Sejuani's cry rang in Garen's ears for nearly a minute as he kept the muscles in his neck clenched tight, anticipating the falling axe to sweep through his flesh and leave him departed from the world of Runeterra. His bloodshot eyes shot open and he stared at the cracked tiles on the ground beneath him.

The Demacian stood slowly, half expecting to be brutally shoved back to the ground in preparation for execution. He got the point in which he was standing fully upright, bouncing his shoulders back into position and listening to the soft clunking of his armor finding its way back to the intended resting position. His ribcage seared in pain but his health was hardly of concern to him at the moment; he was more worried about where he was and what was going on.

The room around him was incredibly familiar and it took just a few seconds before he knew where he stood. The Institute of War was hardly the place he wanted to be, but if it was the only alternative to having his head chopped off, there was not really any room to complain.

Standing around was not going to do any good, so Garen made his way towards the exit of the room. Once outside, he looked down the hallway to both his left and right. It was fairly empty, but he heard a bit of a ruckus going on to his right, just outside of his range of sight. He moved quickly and came across the entrance to the summoning room. Two guards were wrestling with - and quite frankly wrestling was hardly the word to describe the minimal effort put forth - a small blonde haired man. His eyes widened broadly when he saw Garen, who responded by rushing forward to assist him. He was not sure what kind of trouble Ezreal had gotten himself into, but the amount of conflicts Garen had with the League were nothing in comparison to the potential punishment for beating up a few guards, so his decision was made fairly quickly.

The brute lunged onto one of the men holding Ezreal and tackled him to the ground. The quick thrash to the floor left him unconscious and Garen got up to face the remaining one and did not bother hesitating before he launched a fist square into the side of the man's head. He swayed slightly and fell to the ground while Ezreal brushed himself off and stood around searching for the question he wanted to ask first. Before he could find it, the Demacian placed a large hand on his shoulder.

"Ezreal," he began, "I need to get back to Demacia. I know that I can trust you. Can you help me get there?" The shy explorer seemed a little too befuddled to know how to respond. A million questions flooded his head, his heart ached to go talk to Lux, and he was a little uncomfortable with the fact that guards from the League were currently lying unconscious, just feet away.

"Well, I... uh, yeah. Yeah, we can head towards Demacia. What is going on there?"

"You haven't yet heard? It has been under attack from Noxus for nearly an entire day. We must make haste, I know not how well my comrades will fare without me."

"What! Noxus is invading? Is Lux ok?!" The Demacian laughed and ruffled Ezreal's hair.

"I am standing right beside you. I am not sure as to how well she is doing. Last I knew, she was en route to Demacia with any other available Demacian champions. I am assuming that Noxus is pushing forward as well. As I said, we must hurry forth." The man's blonde hair bounced as he nodded in response, and the two pushed towards the exit of the Institute of War.

Hardly a step out the door, having passed a large number of very confused onlookers, they saw two champions teleport into view. Garen and Ezreal knew them to be Ashe and Tryndamere, but it did not make their presence any less confusing.

"Ezreal! Garen! What a relief," Ashe called out as she saw them approach. She moved forward and gave Ez a big hug, which drew a deep blush from his cheeks.

"Eh HEM," Tryndamere choked out sarcastically.

"Oh don't worry hun, he will give the king a hug to." Ashe then let go of Ezreal and pushed him towards her husband. Within a second, he pushed an open hand forward into the explorer's chest and knocked him to the ground. The man quickly scrambled to his feet while Ashe giggled and Tryndamere groaned in annoyance and embarrassment. Garen grinned, glad to see his companions in high spirits, and motioned for Ezreal to follow with him towards Demacia. He was about to turn his back when Ashe cut him off to ask the question resting on her mind.

"Garen! I assume all was well in Demacia, seeing as you are back here at the Institute?"

"Quite the opposite," Garen replied with a sulk. "The castle was overtaken by Noxian troops. We had retaken the throne just to be trapped in the throne room by approaching forces. I was saved moments before execution, and am currently on the way back, hoping to catch up to the other wave reinforcements." Ashe's look grimed as she heard the words.

"Oh. I see," she stated, the joyful tone completely absent from her voice. "And what about you Ezreal?"

"He was being restrained by guards within the Institute of War," Garen answered for him out of impatience. "I'm not sure why, but I moved on instinct, not rationale. He was coming to Demacia with me."

"Well, two things," Ashe started. "Where did you come from Ez? And how did Garen get here? You have been missing for quite some time now, but no one knew where you went. And you were restrained by the Institute? Tryndamere and I were assaulted by assassins who claimed they were hired by the League..."

