima, and Demacia. There were two additional crests, which didn't strictly belong to any nation. One was for the independent champions, which the champions of the Shadow Isles and Void were lumped in with, and the other was the Institute of War's crest.
The Institute of War's crest was a complex thing, unlike Demacia's clean silver sword and shields, or Noxus' double headed battle-axe. It consisted of a temple, three gems, and a book, all within a circle. The book was splayed open, its purple pages partially lifted up, as if there was an invisible wind running through the text, and the ends of the pages mutated into hair, which draped over the circle's edge, falling downwards. There were more details, like how chains were connected to the book as though to trap it inside the crest, the powerful aura which appeared to engulf the gems, and the ancient text, unreadable, that ran along the circle's circumference.
It was probably filled with metaphors and symbolism – a treasure trove for historians – but it held little interest for Quinn.
She was more interested in the activity on the floor. Summoners were talking amongst themselves, in small groups, and waiters roamed around, making final preparations. The tables were long and rectangular, rather than the circular ones at Demacian banquets, and there were no seats at either end – no opportunity for someone to sit at the table's position of authority.
"Lots of Summoners around," Quinn observed as they slowed down to examine the entire setup.
"It's always like that," Lux said. "Deterrent from making a scene. Nobody wants to be publicly subdued by a bunch of Summoners."
"Can they really take on a champion?"
"There's enough of them," Lux said. "And besides, the troublemakers generally aren't invited. If you're imprisoned by the Institute, you don't get to see many events – or much sunlight at all, really."
Aside from Summoners and waiters, there were lots of champions who had already arrived, despite the start time of the banquet still being quite a ways away.
At the front of the room, two tables were perpendicular to the rest. High Summoner Vessaria and Dandridge were present at one of the tables, and at the other, Sejuani was waiting, arms crossed. Ashe was positioned a short distance away, too. It seemed the two tables at the front were reserved for the High Summoners and the Freljordian princesses – though Lissandra wasn't anywhere to be seen.
Remembering their short encounter the previous night was enough to make Quinn cold, and she rubbed her arm.
"Cold?" Lux asked.
It actually wasn't entirely Quinn's imagination. The room was cold. "More so than I thought I would be."
"The Summoners should get things under control soon. Freljord's out in force tonight, and some of them are excellent manipulators of the environment."
Lux pointed up at the ceiling, where snowflakes seemed to materialize out of nothing. They melted quickly, before they could drop more than a few meters, and nobody seemed to care. "I almost feel sorry for the Summoners – they're going to be our portable heaters for the next few hours, while we eat delicious food and get drunk."
Quinn didn't feel sorry for them, but that might have had something to do with their magic capabilities.
"I just don't get why they're going through all this effort," she said. "Champions don't have the authority to make decisions for their kingdom, do they? It would make sense if the ambassadors were invited, or something, but just the champions?"
"Just try to enjoy the banquet for what it is – for most of us, it's an opportunity to let loose and have some fun. There is going to be some stuff happening – champions jockeying for position and testing the waters. You saw outside, didn't you? Tristana and Nidalee? You never know, maybe Nidalee is going to side with Bandle city, and Bandle City may already know who they want to support, and they'll be making more deals, in between the passing around of food."
Quinn looked over to the table of Yordles. The inhabitants of Bandle City all seemed innocent and excited, but Lux was probably right.
Lux sighed. "I heard Prince Jarvan's orders to Taric – which amounted to not doing anything aside from breathing and eating – and I imagine other champions have orders from their nations, too."
From two tables over, Karma caught their attention, waved them over, and pointed to their seats. They approached, and Quinn stopped, stunned at the assembly of champions at the crowded table. Earlier that day, she'd had spent some time familiarizing herself with all the champions, so there was no surprise that she recognized everyone at the table, but she was surprised she had personally met almost all of them, in the past few weeks.
