A.N.: Apologies for the delay. Life is crazy and I suffered a lot with this chapter. I hope it's still up to quality with the rest of them.
Even if it's not, it has URGOT and Urgot makes everything better.
In many a sense, the ongoing renovation of the Institute of War was a pain in the rear. In all frankness, it was more of a complete overhaul than a simple renovation - they tore down the old Faction quarters and rebuilt them from the ground up, which forced most of the visiting champions to move in the main wing until their new buildings were habitable.
Some argued that the end result would be more than worth the temporary discomfort of living in an apartment the size of a shoebox or in the immediate vicinity of your worst rival. The summoners had promised that the new quarters would fit the nations better than the old buildings had and so far, it appeared that they intend to stick to their word; they even hired workers from the respective areas.
Slowly, but steadily, they built smithies, training rooms, meditation gardens, bakeries and more, the buildings finally different enough that you could tell them apart by sight, not only by the signs above the door.
Of course, when the construction of the new buildings goes at different speed, Demacia and Noxus will make a contest out of finishing first. And much to the surprise of everyone, Noxus had won this particular race, hands down. The Demacian main building still had at least a two months' worth of work before anyone could move in when the Noxians threw their house-warming party.
To add insult to injury, Jericho Swain gave permission to the Demacians to use the Noxian training room. It was an act of goodwill, he insisted, but only Jarvan was inclined to believe him.
Still, after a few remarkable incidents in the crowded common training rooms – like the occasion when Hecarim kicked Lucian in an unspecified body part because the Purifier threatened to put enough holes in Thresh to make the warden pass for a sieve – that the Demacians decided to take Swain up on his offer. Better the devil you know.
So here they were, a choice group of brave Demacians, ready to walk into the beast's cave. They've been standing in front of the building for a good twenty minutes now, waiting for Jarvan to arrive when a window opened and revealed a grinning Talon. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted down.
"J4 says he's not coming. Something diplomacy happened. Drag yourself in here before you take root."
Garen made an outraged sound when Talon called the prince of Demacia 'J4' and planned on directing a lecture at the grinning assassin, but his companions were already fed up with standing around. They grabbed him by the arms and dragged him inside before he could get started.
He kept huffing even as Lux excitedly chattered by his side.
"… you know, I expected it to be more dark. More fitting to the evil of Noxus, but it's pretty plain."
"Oh, we wouldn't waste the evil décor on the training hall." Garen spun around, spotting Vladimir leaning against the wall, observing a well-manicured hand. He had no idea how the blood mage managed to sneak up on them like that. "We keep that in the living quarters, to make the place more homey."
Lux seemed delighted by the idea.
"Do you have smoky candles and bones and skulls and blood-red curtains and suites of armor and those windows that make it look like it's always dusk?" She asked as she got carried away by the idea of decoration fitting for a ghost castle.
Vladimir seemed slightly taken aback and very amused at the same time.
"Well, I'm partial to blood-colored curtains and I know that Darius keeps a whole skeleton in his closet." Garen stared at him with complete horror and he almost dropped his sword when Darius spoke just behind him.
"It's just a medical skeleton, bloodsucker. Go back to the forge and make yourself useful." Vladimir shrugged and sauntered through a high, arced door.
Darius stared after him with murderous eyes.
"He knows he's needed elsewhere and he still wanders away every chance he gets," the big Noxian muttered not quite under his breath, turning his attention back to the Demacians. The glare he gave Garen could make milk go sour, but he was noticeably less hostile towards Lux.
"He won't bother you more. This way."
The actual training room itself was huge, with smaller sections separated for the forge and weapons storage, a resting area and other parts that didn't seem fully furnished yet. Quite a few people were there, practicing in pairs. Much to his surprise Garen spotted Nasus near the back, happily reorganizing a bookshelf full of fencing manuals and Sivir and Katarina were taking turns throwing daggers at a target.
"I didn't know the Shurimans were there as well," he remarked, following Darius to the rest of his own group.
"There's no reason not to let them in. They keep the equipment in good shape and they are not enemies of Noxus." They watched Sivir carefully balance a dagger before throwing it, hitting the dead center of the target. Both she and Katarina looked expectantly at Talon and Cassiopeia, the two lazy assassins lying on a heap of unused mats. They scribbled something with chalk on a plate each and held it up; 3 points from Cass, 9 from Talon.
This, predictably, lead to an argument. Oddly enough, Katarina was the one to start it, taking Sivir's side, while Talon pretended not to be there at all.
"HERE ARE THE WEAPONS YOU REQUESTED."
It seemed today was the unofficial Startle Garen Day. Though truth to be told, facecheking Urgot's ugly mug had caused more than one heart attack, still Garen felt a fledge of embarrassment that he got so easily spooked today; he was on edge already without Noxians constantly sneaking up on him.