Ezreal grinned at the question and replied while Garen took in the information. "It's a very long story, but I ended up summoning Garen to the Institute of War." He spoke while looking at the light glow that clung to his glove.

"Assassins? Who were...?" Garen's sentence was cut off by Tryndamere voicing his own thoughts.

"Summoning Garen? You can't summon! You don't have the magical strength to channel the power of the moon through the Nexus! Ha!" The group fell silent for a few minutes as they stared at him. Finally Ashe broke the spell and replied to her husband.

"No Tryndamere, that's not how it works. At all." He grumbled something incomprehensible and Garen continued his initial thought.

"Anyways, who were the assassins that you faced Ashe?"

"One was a ninja that worked with the shadows. I believe that he went by the name of Zed. He had this lion-like brute with him."

"What?! Those were the same ones who attacked Riven and me... And if they were working for the League, that means the high summoners knew where I was the whole time..."

Ashe replied with shock in her voice. "They were after you too? What the hell is going on? Why would the Institute want us dead?"

"Because they want control, and Garen is wildcard, while Ashe is a queen in power." The response did not come from anyone in the group and they all turned about to see who had replied. A man in a purple hood stood about half a mile away, head down, with the strangest group of people behind him. His clothes were well worn in and he looked completely unarmed. He was accompanied by Katarina, who wore her usual tight black leather and long crimson hair. But the other two members of the group were by far the most perplexing; if memory served right, the man in the black cloak lined with red lacing was Marcus Du Couteau, Katarina's father. The last man confused Garen so much that his head hurt: it appeared to be Jarvan IV standing slightly to the side of the group.

"What..." Garen stammered. The people surrounding him seemed equally confused.

"Put your jaw back into place you oaf, we have to get to Demacia now," Talon barked. Garen shook the stun he was in and nodded. They could talk as they walked, but progress needed to be made. The two groups joined together and Garen led with the most prominent questions on their minds before smaller conversation broke out amongst members of the group.

"Marcus, correct?" Garen said with a nod towards the cloaked man.

"No, it's Du Couteau, not Du Correct," the man replied. Garen stared somewhat blankly at the path before him in annoyance. At least his question had been answered.

"And... Jarvan? How are you here? You were just in Demacia."

"I was in Demacia?! But that's not possible! I was right here. Unless... There's an IMPOSTER!" Jarvan announced. Garen sighed, simply irritated that he could not comprehend what was going on.

"While his conclusion was not reached with... mental stability, we have reason to believe that he is right," Talon said to Garen.

"Hmm? How so?"

"If Marcus' hunch is correct, then there is much more going on than just the League being corrupted. There is a singular, higher power residing here."

The Demacian thought deeply over Talon's words but did not come up with any definite answer. "I can't say that I see what, or whom, you are getting at."

"I found Jarvan and Marcus in the Void, Garen. They, like me, were sent there by Malzahar."

"Ah! Malzy!" Marcus interjected. "How is he nowadays?"

"Marcus, can it," Talon shot.

"Oh I would love a can of soda pop! It was absolutely SCALDING in that desert you know." Marcus' comment was completely ignored as Talon's eyes rolled to the top of his head.

"As I was saying, there is a connection here. A very skilled mage has been placing clones or fake people into positions of power. Marcus assumes Evaine LeBlanc, but that conclusion doesn't seem to make a whole lot of sense. Regardless, he has leads towards Jarvan IV being one of them, replacing the real one which you see with us now; he thinks Beatrice, Swain's bird, is another. This would lead to why Swain has decided to invade Demacia. If he is successful, our mage will be in control of two of the strongest countries in Runeterra.

"Talon," Garen said nearly immediately after he had finished his sentence.

"Yeah?"

"The King is dead. Swain killed him and then left immediately. Jarvan and I retook the castle, but I was teleported out just moments before bested."

"Shit... Swain has already left?" Talon asked, growing a little frantic.

"Why would Swain leave? Doesn't he want to take over Demacia?" Katarina asked.

"Not quite," Marcus chimed in. The rest of the group grew quiet as they waited to determine whether he was about to spew nonsensical chatter pertaining to beverages or make some critically analytical statement about the situation. "Swain wants to rule Noxus. Killing Jarvan is plenty enough to solidify his rule among Noxians."

"He's right," Talon replied. "Staying in Demacia is just an unnecessary threat to himself. He doesn't care if it gets recaptured or not."