Seated on her side of the table, from left to right, was Janna, Lux, herself, Akali, and then an empty chair. On the opposite side of the table, Karma, Irelia, an empty chair, Caitlyn, and, finally, Sarah. The diversity of the table surprised her; there were representatives from five of the major nations. Freljord had probably been left out because all their champions were seated at the front of the room, and Noxus was lacking representation for obvious reasons. The only others missing were Yordle Land and Shurima – both of which were south of the Great Barrier and much less populous.
The sudden presence of so many people was overwhelming, and before Quinn could sit down, she noticed a problem. The dynamic of the table was wrong. Karma, the one who had organized their group, was sitting off to the side, when only two seats over, the middle chair was empty. And across from that empty chair, Quinn was supposed to sit. That put her at the center of the table – something she certainly didn't want, especially if no one arrived to take the opposing chair.
"Lux, Quinn, welcome," Karma said. "Take your seats. No need to be shy – we all know each other here."
Lux seemed to notice her hesitation, because she subtly kicked Quinn's foot as she took a seat. There was nothing Quinn could do about it – expressing any discomfort would only make it worse – so she sat down, too.
"There's still five minutes before the banquet begins, officially, but you two complete our table," Karma said, confirming Quinn's worst fears.
"What about the empty seats?" Lux asked. Whether or not she realized that was Quinn's concern, Quinn silently thanked her.
"As I was explaining shortly before you two arrived, unfortunately not all of us could make it," Karma said.
Sarah, the only one Quinn had yet to personally meet, slammed a fist down onto the table, drawing concerned looks from nearby Summoners and waiters alike.
She wasn't wearing a dress – probably couldn't, if she ever wanted to call herself a pirate again – but like every other female champion of the League, she had her own, unique beauty. She wore a tight camisole, exposing her midriff but unconcerned with how much skin she was showing, and her long red hair flowed down her shoulders. Strong arms and tanned skin made it clear her life as a pirate – and of a champion – was not easy, but when she clenched her jaw and stretched her neck, her neck bones were surprisingly thin, showing that she hadn't foregone all her femininity.
"I can't believe that idiot," she said, pulling her fist away. "Why'd she have to go get herself banned? I was really looking forward to drinking with her."
"Who?" Quinn said.
"Sivir," Sarah said, staring at her incredulously. "They never told you? I mean, it's your fault. She was banned for the stunt she pulled at your introduction."
It struck Quinn as odd, being blamed for it when it was entirely Sivir's fault, but she bit her tongue and vowed to keep her talking to a minimum, throughout the rest of the dinner.
"There's a lot of Ionians, here," Sarah muttered, tapping her finger on the table. She turned an accusing eye to Karma. "Didn't you spout some nonsense about a balanced representation to get me here? And now you're going back on your word."
Karma shook her head. "Demacia is equally represented, here."
"It's two to three, by my count."
"Two to two, by mine. Akali's duty is to the Kinkou Order."
"Doesn't stop you from using me like a slave," Akali muttered.
Sarah was already moving on, challenging Caitlyn's perfume, but Caitlyn wouldn't have any of it.
"Sarah, shut up," she said. "Nobody likes it when you act like this."
Sarah looked around at everyone, and must have realized her complaints weren't appreciated, because she crossed her arms with a heavy sigh and offered no more input. The table basked in the silence for a few seconds before Caitlyn spoke.
"Why us, then?" she said, keeping the tone as diplomatic as possible.
The sudden question, even without context, must have been the question on everyone's mind, because in seconds, everyone was looking towards Karma for an answer.
Sarah, able to keep silent for all of five seconds, cleared her throat. "Isn't it obvious? This is the first meeting of the newly formed League Spinster Association."
"That's depressing," Akali said. "I don't need any reminders."
Karma chuckled. "No, that's not the reason." She looked around the table. "Though I suppose it could be, but we'll leave the relationship talk for later."
"Once the alcohol gets out," Akali whispered with a grin.
"Oh, I know!" Lux said, practically bouncing in her chair. "You wanted to group the beautiful, young woman together to save us from the boring conversations of men!"
"I don't know about young," Irelia said, giving Karma a sidelong glance.
