Desperate Times

a League of Legends fanfic

Chapter 1: Betrayed

The sound of the training blade clashed out across the Crownguard armory, echoing the frustration of its wielder. Garen Crownguard was ill at ease. The terrorist attack on Prince Jarvan three months earlier had been a stark wake up call to Demacia. Whatever had caused the explosion, whatever had caused the deaths of almost a dozen guards, and injured the prince, was still unknown.

Garen had asked almost immediately to be allowed to head the investigation into the incident, what had followed was a decent into an endless loop of dead ends. A month later, Garen had asked Caitlyn of Piltover to help secretly, however, even her legendary skills of investigation had yielded precious little. All that she had uncovered was that the explosion had magical origins and a single item; a badge bearing a blooming black rose. Everything else, she claimed, had been removed.

"The scene was cleaned, expertly." He remembered her saying, "someone is trying to cover their tracks. And they're very good at it." Garen had been pondering the information that the sherif of Piltover had brought to light ever since. After Caitlyn had said that she could find no more evidence in the palace tower, Garren had begun asking questions around Demacia about the badge. However, here too he found difficulty; everyone he asked either didn't know what it was, or were scared of it. They never spoke their fears aloud, but Garen could see it in their eyes. Something dark had taken root in Demacia.

With a shake of his head, Garen brought himself back to present, looking down at the training sword in his hand. His arm unconsciously went through the motions of the exercise expertly, the blade clacking against the wooden target dummy with perfect precision and timing. With a swift strike against the dummy's head, Garen realized that he had struck too hard. The dummy split in half, breaking the blade in the process.

Gazing down at the broken weapon, Garen thought back to the last few weeks. Since waking up from his injuries, Prince Jarvan had become cold and seemingly distracted. He no longer held open courts for the people as he had in the past, he had barely spoken to Garren in weeks, and when the old friends did speak, it was now always on matters of state, or the investigation, never just as friends.

This, he realized now, was the source of his frustration; whatever preoccupied Jarvan's mind, the prince was strangely silent about it, even to his oldest and best friend. Something was wrong, and Garen was unable to do anything about it.

Garen walked to the wall, took up a towel, and made his way upstairs, mopping the sweat of his workout from his brow. Upon reaching the main floor of the Crownguard estate, he set the now useless training blade on a table, trusting the household staff to deal with it later. He then wandered towards the dining hall, once again lost in thought.

Then the world went dark, every light in the mansion seeming to snuff out simultaneously. The sound of splintering wood reached Garen's ear, telling him that someone was breaking down the front door. Still wide awake from his practice, Garen weighed his options, his mind immediately clear; he had no weapon nearby except for the broken training blade. He wasn't wearing his armour, and his enemies, whoever they were, probably were. His options were not good.

Moving quickly, Garen ran back towards the armoury stairs. As he reached the door, a servant came running towards him, "My lord! The men attacking are Demacians!"

Garen stopped dead. Demacians, attacking Demacians? This was unheard of, "Tell my sister to keep the rest of the family safe. Whatever is happening here, that is her top priority."

The servant nodded and quickly rand back the way he had come. Garen rushed down the stairs to the armoury. At the base of the stairs, he cursed, realising how dark it was in the underground room. Moving cautiously, Garen found his way to a sword rack and took up one of the blades.

Garen could now hear the attackers making their way purposefully down the armoury stairs as well. "They're here for me." he realised, the thought made him shudder. A faint glimmer of torch-light found its way down the stairwell, heralding the coming soldiers.

Taking up a defensive stance in the middle of the large room, Garen prepared himself for what was to come. The first of the soldiers appeared at the doorway and Garen felt his blood run cold. It was the Dauntless Vanguard, his own unit, men and women he had trained for years were attacking his home.

The soldiers poured into the armoury, taking up position around Garen, cutting off his retreat while making it difficult for him to strike back. Garen stood tall, and spoke with authority, "I know that you all know who I am. You all know that I could defeat any one of you. Now I demand to know what this is about."

One of the soldiers, a sergeant stepped forward, removing his helmet as he did, "General Crownguard, I have been ordered to place you under arrest, Please put your weapon down and submit, or I will be forced to make use of the mages."

Garen simply stared, dumbfounded for a moment, then shook his head, stepped forward, and smashed the sergeant across the head with the flat of his blade. The man dropped like a stone. "I have told all of you many times not to remove your helmet in battle." Garen said as he stooped and drew the fallen man's sword, "Now then, I would like to know what charges I have been accused of."

As the words left his mouth, a number of the Vanguard broke ranks and closed in, slashing and thrusting with their weapons. However, Garen was ready for them, bursting into a flurry of parries and counter strikes, the Might of Demacia became a hurricane of steel. To the soldier's credit, they refused to back down, even in the face of Garen's full skill.

Seeing an opening, Garen stepped forward and struck three times, knocking his opponents off their feet. More soldiers stepped forwards, more cautiously, and began to trade blows with Garen, trying to push him back into a wall of spears behind him. The Sergeant had by now come back to his senses, and was getting groggily to his feet, "General, you have been accused of High Treason! Your resistance here only serves to prove your guilt." He said, motioning towards the stairs where a group of men in robes stood waiting.

At his sign, the men began chanting in unison, almost instantly, Garen felt his muscles seize and lock. Mages! He thought. gathering his will, Garen pushed back, struggling to keep control over his body. As he did, spear slipped through his guard punching through his thigh, shattering his concentration and forcing him to his knees.

Instantly, a dozen swords and spears were pressed in, preventing him from moving. The Sergeant moved in as close as he could, one side of his face red and swollen. Holding out a hand, he revealed the badge that Caitlyn had found, "I was told that this badge identifies members of the cult that tried to kill His Majesty. I didn't want to believe that you of all people would be one of them. Hell, when the Prince told me to arrest you, I almost disobeyed him. But here it is, and there's also the fact that you tried to resist arrest." The Sergeant spat at Garen, "Garen Crownguard, you are a traitor to Demacia, and I will enjoy watching your execution."

Garen's mind was too full of conflicting thoughts to make a sound. The Prince had ordered his arrest? He was being called a traitor? None of it made sence. He didn't even feel the first several kicks that were aimed at him as the soldiers all made their views of the situation known.

As he was beaten unconscious, a single thought finally filled Garen Crownguard's mind: I've been betrayed.