#Silverwing Vanguard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loadyron · 4 years ago

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Promise

Chapter I

Taric sank deeper into the basin, enjoying the warm water trickling on his toned body. As he lathered his arms, a fresh, citrusy smell filled the bath. By the sunlight bursting through the open window, illuminating his bedchamber, he contemplated his place.

The blue drapes accentuated the trim of the carvings on the canopy bed, contrasting with the white petricite walls. Sweet and sharp fragrances floated from flasks of essential oils, soaps, and herbs sitting on a shelf near the bed. The crystals embellished the chandelier above his head, highlighting greatly the delicacy of the well-crafted floral shapes.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Enter.” Taric washed the bubbles away.

A young man with a ponytail and dressed in silver armour stepped in, pushing a wooden cart loaded with Taric’s armour and weapons. “Excuse me, Sir.” He said. “Your father is waiting in the living room. It would be good of your part to not make him wait even more.” He carefully placed the equipment nearby.

Getting up from the basin, Taric grabbed a towel to dry his body. The squire’s aggrieved tone sounded strange on his ears, since the lad never spoke like this before. He used to greet him with a chatty and vibrant tone, but now seemed like someone had sucked all his life on his voice.

Realising such change on his squire, concerned, Taric asked, “Did my father said something to upset you?”

“No sir,” the squire shook his head. “Everything is alright.” He held Taric’s leather clothes.

Taric raised his arms as the squire helped him put on his shirt. His hands shivered, struggling to find the right spot to dressed the chainmail. Taric observed how determined his squire tried to hold the breastplate, but he found it quite difficult to lay it correctly against his chest. Admiring his effort, the Knight pushed up the lad’s hands in a friendly way. With his chest covered, the squire took the blue cap. Adjusting it, the lad covered Taric’s shoulders with his pauldrons.

“You can count on me in case something happened to you.” Taric spoke in a smooth tone, as he raised his leg to his squire wear his greaves.

The squire said nothing, as he limited himself to put the greaves on Taric’s legs. His silent was unusual as well. The squire used to start a conversation about his day, and the excitement of his knowledge about the silverwing raptors. But since that day he had been awfully quiet, as if someone had cut out his tongue.

After he finished, he looked at his lord helmet. His hands shivered by the cold touch on the shinning helmet. The squire took a deep breath, facing his lord. “Yes, I know.” As he extended his hand to give the helmet to Taric, slippery his hands left the armour fall on the ground. “My apologises, Sir!” He kneed. “If there’s any scratch—”

Taric kneed. “Easy,” he patted the squire head. “It’s clear you aren’t in best conditions to do your task properly. Leave it for now.”

The touch of his lord on his head made the squire moving his shoulders slowly down. His hands stopped shivering and grabbed the helmet as if it was a manner of urgency.

Calmly Taric held his hand on the squire’s shoulder. “If not my father, it was me?”

“No… I mean… not really.” The squire glanced his lord’s hands on his shoulders. Then he looked down like guilt child.

“But it is related to me?” Taric asked as the squire nodded fast. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Sir, forgive to be impudent,” the squire took a deep breath, as if what he had in mind would be difficult to pronounce. “But right now, there’s no time to enjoy any conversation.”

“You are not being impudent, my dear squire.” Taric said. “I always appreciated your honesty. So, feel free to tell me what comes to your mind, deal?” he smiled.

For a second the lad pushed his upper lips to show a shy smile, however as he gazed at his lord’s helmet, he pressed tidily his lips like they would devour his flesh. He faced Taric. “Your helmet, sir.” He tried to hand over Taric’s helmet.

“No need today. Thank you.” Taric walked to his desk.

The small yet quiet place was Taric’s peaceful moments when he indulged himself with romances and poems. He loved to imagine and feel the beautiful work of others. And he would always have other ways to explore and understand other topics such as history, art and philosophy. Approaching, Taric grabbed a comb near the window.

“Are you sure? Because—" the squire laid his helmet on the bed.

Taric pushed his hair back smoothly. “It’s alright.” He combed it while walking to a large ornamented mirror of leaves in whirling shapes.

Taric smiled as he admired his shiny armour. His cape floated as he turned to closely watch his dark brown hair being combed. Winking to the mirror, he held his chin, turning his face to check his teeth. Perfect. Satisfied, he laid the comb back on the desk.

