A/N: This takes place at the same time as the next chapter, so there are 'missing' scenes that will appear next time.

Lux didn't wait for a response.

She knew Quinn would protest. In fact, words were just forming on Quinn's lips when she hopped back, smiled, and pressed the backs of her hands together.

It was like sifting through the environment. Things such as sound and temperature weren't needed, and she threw them away to focus on the interplay between colour and the natural lighting. A second later, having pushed aside all the noise, a tingling sensation ran through her body. Lux was invisible, and Quinn's words died on her lips, turning into a scowl that was all too familiar.

Without a goodbye – she didn't plan on being long – she left Quinn with the horses and reentered the village. The tingling sensation that ran through her body when she first turned invisible hadn't completely gone away. It never did, and it would eventually grow worse and worse, like a numbness from lack of blood flow, until she could no longer stand on her own. That would be when her time was up, but she would be done much sooner.

If she had stopped to think about it for a moment, she might have decided not to go snooping around in the first place. This was going outside of her comfort zone. Not emulating Quinn's rashness, but a return to the way she'd once been, before the military had sucked all the real adventure out of her.

At the door, she waited for someone to pass through and open it for her, but this patience fizzled and died quick enough, and she pulled it open herself. Stepping inside, she breathed a sigh of relief. Nobody had looked at the door. They were all too preoccupied with their drinks, food, and conversation.

Ale, in the barracks? she wondered. Could they not have built a separate building for their drinking habits?

Navigating her way through the crowd to the chief was a bigger challenge than she expected, as the men staggered around and changed directions sudden and often. It occurred to her that she might have been better off doing this part completely visible.

"The Marnettes are going to be pissed when they hear about this."

At the back of the room, the conversation had grown in volume and tension.

"They aren't the only family who lost someone in the attack." The voice of the chief, low and guttural like a Freljordian barbarian, was easily recognizable. "We have to make sacrifices. The sooner she returns to the capital, the better it is for us."

"We don't even know whose side she's on," another man said.

"You doubt me? The Crownguards themselves tried to kill her. An' you know what? She called them out on it. Fearless, I say."

"You sure 'bout that? 'Cause she sure looked friendly with Luxy."

"Keep your frien's close, and your enemies closer," the chief said.

He's wrong, Lux thought. A loud bang of the table accompanied her thoughts, and she stared down at her hands in astonishment. A few people flinched, but nobody questioned the source of the noise – maybe the conversation was too heated for anyone to notice. She quickly retracted her hands and crossed her arms.

Recognizing her emotions was acceptable, but acting on them was not. Despite everything, it was still her biggest weakness.

The chief continued his tirade, his words growing angrier and angrier by the moment. "Tell me what you think she was doing during the month she was missing? You think she was aimlessly wandering around, and jus' happened to show up at Senta to become a motherfucking champion? It ain't a coincidence, I say. Same time she's back in the picture, the resistance is on the rebound."

One of the men finally pieced two and two together. "You think she's pulling the strings? Like – like she's responsible for it?"

"It ain't no coincidence that she was with Luxanna Crownguard, let me say that much. Something big is going to happen, soon, an' it may be the best chance we ever get in our lifetimes."

"What you're saying is impossible. She's just one person – a human, to boot. Not like, an angel or an elf or whatever the fuck they have making daisies dance in Senta. No way she can change Demacia. She could have helped us, though. One less wyvern in the world is more happen-able than one less monarchy."

The room devolved into arguments as the men jumped to attack or defend the chief's words and decisions. Several men used fist banging to accompany their argument, further proving that Lux hadn't been so out of line. A village meeting was much different from a noble one.

"Quiet!" the chief roared. "Quiet, everyone. You will listen to me. She's on our side – someone very close to her has assured me of that, and she's stronger than you think. You ever even hear of that motherfucking chunk of gold they call the Door of Acceptance? None of you could understand unless you've seen the Door in person. It's no' something easy to open, and not something you'd be wise to underestimate, I say. 'Sides, even without her, the resistance isn't as weak as it seems – we have backers with resources and good brains supporting us."

"Who?"

"I shouldn't say."

