She woke to what sounded like wind chimes, though it wasn't windy, and then something rough and wet brushed across her face. Instinctively, she pulled away, only to hit her head against something else. She heard a groan, and then from the direction of the wind chimes, a snort, and she opened her eyes just in time to receive a face full of cow spittle. Wiping the slobber away, Quinn found herself face to face with a cow.
"I'm up, I'm up," Lux groaned, rolling over and rubbing her head.
"Sorry," Quinn said. "Didn't mean to head-butt you. A cow startled me."
She took a second to assess her situation – that being, lying in a field with Lux and a cow – and then she sighed, shrugging off the blanket that covered them. It took a second to realize the blanket hadn't been there last night, meaning someone had visited them while they were sleeping. She eyed the blanket warily, before the stench of the animal's breath made her face the more immediate problems.
"Shoo," Quinn said, waving her arm at the curious cow.
The animal stared at her for a few long seconds, but then lost interest in the battle of wills and stomped off with a derisive swish of its tail. She watched it as it rejoined the rest of its herd and began to graze. They didn't pose a threat, but Quinn was still uneasy. Sleeping on a hill was nowhere near as safe as in a tree – and to do it so close to a city was reckless. Talk about making herself an easy target for an assassin.
Lux sat up a moment later, rubbing her eyes and trying to blink away the sleep. She saw Quinn, offered a tentative smile, and then looked around at their surroundings.
"What are we doing out here?" she finally laughed. "We really stayed out here the whole night?"
Quinn chuckled. "We really did. Though I blame you."
"If I remember correctly, you were the one nodding off," Lux said, laying back down and looking up at the sky. "And then we didn't do anything. We just stayed here. All night. It was beautiful. It really was. Blanket," she said a moment later, noticing the thing draped over her. "Where did you get it?"
"I didn't. It was covering us when I woke up."
"I guess we were caught," Lux said, running a hand along the fabric and then looking out to the farm house across the field. "I'll return it."
She folded the blanket and stood up.
Grass clung to Lux's back, her hair a mess of gold that, thankfully, no cow had mistaken for hay, the morning sun shone down on them, between the clouds in the sky, and Quinn wanted to hold onto the moment forever. She'd had that thought before, because of Lux.
Was that it, then? They were just going to part ways, and Quinn might not see her for another week? Maybe it was better that way. It would be one less variable in the equation, and there was no way Lux could get hurt by some incompetent assassin, if they kept their distance. Still, Quinn found herself half reaching out for Lux, as she walked away.
"Wait-" Quinn said.
Lux turned around. "Yes?"
"I – uh – nothing. Never mind."
"With so many Demacians returning to the capital, I think I'm going to spend the day around headquarters. Taric might need assistance. What're you going to do?"
"The library," Quinn said.
"Drop by later, maybe, okay?"
The library? Really? Well, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Being unable to use magic didn't mean she should be ignorant of it.
The Blessedback turtle, sometimes referred to as the flying snapping turtle, originated from the Blessed Isles.
Their average lifespan is five to six centuries, and only once during a female's life will she lay eggs. She will lay, on average, four eggs. These eggs will be buried at a high elevation, often in the snow. The mother turtle will then abandon her eggs, returning to where vegetation is more abundant. When the young hatch, they must quickly learn to fly, else they will starve at the high elevation, where little food is available.
Blessedbacks are venomous creatures. Their venom, in small amounts, can cause paralysis, and in large amounts, death.
The Blessedback played a vital part in the Blessed Isles' ecosystem. Their diet consisted primarily of a specific species of rose known as the Shiva Rose. This rose, which grew aggressively and killed all neighbouring plants, was also extremely poisonous. The Blessedbacks, being immune to the poisons, were the only inhabitants of the island capable of culling the plant, and they were well respected for this reason.
Following the Cataclysm – and the inception of the Shadow Isles – all surviving Blessedback left the island. Many died, unable to adapt to new regions, but a few migrated to Bilgewater and found their niches. Though they no longer eat Shiva Roses, the Blessedback have an inclination towards red foods, such as red roses, strawberries, apples, and tomatoes.