Marcus continued his thoughts. "But more importantly, LeBlanc needs Swain alive, and her Jarvan in place as King. She does not care if Demacia is retaken. In fact, it bodes better to her plans if it does fall back into order. That way she rules both countries through Jarvan and Jericho under the influence of her bird. That damn bird. What is its name? I always forget the name!"

Talon and Katarina groaned in unison about Marcus' fixation on Beatrice's name and decided to settle on contentment for the fact that he gave them an answer at all.

Garen's brow wrinkled at the statement before he voiced his concerns. "How are we to be certain that the man with us is Jarvan the fourth? From my understanding, the Prince has been back for quite some time now, ever since he returned to tell us of Marcus' reports on false leads for those responsible for Kalamanda."

Marcus shook his head and laughed. "I have been in the Void for years. Do you genuinely think I sent anyone information on any sort of scandal?"

"I had fake evidence of a false set up," Katarina confessed. "The entire thing was planned from the start. I was so excited to have a potential lead to where my father may be that I never really double checked its credibility."

Garen still seemed unconvinced. "What was the point in that?"

"Most likely to cover up the return of the Jarvan clone by leading suspicion off of his strange presence and back towards the war that almost broke out," Katarina pointed out.

"So Jarvan has been a fake since he returned?" he continued.

"Yes, the real Jarvan never came back. Well, until now," Talon told him. Garen turned and looked at Jarvan who had clearly strayed far from the realm of sanity. The image was quite endearing to look at and he decided to speak to the man to guarantee that there were no mistakes in the drawn conclusion.

"Jarvan?"

"Hmm?" he replied while turning his head to face Garen.

"Who am I?" The man stared hard and was lost deep in thought as he contemplated the question.

"Garen? Garen Crownguard?"

"Who is my sister?" Garen did not give confirmation simply because he felt that the real Jarvan would not need it, even if he was half insane.

"Your... Sister?"

"What is my sister's name Jarvan?" Garen repeated.

"Lux... Luxanna Crownguard," he said at last.

"What do I regret, Jarvan?" Garen asked without hesitation. The man clad in gold armor stared deeply into his old friend's eyes. He knew the answer but the simple fact that he had experienced little to no contact with the outside world in years left his mind to sit and mush around. However, the question was one that could only be answered by a few people in the entire world of Runeterra, being Jarvan and Riven.

The pause persistent and the other members of the group maintained the silence. No one seemed to want to keep standing around and wait on an answer to be produced, but most of them wanted Jarvan to answer and prove their theories correct.

"Garen you... Luxanna... You left Luxanna... You left to fight... To be a soldier... You... You regret not being there. Not being there for your sister. For Luxanna." The stammered statements of the old prince drew a huge mixture of reactions from the audience. Garen nodded, Ezreal stared at Garen in awe of the revelation, Ashe let out a quiet "Awww," Tryndamere continued to swing his sword at the air in front of him, Marcus offered Talon a high five who chose to ignore it and stand nearly motionless as the group recuperated, and Katarina smiled widely; an odd sight from her given that no one was being stabbed by one of her blades.

Garen was the first to break the trance by beginning to walk towards Demacia. Talon was soon to follow and the rest of them slowly fell out of the spell and in line behind him. A million questions still buzzed about and they slowly surfaced as they continued their journey. Garen pulled out the food pills he had acquired in Zaun and passed them around. The group was fairly reluctant to get something to fill their stomachs, even if a few of they were skeptical on how much they could trust the strange invention.

"Where else would the mage's minions lie?" Garen's question was directed towards Talon, being the most likely to know the answer, but he asked it aloud in hopes to keep everyone involved and knowledgeable. Talon kept quiet, hoping that someone else would answer for once. Katarina decided to step up.

"My father believes that nearly every large country or city-state has one, and probably the League itself. We don't have much to go off of though."

"Hmm... " Garen thought. "Ashe, what was it you were doing just before Zed and Rengar assaulted you?"

"Well, we were attempting to get into Lissandra's city. The guards ignored us and refused to allow entry. Shortly after walking away, we were assaulted. Zed mentioned something about being sent to keep us out of the city and to keep its contents safe."

"If the League is attempting to protect something inside the Freljord, and our mage truly has someone in high power, is it possible that Lissandra were to be one of the minions?" Garen concluded.

"Lissandra? I mean, she stays fairly isolated and hasn't seemed to have had the problem with the ice trolls like my Avarosan villages have, but that is hardly enough reasoning to rule her as a power mage's puppet." Ashe sounded almost a little hurt in her answer, to think that someone would accuse her sister of being an imposter.

"Where else?" Garen asked the group. "Shurima? Ionia? Bilgewater? The Shadow Isles?"