"Tell me who can defeat the greatest swordsmen and magicians in the world," the man challenged. "I will sacrifice my life if we can win – but my wife, and my daughter – I can't die until I'm assured they will get the life they deserve."

The chief rubbed his neck and looked around the table. His eyes passed Lux without a pause, and she saw an intensity in them that could only be what made him chief in the first place. He was a man you had to respect. All this arguing only proved the stakes were much more than Lux could understand.

"What I say mustn't leave this room," the chief said. "Very few in the resistance know of our most powerful supporters. They are those who seek balance in this world. You may not have heard of them, but they aren't to be messed with. They're Ionian, and they call themselves the Kinkou Order."

Lux pulled away from the table. The sting of invisibility was putting a strain on her legs, and she needed to be somewhere she could dispel her magic. Already, her reaction times were probably tripled, like the drunkards in the room. Like a drunkard – which she really wished she was, right now.

The Kinkou Order.

Retracing her steps out of the village, the words resounded in her ears.

They were plotting against Demacia. How was she supposed to react? No matter how she tried, she couldn't distance herself from Demacia to put herself in their shoes. Demacia, to her, was the epitome of balance. As one of the oldest nations, it had been there for centuries, and nobody expected it to stop existing any time soon. So many nations relied on it for trade, and so many people immigrated to the nation and were educated there every year. It wasn't hard to understand that Demacia was the keystone of Runeterra – Senta and the Summoners be damned – and to plot its downfall?

At the very least, they had Quinn all wrong. In fact, Lux wouldn't even bring it up with Quinn, because it was all so obviously wrong.

All of it. The ravings of a madman.

Lux stopped and watched for a minute.

With a permanent scowl on her face, Quinn was pacing back and forth between Elm and Elalah. Every couple seconds, she'd turn her head towards the village, only to look away again. Only during those moments would her scowl would disappear, and Lux realized it was because Quinn was concerned. If Lux was foolish enough to start questioning everything, she would wonder if the concern was for herself, or for what she might learn by eavesdropping on the villagers.

But she wasn't foolish. She needed to get her mind off the bad, and onto the good.

Twice, on the approach, Quinn seemed to notice something. It might have been the leaves on the ground giving her away, or the wind or the dirt, or any combination of them. Or it might have been her smell, too, Lux thought with a grimace. Taking perfume or deodorant into the unmapped forests of Demacia was generally a bad idea. It could be smelled from far away, and there were at least one or two unpleasant things that lurked in the forest who were attracted to strong scents.

"Lux?" Quinn said, putting her back to a tree and crossing her arms. "I know you're here. Enough games."

Lux waited the suspicion out and slowly made her way forward until they were right in front of each other.

Without warning, Quinn sighed and pushed herself away from the tree. Lux didn't react in time – her invisibility had been active so long that standing was becoming uncomfortable, yet alone reacting – and they collided. She was hardly surprised when Quinn reacted right away, first reaching for a weapon, and then recognizing Lux and reaching for her, wrapping an arm around her and stopping her fall.

"Oh," Lux said. "Hi."

"What were you doing?"

"Nothing." She'd had some ideas – playing with Quinn's hair, tickling her, whispering in her ear – but maybe it was best that she didn't get the chance.

When Quinn pulled away, Lux stumbled.

"Hold me for a minute," she said, her face heating up only after she realized how intimate it sounded. Thankfully, no one else was around except for the horses.

"What?" Quinn said, sounding weary but re-offering her support nevertheless.

"I used a lot of magic," Lux explained. "I still feel a little unsteady."

It was a half lie, but Quinn only hesitated a moment before offering her support. Again, Lux was taking advantage of Quinn. She could have just as easily sat down, or leaned against a tree like Quinn had been doing a moment earlier, but she was being needy.

It reminded her of the field outside Senta. They'd been so close,the alcohol had taken over the moment, and she nearly went too far. But it was Quinn's fault, bringing her out there like that.

You're on our side, right? She wanted to ask. On my side?

She heard the whistling of wind a split second before receiving a face full of feathers. For a bird, Valor showed no signs of fragility as he dove in between them, thrust his wings out, and separated them. Apparently he didn't like other people getting too close to Quinn. She tried to take it in stride, and laughed it off.