The squire shook his head. “Your father—" he began, watching the Knight approach the shelf near the bed. Grabbing a flask with a yellowish liquid, Taric dabbed some on his fingers, pressing them on his neck and back.

“My father wishes to speak with me again. Doesn’t he?”

“Yes. Right now, sir.”

“Very well,” said Taric as the squire placed the hammer in his leather scabbard. “Would you please be so kind as to tell him I will be down soon?” The young man finished adjusting the shield on the Knight’s back.

The squire opened the door. “Of course, sir,” he said, leaving Taric’s bedroom.

Leaving his room, Taric made his way downstairs. He noticed the bright light from the window against the Demacian banners almost blinding his eyes. The shelve with blue and golden books closer to the fireplace would be a cosy spot to sit and rest.

Reaching the end of the stairs, Taric observed the painting above the fireplace. A woman adorned in white light armour gently held a baby. At her side, a soldier in bulky white armour proudly laid his hands on her shoulder. Father spoke very highly of you. I wish you could still be here.

The squire approached the large table in the middle of the room, where Daniel sat writing. A strong smell of coffee wafted from the seated City Guard’s mug as he read over a scroll.

A massive deep scar crossed Daniel’s left eye, twisting his face, crossing deep down on his throat. The skin seemed as if it had been sewed. Half of his lip had no flesh, looking like a wild beast had eaten it.

“He is here.” The squire announced as he stood to attention.

“Give this to the king,” Daniel said as he rolled up the scroll and sealed it.

“Right away, sir.” The squire saluted and then departed.

“Good morning, father.” Taric greeted.

As the door shut, Daniel turned his face. His small dark eyes contrasted with the heavy shadows on his face, wrinkles denoting his lack of sleep. He didn't open his lips, as if waiting for the right moment to speak.

“By Targon's Peak! You look exhausted, father!” Taric observed as he approached the table. “You should rest today.”

“It's admirable, your concern for me, son.” Daniel laid a feather in an inkwell. “But as a Demacian, this is my duty and responsibility.” He looked at his son. “And speaking of it— sit, we have to talk about this,” he addressed, pointing to a chair.

“As you wish, father.” Taric nodded as he sat.

Daniel rubbed his face. With a mechanical motion, he lifted a letter off the table. “Please read this,” he said, giving it to his son.

Taric recognised the sigil on the wax seal, a sword with wings, as the royal Lightshield family that had been ruling the country for three generations.

Taric knew what was inside. This situation had repeated itself for so long. Daniel was prepared to give the same sermon Taric was used to hearing. “Greetings from The King of Demacia, Jarvan III, to my dearest friend and City Guard, Daniel.” Taric glanced at his father.

“Continue please.”

“Although you have served our country with great honour for many years, it is with great disappointment this letter reaches you. Your son, Taric, the Dauntless Vanguard Knight, didn't arrive at the line inspection yesterday.” Taric paused to look at his father.

Daniel's strong hands gripped his soft grey beard. Daniel took an exhausted deep breath, shaking his head; seeming as if he had no available solution at hand to settle the situation. However, Taric knew that his father would never give up.

Then Taric continued reading the letter. “Your son is a formidably gifted man. The last thing we need is another Demacian defying our country’s authority.” Taric tapped his finger on the table. “We have been aware of his absence. Because of that, to restore his honour, he must come today. The Lightshields are counting on your family to do what is just and right. As the ruler of Demacia, I expect results. However, if your son doesn't collaborate, do not hesitate to contact me in private. Best regards, Jarvan III Lightshield.” After reading, Taric laid the letter on the table.

“Do you understand what you must do?” Daniel asked, picking up the letter to seal it back.

Taric leaned forward to his father. “Father, you are looking for a problem that doesn’t exist.” He patted Daniel’s shoulders. “We discussed this many times before, why do you keep insisting?”

“Why? Because clearly your king is angered at your attitude.” Daniel said, narrowing his eyes. “And yes, there is a problem. Have you read the letter with proper attention?”

“Crystal clear.” Taric caressed the letter. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Not to worry?” Daniel’s lips twisted as his voice became aggravated. “Do you expect me to stay still while others question your honour-nay, the Family’s honour?”