The... creature, as he was reluctant to calling Urgot a man, handed out a long spear and an elegant rapier to Xin Zhao and Fiora; training replicas of their own armaments.
"THEY ARE DULL AS LEE SIN'S EYESIGHT, BUT TRY NOT TO CLUB ANYONE TO DEATH WITH THEM," Urgot warned, adjusting some of the weapons showcased on the wall. "RESURRECTION AND CLEANING UP AFTERWARDS TAKES AWAY ALL THE FUN FROM SEEING YOU DIE. NOT TO MENTION THE REPAIRS."
Apparently, the undead abomination was the quartermaster in charge of the equipment. Interesting choice, but as he watched the unsettling creature work, Garen had to admit that he seemed competent at his job.
"Do you have a crossbow with similar draw weight?" Urgot carefully took Quinn's weapon in his pincers and examined it closely.
"YES, I HAVE TWO. ONE OF THEM IS IN STORAGE, BUT DO US ALL A FAVOUR AND CONFISCATE THE ONE AZIR IS USING. IT'S THE BETTER MAKE AND IT WOULD MAKE US ALL FEEL SAFER."
Garen looked around, wondering how he missed the telltale glint of gold. After his experience with Jax a few months ago, he was only slightly surprised to identify the emperor as a remarkably unremarkable person. He looked disappointingly mundane if you could disregard for a moment that he was technically a humanoid falcon. He seemed to avert attention away from himself, possibly because of all that grey.
He also looked very much of a health hazard, mostly because of the crossbow he held in his hands. Azir regarded the weapon with the same caution and suspicion others would reserve for Zigg's bombs. Possibly because of his magical nature, this sight gave anyone watching the nagging feeling that if he ever pulled the trigger, the bolt would do its best to live up to that distrust and find itself a suitable place – like someone's jugular, for instance. It put everyone present on edge.
Quinn wasn't immune to the effect either.
"Right away," she murmured, hurrying away. It will probably work in her favour that she had an excuse to approach the Emperor anyway, Garen decided. At least she would stop bothering them with her guesses about what breed of bird the ascended being resembled the most.
"AND WHAT CAN I GIVE YOU TWO?"
Garen looked up at the patiently wobbling mountain of meat that was Urgot.
"Nothing. I brought my own weapons." Urgot pointed his blade at an engraved plaque on the wall.
"NO OUTSIDE WEAPONS ALLOWED. IF YOU WANT TO USE A SPECIFIC WEAPON, LEAVE IT HERE AND WE MAKE A REPLICA BY TOMORROW."
With a stubby arm he gestured behind him, to the smithy area. It was dark, but the malicious red light of the forge revealed a familiar, towering silhouette. Sion hammered away at the red-hot metal with the monotone stubbornness of someone who didn't have much thinking going on.
"Is he any good?" Garen asked, sincerely doubting that the Undead Juggernaut had ever held a hammer in his hand before.
"COULD BE BETTER OR WORSE. HE MAKES DECENT PRACTICE WEAPONS AND IT KEEPS HIM OCCUPIED AND DOCILE." As if he wanted to discredit the other Noxian undead, Sion threw down his hammer with an enraged roar and started to hammer away with his bare fists.
Vladimir slipped out from the deepest shadows, weaving a ribbon of red around their appointed blacksmith. Garen grimaced at the thought of the dark blood magic, but it seemed to have an effect in calming the big guy. So this was why it was important for Vladimir to stay near the forge.
Urgot carried on as if nothing happened.
"SO, WHAT WAS IT YOU NEEDED?"
"Two claymores, one for me and another for my sister. I want to teach her the basics of bladework."
For a moment, Garen was certain Urgot was choking on something. Then he realised that he was laughing.
"Do you have a problem with my request?!" the Demacian demanded.
"FOR A FINE LADY WHO DOESN'T MAKE IT A HABIT TO WEAR HEAVY ARMOR, A SWORD AND A BUCKLER WOULD BE A MORE SUITABLE FIRST WEAPON." The abomination suggested, scuttling back to the weapon racks. He returned with a straight sword and a small round shield. "IT PROVIDES MORE DEFENCE THAN A CLAYMORE WOULD."
Lux picked up the sword and the shield, giving them a swing.
"I like them! Thanks." For the first time since he told her that she needed to learn how to use a weapon, she seemed eager to try.
"I don't know the forms for sword-and-shield fighting," Garen grit out, unwilling to admit his shortcoming.
"ASK DARIUS FOR POINTERS, HE USED TO TEACH AT THE ACADEMY. I'M SURE HE WILL BE EAGER TO HELP." Urgot recommended with zero consideration for the longstanding rivalry between the two men.
Garen squared his jaw and said nothing. Urgot was unaffected by the silent treatment and kept organising the weapons laid out on the workbench. After a few minutes, he looked up again.
