Author's Note: OH...MY...GOD. I was so sick last week... Sorry for the late update (at least in my book its way past due) Yeah between being sick and me being frustrated with the ranked system in League (please bring back URF mode riot... get all the screw balls out of my ranked games...) I took my sweet time finishing this chapter.

Thanks to everyone leaving constructive criticism I'm REALLY thankful for it. As for the ones showing concern for the development of Riven's Mental issues when she goes to Ionia, trust me, I've done my research. I'm not a writer that is interested in making everything turn out fine dandy and perfect. Mary Sues and Gary stues in event form are more frustrating then when they are traits of a character. Patience is a virtue 3

Reviews always welcome. Enjoy!

P.S: The name Titus you will encounter in this chapter is pronounced T-eye-tus not Tee-tus. Just wanna clear that up now before people find the name sounding less epic and cool. (at least I find it to be...) Also don't hate on my attempt to write and accent. I TRIED!

Chapter 9: Actions…Not Words

"Is something troubling you, Ms. Crownguard?"

A pair of crystal blue irises shifted up from the tanned pages of the old tattered tome to acknowledge Diana's question. Luxanna closed her eyes and shrugged her shoulders slightly in response. "No need to be formal, Diana, you are my friend so feel free to just address me as Lux," she said as her eyes shifted back down to the book.

The Scorn of the Moon leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. Lux's body language answered the Lunari warrior's question, regardless if her company tried to dodge the subject.

The Demacian mage sat there quietly; slumped over a book with her cheek resting in the palm of her hand while her eyes lazily traced along the written text of the pages.

"A distracted mind won't retain anything, Lux," Diana interrupted the mage's reading once more, "Even if Ancient Ionian Shamanism seems interesting."

Lux released a long and drawn out sigh and tilted her head back and let her body go limp in the chair. After a few prolonged seconds, the Demacian Champion sat up straight and rubbed her temples with her fingers before responding to Diana. "To be honest, I haven't read a single word…"

"I figured as much, considering the tome is written in the Ionian tongue," Diana replied flatly. The Lunari Champion cocked an eye-brow when Lux giggled slightly.

Despite Diana's demeanor being typically serious in nature, Lux couldn't help but chuckle. "You have to admit it is a beautiful language in the written form though, very artistic."

"It is completely opposite from the Noxian language and dialects. They just sound angry even if the intended communication was meant to be generous; I use the term loosely, in nature. Even trying to read and sound out the words makes me want to internally rage at the world," Diana smirked slightly.

Luxanna projected an exuberant laugh; one that was frankly far too loud for their setting. "They do sound mad all the time!" Even though they were in the library, Lux had to admit to herself she needed to laugh off her slum mood.

"Ha, it must be awkward when they try to express gentle things. Like love for example," Diana chuckled slightly.

Lux sighed and frowned a bit, "It isn't awkward at all. That which does not exist cannot be awkward. Noxians don't express soft and gentle feelings like love. To them that is a weak emotion and to be weak in Noxus is to be useless."

Diana cocked an eye brow once more and leaned on the table, showing interest in this subject. "I find that to be very odd. In fact, I almost find it completely absurd. The people where I come from are obsessed with the 'Art of War.' The warriors of the Rakkor tribes on Mount Targon are a hearty group who live within traditions and the quest for mastering the art of war and battle. However, despite their physical power and lust for fighting, their true strength lies within their passions. A warrior that holds a deep love for something, whether it would be an activity, a person, place or thing, it gave them the power and strength through their passion to become something greater than what they were before. It gives them a reason to become greater; it gives them the conviction they need to push forward. To them, to love something is to be willing to put your very existence on the line to protect it, no matter what form it takes. Tell me, is there is no true Noxian that can feel passion for anything…even their very homeland?"

The light mage remained quite as she thought over Diana's question. She didn't know what to say. The Noxian culture seemed so straight forward about their functions and beliefs that it almost sounded impossible for them to see passion and love as a form of strength. Luxanna ran a hand through her golden locks and sighed. "I guess it is possible," she finally responded to the Scorn of the Moon, "But it would certainly not be displayed around their peers."

Diana stretched her arms and yawned, "Everyone has their public personas and secrets, Lux. You have them, I have them; Noxians; Demacians; People of the Freljord; it matters not." Dianna rubbed her eyes.

Riven's shoulders were tense as she marched down the great hall of the Institute. To any on looker, her posture and movement made it seem as if she was trudging through thick mud. Despite Riven's body language giving of the impression that she was heading toward a predetermined destination, in all reality she was looking for someone; the first Demacian Champion she could find. Riven was hoping she would just find Lux without having to confront another Champion; such fortune was not in her favor. She froze as her eyes locked onto the tall and slender Champion. Fiora, her mind shuddered as she approached the Grand Duelist.

