Ezreal stood in front of Quinn's door – his blonde hair was rustled about his forehead from all of the frustrated tussling he had done while deep in thought and, when combined with his slender figure, it left his general appearance somewhat resemblant of a hobo or desperate peasant – debating what to do: he was not sure if it would be acceptable to just knock on the door of any champion in the League, but the strict no violence policy ought to prevent any excessive hostility that may be held against him. He decided to go ahead and knock on the door, despite the potential awkward confrontation that may wait. He heard a light gasp from the other side of the door, one that interrupted a conversation she seemed to be having with herself, and quickly realized that he had probably made a mistake; he wasn't even sure what he would say. The woman on the other side of the door said something in a tone that resembled orders being given, and then he heard a flustering followed by flapping wings. Ezreal was lightly perplexed, but his confusion was overridden by his emotions driving a frantic debate as to whether or not he would actually mention the fact that he saw her literally spawn in out of nothing. His alternative was posing as a reporter of some sort who simply happened to be at her door at that moment. He frowned; neither option seemed pleasurable.
Before he had the opportunity to make up his mind, the woman did it for him. The door flung open and an arm yanked him inside the room before the door closed tightly shut behind them. The woman had her arm wrapped around Ezreal's neck and a crossbow like weapon pointed at his throat.
"Who the hell are you!?" she barked at him. He quickly drew the energy from his glove and shifted behind the woman to slip out of her grip. He threw a punch at the back of her head but the result was less than successful. She merely stumbled forward a few steps as if she had been playfully pushed in the back. Knowing the lack of strength in her opponent, she whipped around and took aim at his head with her crossbow. Her eyes were narrowed and she was ready to shoot.
"Leave, or I shoot," she stated.
"You shoot, and I do too," Ezreal replied. Her gaze shifted from his neck, where she was aiming, to his extended arm. The glove glowed bright yellow and was ready to shoot just as soon as she was. "I hope you don't miss. I'd rather not explain why a champion lie dead in her room while I only stand wounded."
"What makes you think I'd miss?" she asked.
"Nothing, I just know that I, won't," he said. The comment made her grin and she lowered her weapon.
"You still haven't told me why you are here."
"I uh…" Ezreal looked about the room in attempt to stall for time. He noticed that the room was fairly empty, and there were still some boxes strewn about the room. She had a lot of maps and journals lying on the floors and desks to compliment the books and artifacts. The window in her room was very large and completely open to the outside, through which Ezreal could see a beautiful landscape and a small forest scenery, lightly lit as the sun began to set in the distance. He turned back to face Quinn, realizing that he had been completely lost in thought as he analyzed her room.
"You, uh?" she snorted.
"I saw you… just appear. I didn't know if it was a skill set of yours or what. I know that I can do it, but I have the power of my glove to aid me." He spoke while lightly stroking the gauntlet and holding it up into the light where she could plainly see. "I suppose that my curiosity got the best of me after that." Ezreal's fixation on his glove remained un-averted until Quinn spoke up.
"Ok, so imagine I do buy your story. How do you plan on getting me to say anything? I have a hard time imagining that someone your size plans to beat it out of me."
"Oh, I wasn't intending to be hostile, I was just curious. No need to be so on edge," Ezreal replied. He had just gotten more information out of her than she had intended; obviously there was no ability or talent that she possessed that would permit her to appear out of thin air, or else she would have taken the simple opportunity out of further confrontation and told him what it was. She was into something more serious, and she was currently afraid of being discovered. If Ezreal had been merely driven by genuine curiosity before, then he had been forced into skeptics. Ezreal saw her eyes hone in on him like a hawk as it became obvious that she did not believe that he was only there on curiosity. "Le-let me try it this way. If you were strolling down the halls of the Institute of War, and a large flash of light shone beside you, then a person appeared out of thin air, wouldn't you be curious?" Ezreal hoped that his ploy to play on her lust for adventure – as noted by the mass amount of trinkets and pages laying about her room – would be enough to get her to believe him. He had a difficult time explaining his actions to people simply because a lot of individuals live on the rule that you know your place and stick to it; but Ezreal was different. He knew his place, and did everything that he could to break out of it. Her piercing stare seemed to loosen a bit as Ezreal's shot towards her emotions sank deep into its target.
"Alright, fair enough. I'll tell you what you could gather about me anyways. I am Quinn, a Demacian, and reside high in their military ranks after having been promoted by Jarvan IV himself. I was awarded the rank and position in the Demacia's intelligence agency after hunting down an assassin that Garen and his military, the Dauntless Vanguards, failed to find. Now, following Jarvan's lead, I am a champion the League of Legends. So, why don't you tell me about you?" Ezreal shrugged. He was aware that she was hiding or avoiding telling him how she appeared, but he then could assume that it was due to her place as a – for lack of a better term – spy. He decided to mimic her style of response.
"My name's Ezreal. I grew up in Piltover and studied long and hard among ancient artifacts and secrets of Runeterra. My searches led me to creating a massive map of all of the tunnels and routes beneath the city, which was then recognized and taken in by the Piltover government. Since then, I have traveled all around, and the most peculiar journey brought me to find this glove, which somehow enlisted me within the ranks of the League of Legends. It is one mystery that I have failed to crack, but I deal with the minor nuisance. I apologize for trying to get any information about you, I have just been… on edge lately. Things around the League are not right. I know something fishy is going on but I can't get anywhere with any of my leads. I'll go ahead and leave now though." Ezreal finished his courtesy introduction and turned to leave the room. He did not expect to get any more information out of her, and he did not see the point in sticking around any longer. He left the room and shut the door quietly behind him. She did not say another word to him, but Ezreal had this hunch that she wanted to ask more questions. However, she was not willing to answer any more, so she chose not to say anything at all. It wasn't the most awkward situation that he had ever been in; he had a tendency to find himself in odd places at odd times. He turned to walk down the hallway and realized that he had accomplished nothing from leaving the room at that time; he was in an even more embarrassing situation. Luxanna Crownguard stood at the end of the hallway, watching him.