Taric pushed his chair closer. “Father, listen to me—"

“No! Now you listen to me, my son.” Daniel faced his son, fuming. “This is your career. Your future! All these years, you have worked so hard to be where you are. Do not disappoint your king.”

Taric always admired his father's strong discipline. As a child he used to listen to his father talking about great stories immortalising Demacia’s glories of the kingdom forever, but in the end, they were still only mere words.

Suddenly the vegetation, flowers and creatures from the forest invaded his thoughts. If he closed his eyes, he would feel the grass on his fingers, smooth on touch and fresh on smell. That joyful moment brought him bliss. Instead of answering to his father, Taric remained silent to keep admiring the beautiful image in his head.

Daniel, already fuming, observed his son’s silent, peaceful expression on his face. His blood boiled, rising to his cheeks as his face twisted in fury. “Taric!”

Taric’s delightful memory was interrupted by his father’s bitter tone. “Yes, father?”

Daniel pressed his lips tight as his eyes narrowed, staring at his son. “You are a lucky man. Do you know why?” He continued, “Because many families wish their children could work with the Dauntless Vanguard. And because they didn’t work hard enough, they are on the most shameless position in the kingdom, city guards.”

Taric glanced at the window as an animal of orange and brown feathers laid on the window’s stool, reminding him of the birds of the forest. “A shame we can’t hear them singing, the window is closed.”

“What nonsense is this? Do as your king commands!” Daniel bellowed.

“Their singing can brighten our spirits.” Taric said as he kept his attention on the window, watching the bird flying away to the sky.

Daniel’s hand reached his face, continually rubbing as a way to wash the shame away. “Protector help me please,” Taric's father murmured impatiently. “Son, you are a Dauntless Vanguard Knight, a prestigious position in the kingdom, given to you for your modest raise. And with that attitude is how you repay them?”

Then it occurred to Taric after he would take his breakfast, he could investigate the forest to find the animal he almost spotted yesterday climbing on the tree. “They must be such beautiful creatures. I wonder if they are diurnal or nocturnal beasts.” Taric observed thoughtfully.

Daniel slowly stared at Taric. His pupils had a fierce heat inside that had exploded. “You know what makes me and your mother proud?” Approaching with heavy steps, Daniel grabbed his son’s face. “Watching our son fighting bravely for our kingdom. But instead like any intelligent Demacian that would grab a sword and fight for their king and country, you on other hand grab what?” He snorted. “A flower? Is this your true best?”

But Taric remained silent on his thoughts. Just the idea of visiting the forest again excited him. He had to gather more clues so he could appreciate something so fragile and worthy of his attention.

When his son didn’t respond, Daniel forced Taric to face him. “Your mother fought beside her comrades, and like you, she raised her position.” He paused for a brief moment and then continued. “And you will do the same. You will carry your title and duty with pride not in the next year, not tomorrow.” Daniel stared intensely at his son. “Now!”

Determined to search the forest without interruption, Taric stood up from his chair, grabbing his father’s hands and laying them gently on the table. Smiling, he kissed his father’s forehead. “Don’t wait for me tonight, I may have dinner somewhere else. See you later.” Then he made his move to the door.

“And one more thing,” Daniel glanced at Taric, who had opened the door and got ready to leave. “In your training remember they need a Knight not a gardener. Do you hear me?”

As Taric left the house, sounds of men and women came from the training yard.

Everyone, including his father, was wrong about him. Why couldn’t they see Taric didn’t need all this? The king knew his skills with weapons were formidable. Demacia's code of honour was ingrained in his mind. Taric had knowledge of his duties and responsibilities of his position in the kingdom. So then, why does everyone insist on him to be something he never felt to be right? But it was alright. Taric knew his true purpose as a Knight, since his king, and his superiors had blinded him from so many years.

He could keep watching the recruits training, but instead Taric walked through an arched passageway, where the children were chasing a cat on the streets. Taric admired the simple elegance of the house’s structures and designs. The same ones he volunteered to help damaged buildings from floods. Sprawling, symmetrical, stucco facades caught the eye with white petricite walls. Arched windows and doorways contrasted greatly with a strong fragrance coming from the flowers, forming beautiful gardens in the vast courtyards and masonry. Getting closer to the marketplace, Taric reached a tavern of the name The King’s Crown.

Opening the door, a joyful rhythm came from a bard’s lute playing in harmony with flutes, tambourines and tabors. Delighted with the ambience inside, Taric tapped his fingers to beat.