Fiora's eyes narrowed as the Noxian exile approached her. "Pardon moi," Fiora scowled as she pushed passed the summoner that was talking to her and stepped up to her unwanted company.

The two Champions stared one another down. Despite Riven and Fiora being almost the same height, the Grand Duelist was had nowhere near the physical mass the Noxian fighter had.

Fiora's eyes scanned the exile a couple times, her slight sneer never faltered as she did so. "I know not vat zey feed you Noxians as children, but your physique does not bo'zair me, Exil. Ve b'oze know zat speed and precision vill alvays top raw streng'z," Fiora spoke with a flat tone. The dark haired duelist felt her insides burn with displeasure knowing the last time she faced Riven the fight ended in a draw, because of that, Fiora had to consider the exile a worthy opponent until she was defeated by her blade. However, Fiora was never going to give Riven the satisfaction of knowing that she was one Fiora considered relatively close to an equal until she was struck down.

Riven bit her tongue in an attempt to hold back a response, despite Fiora questioning her ability to fight with "speed and precision." The exile wasn't here to trade words with the Demacian duelist, only to ask her a question. Riven swallowed the verbal jab she had clawing at the inside of her teeth before speaking. "Fiora, have you seen Luxanna?"

"Zee Crownguard girl? I care little for 'er. Vy vould you ask me vere she vould be?" Fiora raised an eye brow. She seemed to be taken off guard by the question. "Vy do you vant to know?"

"I simply have a question I wish to ask her," Riven replied plainly.

Fiora's eyes narrowed once more as she tried find a motive through the exile's eyes. The little response she was getting out of Riven was beginning to bore her. The onyx haired Demacian sighed and crossed her arms. "If zee Crownguard brat isn't out 'ere mingling vif zee people, zen I vould bet she is in la bibliothèque. Zat girl, alvays vif 'er face in a book."

Riven blinked a couple times. She was certainly surprised by Fiora's sudden cooperation. One thing was for certain, she had no idea what the hell a "bibliothèque" was. "Where?" Riven asked, her confusion portrayed clearly through her tone.

Fiora grumbled slightly in frustration. "Steeoopid, incompetent, peasant…" she mumbled, "Zee library! You know? Vif all zee books!?"

Riven's knuckled cracked from her hand gripping the hilt of her blade tightly as Fiora verbally jabbed at her again. Riven despised those who would rather fight with their tongue than draw their blades. She always considered action before conversation. Earn the right to speak down upon someone by besting them before opening your mouth, which was her belief and that was why Draven and a certain red headed assassin always seemed to get on her nerves outside of the Fields of Justice. The snowy haired Noxian could feel the runic spiritual energy start to make her sword arm tingle as the blade reacted to the frustration welling within its master's heart. Control it…Riven pleaded to herself as her body shook slightly from the overloading energy that was leaking from her weapon. Riven looked down at the floor while she struggled to keep the built up runic energy held in.

"Foolish, incompetent, weakling!" the Drill Sergeant roared and struck the young trainee's face with his metal encased, armored fist.

The trainee toppled over onto the floor of the training room and cradled his bloodied and beaten face with his hands. The crimson liquid life ran down the young man's forearms as his frame shook slightly from the blow.

"Get up, Titus," the Sergeant spat.

Titus didn't move; still shaken up from the first hit.

"That's an order, grunt!" the large man commanded and kicked the younger man across the floor. The cracking sound of bone could be heard when the trainee was kicked, causing some of his fellow classmates to flinch slightly as he rolled close to them. "Pathetic waste," the superior growled as the injured boy coughed and tried to crawl towards his peers using his forearms to drag his lower body. The higher up bellowed an insidious laugh as he approached Titus. The Drill Sergeant's large armored boot came to rest on the trainee's head. "Which one of you spineless maggots can tell me how much pressure it takes to crush a human skull?"

Titus laid there under his commander's boot. The blood from his mouth started to pool under his face where he lay. His pleading gaze slowly followed along the faces of his on looking peers. He could feel the pressure from his superior's boot begin to grow in strength as his classmates said nothing in response to the Drill Sergeant's question. He closed his eyes; His fate was sealed as the pressure became almost painful. No one would ever stand up for a weak Noxian. A slight gasp from the group of trainee's finally broke the silence. He opened his eyes feeling the pressure dissipate from his head. His gaze met the boots of one of his peers as they stepped over him.

"How dare you lay your hands on a superior, you whelp!"

The trainee that shoved the Sergeant away from Titus didn't respond. She placed herself between the seasoned Noxian commander and her classmate.