Quinn cleared her throat. "Well?"

"Well what?" Lux said.

"The chief – he lied?"

"It was nothing," Lux rushed to said. "I guess I was wrong."

Quinn turned west, towards the capital. "If they haven't been attacked by the wyvern yet, then nobody knows where it is, or how strong it is."

There was more that felt unsaid. That was a common theme with Quinn, even if she was much more talkative and open than when they first met.

"We need to keep going," Lux said. The chief's insistence had somehow infected her, and now she needed to see what was going to happen.

"The capital," Quinn agreed, returning to her horse.

Valor squawked and took flight, leading the way.

"I'm going to hop in the river," Quinn said.

Hearing the words was enough to make Lux shiver. "Don't catch a cold."

"Never do."

With Quinn gone, Lux walked around the campsite. It was a fresh morning and they were well rested. Elm and Elalah were already fed, watered, and ready to go, so she didn't have anything to do. Twice, in the ten minutes she was stretching her legs, an unsavory act came to mind, and each time she managed to dismiss it because she considered herself a halfway decent person. The third time it came to mind, the idea was overwritten by something on the ground. Lux knelt down and examined the plant.

Larkspur.

Quinn had shown her poison that acted within minutes, and would paralyze its victim. It was silly, but Lux knew the basics of alchemy, and Larkspur could potentially act as the base for a potion that would have a similar effect as to what happened to High Summoner Irvine. Of course, many other poisons could have qualified, but Larkspur was probably the fastest acting.

A coincidence. Quinn was no alchemist plotting the downfall of Demacia, the Institute of War, and by extension, all of Runeterra.

A new idea, equally as bad – though involving Quinn's belongings, and not Quinn herself – came to mind. It had been an observation Lux had dismissed a few times on the trip, but Quinn seemed to keep her backpack unusually close.

Lux checked the skies. It was clear of any clever birds. Opening the pack and beginning to rifling through it, she desperately hoped it would all be nothing but a guilt rousing venture.

So much for ripping up all the pictures, she thought as she pushed aside a dozen pictures of herself. Still, she couldn't help but smile. It had to mean something, right? Just like the meteor shower. Something.

Aside from daggers and spices – which Quinn had shared last night to make the meat more edible – the main pocket hold nothing else of interest. She tried the side pocket next, and even as she opened it she knew it held secrets.

She ignored the Nadir coin in favor of one of the pieces of paper. Carefully, she pulled it out, unfolded it, and was met with a familiar face. It was a drawing of a man, in a slightly ominous art style, and she'd met him somewhere before, but couldn't quite remember where. He seemed older, and his features argued towards Demacian descent, but Lux couldn't figure out why in Runeterra there was a picture of the man in Quinn's bag.

Fiancé? Lover? Not possible. Absolutely no way.

Upon closer inspection, the ominous aspect of the drawing revealed itself to her – it was drawn in blood. She dropped the picture in horror. That was something only weird cultists did. The paper fluttered to the ground and landed on its back, revealing one last secret. There was handwriting on a corner of the back of the paper. Rather than touch it again, she leaned down to read the words.

Dear sister,

You have my blood. The truth awaits in Piltover, with a man named Varma.

P.S. I recommend you stay away from Zaun, if you do decide to do any travelling in the east.

-with love, Evaine

LeBlanc's full name was Evaine LeBlanc. It hardly seemed like a coincidence, but still, any relation between the two of them was laughable. They were Demacian and Noxian – as far apart as two people could be.

Bad. Still very bad.

Dreams were supposed to be fleeting and easily forgettable, but once again, the baby Katarina and Cassiopeia came to mind. It seemed less insane each time she thought about it.

And Carrigan. Nadine Carrigan, Quinn's teacher. Was now not a good time to remember that Carrigan was a Noxian surname, not Demacian? Quinn's teacher hadn't been suspicious at the time, but now Lux found herself reevaluating everything. She'd suffered from severe paranoia before, on missions, but she wasn't even on a mission yet.

Looking down at the paper, her mind racing, the only warning she had was the sound of footsteps. Fumbling, she stuffed it back into the small compartment of the backpack and zipped it up.