"ARE YOU STILL HERE?"
"Darius wouldn't help me. We are rivals; sworn enemies."
"WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT YOU? THE YOUNG MISSY'S THE ONE WHO NEEDS TRAINING. " He picked up a broadsword similar in size to Garen's own and threw it to the warrior. "HOP ALONG AND DON'T WASTE ME TIME."
Garen caught the sword with a grimace.
"Come Lux, let's go!"
But, as it happened, Lux wasn't there anymore. She was by the training dummies in the company of the Blood Brothers. Draven was chatting with Lux while Darius was setting up a target for her to use. Garen felt his blood pressure rise at the sight of the younger brother – Draven was shamelessly flirting with Lux and she played along! She even giggled – giggled! – at something the executioner said.
Garen stomped his way to the three of them, his face set in a deep frown.
"Lux!" His sister jumped, dropping her sword. "What are you doing in their company?" he demanded.
"Chill, soldier! We are just rigging her up a suitable training space," Draven grinned, picked up Lux's sword and handed it back to her. "And boost her confidence with anecdotes from the time we were beginners."
Darius wordlessly shook his head at the antics of his brother.
"I was just about to tell her about the time Darius wanted to learn fighting with a war hammer and dropped it on his foot. Broke a couple of bones with it." Garen looked at Draven doubtfully, but he seemed sincere enough.
"That's a story I'd want to hear."
"There's nothing more to it. Draven just likes to hear his own voice," Darius grumbled from the side.
"Hell yeah! Don't tell me there are people who wouldn't want to listen to the glorious Draven," exclaimed the younger brother with feigned shock.
Lux giggled. Garen groaned. Darius just wore the expression of someone who had heard this more than he ever wanted to.
Darius wordlessly stood and practically threw a training shield and sword matching Lux's at his brother.
"Make yourself useful and show her the basic stances," he snapped, then abruptly turned to Garen. "Watch carefully. I don't want to waste my whole day on you."
Darius walked away before Garen could retort. The Demacian muttered a curse under his breath, his attention quickly returning to Draven who was once again chatting up his sister.
He quickly jumped in, doing his best to maintain a five-step distance between his sister and the womanizer Noxian. He could have tried to keep the sea dry; it would have been just as feasible an undertaking. He hovered so much that finally Lux lost her patience.
"Garen, I'm an adult! I can take care of myself. Go pester someone else!"
He would have liked to punch the smug look from Draven's face, but he didn't want to cause a rift between Lux and himself. Their relationship was already tense enough, the unconditional childhood trust cracked by the time spent apart and their differing opinions on the Demacian army.
He wandered away, tallying his options. Vladimir had ditched the smithy again and sat cross-legged on the counter, eating a disappointingly ordinary sandwich. Xin Zhao had found a sparring partner in Talon who felt better to leave the Du Couteau sisters to their ever growing argument. Garen considered joining them as he did like a good hand-to-hand fight every now and then, but decided against it when they started to use underhanded moves. A gladiator and a once-street rat; both of them were seasoned street fighters. He wouldn't stand a chance.
At the far back, Nasus was in deep academic discussion with Fiora about the best blades in history, a topic far too dry for Garen's taste. Quinn was still occupied with Azir, the crossbow all but forgotten, probably bothering him with weird ornithological questions. It was a conversation Garen was completely certain that he didn't want to hear.
He glanced back at Darius. The man had decided to break up the disagreement around the women's knife throwing contest and appointed himself judge.
Things didn't go according to plan and Garen watched with satisfaction as Darius argued with Cassiopeia – the younger Du Couteau sister kept knocking Sivir's daggers out of the air.
"We all want a fair competition, so stop interfering you blasted serpent!" Cassiopeia gasped for air and Katarina forcefully stepped on his foot, but the words were out and there was no taking them back. The younger sister shrunk back, protectively coiling around herself and gloom settling on her face, but when it was Sivir's turn to throw, her twin fangs knocked the knives out of the air just as before.
That was the last straw for Sivir.
"Okay, that's it. I'm done. We'll settle this later." She was about to storm out, but a sudden voice stopped her in her tracks. As they had ascended to the center of attention – even Talon and Xin Zhao stopped their brawl to watch them – it was little surprise that Azir was among the eavesdroppers as well. It was more surprising that he was the one calling out to Sivir.
Garen had never heard the Shuriman native language before, but it sounded nice. It was melodic, almost musical sounding, but – coming from Azir at least – it felt a tad snobbish.
Whatever her ancestor told her, Sivir wasn't happy to hear it. She snapped back something, but after some gentle prodding from Azir, she took a calming breath and returned to the others.
"Don't ask," she warned Katarina even before the Noxian could ask what that was all about. "Your turn."
The redhead gave the mercenary a questioning look, but the other just shrugged.
She carefully balanced the knife in her hand and with a swift movement, threw it.