A fireplace in the middle of the tavern invited the guests to feel at home. Pictures of landscapes and farms were exhibited on the walls. A scent of roasted vegetables and potatoes wafted from a tray as a waitress shimmied by. At the tables, soldiers and merchants were enjoying their King’s Gambit game while coins were placed next to them. Closer to the musicians, a group of folks drank cheerfully in unison with the music.

“Good morning!” a redheaded young lady cheerfully said, holding a tray of mugs. “Welcome back.”

Taric smiled. “Good morning, what a lovely day darling!” Looking to the bard he said, “I see your artists have new companions.”

The redheaded waitress nodded. “They came yesterday,” she said, as another waitress passed by and served customers. “Shame you weren’t here. The boss liked their music.”

At a table closer at the entrance of the tavern, a group of adventurers and workers were eating their breakfast. One of them, looking at the main door, stood up.

“Lads! Sir Taric is here!” An old man cried out, with a joyful smile on his face.

The rest of the tavern in the place looked at Taric’s direction. “Ask him to join us,” one of the men said, waving to the table.

Taric looked at the table that was crying his name. The old man moved his right leg slowly as if he was trying to not step on a bear trap laid upon the ground, while he was grabbing the edges of the table. The Knight noticed the old man trying his best to not shake, as Taric knew the old man’s left leg was amputated at the knee.

As the old man reached for the corner of the table, his fingers shook desperately as he tried to walk to the table. Passing by some waitresses, as he pulled them away, Taric rushed to aid the old man.

The old man stepped carefully as a waitress gave him space, but that wasn’t enough to greet Taric. As the old man took another step, he slipped and began to fall towards the ground. With a deft motion, Taric took the old man in his arms and steadied him.

“Careful.” Taric spoke as he grasped the old man’s waist with care. “What were you trying to do, my friend? Did you compete at dawn for a marathon?”

“Those bones back in my days used to run like an athlete. A trouble maker I was.” The old man said. “But right now? The only thing to do is walk as much as my legs can.”

Taric smiled. “You have to tell me one of your adventures. It sounds as if there is much I could learn.”

“Oh lad. This old man has plenty of stories to tell you, all day,” the old man said.

“However, next time ask for my help.” Taric addressed. “Those bones are not young anymore.”

“Ah Sir Taric, let me walk as much as these old bones want,” the old man protested. “Let us enjoy your company, leave my leg to The Veiled Lady.”

Grabbing the old man’s hand under his shoulder, Taric walked with the man towards the table. As they approached it, the others received him warmly. Even people from other tables got closer to see him.

The soldiers, on the other hand, weren’t enjoying the attention given to the Knight. They glared at Taric, some muttering among themselves.

From the musicians, a small creature with fur and big ears, began playing the flute, clapping his little feet. At the same time, tabors and more pipes played along. Everyone inside lifted their mugs.

The redheaded waitress approached the table in the middle of the confusion. “Your friend wasn’t here today.”

“Garen hasn't been here at all?” Taric asked, as another waitress stopped at the table to serve a young guard that raised his hand. He blushed as the waitress blew him a flirtatious kiss.

“No hon.” The waitress pushed aside some children trying to grab her skirt. “The usual?”

“Please.” Taric nodded.

She winked. “Straight away.”

The redheaded waitress ran to a table to wait for Taric’s food. Sitting among the people, Taric was delighted by their attention. He knew the people inside out; their dreams, desires, problems, fears and paths they wanted for the future. He felt his heart swell happiness as he talked with them. He laughed at a quick-witted joke, feasted on the delectable meal with them, and offered what advice he could when it was needed.

And so, Taric enjoyed his breakfast thinking of the joy he would have of discovering the creature in the forest. Then after he finished his meal, he mounted on his horse and departed for the forest.

Riding through the vast vegetation, the tall, ancient trees glowed with the sun's radiance. It was a place where wildflowers grew, with a soft pear and grape scent, fresh and sweet as if a perfume had been spread, capable of making a gardener jealous.

Turning off onto a separate path, something suddenly fell on the grass. The horse, agitated, raised its front hooves. “Easy,” Taric patted the animal’s face gently. “No need to be afraid.”