"What are you doing?" Quinn said.

"I – uh – I'm sorry. I was hungry."

"And you thought I was hiding food in my pack?"

"Maybe," she said, as teasingly as she could.

"Well, I'm not." Quinn picked her backpack up and closed it. "Let's go."

As though he knew of Lux's misgivings, Valor kept closer to them as they rejoined the north road. It was half a day's ride to the capital, but Lux's mind wouldn't wait. It kept going over everything Quinn had said and done, looking for more hints to the truth.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't ignore what she'd heard from the village chief. Was Quinn really indifferent towards Demacia, or was there actual animosity towards the nation hidden in her?

"Hey Quinn?" she said when the road became lined with fertile land and inns. "Can you tell me about your family?"

"Why do you care? They aren't anything special."

"I heard what your teacher said," Lux said. "Is it true you never visited them? Not even once?

"What do you want to know? I'm from a peasant family. My dad ran a farm and my mom a small bakery – which I suppose is relatively well off, for living in the village, but they aren't very interesting people."

"Not very interesting? How can you say that? They're your own parents."

Quinn shrugged. "Elalah," she said, and the horse picked up pace. "We're scouting ahead."

There was nothing to scout, but they both knew that already.

Lux left the castle with a skip in her step, drawing stares but still unable to stop her smiling. There was a bit of nervousness too – so much room for disaster – but she was secretly thankful to the King. He had shown a measure of trust in Quinn, and Quinn had behaved normally, and it felt like even with all the incriminating evidence that Lux was finding – perhaps it was all imaginary, concocted by her paranoia – that it would all be fine after all.

To the King, it was an efficient plan with redundancy built in, but Lux saw it as an opportunity to go on an adventure with Quinn, away from the nation and politics. She wanted to head directly to the port and jump on the boat, but knew there was other stuff to be done before departing. For now, she would temper herself, and visit with her mother. It had been too long since they'd sat in the tea chamber and caught up.

It only took her a few minutes to arrive at the Crownguard residence, and beyond the uncomfortable stares of their servants, she found her mother tucked away in a small corner of the library, reading an old book on wine brewing. Helen was a headstrong woman with hair like Lux and large reading glasses Lux hoped she'd never have to wear. Sitting on a stool next to the bookshelf, she held the book in one hand, and a candle in another.

"Hello, mother," Lux said, leaning forward and blowing out the candle. "What have we told you about bringing open flames into the library?"

"Luxanna, you're back." Helen slid off the stool and set the candle and book aside. She motioned closer with both hands.

"Yes, mother, I'm back."

The hug was quick, as her mother broke it off to set about examining every inch of her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, mother. The papers exaggerated it, like they always do."

"It is not possible to exaggerate such a disaster, Luxanna."

Lux smiled innocently in response.

"It's about time you've gotten away from that place," her mother continued. "I saw the announcement. An ice princess. It's horrendous news. I don't understand how anyone could want to live there. How are you? How have you been doing?"

"I'm fine, mother. I'm fine."

"Eating properly?"

"Yes, mother."

"Good, good. I'll have the maid prepare your room. Stay until the Freljordian tournament is over. There aren't any Demacian matches are there? They've all been put on hold for the North's business?"

"They have, mother."

Helen placed both hands on her shoulder. Her grip was tight, and Lux couldn't look away.

"You said everything was fine – did I not teach you better than to lie?"

"I'm sorry, mother. Everything is fine. It's fine, it's just, the king has an assignment for me. I can't stay more than a night."

"You'll be leaving again? Those missions must be so lonely and so dangerous. Perhaps I'll talk to him and see if he can't find someone else to do it."

"Please don't, mother. You'd best use your influence elsewhere. Besides, I won't be going alone. Quinn will be accompanying me."

"Quinn?" Helen said, tapping her chin. "Attridge? You can't mean the one who accused your brother – our family – of treason? That uncivilized girl from the hinterlands? Just what is the King thinking? Sergeant First Class or not, she's a disgrace to Demacia. You shouldn't get too close to people like her."

She was showing restraint – in public, at least – but she knew if she tried to explain, it would only end even worse.