At the end of the text, there was a drawing of the turtle. It was an old pencil sketch – perhaps originating from centuries ago – but the drawing wasn't necessary in the first place. There was little doubt that Quinn had just read about Tamago, the Institute of War's librarian and guardian.
She looked up at the turtle. Now properly informed, the playful nips at LeBlanc the other day didn't seem so playful anymore. At least Tamago didn't try to bite her – she wasn't sure if her reflexes were quick enough to avoid him.
Quinn closed the book and sighed. The hint might have been a little too obvious; Tamago had brought her the book the moment she had sat down in the library.
Red food wasn't hard to come by. The market had all kinds of red things, food included, and once she'd confirmed there would be no difficulty in her task, she began to wonder what qualified as acceptable for a Blessedback turtle. It seemed like the colour was more important than the actual nutritional value of the food. Stopping at a butcher's stall, Quinn frowned. Raw meat was reddish, did it count? And what about the blood dripping from it? Did Blessedbacks drink blood? Or, on a lighter note, what about red wine, lobster, or poisonous holly?
Shifting of the crowd alerted Quinn, and it didn't take much effort to pick out the right conversation – the cause of the sudden discomfort – in the marketplace.
"Be careful not to drop it," a familiar voice said.
"Yessir."
"If it breaks, there won't be anything left of you."
"Yessir."
"Not even a little bit."
"Yessir."
"Nothing, from hair to shoe."
"Yessir."
Quinn fought against the crowd. The squeaky voice was unmistakable.
"Ziggs," Quinn said, catching sight of him.
The Yordle jumped in the air and clapped excitedly, before waddling over, his assistant forgotten. "It's a Quinn."
"Caitlyn said you had something to tell me."
"That's true. I sure do," Ziggs said, looking left and right. "It's important, so open an ear, an eye, and I promise not to lie!"
"I'm listening."
"The Sheriff should not hear, of Demacia's greatest fear."
He motioned for her to kneel down, so they would be closer. Knowing no progress would be made otherwise, Quinn obeyed. The advantage of being a crazy Hexplosive expert was the privacy. Nobody wanted to be collateral damage when he finally made a lethal mistake, so he was always given a wide berth – even in the middle of marketplaces.
"Twas an inside job. The bomb," Ziggs whispered, shivering at the word. "It was planted by a Demacian named Kaiser. He is your attempted murderer. With a huff and a puff he blew your house down!"
As LeBlanc had said. Kaiser. Ziggs confirmed her information, and unless she influenced him, then it was true – a Demacian had tried to kill Quinn. Very possibly the same one who'd hired the assassin back in the capital.
"How did you figure this out?" Quinn said.
"He's a clown," Ziggs said. "Didn't hide his name, nor his shame, when he bought the stuff."
Stuff being the explosives, Quinn assumed.
"But he doesn't work alone, my sources say," Ziggs continued. "He has hidden allies, in the fray."
"I see. Thank you."
Quinn withdrew, feeling bad for the assistant, who held an ominous looking box and had beads of sweat running down his face.
Tamago approved of the strawberries she had returned with. In return, he truly took on the role of librarian. He would bring her texts to read – mostly relating to dimensional magic, as she'd requested – and while she was reading the dusty old tomes, he'd munch happily on his strawberries.
Initially, she had wanted to spend the whole day looking into the problem of how to remove a dimensional anchor from herself, but the Institute's library proved to be too great of an opportunity. Within a couple books, she was reading about all kinds of different magic.
One book that Tamago brought her discussed the magic behind the Freljordian Gems. They had an intricate relationship with nature itself, and were also classified as memory gems – that was, between the three of them, they stored the entirety of Freljord's history. Memory gems didn't need to be actual gems, but gems were both valuable and long lasting, and tradition held strong for mages capable of infusing memories into objects. The Freljordian gems were a unique case of memory gems, however. They were the first ever of their kind, and weren't created by mages. Instead, Runeterra had somehow manifested the magic necessary, and humans had learned the magic by examining them.
"Next," Quinn said, closing the book an hour later.