From the corner of his eye, Taric saw something climbing down from a tree. It was a small monkey-like creature, jumping down to grab a fruit. As Taric rode in the dense vegetation, a loud metallic sound echoed nearby.

“Step by step, slowly,” Taric whispered to the horse.

Taric looked around. As the horse trotted on the grass, a little agitated, a squeal from an animal echoed through the glade. He scanned the ground, hoping to find the creature. Following the voice he spotted something at the distance.

A hooded stranger held a strange metallic cage as the pitchy squeal persisted but louder. Whatever the stranger kept doing to the creature didn’t have the best intentions. Taric couldn’t allow another delicate life to perish.

“Stop!” Taric shouted, approaching closer. “What do you think you are doing? Can’t you see the creature is suffering?”

Looking over his shoulder, the stranger laid the cage on the ground and ran far away from the place. Taric could chase and find the man responsible for hurting the animal, yet he found it more important to free the creature from the torture upon him.

Getting closer to the tiny voice, he finally saw it.

It was a squirrel, stuck in a trap. Blood covered its tiny fingers, the creature licking at them in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. Dismounting, Taric opened the trap with care. The animal tried to fly to the tree; however, he fell on Taric’s hands.

“Careful.” Taric observed the squirrel looking at the tree. “You aren’t in the best condition to climb, little one.”

The animal’s beady little eyes stared at Taric in protest. Stubborn like a spoiled child, the animal cocked his back, ready for a second attempt. He jumped forward yet again, his sharp nails slid down the tree.

“Don’t be scared.” Taric caught the animal. “It’s true you are not with an Illuminator's priest, but let me help you with what I have.”

Taric laid down his shield and hammer. Resting on the grass, his fingers touched the delicacy of the crystal shaped creamy flowers.

Taking off his cape, Taric cradled the squirrel on his chest. Searching through inside of his belt bag for bandages, he grabbed leaves nearby. Holding the animal’s tiny hands gently, Taric wrapped them with bandages.

“There.” Taric petted it with tenderness. “I will bring you later to the temple. They know what to do.”

Taric’s eyes shined to see such a rare, beautiful creature. The animal’s large ears twitched, as it climbed blissfully over his shoulders. Taric felt his heart full of joy as he touched its soft reddish fur. Scurrying down to his legs, the animal closed its eyes, moving its tail to cover itself like a blanket.

As the animal fell asleep, the Knight noticed movement in nearby bushes. Taric stared at the bushes covering the wounded animal with his cape, maybe the hooded man came back to finish when he started? If so, Taric had to protect the creature and teach the young hunter the delicate life of the squirrel. If the hooded hunter could chance his heart, they wouldn’t need to fight.

Soft steps could be heard nearby. With no apparent concern of being noticed. A shadow shouted. “Huh… excuse me.”

“Greetings!” Taric kept his stare on the shadow. “Are you the hooded hunter? If so, we can discuss this through. We don’t need blood in our hands. Let me show you how beautiful this animal is.”

The shadow finally revealed itself. “You are confusing me with someone else.” A young man pulled off his goggles. “Do you know where I can find a cave with a golden map? I know there's one somewhere around here."

“Cave with a golden map?” Taric asked, bewildered.

“The one rumoured to have—” the young man yawned as he covered his mouth. His hands rubbed on his half-opened eyes like something was twitching inside.

Witnessing the young man in such a state, Taric got up from his position. The stranger must have travelled so far to come to Demacia to look for something precious. Such dedication and devotion made Taric not just curious but also empathetic to the stranger’s cause.

Approaching the young man, Taric gestured for him to come. “Please come, friend,” he invited the stranger, pointing to a tree next to his spot. “You must have travelled from far to come here. Sit. Have a rest.”

“Why not?” The young man shrugged.

The stranger sat on the soft grass. As birds flew overhead singing, he closed his eyes resting his body. “Not a big fan of the forest to be honest.” The stranger put his hands behind his head. “But not a bad place to laze around.”

Taric sat back on his spot. “You are not used to this at all? This peaceful and quiet moment?” He asked inquisitively, patting the squirrel under his cape.

“After a long day of adventure, sure.” The stranger took a deep breath. “However, the noise of the machines, the pressure of the day… All these things remind me of home.”

“Where are you from?” Taric moved closer to the stranger.

“Not Demacia, that’s for sure.” The young man winked. “Though… are you truly a Demacian?”