"Quit being so bitter, Irelia. You knew she wouldn't come," Karma said.
"Enlighten us, Karma," Irelia said, ignoring her. "We all want to know."
Karma didn't respond immediately. Instead, she looked at each member of the table individually, her violet eyes analytical and hiding her true intention.
"Because I'm bored of Ionians," she said, failing to deliver on the suspense she had built up.
Several members of the table groaned. It seemed, even to Quinn, like Karma had evaded the question.
"No, no," she said. "Hear me out. We always have the same conversations. Master Yi insists we strengthen our army for when Noxus comes again, and then Lee Sin counters, and it becomes a pointless conversation that I've already heard a hundred times."
"I suppose that makes sense," Lux said, coming to Karma's aid. "It's similar with Demacia. At least here things will stay interesting."
As if taking the words to heart, the conversation changed to the attack on High Summoner Irvin's death, and from there, it jumped subjects a half dozen times, and splintered off into multiple ongoing conversations.
Unfortunately, at the center of the table, Quinn found herself easily able to pay attention to everyone, and all the information she collected hinted towards some hidden hostilities. Irelia and Janna were openly hostile to each other, because of their differing opinions on the Unwilling Passengers, but it seemed Irelia might have also had something against Sarah, and Sarah would lash out at anyone who had slighted her in the least. Lux had previously admitted to not being on good terms with Karma, and Quinn had seen how Akali treated her, but Irelia showed no difference, which was odd because she was Ionian too. Perhaps the seating arrangement was more complex than Quinn had initially thought. It couldn't be easy to keep people from five different nations in harmony.
A high pitched din interrupted their conversation. At the front of the room, High Councilor Linden rose to his feet, set aside a wine glass and knife, and stepped up to the center podium. He was the same man who had spoke before her introduction to the League of Legends. He still looked old, but this time he was without papers to shuffle around, giving Quinn hope that the speech wouldn't be long.
"Welcome," he said, his voice magically augmented and booming through the room. "Welcome to the Freljordian Banquet. The Institute of War holds this banquet today, in spite of the difficulties faced around the world, because today is a historic day – today, there is cause to celebrate."
The crowd was silent, showing a surprising amount of respect for the man as they watched attentively. Vessaria and Dandridge sat behind him, an empty seat between them.
"Twenty two years ago, the Institute of War was founded. It was a time of chaos, where only the strongest and most brutal thrived, and Summoners from every corner of Runeterra banded together, casting away their allegiances to form an organization that would serve the world."
As he continued speaking, Quinn realized it would not be a short speech. While feigning to pay attention, her eyes scanned the room.
The Noxus table, without Katarina and Cassiopeia, didn't look so imposing. The Blood Brothers were there, but they were completely different from fangs and knives. Though no one would say it aloud, Draven was effeminate in his obsession with his looks – specifically his facial hair, which no one would deny had ever been seen messy – and his loud mouth allayed fears of the unknown. Cassiopeia was in stark contrast to Draven. She had not a care in the world when it came to her looks, and would bear her fangs at anyone who so much as looked at her wrong, and no one knew exactly what she was thinking during those moments. Was she a crazed half snake who was exerting willpower to not to bite into innocent passersby, or was it a simple scare tactic?
Draven and Cassiopeia were opposites, and it wasn't much of a stretch to recognize their respective siblings, Darius and Katarina, also as opposites. Darius valued raw strength, and every swing of his axe held behind it the intention of decapitation. He would rend armour and shatter bone, and being on the receiving end of one of his attacks meant, at the very least, it would be a quick, painless death. And if he was the woodcutter, then Katarina was the surgeon. She carried hundreds of knives – though some magic was obviously involved because there was no way she was hiding them all under her shirt – and she wielded them with a deadly accuracy. A single blade of hers was usually enough, if she wanted, but she rarely did. The throwing knives never came alone. One cut to the shoulder would be followed by a thousand nicks to the skin everywhere else on the body, and when she was done playing with her prey, assuming she wasn't content to leave it bleed to death, her blades would always find their mark, never hitting bone and easily finding their way to the vital organs. Throwing knives weren't a common weapon in Runeterra, but it meant no less saying she was the best in the world at it.