Tamago was quick on the next one. He was gone less than a minute before another book was dropped in front of Quinn. The book's cover depicted two naked women with interlocked legs. Before starting the book, she tried to guess how it was related to her studies, but came up with nothing. Opening it, she managed to read a single sentence before the scent of roses wafted up from the pages, and she slammed the book shut again.
The book was, without a doubt, completely unrelated to her studies. Now was not the time to be reading those sorts of books. And if LeBlanc had touched it at any point in time, there probably wasn't ever a right time to read it. How intelligent was Tamago, really? Maybe he had just wanted to get back to his strawberry.
Before she could demand another, more appropriate book, the library doors swung open.
"There you are," Lux said, rushing into the room. The concept of a library must have eluded her, because, she made no attempt at staying quiet. "Come on, come on, we need to go."
"Go?" Quinn said, shoving the book under the table. "Where?"
"Demacian headquarters," she said, grabbing Quinn's arm and pulling her out of the chair. "You have mail – and have you even seen the newspaper, this morning? With no fixed address, they're dumping your letters there. At least you and Ashe didn't get the front page – that would've been disastrous. What am I saying? It is disastrous, anyways. Taric is really overwhelmed, so let's not keep him waiting."
"Could you maybe try sticking to one topic at a time?"
Valor joined them on the way to the Demacian headquarters. Between her parting ways with Lux, and arriving at the library, she had filled him in on Thresh's actions, the Unwilling Passengers, and Kaiser. They would need to have a long conversation soon, but at least he knew what was going on. For now, Valor seemed curious about the mail, and his intuition wasn't ever to be ignored.
Once inside the Demacian headquarters, Valor quickly flew up to the rafters, where he he had space to spread his wings without bothering anyone, and where he was able to watch everyone in the building. It was surprisingly crowded, too, considering how many champions had left for Demacia. There were a handful of Demacian ambassadors – nameless nobles with their heads held high – who roamed the building, bringing papers back and forth and talking amongst themselves. At the head of the main table, Taric was buried in a mound of documents.
"They're really pulling us thin," Taric said, taking notice of them after a minute or so of frustrated sighs. "Sit, please."
Sitting at the table, already, was Vayne, who was sleeping with a pile of papers as her pillow, and Sona, whose quill floated above a blank page, poised to write. Kayle was present, too. She was adorned in gold armour – not glittering like Taric's gems, but a matte metal that was almost a bronze, or orangish colour. Her eyes were hidden as she looked up at Quinn and Lux, but somehow she still felt personable. She silently nodded towards them, and Quinn felt impelled to return the gesture.
"What a bummer."
A woman appeared from the kitchen area, stunning Quinn and completely overriding Taric's order to sit down.
Ahri was beautiful in the newspaper, in photos, and by word of mouth, but meeting her in person was completely different. She was still beautiful, but the word felt like it took on a completely different meaning, in the context of Ahri. Like she was a goddess, who descended to the realm of mortals, and who was everything that was right with the world. Her looks could end wars and cure terminal diseases, and she was the source of inspiration for artists everywhere. She was perfection, crystallized.
Her tails – Quinn paused to count all nine of them – were long and bushy, and well groomed, unlike actual foxes, and they swished back and forth in unison, like a metronome to brainwash the vulnerable. The pure whiteness of her tails were counteracted by her red dress. It was sleeveless, hugging her hourglass form with no shame, and every inch of her, from her wide hips to the curves of her breasts, shoulders, and armpits, were perfect. The dress failed to cover much skin on her upper half, though, and much too much of her upper breasts were visible. The men who weren't already entranced by her tails certainly would be by her chest, which was probably the envy of women everywhere. And then there was her lips, full, red, and curved slightly upwards in both a curious and taunting smile.
But there was more, which normal woman didn't have and couldn't flaunt. Her fingers, bent slightly as though she were grasping something, were long and slender, and her nails sharp like weapons, painted the same blood-red as her lips. Golden yellow eyes which, though it wasn't dark, still seemed to glint as they watched, entertained. The thing that gave Quinn the longest pause, however, were her ears. Cat ears. There was the inexplicable urge to reach out and touch them – something Quinn hoped could be explained away by magic, rather than some as-of-yet undiscovered fetish.