It was promptly knocked from the air by a stray crossbow bolt.
A dozen eyes glued themselves to Azir, who was, as far as Garen could judge, just as bewildered as everyone else. The crossbow was still pointed at his own target.
"I am sorry. I have no idea how that happened. I still don't quite have a hang of this weapon."
The stares remained fastened on him. A few eyebrows rose in doubt.
"He's right," Quinn chimed in. "I saw it. He missed the target and the bolt just...," she made a wide gesture with her arms. "ricocheted off the wall and hit the knife."
To prove his sincerity Azir lifted the crossbow up again - half of his audience took a cautions step backwards at the sight of his unsteady aim – and let the next bolt loose. It missed the target completely, then ricocheted off the rough stone wall and went flying towards the farther end of the room.
"The universe has a sense of humour when it comes to poetic justice," murmured Darius and that was that. Everyone returned to their own training and Garen returned to check on Lux.
Ten minutes and a black eye later Draven swore up and down that he was just adjusting Lux's stance, but if he were any clingier, Garen would have needed a crowbar to remove the Executioner from his sister. Lux didn't seem to mind the Noxian's inappropriately hands-on approach, which made Garen even angrier at the smug bastard.
Occupied as such, Garen missed how the fight broke out. Well, it wasn't so much a fight as three people trying to hold back a furious, violently squirming Cassiopeia from strangling the Emperor of Shurima. His Noxian was decent, but he could understand maybe half of the words the snake woman screamed at Azir. He wagered he could guess what the rest meant.
Even Darius couldn't hold Cassio for long – her serpentine tail slipped from his grip and he wisely retreated when the woman swiped at him with her poisonous claws – and within moments she was lunging at Azir, lighting fast with murder in her eyes.
The Emperor merely sidestepped from her path with effortless ease. Her momentum propelled her forward and she fell, luckily not to the hard ground but to one of the training mats. In a moment she was readying for her next strike, down on her belly like a wild beast – this allowed Azir to step on her back and pin her to the ground in an undignified position.
Cassiopeia went deadly still when she felt the pinprick of talons on her neck. She had claws, but so did Azir and while his were not of the poisonous variety, the talons on his feet were as sharp as any hawk's.
"Now, calm down. Your behaviour is not fit of a noble lady of a good family." His voice was stern, but calm, no trace of fear in it. "After such a wild exercise, I suggest you return to your room and rest. Meditate on your actions. I will let you up now."
Cassio reluctantly straightened up after Azir stepped away, but her face was burning and her eyes were shiny as she fought her tears. Katarina swiftly excused herself and held her sister by an arm, gently leading her away.
As they passed him, Garen caught a whispered half-sentence between two silent sobs, so quiet he wasn't certain it was even real.
"... he sounds just like daddy did."
The mood had definitely dropped after they left. Sensing the gloom settled on the room, Urgot ordered them out a hour later.
"THAT'S ENOUGH SWEAT FOR TODAY. EVERYBODY OUT, BEFORE I LOCK YOU IN FOR A WEEK." It was clearly an excuse, but none of them minded – especially not Garen, as this meant that he can finally get Lux out of the sights of Draven.
On the way back to the temporary quarters, they walked with the Shurimans and as Lux was animatedly chattering with Fiora – and pointedly not talking to her brother – he had nothing better to do than follow the quiet conversation between Azir and Sivir, in the common tongue this time.
"... it seems like too much of a coincidence that the bolt ricocheted just so."
"It might not have entirely been a coincidence."
"I knew it! Then why did you say that you never held a crossbow before?"
"Because I never did. They weren't widespread in my time. But I used to be a decent marksman with a regular bow and they are not that different."
"If that was just 'decent' I want to see what you are expert at."
"Trust me, my long distance shots are truly a disaster. I never had good enough eyesight to train with the military archers."
"Then how...?"
"Oh, for a bored prince locked up in the gardens there are many worse hobbies than trick shooting."
"Such as?"
"Every tried to tickle a crocodile? We had one in the fountain."
"Why would anyone do that?"
"It started hiccupping if you tickled it in just the right spot."
Garen didn't really know what to do with that piece of information – or if the Emperor was even serious – but the disbelieving stare told him that neither did Sivir.
As the topic change, he felt he was trespassing on something private, not meant for his ears. He made it a point to fell a few steps behind, just outside of earshot and let the girls' chatter wash over him – fashion, he deemed, was a much safer topic than crocodiles.
A.N.: This is it for now. Liked it? Hated it? Please consider leaving a comment.
A bit of teaser, after such a long wait between chapters: I'm working on the next one as it was supposed to be Fool's Day themed. But then it somehow got a bit gloomy and my headcanons ran away with me soo...
It will have Lucian and Thresh and some of the Shadow Isles gang and there will be random people dressing up in the background. :D
Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!