"Ezreal? What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Oh I was just on my way back to my room after the match, you, you were great out there Lux!" He replied, attempting to quickly switch the subject. It didn't work.
"Whose room is that?"
"It's uh… a friend's" he lied.
"A friend?" Lux asked. She was clearly quite confused at the idea. The only person she had ever seen Ezreal talking to was herself. She walked down the hallway towards him and looked at the door. "Oooh I see know."
"Eh? See what?"
"What kiiind of friend Ezreal?" she asked teasingly. His heart sank as he realized what she was thinking.
"Oh no! Lux! It's nothing like that at all!"
"Oh? So you just quietly left her room, stand here with your clothes a mess, and are red from head to toe becaaause?" Ezreal saw no good way out of the situation. Her conclusion made sense, but he was not sure how he could persuade her any other way, even with the honest truth. "It's ok Ez! You can have whatever 'friends' you want!" she said with a beaming smile. "I'm so glad to see that you're actually talking to other people! You spend so much time holed up and alone…" Ezreal's face had turned such a brightly blushed red that he felt he might as well have had a bucket of red paint dumped on his head.
"That's not…" he began. Lux laughed loudly and turned to walk back down the hallway, clearly not willing to listen to his reply. "See you later Ez!" she called out behind her. Ezreal sighed as loud as she had laughed and turned to walk the other way. He felt as if he had just wrecked any sort of relationship he had with the girl just by walking out of a room with the world's worst timing. He shook his head lightly to try and refocus himself. He had to go talk to Gangplank. He needed more leads. Then he could check back in with Lux later that night and try to clear up the mess he had created, and to tell her everything that he had found out.
Ezreal had a feeling that he was not going to find Gangplank in his room; there were other places around the Institute of War that would be much more likely to house a drunken pirate in his downtime after a match. Ezreal went back to his room and threw on his coat, being was fully aware that he was far from a bulky individual and he was hoping to create a slight illusion of a larger person in order to avoid some conflict. Plus, the sun was starting to set thus the temperature was dropping; not all places around the Institute were entirely indoors, and Ezreal knew as well as many people that taking shortcuts through the outdoor portions would save an awful lot of walking time.
He stepped out into the courtyard and the night time wind blew a crisp breeze throughout his hair, tussling it about his head. He took such little care his streaking blonde hair that it amazed him how its color had not faded out yet. About halfway through his stroll, he realized he had never set foot in the Institute's bar before. He did not care to drink, nor was he into partying or flirting, so he generally kept his distance. There were other places that he kept to, such as the library or the lounge. And every now and then, he and Lux would come out to the courtyard or some other outskirt of the Institute of War, and just sit or lie down and enjoy the night's scenery. His mind wandered off to thoughts of Lux before they hit the brick wall of realization that she currently thinks he is in some sort of relationship with Quinn. He let out a heavy sigh and pressed on through the evening's chill.
Ezreal came across the Institute's bar and looked around himself as if someone were to catch him slipping in. Once he determined that it was safe to enter, he walked in and searched for Gangplank. Again, he found it surprisingly difficult to spot the half drunk pirate in a red coat. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the bar while scanning his surroundings for a few minutes until a thundering laugh made him jolt upright. He spun around and saw him sitting at a table, telling stories and drinking rum, with a few summoners that Ezreal had never met before. Ez amazed himself as to how he managed to not find such a blatantly outstanding man in a crowd, twice in one day.
The pirate hardly did as much as look up when Ezreal approached. He seemed to be quite enthralled in the story he was telling to his guests. Ez glanced around nervously and proceeded to take a seat at his table. Gangplank did not bother to acknowledge Ezreal's presence as he continued to tell his tale. Ezreal grabbed the attention of a nearby waitress and ordered a glass of water to give him something to do while he waited. She gave him a wide smile and a courteous nod before turning about to get his order; her long silver hair seemed to sparkle as it swished around to her back. Ezreal watched as she walked away from the table and back into the kitchen. His gaze slowly shifted to the table in front of him where he continued to stare as he waited patiently. He had not intended to, but he found himself completely zoning out Gangplank's voice. But not just Gangplank's; he was not listening to the voices of anyone in the entire bar. His mind was aloof despite the fact that he needed to focus. Ten minutes later, he was still staring at the table until he was snapped back into reality from the waitress gently shaking his shoulder.
"Huh?" he mumbled. She replied with the same wide smile she had before. Ezreal looked at her and realized who it was. "Ashe?" he asked. He had not recognized her without the hood and armor she usually wore into battle.
"Hi Ez. Here, try this. You look like you could use it." She placed a mug of a strange purple liquid next to his glass of water. He realized that she must have been here already while he was zoning out because he did not recall her delivering the water already.
"What is it?" he asked.
"It's a specialty. On the house. Give it a shot," she replied through shining teeth. He picked up the flask and took it to his lips. He sniffed the drink and his nostrils seared with the alcoholic content fuming up into his nose.
"Is it safe?" he questioned. She giggled lightly at his thought.
"Safe enough," she replied. He exhaled heavily and let some of the strong liquor flow down his throat. His eyes shot wide open as he placed the mug back down onto the table. He coughed and sputtered a little bit and Ashe laughed lightly at him. "Well?"
"It's delicious!" he replied. "I honestly wasn't expecting such a strong flavor."
"Not many do; it's a drink made by Gragas himself. The man could brew grog to kill a Demacian," she joked. The two laughed at the response.
"Did he make this batch?" he asked.
"Yeah, he is right over there actually," she said while pointing at a table with him and a man dressed in an entirely purple cloak with a hand only possessing three fingers.
"Who is that next to him?" Ezreal inquired.
"Oh! That's Jax, his drinking buddy. You've never seen him before?"
"No, not really. I've heard of him. I know that he is entirely undefeated on the Fields of Justice, and goes by the title of 'The Champ,' but other than that I've never seen him before.
"Lucky. It's not too fun to fight against him I'll tell ya what. I've still never won a match against him.
"And how long has that been?" Ezreal asked.