Being from a noble family, she was lucky her mother didn't put as much pressure on her as she did. Lux was free to marry whomever she wanted, or not marry at all, and she was free to do what she wanted in private. The League and her duties to the king, by way of service in the military, was her public life, and she took great care of it as to not disappoint her parents or shame the family name.

"Yes, mother," she said, biting back a rebuttal.

"Good, good. Will you at least be staying the night?"

"Maybe."

"Fiora's brother was asking about you. He's a very nice young man. Stay the night, have breakfast with him tomorrow before you leave."

Lux could hear the hopefulness in her voice. She hated to, but if her mother kept trying, she would have to keep disappointing.

"He doesn't interest me, mother."

Helen shook her head. "I thought not. You're growing older, Luxanna. You need to marry eventually."

"And what about Garen?" Lux challenged.

"Garen? He's... you're right." Helen sighed, the crinkling of her forehead a reminder of her age. "I'm sorry. He's just so stubborn. Married to Demacia even more than your father. I was hoping I'd have more luck with you. You know how much your mother wants grandchildren."

"I'm sorry, mother."

"No, don't be. Do your job and come home safely. You won't be needed at the League of Legends for almost two months – come spend some time at home when you complete your mission."

"Yes, mother."

It was getting late, and the castle was getting quiet, but Lux knew the Prince would still be around somewhere, handling business with someone. She had a few questions about the teleportation crystals they had been provided with, and Prince Jarvan would be able to redirect her to the mage who had created them.

She took half a step into the hall before realizing something odd was at play. Three people in the middle of the hallway, huddled together in close quarters and whispering. The atmosphere of the room was volatile, like a bomb ready to explode. It was an odd place to form a meeting, so Lux suspected it was impromptu, and definitely not meant for the ears of others.

Prince Jarvan wasn't the tallest member of the group. By his side, a woman with blemished gray skin and amber eyes like a cat, glinting in the room's darkness. She seemed almost disinterested in the conversation, and was focused entirely on the Prince. One of her hands was resting on his back, moving in a circular motion, as though giving him a massage. He paid the contact no heed, probably because he was too busy fuming at the other person in their secret meeting.

Fiora, measuring much shorter than the half-dragon and the Prince, managed to still look dignified. She held her chin high, as she stared into his eyes, waiting for a response. Her hands were clasped behind her back, like a Noxian soldier standing at attention, and though her hands were hidden from the view of Jarvan and Shyvana, Lux could see very well how she never stopped moving them. One moment, she would be stretching her fingers out individually, as if testing they weren't broken, and the next she would be digging her fingernails into her palms to such a degree that it looked painful. She must have been under intense pressure, because the entire thing seemed completely subconscious.

Prince Jarvan tapped his left foot on the ground to some invisible metronome. Lux didn't know his habits very well, but she'd seen him do it at other times, when stressed. It was as though he wanted to kick and punch at his problems until they all went away. His brows were furrowed deep in thought, and Lux took a few steps closer, making sure to stay quiet.

"You have the audacity to confront me about this, now, after all that has happened?" the Prince said.

"I had imagined a different outcome," Fiora said, not cowering when Lux most certainly would have.

"I want the whole story. Don't leave anything out."

"It started seven weeks ago."

Prince Jarvan groaned.

"What happened was intentional," she said, making eye contact with the Prince. "Une partie du plan. I wanted to scare her – to make her leave. My intuition was that she would disappear, and the problem would be solved that way. And it worked – pour un peu. Then, for some unimaginable reason, she showed up in Senta and joined the League of Legends. It is honestly the worst thing she could 'ave done."

"You read her well," Shyvana said in a throaty voice.

"Not well enough," Fiora responded, looking slightly surprised that Shyvana spoke. "It was around then, I met some people. We devised a plan. They wanted her dead, by bomb."

Lux then realized the reason Fiora kept her hands occupied – it was so she couldn't defend herself. If it hadn't been for the loud echo of the slap, Lux wouldn't have believed what she saw, or heard. Prince Jarvan hit her, unrestrained, across the cheek. Fiora had shut her eyes, but hadn't moved in the slightest to avoid it, and she was now staring off towards the wall – the direction Jarvan's strike had knocked her.