"I come for some fun, but it's all woman," Ahri said, crossing her arms over her breasts.
Sona tilted her head, not-so-subtly motioning towards Taric, but he was too busy to notice. Thankfully so, because Ahri shook her head dismissively.
"I'll just have to make due," she said, eyes now roaming over Quinn and Lux.
Quinn hadn't believed the rumours, but Ahri's casual voice – both soft and feminine – actually did have a suggestive undertone to it. No matter what she said, it felt like an innuendo.
"Ugh – who invited you?" Lux said.
Ahri pointedly ignored her. "Quinn, is it? I've something for you," she said, slinking over. With the way she said it, Quinn expected something other than her dropping a newspaper onto the table. "It's quite an... interesting read."
A tail brushed against her pants, and then tried to slip underneath the hem, but Lux ended the attempt with a not-so-subtle stomp. For a second, though, Quinn had felt Ahri's fur against her ankle. It was softer than any pillow she'd ever felt, and she wondered how well of a night's rest she might get, using Ahri's tail as a pillow. And maybe as a blanket, too. Valor dropped from the ceiling, spreading his wings out at the last second and blasting her with wind, before circling the room and returning to the rafters.
Taking advantage of the wake-up call, Quinn employed her entire willpower towards focusing on the Senta Herald. Still, her burning ears would give her thoughts away, to anyone who was watching closely.
A large image on the front page of the paper featured the Machinist, Viktor, and a short bald man. The text claimed he was one of Zaun's councilmen – someone who helped rule the nation – and while he was undeniably ugly, Quinn's attention didn't linger on him for more than a fraction of a second. The paper's headline was unignorable.
Zaun to support Lissandra and the Frostguards.
"Not that, silly," Ahri said, leaning in, pressing her cheek against Quinn's as she flipped to the second page of the paper. "This."
Ahri took a second before withdrawing – Lux might have pulled on her hair, though Quinn wasn't entirely sure – and then Zaun's insanity was forgetting, as, with growing horror, Quinn read the article.
Quinn Attridge, the newest addition to the League of Legends, wasn't the newest for long. Lissandra's arrival has quickly overshadowed her presence, but her abilities shouldn't be underestimated. Her practical, down-to-earth fighting style is forgettable, with plenty of flashy champions all around her, but she hasn't lost a battle on the Summoners Rift, yet. An exclusive interview with a close friend of Quinn's reveals more about the Demacian native.
Reporter: Let's start things off with a easy question. How would you describe Quinn?
Anonymous source: She's not as she seems, for starters (laughs). With animal-like instincts integrated into her fighting, she's no match for the average combatant. You could say she has the reaction time of a deer, the intelligence of a hunter, and the ruthlessness of a barbarian.
R: A deer, hunter, and barbarian, you say? And how does her magic play a role in all this?
A: You're getting ahead of yourself, here. The thing is, she has no magic.
R: No magic? It's true that we haven't seen any from her, in her two matches on the Rift, but that's still hard to believe. Is this unprecedented, for a champion of the League of Legends?
A: Well, maybe I should correct myself, here. She has no magic of her own, but she makes good use of others' magic. That, combined with an unnaturally high constitution, makes her a real contender on the field of battle. I wouldn't say it's unprecedented, with the likes of Blitzcrank and Jax, among other champions, but it's certainly rare. Magic tools help offset this, and it's a testament to how powerful these champions are, that they can compete with the likes of the Syndras and Luxs of Runeterra (pauses). That being said, I've always wondered if Quinn's physical constitution isn't bolstered by some sort of magic – of course, I've asked her about it before, and she says she doesn't know, which likely means it's not.
R: I see. But, I feel you've only answered half of my first question. What can you say about Quinn, outside of her combat abilities?
A: She's very practical. Not one to get sucked into society's fads and fashion (laughs). That's just from her upbringing though. Far from the capital, people have different values.
R: A woman who doesn't spend money like water. Now, for all the bachelors out there, tell us, is she available?
A: She's a tomboy, and I think it turns away many men, who can't bear to date anyone stronger than themselves. She has, however, found herself a fair number of women.
R: Women? Am I hearing you correctly?