"Oh, I dunno. Ever since he joined the League I suppose, shortly after Reginald Ashram disappeared from the League's High Council." Ezreal remembered the event; it seemed quite impactful when Ashram vanished, although, he was replaced shortly afterwards.
Ashe took off to wait on another table and, little by little, Ezreal began to down the drink. The grog did its trick; Ezreal's wandering thoughts were left abandoned and his attention began to flicker around to whatever was most prominent, so instead of sitting at the table and wasting away time until he could have Gangplank's undivided attention, he began to listen in to the man's stories.
"An' thar I was, in the middle of the biggest port 'n all of Bilgewater, an' this man walks up to me. He looks big 'nough to take on a bull by 'imself, so I'm thinkin', I ain't gunna stop this man from passin' trew! But 'e wa'nt gunna pass trew ye see, 'e wanted to talk to me. Now trust me, I've toppled kraken smaller 'n this man; I wa'nt wantin' to talk to 'im 'bout nuttin', but I ain't seein' a way out! So I'm 'alf shakin' in mah boots, and I puff out me chest an' ask 'im what 'e wants! This whale sized man then looks me deep in teh eye an' I see fear innit. Fear of a man who has done a ter-ble ter-ble ting. I 'ave only seen this kina fear a few times in me life laddies, an' one of those times was when I found out a towns lady was pregnant wit me child!" the group laughed at his joke and swung their mugs around in an overly exaggerated manner. Once the commotion had settled, they fell quite and Gangplank continued. "So Ima 'bout to ask what teh man needs when I hear me a yoo-hoo-in' goin' on behin' me. So I spin 'round an' tryna see what be a yoo-hoo-in' at me. An' it was the loosest of loose woman; Sarah Fortune." This comment received a similar reaction from his crowd and a few whistlers in the background. Ezreal began to think that the entire bar was now listening to Gangplank's tale.
"So this wench come up to 'im and give 'im a wink. An' you know what I mean by wink. She was lookin' for this bulky man to be spendin; some quality time wit 'er. Now, I dunno what made 'er come o'er at just dat time, but 'e was not fallin' for 'er by any means. The man bulks up his chest and I swear der was a killer shark leapin' outta 'is biceps. 'e looks 'er in the eye an' tells 'er to back off. I'm tellin yer, I ain't NEVER seen a man turn down 'er strut like that; other dan me o' course. She winced a lil and decided to try on a new way. She looks 'im back and puff up 'er chest to mimic 'im. Dis was where tings got 'airy. 'e rolled 'is eyes at 'er a told 'er to slink 'er seductive arse in a direction 'e wa'nt walkin'. She looked so upset by this response that she actually tried to shoot teh man! 'e took a leap backward while I ran like 'ell. I wa'nt gunna go out being caught in a cross fire of a wench and a kraken."
"But she ain't gi'en up yet. 'e starts to yell this yell that could split the fiercest of waves. 'e starts to glow e'er so slightly and gi'e 'em a good punch or two. Dem bullets flew off o' 'is fist so fast that they coulda shot into someone else an' killed 'em! 'e makes 'is way forward, punchin' bullets out o' da sky, an' gets o'er to where she is standin'. By this point, she is backed up as much as she could be an' fearin for 'er life. Teh man grabs a plank off o' a nearby buildin' – I ain't kiddin' 'ere, he ripped the board right off o' dat barber shop – an' starts to spin 'round in circles wit da board cuttin' at teh ground. She jumps o'er it the first few times but 'e kept goin'. The man was capable o' spinnin' 'round fast as a cyclone an' he never did so much as stumble! Wish me 'ad an eye patch, woulda lifted it just then to see what I was a seein'."
" So 'e knocks 'er legs out from 'neath 'er an' she falls to teh ground. 'e tosses dat board on 'er and spits on her 'fore 'e turns back 'round an' walks towards me. Now, if me legs wena shakin' before, they be shakin' by now. I look at 'im and tells me 'e needs a ship. I look back at teh Miss Fortune lyin' ina heap on de floor an' jus' tell 'im to take whate'er 'e needs. 'e says he needs a ship to Ionia to escape. Now, I ain't one for pryin', specially on a man-kraken, so I just give 'em teh fastest little boat I got! Handed 'im some oars in case that hexturgametathing broken down on 'im, and let 'im go on 'is way! 'e seemed to be alone, an' 'e made it quite obvious 'e didn' wan' no woman wit 'im… Least not that Fortune wench…"
The crowd around Gangplank began to laugh even harder than before, clearly incredibly intoxicated. Ezreal wasn't sure if he would ever get Gangplank's attention at this rate, and decided to leave the bar. He attempted to get to his feet and stumbled in the process. A few of the men around laughed at him and swung their flasks about. He slumped back into his chair and looked back at the empty mug of grog on the table. Perhaps he should not have drunk all of it, just to listen in on a stupid story with a bunch of drunken oafs. He was not even sure what had kept his attention the entire time; other than the lack of anything else to focus on and the clear affect the alcohol was having on his body. He sat in his seat and stared off into the distance for about half an hour before Ashe came back around to the table. She looked at him and giggled.
"Need some help hun?" she asked. He used all of the energy in his body to divert his attention from the wall and look over at her. She saw the look on his face and turned back to the kitchen. A few minutes later she reemerged in a more casual outfit, having changed from her waitress uniform. "Here," she said. She aided him to his feet and walked him out of the bar. Once outside, the noise level fell drastically. He found himself able to focus on his feet and do more of the walking and less of being dragged. "Where we headin' Ez?" she asked. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing more than a few mumbles came out. He decided to go ahead and point the way back to his room. They got to the courtyard and Ezreal tapped her on the shoulder. She nodded and he took a few steps away on his own to throw up on the grass. He sighed and rolled his shoulders before taking a few steps backwards and falling on his rear end. Ashe laughed and knelt down beside him.
"Sorry," she said. "You don't drink much, do you?" Ezreal shook his head.
"No, nodaddall." He replied drunkenly.