Talon shook his head in response. "None of those places truly pose any potential threat. If they aren't lacking in structure or governance, they are too distant to serve a need to conquer. Control of the League is enough to contain those city-states." Garen nodded in understanding and looked to the road ahead of him. Marcus and Jarvan IV were deep in conversation about whether or not brown bears were actually just muddy polar bears, Ashe was being soothed by Tryndamere through entertainment at his stupidity, who seemed dead set to convince Jarvan and Marcus that polar bears were an entirely different species from brown bears, Talon stayed silent but held close to Katarina, and Ezreal seemed anxious beyond belief.

"Do you need help with something Ezreal?" Garen offered.

"Well… I do have a lot of questions about what happened on the night you and Talon disappeared…" The large Demacian laughed in response, to Ezreal's confusion

"I suppose none if it is truly a secret at this point. I was intending to keep it quiet to avoid punishment by the League. But if they knew the whole time, then perhaps that is far from my biggest worry. Go ahead, what do you know and what questions do you have?"

The explorer smiled widely and began to map out what he knew. "I know that Talon received his wound deep within the Institute and it left a massive amount of blood on the floor. A streak trailed from that room to where he was loaded onto Hecarim, the centaur from the Shadow Isles, and shipped off to the care of Yorick Mori. But a few things don't line up. It was you who carried him throughout the hallways, correct?" Garen nodded to allow Ezreal to continue uninterrupted. "So, what happened to the blood? Why did no one else see it? How did Talon survive long enough to get to the Shadow Isles? I get how Yorick kept him alive, but why did he agree to such an act? It hardly makes sense."

"To answer the first, Vladimir took care of the blood before I even had a chance to ponder my options. That blood curling vampiric man sucked up – or whatever it is he does – all of the blood from the hallways. That effectively covered most of my tracks. Hecarim kept Talon alive the same way he keeps himself upright outside of the Shadow Isles: being the Shadow of War, he is fueled by the deaths of others. He literally sucks the life force out of his surrounding area and into himself. As he strode across the ocean en route to the Shadow Isles, he drained the life from surrounding fish and wildlife, and into, not himself, but Talon. I'm assuming you already understand how he survived while on the Isles?"

By that point in time, Talon piped up. "I must admit, I am a bit impressed by your actions... However, what was that vile liquid Yorick poured over my wound, and why would that ogre ever help us out?" The Demacian chuckled and continued his explanation.

"As far as the liquid goes, I am not sure Talon. Perhaps something Yorick had whipped up himself to help close or cure the wound. You can ask him yourself if you'd like. As far as I know, he was just keeping you from passing to the afterlife. But for why he helped us… Do you know Yorick's history?" Talon, Ezreal, and Katarina all shook their heads in unison. He was clearly not the most popular man.

"Him and his family, the Mori's, have been gravediggers for all of their lives, generation to generation. Legend has it that they even continued to dig graves in their afterlife, on the Shadow Isles. They were relieved of duty only when the next in line passed and came to take their place."

"You mean to tell me that disgusting being has a child, and he is clinging his grubby fingers onto the sadistic hope that it dies soon and relieves him?" Talon spat.

"No," Garen stated. "That is why Yorick is stuck. He has no children, thus no one to pass his duty on to." A dull silence sat as the party understood the statement. To most, that would seem to be a terrible fate in and of itself. Talon and Katarina however, could hardly care less about someone else's suffering. Regardless, no further comments were made on the topic from his listeners. "I simply made him an offer to help get him out of the situation. Tending to a gash of one man was scarcely a sacrifice."

"What was the deal?" Ezreal asked. Garen grinned at the explorer.

"That my friend, is a secret. Time will tell." The response would normally infuriate the man, being so desperate for knowledge, but the vast fountain he had just unlocked seemed to be more than capable of sating his thirst for the time being.

"One last question then…"

"I'm listening," Garen replied.

"You went from the continent of Valoran, to the island of Bilgewater, to Ionia via boat. How did you get to Bilgewater?"

"How did you lead me from Zaun to Freljord?" the Demacian quizzed.

"Wait… tunnels? Underwater?"

Garen seemed to be rather modest in his revelation of tactics from a night so long ago. "There are a few Yordles in Bandle City who know a thing or two more than most. They may not have been the ones to build all of the tunnels throughout Runeterra, but they certainly know where they are and how to use them." The comment concluded Ezreal's questions and the group pushed onwards, with a small rest, until they all arrived at Demacia together, seeing that a common goal was definitely making itself very apparent to them all.