Titus mustered what little strength and consciousness he had to turn his head to see which fool would throw their life away for his. The only identifying factor to reveal his savior was the messy and short mop of alabaster locks atop the tan skinned trainee's head. The features were unique to one person in the training squad; the features were rather unique for a Noxian descendant in general.

"To beat on the one's you know are weaker than yourself is no display of strength, sir. With all due respect, you're setting a bad example for all of us, whelps, by beating on the feeble. We all know Noxus herself will purge the meek; do not waste your strength or soil your reputation by staining your officer boots with the blood of a weak and hesitant peasant boy from the outer wall, Sir."

The Drill Sergeant grumbled deeply but chose to overlook the sudden insubordination of his star pupil by heeding her words. She had learned well. "Get that pathetic mess out of my training room; you're all dismissed!" the commander spat at the group of trainees and turned his back to walk away. The entire group stood at attention and saluted their commanding officer by pulling an arm across their chests, letting their right fist press against their chest just below their left shoulder. The training room cleared out quickly, but Titus and the platinum haired girl stayed.

"Get up, Titus," she growled, showing no intention of turning to look at him.

A few moments of silence passed and the young Noxian boy hadn't moved.

The young fare-haired female trainee sneered, sensing that her classmate still lay on the floor. "You should feel insulted if I have to turn around and look down at you. Prove to me that you're worth my breath! You talk tough but never back up your words! Fight with your strength! Not your tongue! Fighting with words is a coward's game, now, get up, Titus!" she shouted, still refusing to turn around and look at the boy.

Titus laid there a moment longer before he slowly tried to turn over onto his stomach. He coughed causing crimson liquid spackle onto the floor as he managed to get to his hands and knees. Blood trickled from his mouth and collected on his lower lip and dripped silently onto matting of the combat floor. Titus managed to bring his knee up to his chest and get his foot under his body weight. Everything hurt, but he needed to try and stand. He cleared his throat and took a couple heavy breaths before pushing himself up from the floor and to his feet. Titus' body swayed slightly as he struggled to stand up straight.

The girl turned around to face Titus. Her blazing irises burned deep into the adjacent half lidded pools of soft amber. Her expression was one laced with serious disappointment and frustration. She relentlessly stared the boy down. He lowered his head to look at the floor. His brunette hair was stained and matted with his own blood. Her arms crossed tight across her chest. "I promised mom on her death bed that I would look out for you, Titus. Don't you ever, EVER, put me into a situation like this again because you can't shut the hell up and keep your words to yourself," she said sternly, "We only have each other now, you idiot. We either join the armed forces, or we waste away on the streets, so please try to find some discipline before you get yourself killed. Damn it, Titus! I can't protect you forever!"

Titus fought to stay standing as he felt his older sister shove him away. He stood there quietly, still feeling the intensity of his sibling's stare weighing down on him. He needed her more than she needed him. She was the pride of the military academy. Her reputation saved him today. "I'm…sorry Ri—

"Don't," she interrupted. "Don't apologize to me. No more hesitation. No more talking. That time is over. Just prove to yourself that you're more than just a shit talking peasant boy from the outer wall that has to hide behind his sister…"

Titus brought his head up to look his only remaining family member in the eyes. He fought back his hesitation and tried to speak with a strong and confident tone. "Yes, Riven."

"Vats zee matter, Riven, too hesitant and passive to reply?" Fiora taunted her.

The exile snapped and shoved the pompous Demccian duelist with enough force to make Fiora stumble slightly from the sudden physical contact. Riven grit her teeth as the thin steel blade, still vibrating from behind drawn from its sheath, was brought deadly close to her throat with blinding speed. Her own reaction time was just as quick, the broken point of her own weapon pressed close to the Grand Duelist' abdomen. Her body shook violently from the built up energy.

"Don't you ever lay your 'ands on me again you fil'zy Noxian dog," Fiora threatened the exile with a toxic tone.

Riven's eye brows pulled together as she stared down Fiora. "You actually drew your blade. I see you are capable of fighting without your tongue; shocking," Riven's voice cracked from her straining self-control.

"Go bo'zer zee Crownguard girl, vee are done 'ere," the Grand Duelist retracted her blade and walked away.

The exile watched the dark haired Demacian walk away. Her body still vibrated with energy. The rune carved within the black stone blade glowed bright with power and Riven finally tore her attention away from Fiora. She grumbled harshly and stormed off to the nearest training room she could find.