"I tend to forget how strong that stuff is to someone who hasn't ever had it. Hardly has an effect on me anymore."
"Youuu… drunk?" he asked.
"Am I drunk? No. Do I drink? Of course. It is quite customary to drink and celebrate in Freljord; especially during the holidays. It's kind of funny; people around here get very hyped up for events like the Snowdown, but all we get to look at in Freljord is snow and ice. Just a difference of perspectives I guess." Something about that statement clicked with Ezreal. It hit him light a bolt of lightning and he tried to jump up in the air but it turned into more of an excited bounce that led to him toppling backwards. She laughed again and helped him upright. "Careful there, you don't have any more motor skills than a block of ice at the moment: you can move if someone pushes you, but that's about it."
"Sorby…" He said. She smiled at him.
"Not your fault. Mine if anyone's. Anyways, what got you so excited?"
"I realbized sumfing… his stowy, idda… id mayavah been sumone I knowww…"
"Oh? He tells that story all of the time, Sometimes the drunkards don't quite realize that they're laughing at the same jokes every time that they hear it," she said.
"But idda spounds like uh… Gaarpen…"
"Um… Gaarpen?"
"Derpmacia… spins… big…" he sputtered.
"OH! Garen! Well, it may have been. But we have no way of knowing now. He hasn't been around for quite some time. Have you noticed that no one seems to be too concerned about it? I dunno… I feel like the League should have put more effort into it than they have. I mean, in the Freljord, the entire place is just barren wastes; omit the tribes and camps that have made settlement there. It's difficult to monitor who and what goes in and out, but the League? There are walls and guards everywhere. And honestly, with that chain warden, Thresh, I wouldn't even think about stepping outside of the grounds without everyone knowing exactly where I am going."
"I hate dat guiy…" Ezreal stammered. Ashe laughed and nodded.
"I mean, for all I know, the entire Freljord is just spies. I'd love to trust my people more than that but I see them switching sides all of the time just by my sister's presence."
"Sister?" he asked.
"Yes. One of my two. Sejuani and Lissandra. We are the three highest powers in Freljord. Lissandra is on my side but Sejuani… she seems to think that only the strong are fit to survive. But… it's not right. Everyone deserves a chance… She raids camps and either recruits new followers who bend to her will or kills off those unwilling. It's… horrid."
"Has nayone speen this… ?"
"More or less. Awhile back there was a woman who came into my camp half frozen and with a great blue bird about her. She bore a Demacian crest and sought some shelter. She seemed to be surveying the area. I'm not sure what came of her studies but I know that she would have had to report back to a Demacian of higher authority. So either Garen or Jarvan would be my best bet. And seeing as Garen isn't around, I suppose that I could go talk to Jarvan and see if it was anything I should be concerned –or hopeful – for, because at the moment, I'm scared for my country and my people… there is so much unknown in the Freljord…" Ezreal had a sense that she was being sentimental and was seeking some expression of concern, but he had enough relationship problems with the one girl he talked to at the moment to want to open up any new friendships. Plus, his completely wasted state was not helping him out at all. He awkwardly got to his feet and offered her a hand. She grinned and shook her head as she got to her feet on her own. She must have realized that taking his hand would only have toppled them both to the ground.
The rest of the walk back to Ezreal's room was fairly quiet and she let him go with a simple goodbye, and a snarky comment about not drowning on his puke. He closed his door and moved towards the corner of his room. He seemed to have expected a bed to be there but soon realized that he never had owned a bed. He clumped to the floor where the ground was most cleared of clutter and pulled a book over to rest his head on. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep for the night; the first time he had intentionally gone to bed in years.
Sometime the next day, Ezreal woke up. There were not any windows in his room to allow the beams of sunlight to shine onto his face as he slept, so he was not sure what time of day it was when got up. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head to try to shake the exhaustion and the hung over feeling. He tried to recall the events of the previous day and was left a little short. He remembered a few dialogues but that was about it.
"Uuuggghhh…" he moaned. His head was quite cloudy and his first reaction was to head back to sleep before he realized how absurd it was due to the fact that he never wanted to sleep. It usually just happened as an unfortunate occurrence and a distraction from what he wanted to do. He remembered what he had done before he had entered the bar – the match, his meeting with Quinn, and his decision to enter the bar – but the rest was a bit fuzzy. He did remember that Ashe decided to escort him back to his room, and he had talked to her but he was not quite sure when or where, and what they had talked about. He decided that his next best course of action would be to go see Ashe and try to recollect some information from her. Walking towards the door to his room, he saw a soft blue glow start at his feet. He rolled his eyes knowing was coming: he was being summoned to the fields of Justice. He really ought to pay more attention to his posted matches. He was not sure how well he was going to do in his terrible state, but he did not have a choice. So he decided that he had to just grin and bear it.
This process of attempting to accomplish something then being distracted repeated for the next few days; whether it be due to being summoned for a match, awkward confrontations with Lux – who still thought he was in a relationship with Quinn – or being dragged aside by some fan wanting to talk about match strategy or praise his performance. Eventually he managed to get some time to go find Ashe and try to see if he could remember everything that had happened. He made sure that he had no matches scheduled for the day and began to make his way towards where most of the Freljord champions resided inside of the Institute. He got to the courtyard and realized that she may be at the bar again. He was not sure if she worked there regularly or not, but he decided that it was probably best that he did not go back into it again.
He stood where he had stopped and looked around, soaking up the serenity. The grass swayed lightly, the tree's leaves rustled in the wind, and short stone fences lined the paths of gravel that guided the common routes linking portions of the Institute together. He stepped over one of the fences and leaned against a tree. He scanned the area and tried to decide where to go. He saw a group of birds clustered around something, pecking and picking at it. He walked towards the birds and they all scattered away to reveal what they had been prying at: a pile of vomit. Disgusted, Ezreal took a few steps back and plugged his nose before the memories flooded back into him. He suddenly remembered having thrown up after the bar and talking to Ashe, or more so, Ashe talking to him. He thought about everything she had said.