A: That's right. Quinn has always had a tendency towards other women. By the time she had graduated, she'd had multiple female partners. Of course, none of these relationships lasted long. Quinn has always been a drifter, so to speak, so she's more of a use-em-and-drop-em type of woman, now.
To drive the point home, a picture below the text featured her and Ashe hugging. Captioned: More Than Just Friends. Quinn (left) and Ashe (right), hugging outside the Institute of War. Their relationship has been on and off for the past few years, as Quinn refuses to settle down. Despite Ashe's recent engagement, it seems there are lingering feelings between the two of them.
Quinn pushed the paper away. There was more of the interview, but she'd seen enough. "That's-"
"It's the tabloid, Quinn," Lux said, her eyes still on Ahri. "Nobody believes a word of it – nobody important, at least."
Ahri clicked her tongue. "They get it right, sometimes. I was just wondering if this could be one of the times."
"That's not possible. I never even graduated," Quinn said. "This is all made up."
"I see," Ahri said, looking downcast. Even her tails drooped with disappointment. Though in the same second, one of the drooping tails began to sneak its way up Quinn's pant leg, again. Of course, it wasn't long enough to reach anywhere meaningful, but it found a different mark. The back of her knee was tickled, and Quinn reached out, bracing herself against a chair as an involuntary shudder ran through her body. "But that's fine," Ahri whispered. "They can be lies. More importantly, you seem... stiff. Perhaps I could alleviate some of your undue tension? I promise to show you a good time."
Lux intervened, pushing away Ahri's tail. "She's not your plaything, fox girl. Back off."
A smirk crossed Ahri's face. "I see... I rescind my offer anyways – the paper was right about one thing, at least. It appears she does not have enough magical energy for my services. You, on the other hand, Luxanna Crownguard... I have lusted after for awhile."
Lux seethed. Quinn hadn't ever seen her so mad, and she half expected a fight to erupt. On a horizontal support beam far above them, Valor spread his wings, readying himself.
"I've spent many days courting Garen," Ahri said, oblivious. "But he has proven hopeless. If I didn't know better, I'd say... an eunuch. And the Crownguard family has tempted me for years, so I have been watching you, lately. How about it, Lady of Luminosity?"
"You're disgusting," Lux said, "and, quite frankly, I think you'd better leave before I'm forced to make you."
A drawn-out sigh escaped Ahri's lips. "If you have a change of heart, you know where I live... A quick visit before you leave town wouldn't hurt anyone."
"Leave."
Lux had barked the order – sounding momentarily like her brother – and Ahri glared at her for a second before swishing her tail and stalking out of the building. The atmosphere seemed to change as she left – maybe it did, and Quinn just wasn't as attuned to the room's magic, because of all the time she'd spent in the city. In either case, Quinn exhaled a breath, feeling more like herself with every passing second.
"You really don't like Ahri, do you?" she said.
"That whore has been after my brother for years. I don't get why Ionia keeps her around. She's brought enough disgrace to them, you'd think they would toss her in the Pit of Pallas."
Before Quinn could sympathise or just offer a offhanded grunt of agreement, Taric called them over.
"You could have handled Ahri a little more diplomatically," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"What was she even doing here?" Lux challenged.
"She said she hadn't met Quinn yet, and wanted to. I thought it would be safer to have that happen here and now, rather than leaving it up to chance."
"I'm not-" Quinn started. "I wouldn't have-"
"Quinn, this is nothing against you," Taric said, taking a rare moment to look up from his work. "Ahri pursues every new face in town, and she can be very aggressive about it. When she makes full use of her charm, I hate to say it, but she's successful more times than not. Particularly when she catches her prey alone. Now, we have other matters to attend to." His brusque change in topic was temporarily shut down, as he spent a minute digging in the piles of paper. Finally, he withdrew a parchment, sealed by a wax Demacian crest. "Quinn, a letter from the king."
When she hesitated to take it, Lux nudged her forward. Breaking the seal, she unravelled the parchment. Valor was positioned on the rafters above them, his sharp eyes easily capable of reading it, too. She had never taught him how to read – it was always something she'd taken for granted, and rather than dwell over the realization now, she focused on the inked cursive words.