Upon arriving at the training room located in the western wing she nearly broke the door down to get inside. She was relieved to see the room was empty as she slammed the blade down onto the floor and screamed. A powerful burst of energy emitted from her being and she tossed the blade away as she dropped to her hands and knees. Her breathing was ragged and her finger nails dug into the floor. Riven's body shuddered from the aftershock due to the built up energy the rune blade had harbored within her. The Ionians during the war called it a Ki Shout, but it was more of a burst than anything else. Riven didn't care what it was called; all she knew was since the blade was shattered the energy had less sword to be stored within and when the runic power saturated what remained of the great sword to its capacity it had nowhere to go but to her. The power amplification within the Fields of Justice with the help of a summoner carrying the overload made it easier on her body. However, away from the assistance of summoning this runic overload would sometimes completely wipe out the exile's stamina. Riven stayed there for a few moments longer before finding her way to her feet again. The memory from her past stung slightly in her mind as she picked up the flickering rune blade from the floor. Despite how painful and stressing it was on Riven's body to store the leaking runic power from her blade, the release of the energy sometimes helped her relax. Past frustrations and distractions would dissipate along with the energy.

Riven collected herself before she stepped out of the training room. She quietly wandered down the hall ways of the Institute, following the signs that directed her to the location of the library. Riven had never really felt the need to stray from the locations within the Institute that she needed for daily living. This usually consisted of her Room, the training halls, the summoning chambers and the food court. The library was located at the end of the southern wing.

Riven gapped at the architecture as she approached the front gates of the library. "Sweet mother of Valoran…" she whispered to herself in total amazement as she tilted her head up to take in the full height of the library's gateway. Riven had seen a lot of things in her travels, but this was certainly up there on her list of great sights. The two gigantic marble pillars each held a large regal red banner with golden trim that bared the crest of the institute. Riven walked up to the staircase that lead to the doors of the library. To both sides of her sat a podium, each one had a large stone statue of a detailed and intricate animal perched atop both of the podiums. One looked to be carved from the same marble as the two great pillars while the other looked to be created from a black stone similar to her blade. Each podium had a plaque with an inscription.

The exile walked over to the podium to her left which the noble wolf sat upon. Usually riven associated wolves to be aggressive and snarling creatures of the night, but this one looked patient and composed. The emerald gems within the eye sockets of the statue made the creature look calm and collected. Her eyes shifted down to the plaque that was mounted on the podium. The plaque was created from very polished and reflective silver. Riven could see her reflection in the metal surface. She let her eyes focus on the inscription.

The Guardians of Higher Learning:

WISDOM

To learn and know about others is to gain intelligence; to learn and know of one's self is to gain wisdom.

Riven noticed her reflection once more after finishing the inscription. To know one's self… Riven shook her head and walked over to the other podium.

The podium to the right was the seat of a great marble lion. The lion looked regal and strong. The ruby crystals it had for eyes were piercing and powerful. Riven looked down from the great creature to read its plaque.

The Guardians of Higher Learning:

STRENGTH

Knowledge is power. A strong and educated mind far exceeds the physical limitations of the mortal body.

Riven touched the black stone plaque. Her finger tips gently ghosting the letters of the word that controlled everything in her life. The exile sighed deeply and stepped away from the podium. Riven looked up at the doors to the library only to see one more inscription etched into the marble above the doors. The letters were laced with gold so they could be read from a distance.

"Courage and patience paves the road to greater understanding."

The exile jolted slightly, hearing the intelligent, yet rather high pitched, voice read the inscription aloud. Riven turned her head to find the source of the voice only to find nothing but the empty space around her. She jumped, feeling the tickling sensation of hair brush against her calf. Riven immediately looked down to find Heimerdinger walking past her.

"It is a fitting statement to represent the world of academia, hee hee, but the true question one must ask is; do you have the patience, courage, wisdom and strength to pass through the gates?" the yordle stated as he half jumped onto the first stair.

Riven quietly watched the yordle brainiac half jump up each step towards the doors. The large golden mass of hair laced with streaks of white bounced lively with each hop the yordle Champion took. The exile couldn't help but wonder how Hemierdinger didn't just fall over from the weight of his head. Riven blinked a couple times as Heimer's blue goggles turned their focus to her from the top of the staircase.

"I never pegged you to be someone who finds pleasure in learning," Heimerdinger gleefully chuckled and wiggled his mustache. "Then again, one shouldn't judge a book by its cover. If you do, then you might miss out on learning a bountiful amount of knowledge." With those final words, the yordle turned away from Riven and entered the library.

Riven stepped onto the first step and paused for a moment. Her attention shifted back to the emerald eyes of the statue that was charged with guarding the virtue of Wisdom in learning. Riven gazed at the patient looking black wolf statue and couldn't help but feel it reminded her of something but she couldn't put her finger on it. Drawing in a deep breath through her nose she exhaled and ascended the steps to the library doors. She had no more time to waste, she needed to find Lux.