"Her sisters are the three strongest forces in Freljord… Not much of that helps me out though. She is afraid for her people… she once met a Demacian girl with a big blue bird… again, not much help. She may have reported to Garen or Jarvan, but, if it is Garen, I can't do anything about that…" he muttered to himself. He quickly realized that there was not a whole lot of information that could be of use to him. He tried to remember what else had happened that night. He did remember Gangplank telling some story, and Ezreal had been on the verge of discovering something before his drunken mind had lost track of what it was. He looked back at the vomit pile and tried to recollect some more events from that evening. He did remember having stammered something about Garen, but Ashe kind of tossed aside the idea due to the lack of ability to ask him. Ez reflected back more and remembered that he thought Gangplank's silly story to be about Garen. But he was not sure why he had thought that. Perhaps it was something specifically about the story. Garen had been… His mind was blank.
"I'm remembering why I don't drink ever…" he murmured. "Who else was in the story? Gangplank, obviously. And a… oh yes, a wench, at least, that's what he called her. Wench is… a female pirate, more modernly a very loose woman. So, do I know any of those?" He searched through his brain to come up with anyone who would fit that description inside of the League of Legends. "Ah yes, Sarah Fortune. She is a pirate… hunter. Well, close enough really. What happened then? Gangplank watched Garen and Sarah… they… fought? Maybe? Well, that's about all I know about Garen is that he can spin while wielding a weapon and move at the same time. Quite phenomenal really… So maybe he spun. I'm guessing that's why I thought it may be him. If that's true… huh. Maybe Gangplank didn't INTEND to talk to me one on one. Maybe he knew that the same old story he tells over and over would eventually reach my ears. All he told me to do was to come and find me. I suppose this looks a lot less suspicious. So his story explains why he helped Garen out… that he was alone when he got to Bilgewater, then alone still when he got to Ionia, presumably. Unless he gained a person over the ocean." He still did not have answers to all of his questions, but he had answers to a lot more than he did before.
Ezreal started to walk out of the courtyard while his mind whirled with thoughts. For some reason, the most prominent was a strange fixation on Garen's spinning ability. He laughed lightly to himself at the thought; he had never seen such a bizarre fighting technique that worked so successfully. It was fairly un-recreatable. Again, he found himself stopping dead in his tracks. He had seen that spin used before. In fact, he had seen it used just a few days ago in his match on the Fields of Justice; he had seen it used to wipe out his entire team. Katarina spun. Maybe she had been taught by Garen, but there was no way it had happened in broad daylight. Neither Noxus nor Demacia would look very kindly upon that. Ezreal grew a new excitement with a potential fresh lead, but it quickly diminished when he realized that pursuit would involve talking to the most cruel and sadistic woman he knew. How anyone managed to retain any sort of relationship with the woman was far beyond Ezreal, but he knew that she did have a social life; even if it was limited.
Ezreal let out yet another heavy sigh – it seemed to be all that he was doing recently – and walked through the hallways of the Institute towards Katarina's room. He was not sure exactly where it was located, but he did know where a lot of the Noxian's lived. It was the last place inside of the Institute that he wanted to go.
He trudged through the hallways of the Institute until he came across Katarina's door. He had managed to make it that far into the Noxian portion without confrontation, but he knew that it would have to change shortly. He knocked on the door and a woman appeared in its entrance; she was still wearing her combat outfit made of tight black leather and lined with her weapons of choice. Ezreal was not quite sure why she decided to dress in such a sexualized manner, but he was not there to discuss with her the manner in which she clothed; he was there to get information and leave. For a split second, her face beamed with a beautiful smile complimented by her long crimson hair, but the expression vanished almost instantly. Her gaze was not set to Ezreal's eye level, but a little more towards his forehead. Perhaps she was expecting someone and was clearly quite disappointed to see Ezreal instead. As her smile vanished she spoke to him with a sharp tone.
"What do you want?" she spat. Ezreal panicked a little before regaining some composure to speak.
"I uh… I need to get some information… I was hoping you could uh, help me out."
"Help? Hardly. What information?"
"I need some uh, info on Garen," he stammered.
"He has been missing forever. What could I possibly tell you?" she snorted.
"I know but you spin like…" Ezreal was cut off mid sentence.
"I spin? What in the world are you talking about?"
"You spin when you fight, it's something that I've only seen Garen do. I was just wondering…" Again, Ezreal was cut off mid sentence when she grabbed him by the chest of his shirt and yanked him into her room. She immediately slammed the door shut behind him and pinned him up against it before pulling out a knife and sticking it to his neck.
"Why. Are. You. Here," she scowled. Ezreal knew that he was not in any danger because he could shift away with his glove at any point in time, but he figured that doing so may just anger her even more and he would have no hope of getting anything out of her, so he decided to play along in the interim. He lightly placed his finger tips against the blade to indicate that he needed it farther away in order to speak. He cleared his throat and continued.
"Look, I know a lot already. I know that Garen and Talon are missing and that the League hasn't decided to do anything about it. I know that we are seeing some of the most devious creatures showing up in claims of having been accepted into the League of Legends. I know where Garen may be right now and how he got there. He has people concerned about him and I wanted to let them know that he is ok. I just wanted to ask if you knew anything. I thought maybe you had been spending time with him and he had taught you how to spin while you attack…"
"I've known how to do that for a very long time. It was not taught to me by a thick headed Demacian," she replied sharply.
"Right, but to move forward while doing so… it's just… unnatural…" He was beginning to lose faith in his lead that he had previously been placing a lot of hope upon. He continued to stare into her eyes as she stood with her knife pressed against his neck. In one swift motion, she lowered the knife, released her grip on Ezreal's chest, and backed away a step or two. She did not reply to his remark but she crossed her room, in silence, and took out an old piece of paper from a drawer. She walked back to Ezreal and handed it to him without saying a word.
He looked at the paper and saw that it was a news article. The headline read "Institute of War Accused of Conspiracy". He shook the page lightly to allow the crease to move towards the middle and give him a more firm grip. The picture in the center portrayed Garen leaping into the middle of a combat scenario where he was fighting other Demacians. Immediately behind him was Katarina, and in the background was Jarvan.