When Quinn's eyes travelled over LeBlanc, the woman noticed immediately and gave her a wide smile.
At the independent table, she met the eyes of a little girl in a pink dress. Annie Hastur, the youngest champion of the League of Legends, who was also imprisoned by the Institute. Lux had said the League's prisoners wouldn't be in attendance, but she was wrong on at least this account. From a distance, the girl looked like a life sized doll. Her eyes made no indication of recognizing Quinn as a person – rather, it felt like the girl was staring directly through her, or perhaps seeing anything at all. It was strange, and it saddened Quinn. Such a young girl was already ruined by magic.
Supposedly, Annie had ran away from home at a young age. Her and Quinn had that much in common, but probably not much more. After running away from home, and following a series of ruthless arsons, Annie was caught by the Institute of War. Her parents had probably refused to take her back, being unable to handle her destructive magic, and thus she was imprisoned by the Institute. The duration of her incarceration was unstated.
Maybe if Annie wasn't a psychopath, Quinn might have felt some camaraderie between them, for both being girls who'd ran away from home at a young age. No matter what nation, it wasn't easy being homeless at a young age. But instead, seeing the young girl and her lifeless stare only made Quinn restless.
Even minutes later, Quinn could still remember her gaze. She refocused on the High Councilor's speech. It seemed he was done recounting Runeterra's entire history.
"Today is another step towards peace throughout Runeterra," he said. "Today, we welcome our one hundred and thirteenth champion to the League of Legends – the leader of Freljord's Frostguard – Lissandra."
Lissandra, like so many other powerful mages, thought herself too elite to walk. Beside High Councilor Linden, a patch of ice appeared. She rose up from it, and was standing next to him in the blink of an eye, a thin layer of ice covering her body, like armour. It shattered a second later and the shards of ice twinkled in the light. The crowd was silent – most had already known of, or heavily suspected, the development. Lissandra stood still as the shimmering ice that encompassed her body gradually fell to the ground.
"For five centuries, Freljord has had no ruler. Five hundred years of vulnerability, where infighting has plagued the cold lands. It has been tradition, that Freljord is ruled by a queen. A queen who is both strong and diligent, and who rallies the people of all tribes together, for the benefit of everyone. The entirety of Freljord is at her command, not just her people. To assist her in her duties, the very snow, ice, and earth respond to her will. She is the ultimate ruler of the land, and she is not chosen on a whim. There are requirements to be met, for one to become Freljord's next queen."
From a side door, a Summoner stepped into the room, pushing a trolley. Its contents were covered by a red cloth, and he brought it directly up onto the platform where the High Councilor spoke.
The High Councilor nodded to the Summoner, and continued his speech uninterrupted. "Firstly, the next Queen of Freljord must have the blood of one of the three sisters flowing through her veins. Ashe, descendant of Avarosa, meets this condition. Sejuani, descendant of Serylda, meets this condition. Lissandra, as one of the original sisters, meets this condition.
"The second requirement is that the next queen of Freljord shall collect all three Freljordian Gems. The Snow Gem, the Ice Gem, and the Earth Gem. She shall bring these gems to the Frostguard Citadel, far in the north, beyond the Howling Abyss, where she will place them upon their rightful pedestals to complete the time-honoured tradition. This is the reason Freljord has not recognized a new queen for five hundred years. The location of two of these gems, the Snow Gem and the Earth Gem, are unknown.
"The Ice Gem, however, is not lost. It resides here, with the Institute of War."
He pulled the cloth off the trolley with a flourish. The room fell silent as all eyes landed on the gem placed atop a plush cushion at the center of the trolley. It was, without a doubt, one of the Freljordian Gems. And it was in Senta, under the ownership of the Institute of War.
Ashe, Sejuani, and Lissandra didn't react. They must have been informed beforehand, because they stared forward, looks of determination etched onto their faces.