Special Recon Squad, Sergeant First Class Quinn Attridge
The King hereby orders you return to the Demacian capital with great haste. You have been summoned to the King's court, where you will present yourself for the following matters:
-an urgent mission for the Special Recon Squad.
-the resulting punishment for your desertion of duty on June 16th, of the 22nd year of the League Era.
-repercussions of the attack on Everridge, by the Shadow Isles creature known as Guillotine.
There was more writing scrawled at the bottom of the letter.
Your parents are safe. They have been evacuated to emergency housing in the capital, with most of the rest of the village.
- Jarvan IV
Quinn took a deep breath, and exhaled.
The letter was a roller coaster of emotions. In one breath, they were talking about a mission, and the next, a punishment. And when had Everridge been attacked? She hadn't heard anything about it.
"Are you returning to the capital?" Taric said.
Quinn cast a furtive glance upwards, to Valor. She couldn't ask him aloud, because of all the other people present in the room, so she tried to communicate as much as she could through eye contact. Valor bobbed his head, confirming their return to Demacia, and maybe she knew all along that it was the right decision – running wasn't the solution to the current problem, not yet, at least – but it still helped to have an unbiased and definite answer.
"I'll leave at once," she said, walking to the fireplace and properly disposing of the letter.
"Good," Lux said, clapping her hands cheerfully. "The horses are at the stable. We'll take Elm and Elalah."
"We will?"
"Yes, yes, assuming Fiora didn't take either of them last night. She has a preference for Beau."
"I mean – you're coming too?"
"I got a letter from the king ordering me back. Is that a problem?"
"No," Quinn said, after a moment of consideration.
"I don't know what the king is thinking," Taric said, returning to the papers in front of him, and striking out paragraphs of writing. "There will only be the four of us left here, so make it a quick trip."
"I don't think so," Lux said. "The king has a mission for me, apparently."
Quinn didn't say anything about her letter, and surprisingly neither of them asked. She had some suspicions, but at the same time, she was pretty sure the king was smarter than to send two scouts on the same job.
"Also, Quinn, you have business in the Sealed Room. Lux, if you're leaving together, you can sign some papers while you wait. She shouldn't be long."
Not once did Taric look up, and Lux mouthed 'sorry', before pointing towards a door at the back of the room, and then sitting down herself.
The Sealed Room was exactly what it sounded like; it was blocked off from everything else, physically and magically. Behind two sets of heavy doors, it was a small, featureless area with a single table and two chairs. Embedded into the center of the table was a gem, which must have acted as the source of the protection. Akali was already in one of the seats, leaning back with her eyes closed. When Quinn stepped inside, the door automatically closed behind her, and Akali opened an eye.
"Top notch security," she said, not sounding all too impressed.
"What did you want? Is this all really necessary?"
"I just told Taric I needed a private conversation with you – nothing so extreme. The Sealed Room is more for top secret business, like toppling nations." Akali grinned, reaching into a bag hanging from her chair. She pulled out an envelope and set it on the table between them.
Quinn picked it up and examined it. The envelope's material was light purple, and a wax crest sealed it. The Kinkou Order's crest was a complicated thing, best described as swirls spiralling inwards. There were also curved swords around the outer edge – possibly scimitars, or the like – but it was still symmetrical and elegant.
"This may seem odd," Akali said, "but I have a request for you, from the Kinkou Order. Taric said you're probably returning to Demacia, so it's nothing too troubling, I think. Just a few minutes' deviation from your schedule to deliver this letter."
"I'm not a delivery man," Quinn said flatly.
"I know," Akali said. "But this isn't something I can trust to the public mail delivery service. It would be very troublesome if it didn't get delivered."
"Fine, I'll do it," Quinn said, surprising herself.
"What? Really? Excellent." She stood up, handing Quinn a small piece of paper. "Coboro street. A man named Shadrick."
"Okay."
Quinn was caught in a good mood – that was all she could say. Either that, or she was getting accustomed to people asking her favours, and since becoming a pushover didn't sound appealing, she dismissed the theory, and stepped out of the room, freeing Lux of her paper signing duty. Together, they left the headquarters.