He quickly skimmed the text and found out the meaning of the title. According to the article, some time shortly after Jarvan had returned to Demacia from his conquest south with his small group of followers, he had come to Katarina with some evidence that was left from General Du Couteau, Katarina's father, who had been missing for quite some time as of then. The evidence was a list of orders and transactions of political events and military actions that had been given by names of people that do not exist; however, they all seemed to link back to the Institute of War somehow. These misguided orders caused a war between Demacia and Noxus at a city in its central point called Kalamanda. When Jarvan came forth with the evidence, Demacian's Dauntless Vanguards saw a Noxian near their prince, and leap in to attack. Garen defended her, having more faith in his childhood friend, Jarvan, than he did in the judgment of his soldiers. The Institute never answered for this claim, and he knew for a fact that there were not very many issues of the Journal of Justice, the name of the news paper, published after the one he was reading. Ezreal wrinkled his eyebrows and looked up at Katarina in slight confusion as to why she had shared this with him.
"Yes, he has taught me a few things about how to fight. But I don't know where he is, or why he has gone. Anything else?" Her tone was no longer hostile, but it was still far from friendly. She stood in the middle of her room with her arms crossed, and stared at Ezreal, watching every last movement. Ezreal pondered the question and decided that he had all of the information that he needed on Garen for the time being. However, he did want to take advantage of the situation to pick into potential influences behind the League's strange activities.
"Yeah. Was this the first time Jarvan had showed his face since he had returned to Demacia? The article seems to think so, but I wasn't sure if that was the truth or not."
"As far as I know, yes. He just reappeared at the castle one day. I heard that some guards said there was a strange air about him, and not just a foreign smell, but a distinct difference. His mannerisms were changed, he barely spoke, and he bore a fairly blank face. Not things that we would see on him today, which is a bit mysterious. But regardless…"
"So, why did you trust him when he came to you with this unknown evidence from Marcus Du Couteau?" Ezreal asked. She paused for a moment before responding.
"I guess I had a gut feeling. Or maybe I had previous experiences to lead me to believing him. Regardless, the results were solid."
"Right. Well, thanks Katarina." Ezreal turned to leave the room and was about to close the door behind him when he had one more thought. "Hey, were you expecting someone when I showed up?" he asked.
"No," she said flatly. "Just hoping." With that, Ezreal continued to leave the room and close the door behind him. He heard a sharp twang as the sharp end of a knife poked through the door exactly where his head had been positioned moments before. Ezreal cringed a little at the sound and wiped the sweat off of his forehead. He had managed to keep his cool during the encounter but he was genuinely afraid of the woman; just as he should be. He looked up and took a deep breath. He glanced down the hallway to his left and saw nobody, then did the same to the right and saw an outline of a woman standing with her head down, just a few feet away from him.
Ezreal's heart sank into his stomach when he saw her. "Damn it..." he whispered. He was caught slipping out of a girl's room again. He would have to explain to Lux that he was not seeing every woman in the Institute and that he was just talking to them; a likely story, at best. He took in a deep breath and got ready to tell her everything in hopes that she would understand, but he did not get time to speak before a finger was held up to his lips. He pondered the notion with great curiosity; he had no idea why she wished for him to remain silent. He looked up from his fixated gaze on the floor and saw that the finger did not belong to Lux at all. In fact, who it belonged to was quite puzzling to him: it was Quinn.
"Come with me," she said. Her rough voice gave the impression that she was always in pain or that the situation was dire, so he had no idea whether or not what sat on her mind was even relatively important. He decided to go along with her, knowing that he was decently safe inside of the Institute of War, and that he was always safe with the powers of his glove. She led him about the hallways, seemingly aimlessly, and came to a corner. She looked around it and saw a few people coming their way, so she propped herself up against the wall in a natural way. Ezreal took the hint did so as well, seemingly becoming transfixed with the grooves on his arcane glove. The people passed without interaction and Quinn motioned for him to keep following. He slid around the corner with her and then walked towards a room in the hallway. Ezreal saw that the room belonged to her and they went inside. She closed the door and turned to face him.
"What are you doing?" she asked. Perplexed, Ezreal scratched his head. He was trying to figure out if she had gone insane and forgotten that she had led him to her room or if she was aware that he was snooping around the Institute. She saw his confusion and rolled her eyes.
"Look, I'm not crazy. I meant why are you going around and talking to people in the Institute about Garen? What do you plan to achieve by it?"
"I'm doing what now?" he replied, playing dumb.
"Don't be coy blondie, I could hear everything that you said to Katarina. Right next to a door is about the dumbest place to hold out a conversation." At that moment Ezreal realized that she had moved to, and was currently standing on the far side of the room and talking quietly, so he had naturally moved closer in order to hear, and thus farther from the door. He grinned at her cunning and decided that playing dumb was far from plausible.
"I plan to figure out where he is, and why the Institute doesn't care," he responded stoutly. She glared at him in response.
"You truly think that they don't care? Not as bright as you look." He saw her lower her head a little and walk over to a dresser, on top of which her crossbow lay. Ezreal's brain clicked as he fit together everything that was going on. He was realizing that Quinn may be more than just an information agent for Demacia. Perhaps her skills and utility as a spy were sought out by another person or thing. Perhaps the League of Legends had accepted her as a champion to cover up the recruiting of an agent; an agent prepared to hunt down anyone trying to find out what fishy mess was being stirred up inside of its walls.
Ezreal reacted quickly as he shifted his essence to dodge a crossbow bolt aimed at his head. He shot a few blasts of arcane energy towards her in attempt to disarm but not harm. He missed and left a few smoldering marks in the wall and she rolled to the side while preparing another bolt. Before either champion had a chance to perform another action, a great blue bird flew in through the open window and landed in the middle of the floor. Both Ezreal and Quinn stood in the room, unsure as to what they should do.