"The Institute of War and the three recognized princesses of Freljord have come to an agreement," High Councilor Linden said. "This gem, under normal circumstances, is not enough for Freljord to recognize its bearer as queen. For this reason, and with the assistance of High Summoner Irvine, High Summoner Dandridge, and High Summoner Vessaria, we have funneled great amounts of magic into the Ice Gem over the course of many years. Possession of this gem, alone, is sufficient for Freljord to recognize a new queen.
"In order to end this period of strife in Freljord, the Institute of War will host a tournament, to take place on the Fields of Justice between champions chosen by the three princesses. The victor of this tournament will receive the Ice Gem, and will become the Queen of Freljord."
The room noticeably dropped in temperature, and a ripple of excitement ran through the crowd. It was, perhaps, more because of the high profile battles that were coming up than because Freljord's civil war would finally come to an end.
"The tournament will begin in thirty days. The structure of the tournament, and additional details, will be revealed tomorrow. For now, let us hear from each Freljordian princess."
Lissandra took a seat at the Freljord table, next to an ugly, blue haired monster – her only ally in the entire room, Trundle.
It seemed Ashe was first to speak, because she stood, nodding towards Tryndamere before taking center stage. Thankfully, her speech was quick and to the point. She believed Freljord could be made united and strong through a focus on economy.
While Ashe dressed like a true princess, Sejuani had decided to wear her battle armour – the look of a true warlord. Her voice was unfriendly and authoritative. She seemed to focus on one point that Ashe's campaign didn't include – a military strength capable of rivaling Noxus. For many nations, Demacia included, the thought of having another ally – or at least another nation – capable of standing up to Noxus was appealing. That was what Sejuani was banking on. It was easy to imagine Ionia supporting her, for this reason alone. Like Ashe, her speech was only a couple minutes long, and then all of a sudden the atmosphere of the room seemed to change. The air was saturated with curiosity, and every head was facing towards Lissandra.
The woman glided forward. Her face showed no emotions.
"You all know what I want," she said. "I will succeed. I've had five centuries to work with, and I stand before you now, not able to speak the truth, for so long has passed since I have, that I do not remember it in its entirety, and I fear attempting to recreate it will further me from that which once made me human. Was it the world I wanted to rescue, when my peers fought with reason? Or retribution, when they were slain. Redemption, in the eyes of old heroes whom never understood – or perhaps did, yet refused to take the burden upon themselves? But alas, does it not matter?"
Her voice commanded authority, even more than Sejuani's, and the entire room was hanging on every word she said. Some had probably hoped she would reveal a different plan, something more productive than beginning an ice age that would cover the entire continent, and others listened for an explanation – a reason for the insanity. Everyone had a story, and people wanted to believe that Lissandra had one which could explain what she had become and why. There was motivation, somewhere, lost over the course of five centuries.
She turned her back to the crowd, and faced Ashe and Sejuani. Ashe kept looking forward, but Sejuani tilted her head slightly towards Lissandra.
"This is not punishment for your violence and foolishness. It goes beyond the Avarosan, Winter's Claw, and Frostguard. The world will turn to ice."
She returned to her seat in almost complete silence. A single boo erupted from the Yordle table but was quickly silenced with a thud. High Councilor Linden then announced food would arrive shortly, and the room turned into a cacophony of conversations.
Despite things going roughly as expected, everyone seemed eager to talk about it at the same time. Fortunately, Lux didn't jump into the conversation, leaving Quinn someone who she was comfortable talking to.
"Why wasn't she introduced publicly, like I was?" Quinn said.
"Would you want her near the public?" Lux responded. "Some champions are just walking disasters. Most don't find killing civilians fun, but we've got category 'J' champs, for unpredictable people like her, and category 'K' champs for the predictable and kill-everythingy type. Category K champions are mostly the imprisoned ones."
"Like Thresh and Annie?"
"Yeah."
"Did you notice Annie is here? Why is she allowed?"
Before Lux could answer, the food arrived.