Observing the stranger, Taric noticed a lot of ocean-like fur encircling his neck from the lapel of his short leather coat. “Body and soul.” He pushed his hair back with vanity. “Why are you asking?”

“You two.” The stranger pointed to Taric and the sleepy squirrel. “Demacians by nature don’t pay attention to that stuff.” His hands rested on his chest. “I’m from the healthiest country of Runeterra. Not to mention our technology is the best.”

“Oh, you mean Piltover!”

“That’s the place.”

Taric’s eyes wandered to the stranger’s untamed blond hair. Those strange large glasses made of silver, attached with leather seemed uncomfortable at first sight. Resting on the stranger’s neck, Taric wondered, when put in the right place, if it wouldn't be uncomfortable. The size seemed small for the young man’s head. “Some Piltovens citizens are living here. However, my opportunities to visit your country have been non-existent.” He approached the young man.

“Eh, not surprised. We are everywhere.” Realising how close Taric got, the young man glided to the side. “Not to mention you are missing a lot. Piltover has a lot to visit. You will get lost to be honest.”

As Taric drew closer, he could see upside down triangles shine for just a second in the stranger's cheekbones, then disappear. That just now! Could it be? Taric observed thoughtfully. “Now I am intrigued. You have to tell me more— my apologies! Where are my manners?” He stuck out his hand. “Please call me Taric.”

The young man looked at his hand. He smiled. “My name's Jarro.” He shook Taric’s hand, nonchalant. “Jarro Lightfeather. Nice to meet you.”

Taric raised his eyebrows at Jarro. The young man was well-known in Demacia for the discovery of a treasure in the country, which remained an enigma. It involved the death of a famous actress who performed with a mask of a lamb. According to the tale, the actress died at the end of the play performing as a maiden.

Many wanted for answers from him. How did she die? What was the cause of death? What did the theatre company confide in him? Yet Jarro simply answered, “Even for myself, it’s a mystery.”

From the moment he learned of Jarro’s name, Taric had been curious to meet him in person. He never thought it would be under these circumstances.

Yet Jarro’s name sounded odd as he presented himself. Not because it was a strange name, but mainly because the young man was lying. If that was the case, he had been using this name for so long, and many including Taric had believed it all this time. Taric found it queer but decided to keep up appearances.

“Likewise.” Taric shook Jarro’s hand. “You mentioned a cave with a map.” He looked at Jarro’s right hand.

From his spot, his eyes hypnotised, stared at the large oval sapphires, covering half the stranger’s arm. As Taric kept admiring Jarro’s bronze gauntlet, atop engraved on an octagonal shape was a shiny sapphire.

“It’s about a map of stone covered in gold that is supposed to be around here.” Jarro didn’t look surprised at how Taric kept staring at his gauntlet.

“Are you a scholar?”

“Well… no, but I have a college degree,” Jarro said, adjusting the goggles atop his head with a smirk.

Taric studied Jarro’s clothing. Those strange glasses, his leather trousers and light shirt, his boots, the belts on his waist and legs. All these little details didn’t fit with someone that has a high education. But still, Taric was sceptical.

“An explorer?”

Jarro smiled. “For now, I’m just an adventurer. But in the future, everyone will know my name with that title.” He opened his bag.

As Jarro’s hand reached inside, he took out a small dark notebook. Taric looked at the fast handwriting upon the notebook’s cover, as he could read: Piltover's greatest, fully accredited explorer. Covering his mouth Taric laughed. Not yet an official adventurer and Jarro wanted to be recognised in the world. Despite the lies and all the sudden Jarro’s reappearance in Demacia, Taric found himself admiring the mystery behind it. The importance of the golden map on Jarro’s life and why the necessity to have a different name? All of these he considered beautiful.

“Ah! You are witnessing my life’s work.” Jarro looked at Taric who gazed, greatly interested, at his notebook. “One day this will be recognised.” Grabbing a pen, he began to write.

What was he writing about? The map? Records? About them? Moving behind the adventure’s back, Taric tried to look over Jarro’s shoulders.

“Jarro…”

“Yes, Taric?”

“Would you allow me to read your journal?”