The bird cocked its head as it looked at Ezreal and then walked towards Quinn. It started to caw in such a way that it was strangely familiar to Ezreal. It was an ancient tongue of an extinct race of majestic birds. The language allowed people to understand what the birds were saying but proved challenging when attempting to talk to the birds. People just did not possess the right vocal cords. He listened carefully as he tried to interpret what the bird was saying based on the words and sounds that he was already familiar with. His eyes widened as he began to understand. His eyes shot towards Quinn and the words blew out of his mouth so quickly that he was not sure they were even comprehensible.
"YouknowwhereGarenis!?"
Her jaw dropped to the floor as she heard his question. The bird saw Quinn's reaction and looked at Ezreal through the eye on the side of his head that faced him.
"What?" she stammered.
"The bird! It knows where Garen is! He is on the coast of Zaun!" he exclaimed. She stared at him with the same look of awe she had been bearing.
"How did you..." She was clearly more confused than a dizzy drunkard so Ezreal jumped in to explain.
"Your large bird..." He started while opening an extended hand towards him. Quinn got his message and added in.
"Valor. His name's Valor."
"Right. Very well. Your bird, Valor, belongs to a thought-to-be extinct race. They call them Demacian Eagles. Anyways, his kind was worshipped and studied. Its great size, distinct elegance, friendliness, and royal blue color drew their attention and fascination. They learned its language and recorded it along with the meanings to each sound. It's quite fascinating really..."
"How do you know all that?" she questioned with raised eyebrows.
"I'm an explorer," he replied. "I search for mysteries and ancient secrets. There isn't much that I do not know about the history of Runeterra; that is, as opposed what anyone else knows. The world is so vast and marv..." Ezreal's sentence was cut short due to Valor's strange actions. He had turned to face Ezreal and walked so closely that it was just a few feet away. The bird was looking at him and inspecting his every movement. Valor then stretched his neck out and leaned in on Ezreal. His head was just inches from creating contact with Ezreal's nose. The sight made him grin and he chuckled a little bit. He reached out his hand to pet the bird on the head.
"Don't!" Quinn yelled as she saw his hand approach. However, her cry was not needed. It curred lightly and nuzzled his cheek. He smiled and rubbed its neck affectionately. Quinn's mouth was agape once more. She seemed to be in a perpetual spiral of amazement that day.
"I have never in my life seen that bird take a liking to anyone but me, let alone that quickly. How did you...?" she was just at a loss for words at that point.
"They were worshipped for a reason. They seemed to know who to trust, and who not to. There is a lot of mystery behind them, and I've only skimmed the surface of what there is to learn." Ezreal spoke while still ruffling the birds feathers about. It seemed to enjoy the explorer quite a bit, even if he did not know why. A short distance in front of them, Quinn walked forward and pet the backside of the blue bird. He seemed to enjoy the attention after having flown for such a long time.
"So you understood what he told me?" she asked.
"Yeah. Well, parts of it. I kind of assumed he was talking about Garen to be honest. Valor described him in such a way that I couldn't imagine it being anyone else. Do you know where he is heading? Is anyone with him? Is he safe?" She hesitated at his questions and thought deeply about whether or not she trusted him. Ten minutes ago, the answer would be an obvious no. But after seeing how Valor reacted to seeing Ezreal, she was contemplating. The bird cawed and the explorer grinned.
"He seems to think that you should trust me," he said cheerfully.
"Geh!" Ez wasn't sure if it was a groan or a wail, but he was sure that she was incredibly uncomfortable with the whole situation. "Wait! You couldn't have read bird sounds! How did you learn them!? If you did at all..." she tested.
"The ancient people recorded the sound waves produced by the birds and held them, magically, within runes. Activating the runes would play back the recordings held inside. Inscribed on the runes was what they translated into. Of course, I had to translate their ancient language, thus some of what I know may be pretty well off. But the sounds themselves are about as accurate as can be." She blinked a few times in disbelief, realizing that her call out had just been shut down.
"You took the time to learn the language that may have been mistranslated?" she questioned.
"Yes and no; I listened to 'em a few times through, but it didn't take long to learn."
"You learned it by hearing it... two, MAYBE three times?"
"They didn't call me a prodigy because of how hard I studied," he boasted. At that point in time the woman seemed to have shifted away from doubt and confusion and was leaning towards jealousy and anger. Clearly she was not very well aware of the talent that existed inside of the League. Her next words were spoken through fumes and clenched fists.
"Some of us had to WORK in order to EARN our titles."
"Meh. I never wanted to be a champion anyways; it just came about when I found this glove."
She spent the next few minutes glaring at him while he was unsure on how to react. He had spoken truthfully, but that fact clearly aggravated her. She still had not answered any of his questions, and at that rate he was not going to get any response.
"Well, anyways, if you aren't going to answer my questions, and you aren't going to continue to try to kill me, then I guess I'll be on my way. I got places to go." Ezreal spun about and headed towards the door.
"Wait!" Quinn called out.
"I'm not answering anymore questions about Valor. There is plenty of info on the Demacian Eagles in the Institute's library if you wish to find out more." Ezreal called out.
"That's not what I meant," she stated. "You… you remind me so much of someone I know… er, knew… no… Know. Someone I know." Ezreal turned to face her and raised an eyebrow.
"Um, what?" he was quite confused and then he saw a small tear forming in the corner of her eye. "Are you… crying?"
"No! Shut up! Never mind! Just go…" she said with a falsely complacent tone.
"I've only been here like ten minutes… How could you know enough about me to remind you of someone?" he said.
"And… that's why exactly… My brother was always on the move. He wanted adventure, here and now. He wanted to be a knight of Demacia, but he didn't want any of the royalties. He just wanted to be known, to be acknowledged…" A long pause followed her words.
"You've lost him, haven't you?" Ezreal said to break the silence. To Quinn, the truth of his words shot a chill down her spine like a chunk ice.
"Yeah…" she began. "A few years later I found Valor, wounded, and sitting in the same spot that Caleb was lost…" Ezreal bowed his head solemnly.
"You learned to speak Valor's language on your own, didn't you? Not through history or text books."