On either side of the room, large double-leaf doors swung open. A line of waiters walked out, pushing rolling tables with platters of food covered by metallic domes that glinted in the room's lighting, and on three separate occasions Quinn expected the line to end, but more food kept coming. Empty plates were placed in front of each of them, along with a myriad of utensils, and then the platters of food were set at the center of the table, and once their lids were removed, the scent of food filled their air.
Quinn didn't know how many courses there would be, but they didn't start slow, and just like in Demacia, they took their food presentation seriously.
A crown roast of pork was placed in front of them, dark skin shining with grease and the bones jutting upwards. The roast was still steaming, garnished with sage and sprig, and placed next to it was a watercress salad composed of green leaves and slices of orange, with a multitude of nuts mixed in. The bread platter, with garlic adorning the rim, had three choices – cornbread, flatbread, or garlic bread. Their choices for cheese wasn't lacking, either. The cheese platter had massive cheese wheels and countless slices of cheese. Some were blue, some had holes in them, and some – the ones Quinn avoided – were quietly squealing. Crackers, olives, and garlic were also available to accompany the cheese.
Other platters consisted of fried leeks and other vegetables prepared in different ways, and more choices of meat, for those who didn't like roast lamb.
Conversation quickly died as the food kept coming and everyone began to take their helpings. Five minutes into the first course, a full garlic flew over their table. Quinn tracked it, nearly dropping her fork when she saw where it landed. It bounced off someone's forehead and landed in their soup. The targeted man didn't hesitate when he reached into his hot soup to grab it. He pulled it out, examined it, and then took a large bite out of the garlic, before glowering at the source of the attack – the Yordle Land table. Someone from the table yelped, and the man, seemingly content, tossed the half eaten garlic into the air behind him, where it exploded in a ball of blood that splattered on the ground.
"How is it that Bandle City has never started a war with another nation before?" Janna said, having witnessed the same thing. In fact, most of their table seemed to have followed the incident, but nobody seemed bothered by it.
"Because it would be too damn embarrassing to declare war on them," Sarah said.
"Their land is of no value to Noxus," Karma said. "Besides, Vladimir isn't really weak to garlic. That rumour has to be one of the silliest to come out of the League of Legends."
"I don't know about that," Sarah said. "There are plenty of other, sillier, ones. What I do think is, if we really put our minds to it, we could have the world's greatest food fight."
"We could have the world's greatest anything fight," Lux pointed out.
Despite not a single man sitting at their table, the conversation still devolved into discussing wars.
The new courses that were brought out were less standard than Demacia's banquets, and it was Quinn's first opportunity to see how the Institute represented all the different nations' cuisines. Akali loaded her plate with deep fried seafood and vegetables, an Ionian specialty, and when Sarah commented on how good it smelled, Akali seemed to have taken personal offense, and began stabbing violently at her food. Though Quinn didn't understand it, Sarah had clearly meant to agitate her.
Karma convinced Quinn to try another Ionian specialty that arrived on their table – fried noodles with pork and vegetables. The sauce, alone, tasted good enough that she could have only ate the noodles as her entire meal, but Karma had kept warning her that there was still many unique foods that had yet to come.
The sound of music made Quinn take a temporary break from eating. At the back of the room, the stool of a grand piano was occupied by a woman. It wasn't Soraka, as Quinn had first thought, but Evelynn. Her skin was slightly bluer than Soraka's, but it was the hair that made her really stand out. It changed every time Quinn blinked – sometimes it appeared pink, and other times it was purple or red, or some colour in between that Quinn couldn't confidently name. Three blood-red roses were positioned in Evelynn's hair, above her left ear.
She wore a beautiful, dark red dress embroidered with intricate black designs near the hem, and the cloth seemed to flow off her skin as her hands moved over the piano's keys. Judging by the first few notes, her confidence wasn't a false bravado; she was a very skilled piano player.
At the Bilgewater table, Twisted Fate seemed agonized by the music, first covering his ears and then pulled his head down to block out his face. His legs tensed, as if he was going to stand up and leave, but ultimately, conversation with the only other two people at the table – Gangplank and Graves – kept him still.