"Unacceptable," he roared. "Quinn is a Sergeant First Class of the Royal Demacian Army – she is an invaluable asset to the kingdom! You are not the one who decides whether she lives or dies. It is not your right!"

Shyvana leaned in, whispering something to him. He pushed her away.

"My point stands," he hissed, before turning on Fiora again. "Why do you think I promoted her, in the first place?"

Fiora eyed Shyvana. "Je ne sais pas."

"A dead commoner doesn't do us any good. Every lower class citizen knows her name, and she has done a great deal for our nation."

"But a commoner, nonetheless. Living near the noble families, attending military banquets, fraternizing with the Prince-"

"She is exactly where she needs to be," Jarvan said. "Unless you want to be responsible for the start of another uprising, you will forget any silly notions of purity, and keep a low profile until this is all over."

"I came to you because I can't," Fiora said. "I didn't act alone, and I fear they might get restless."

"Yes, you mentioned that." Jarvan sighed, his feet tapping everpresent. "Who are 'they'? Who else was involved in this?"

"I only know of three of them. Ils sont des hommes importants. And I suspect they're acting on behalf of a larger group."

"Are they part of Dart's uprising? Is their plan to kill Quinn – use her as a martyr?"

"As far as I know, they aren't involved with the uprising. These people are quite opposed to it, j'imagine. You see, they're all educated men. Scientists."

Nobody spoke for a moment, and when Fiora didn't elaborate, the Prince did a double-take.

"Scientists?"

"Engineers, too, je pense. Chemists, biologists. Docteurs. They were the ones who operated on Quinn, after the Paz Disaster. That is where they first took interest in her, j'imagine."

Prince Jarvan brought an arm up to wipe his forehead. "You're telling me there's a faction of highly intelligent men working against us, right under the King's nose? And? What's their goal?"

His willingness to take her word for it and move on with the conversation wasn't altogether surprising. Demacia wasn't a perfect nation, and with the number of people working for the King, it was inevitable there would be people who didn't have the nation's best interests at heart. On more than one occasion, the King had ordered Lux to spy on his own people.

"From what I understand, they want progress. Technological, scientific progress. Supposedly, their leader, as a child, saw into another dimension, and it was a foreign land. Large buildings, hundreds of stories tall, and some were floating – moving and weaving around each other, and there were flying carriages and – and dragons, too." Shyvana didn't react, beyond pulling her hand away from the prince. "A utopia, he called it, and it drove him to create this faction, que j'ai nommé les Docteurs."

"The Doctors. And? What do they want?" Jarvan said.

"What do you think they want? What drives innovation and the economy forward, like nothing else?"

"War," the prince breathed.

Fiora nodded. "Oui. La guerre. They've somehow decided that Quinn's death is vital for war to happen."

"No, that makes no sense. It would hurt Demacia, but a civil war isn't what they would want. A war against Noxus, maybe."

"Remember who they are. These are intelligent men, and I don't think their plan is single-faceted."

"You said you know three of them. Names. Now."

"Clift Desmond."

"He's one of the king's closest advisors."

"Kaiser Mandel."

"Head surgeon at the hospital," Jarvan said, his foot tapping growing louder.

"Axel Botello."

"Chief engineer of the castle's west wing renovation last year. These are grave accusations you are making."

"Vous ne me croyez pas?" Fiora said.

"I believe you. I wish I didn't, but I can't ignore it. Clift has always aggressively pushed for war, and there exist rumours of him having some grand agenda that extends beyond Demacia's success. Axel has always been an odd man. He doesn't communicate well with people outside of his field. The exception to that is, unfortunately, Kaiser. These aren't men I would trust, not more than you. With the increased activity around the Dart rebellion, we'll be stretching our forces thin, but still, this warrants investigation."

For the first time since she was slapped, Fiora rose a hand to tenderly touch her cheek.

"For the mean time, remain in the capital," the Prince said. "Put your vendetta against Quinn on hold. If need be, things can be resolved in the Hall of Blades, at a later date. House Laurent is one of the oldest families in Demacia – one we cannot lose – and despite your crimes, you've been a loyal friend to me for years. This matter... we shall keep it under wraps."