"Yeah… It kind of tears me up to think that someone could have done what I did over all of those years in just a matter of minutes… it makes me feel…"
"Obsolete." Ezreal finished. He walked across the room towards her and Valor. He rubbed Valor's head gently and spoke to Quinn while looking at the majestic bird.
"You know, you have done the same to me. I have been searching and investigating for weeks, months, and yet my finds have totaled to almost nothing. In just a day's worth of time, you and Valor found Garen." She grinned lightly, from what Ezreal could see out of the corner of his eye.
"I guess so," she stated.
"Is he alright?"
"More than. He is proving stronger than I thought."
"Is Talon with him?"
"No. I have yet to find him. He is hiding, or is hidden, much better than I would have ever imagined. Valor has never before come back empty handed… er, clawed. And yet he can't find Talon."
"Where is Garen heading?" Ez asked.
"Freljord. I don't know how he plans to get there, nor does he. They want to go there because they can't be found in those desolate wastes. When I was there I could hardly feel my own feet, let alone see them. It honestly wouldn't surprise me if Talon was already there, giving how hard it is to find anything in that frozen wasteland. I know that when I went back with Jarvan, things didn't become familiar. I was still lost the entire time."
"Oh, were you the one Ashe met in the Freljord? She told me a Demacian with a bird was there at one point."
"Yeah, that was me. But we didn't get far, even when Jarvan tagged along to speak. He let Ashe know that we were on her side if conflict were to arise, but his troops were ill prepared for such conditions, and with Sejuani's forces based around strength, a fight would be terribly one sided."
"Right," Ezreal replied, only half listening to her story. He wondered why Ashe had created an illusion that she had no idea what side Demacia and Jarvan were on when she had spoken to him the other day in the courtyard. Perhaps she realized that she has said too much and was attempting to cover up her trail in an unsuspecting way. Up until then, it had proven successful. However, Freljord issues aside, Ez was still concerned about Garen. "So you said he is proving to be tough to take down… Are you trying to kill him?" He was responded to with silence and a stare to the floor. "You know Garen and Jarvan were childhood friends, right? The two basically live and die for one another."
"You don't know that!" she yelled. He wrinkled his brow to serve as a reply. "He never mentions Garen when we talk! He never tells stories of their past! He never even expressed concern for his disappearance!"
"Does that negate their past then? Perhaps he knows that you don't like Garen or something so he avoids conversation about it."
"Keh!" she grunted. He knew that he was right, and so did she. Ezreal walked over to a piece of paper and quill sitting on her desk. He quickly sketched out a map and rolled it up. He walked over to Quinn and handed it to her.
"Here," he said.
"What?" she expressed.
"Take this to him. Help him out. You won't regret it. I don't know who you are working for, but I can assure you that taking that man's life is far from the right thing to do. Ezreal turned and left the room, uninterrupted. Quinn stood inside holding the map. She unrolled it and found that it was a map of Zaun and a tunnel system. How he had managed to sketch it so quickly, she was unsure; regardless, it led straight from Zaun to the Freljord. A quick and hidden path to insure a safe travel and bypass the mountain ranges. She looked at Valor and back at the map. Valor curred at her and she sighed.
"Val, how do you always know how to help me? You ALWAYS know… I can't just be wrong or misguided!" If the bird was capable of grinning, Quinn was certain that it was right then. "Fine… you win." She knelt down and tied the map to his leg. She fed him and let him leave the room. The bird flew out into the sky and Quinn stood by the window until its blue feather's reflection of sunlight was no longer visible against the daytime expanse. She was not quite sure how the man who had caught her leaving a conversation with the High Councilors – about how Zed had failed and she needed to track Garen down again – then convinced her to now attempt to save his life and shake his pursuers; but he had. Quinn leaned up against the window's frame and lost herself in thought. She was not quite sure how she would explain the failure to the High Summoners, but she would think of something. She always did.
Meanwhile, Ezreal was in full sprint towards Lux's room. He had a bounty of information and knew that he needed to tell her what he had discovered. He busted into her room at maximum velocity and saw her sitting in a chair, facing the window. She was still, and almost lifeless.
"Lux?" Ezreal called.
"Hmm?" she said in a faked happy tone.
"What's a matter?" he asked.
"You were with Quinn again, weren't you? I saw you go into her room…" Ezreal bowed his head and let his swollen heart sink. He walked across the room and stood beside her. He could see wet stains in the sleeves of her shirt where she had wiped her tears away.
"Quinn is nothing to me," he said.
"Oh? So why do you…" Ezreal cut her off before questioning came. He hoped it to be easier that way.
"She is a spy. And she knows where Garen is."
"What?!" she exclaimed.
"He is in Zaun. I talked to Gangplank and discovered that he traveled from Bilgewater to Ionia, where he could reside in a peaceful and unexpected environment. Something has convinced him to sail into Zaun. Talon is not with him, so that mystery is still open. I'm trying to help; I sent him a map to safely get him into Freljord. He doesn't want to be found yet, and he won't be if he is there." Lux sat in silence for a long time while she soaked in the information. Ezreal knew that his trust with her was currently shattered, but he hoped that she would find it in her to believe him, and mend what had been accidentally fractured.
"If he is in Zaun, then he would in fact be east. We were right Ez," she said at last. He smiled broadly.
"Yes, we were indeed right."
"Do we know why he left?" she asked.
"No. But, he knows what he is doing. We know that much." She smiled widely too. "Are you ok?" he asked.
"Yes. I am now. Thank you Ez. You have relieved a lot of stress." Ezreal blushed before turning around to insure that his reaction was not seen.
"Yeah uh… thanks. I'm going to… go now. I got… things." He stammered before leaving the room. Lux had not gotten out of her chair during the entire short conversation, but Ezreal knew that he had finally succeeded in putting her mind at ease about her brother, Garen. He beamed and placed his hands behind his head in a gloating manner of acceptance. He walked through the hallways and continued to ponder possibilities of Talon's location, still unsatisfied with the open ended mystery.