From the Demacian table, Sona was watching Evelynn intently. She was also a musician – her instrument, Etwahl, had been her path to fame – so it made sense, but it was still a little interesting. There were so many champions, and they all were connected in small, unexpected ways. Did Evelynn know someone was watching her so closely?
True to Karma's word, the next course had odder plates. The clam chowder held in bowls of hollowed out bread left her speechless, and then the fried chicken on waffles with whipped cream outright confused her. Apparently, Ionia fried and combined anything they could get their hands on. Despite these odd foods, it was the truffle platter that created the most conversation. Burgundy truffles were found only in a small area of Ionia's Navori region, whereas the white truffles were found around the Serpentine river, and everyone at the table seemed to enjoy arguing which were best, and how to properly eat them.
"The fun begins," Sarah said, after interest in the truffle debate died down. A smile crossed her face for the first time that night.
"Fun?" Quinn said.
Her attention was redirected towards the edge of the room, where a large panel on the wall lifted up, revealing an additional space, separated by a polished redwood counter. Behind the counter, a glass cabinet which held countless bottles of alcohol.
Caitlyn watched the scene for a moment before grinning. "They're opening the bar and bringing out the drinks."
Quinn eyed her glass of water. She had been too distracted by all the food to notice the lack of alcohol.
"Why only now?" she asked.
"It took the Institute of War a few years to realize, but they can't start a banquet with alcohol," Caitlyn said. "It's not even Jax and Gragas' fault. There's a surprising number of us who think they're immune to its effects, or otherwise don't understand moderation. So they wait a little bit, before letting things really start."
"You're included in that 'surprising' number," Karma said.
"I'm not that bad," Caitlyn protested.
"You're arguably the worst offender," Karma insisted.
Caitlyn took it as a joke – or maybe a compliment – and smiled.
Akali nodded, leaning towards Quinn. "Keep an eye on her. When she starts acting out, we need to cut her off."
"Who? Caitlyn?" Quinn said, not believing Caitlyn could cause any trouble.
"It's sort of a repressed desire, I think," Akali said. "As the Sheriff of Piltover, she rarely gets the opportunity to have fun. Enforcing the law all the time isn't easy, so when she gets her hands on alcohol, well, she gets this really nasty sense of humor. Like something you would expect out of Fizz. It's gotten worse in recent months, and I think Vi is to blame for it, encouraging her to drink and let loose."
The waiters must have been briefed beforehand, because one of them immediately appeared before Sarah.
"A pitcher of Myron's Dark, please," she said.
The man nodded, showing no surprise at an entire pitcher being requested. This wasn't his first time on banquet duty, apparently.
"Not ordering from your own stock?" Karma asked, surprised.
"I don't like getting drunk on my own brew – even for me, that's too vain."
Lux leaned forward. "You have your own brew?"
"I sure do," Sarah said. "Rapture Rum – the best rum in all of Bilgewater, and by extension, Runeterra."
"Hmm. I'll have some of that, then," Caitlyn told the waiter.
Lux had requested the waiter's wine recommendation, and Karma ordered Sake – an Ionian favorite. Akali listened patiently to everyone else, but never ordered a drink of her own – something to do with the Kinkou Order's restriction on alcohol. Quinn decided to start slow, and got herself a beer.
Though she hadn't really believed it when Caitlyn said so, the availability of alcohol seemed to signal the real start of the banquet. Champions began moving between tables, visiting each other and the bar, greatly increasing the noise level, and Sarah become a hundred times more tolerable – it turned out sober Sarah was the grumpy one at the beginning of the banquet, and inebriated Sarah was a much more cordial person.
Half listening to the conversation – Sarah trying to take bets on how long Irelia and Janna would last before they started fighting – Quinn sipped on her drink and started paying attention to the room beyond their table.
At the Demacian table, she observed an irregularity with Vayne. When Sona excused herself momentarily, Vayne watched her leave and then slumped over, as though the life was sucked out of her body. Her dark braided hair came dangerously close to falling into her soup, and then she crossed her arms on the table and dropped her head onto them and closed her eyes. Nobody else seemed to notice – or possibly cared about – Vayne's behaviour. It was like she had suddenly decided it was time for a nap.
Then again, Vayne had seemed exhausted even in the Demacian headquarters, when Quinn had showed up a week ago. Inspired by the fantasy books she had read, Quinn theorized that Vayne was cursed and dying a very slow death, and only Sona's presence could offset the pain – or maybe it was the romance books that were influencing her thoughts. In either case, there was precedence for it, considering Irelia's dependence on Soraka's magic to keep her soul in Runeterra. And then there was the embarrassing story about Vayne, years ago on the Rift, too.
If Lux was a lightweight drinker, then Janna was a featherweight. Halfway through her second drink, she stopped making sense.
"I'm a queen, now," she said, slurring her words. "I'm stronger and more useful than a king – I don't even need a king. I was a pawn, and I made it to the last rank and was promoted to a queen! And the king – the king is a coward, still hiding away next to his rooks on the first rank. He's moved nowhere, and never will!"
Irelia snorted, but didn't say anything.
"Irelia," Janna shouted, noticing the reaction. "I challenge you to a game of chess! We'll settle this once and for all."
"Inferior!" Irelia responded in kind, hiccuping and slamming the table. "Both you and that game are inferior! The fate of the Unwilling Passengers shouldn't be decided over such a childish game! Play me at a real strategy game, like shogi!"
"Calm down, you two," Karma finally interjected. "The solution is obvious. You must settle this debate with a game of Go."
Simultaneously, both women turned on the duchess.
"Go is stupid!"
"It only has one piece!"
"But its complexity," Karma said, her plea falling on deaf ears.
A short while later, to Quinn's surprise, Gerrit approached their table. Someone had mentioned how Summoners weren't to interact with anyone unless trouble was brewing, but Gerrit skirting the rules somehow didn't surprise her. He snuck up on Janna and tapped her on the shoulder. She half turned, but when she saw his face, resumed eating her food.
"I visited Zaun last month," he said, hiding any irritation he felt at being snubbed. "Earl passed away."
A dark look crossed Janna's face, and she pushed her plate away.
"I don't care," she said, dropping her fork with a clatter.
"The rest are fine. Zella was asking about you."
"I said, I – don't – care."
"She always asks about you."
Janna stood up, knocking her chair into Gerrit, who stumbled backwards. She spun around, fists clenched. "Look at us," she said. "Look at where we are. You're a Summoner, what more could you want? I'm a champion of the League – I have money, power, respect – I have a motherfucking fan club – and you have the audacity to talk about what once was? We're out of that shithole, and – and that's that. No reason to look back, no reason to turn back."
The outburst caught Gerrit by surprise, and he took a few steps back, his face pale. It didn't seem like he could formulate a response.
"That's right," Janna said. "So don't talk to me about them. We've moved on. We've made our decisions, they've made theirs."
Slowly, Gerrit nodded. "We've made our decisions. Right or wrong, we need to live with them for the rest of our lives. There's no going back."
Just as he was about to leave, his eyes widened and he stopped, tapping his ring finger. Janna looked down at her own.
Sitting only two seats down from the drama, Quinn could see a gold ring on her finger. Around the band, two hands enveloped a heart, with a crown rested on top. It was an unfamiliar design, but the ring was still quite beautiful, if not scratched and discoloured from age.
"What was it, again?" Gerrit said. "Friendship, love, loyalty?"
It slipped off Janna's finger without her touching it. Her cloak fluttered in a localized wind, and the ring fell into an opened pocket. The fabric flowed back into place, perfectly hiding the pocket again.
"It looks nice on me," she said haughtily. "You have a problem with that?"
"Yes, I do. You don't think you deserve to wear it. You said it yourself – we've made our decisions, and we've moved on."
Not waiting for another potential outburst, Gerrit retreated to the edge of the room, joining other Summoners who pretended they didn't see what had just transpired.