#league of legends #league of legends taric #league of legends ezreal #chapter i #fanfiction

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rawcatlawnchair · 7 years ago

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Chapter 7 - Octavia

After a filling breakfast, the party set out, gear in their bags, ready to take on the world. They took the eastern road out of the city, a winding wooded path through the Walled Forest. The nearest town was a two day hike away, so their first night out of Shuxin would be spent in the wilderness. As Jirei led the party out the gates, Octavia finally got a glimpse at the country beyond the city walls. Travellers streamed in and out, guards checking their goods and belongings, men and women from all over not just the Alliance, but all over the continent.

Life in the Elven Alliance outside the cities was simple and peaceful. Ever since the Alliance Pact had been signed nearly five hundred years ago, not once had the southern nation gone to war, beyond dealing with small-time criminals and roaming bandit parties. A council made up of leaders from every region of the alliance ruled from the capital in Shurei, guiding it into a prosperous period.

Octavia, however, noticed a subtle omission. As they wandered beyond the crowds at the gates, she whispered to Jirei. “Have you noticed the lack of goblins around here?”

She nodded back. “I haven't seen one since we passed the border line.”

“Any idea why?”

“I’ve got one,” chirped Trixi. “Most goblins with any kind of ties to their homeland have headed back into the Aurum Basin. See, they're hunting for the goblin mandate.”

“Mandate?”

Trixi nodded. “The goblins declared that any man or woman who wielded the mandate would rule all goblins.” He pulled out a notebook, revealing a hastily scribbled sceptre. It was long and spiny, a large chunk of rock embedded in its tip. It looked unwieldy and awkward to use, and seemed pointless beyond a ceremonial function.

“So why didn't the old king just give it to his most worthy successor?”

“Because he had none. Half his children had effectively been exiled by the time he died, sent to rule useless pockets of land across his empire after failing their father. Instead of just handing it to some fool who would burn his empire down, his reckless, chaotic side kicked in, and he personally hid the sceptre somewhere, before taking the location to his grave.”

“A foolish move,” said Ruzuli.

“No, a risky one. Goblins are inherently chaotic and ambitious, willing to push the boundaries to achieve greatness. In his death he declared the throne open to anyone, not just his own kin, spurring a race for the sceptre. Plenty of factions have popped up, and many have crushed each other in the search of power.”

Octavia slowed down her pace, frowning. “Survival of the fittest? I wonder who will come out on top. Might even strengthen them.”

“No, it won’t,” Ruzuli shot back, pulling them into an uneasy silence, pace grinding to a halt. Octavia immediately regretted her words, recalling her knowledge of the shattered Fang Plateau. Her homeland too had been pulled into a bloody, drawn-out civil war that had spanned three generations and led to the once-united dragonflights separating for good. “They’ll tear each other apart for just a shred of power. I’ve seen what it can do to a people.” The words were almost spat out, spitefully and forcefully.

Octavia stared back at Ruzuli, not sure what to say. Did she apologise? Thankfully, Jirei saved her, speaking up and pulling them out of their stupor.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get a move on while we can.”

Jirei resumed taking the vanguard position, with Octavia near behind, and Trixi alongside Ruzuli covering the rear. As they had travelled, their stamina had slowly increased, Octavia noted. In the first week of their travels, her inexperience with hiking compounded with her injuries, leading to them having to rest frequently, and even stopping walking for the day after a mere handful of hours. Now, with some help from her own essence, she could walk for a good seven hours a day, through the morning and the afternoon with only a short break for a midday meal, without feeling too tired or worn out. Her companions had also improved, with Trixi’s complaints of exhaustion slowly decreasing and the more physically fit Ruzuli marching on strong and steady.

The group made a good pace, making it well past the halfway point to their destination by nightfall. Beside the road, a small trail led to a clearing, a perfect spot to camp overnight, with a small creek winding through it. Jirei led the way, and as they reached the mouth of the clearing, she made a sudden gasp and stopped. Octavia looked around and saw naught but her teammates, all with awestruck faces. That was when Trixi pointed a finger upwards, and so up she looked.

What filled her vision was not darkness and a moonless night sky, but rather countless fireflies, dancing and flittering about, illuminating the clearing. They moved effortlessly, rising one moment and falling the next, like miniature shooting stars that never had the patience to stay in place. Her mouth fell open but no words could come out, struck by the natural beauty of the woods.

For a minute, they stood and watched, enraptured by the grand display before them. Eventually, Octavia broke the trance they were all in, loudly thumping her bedroll on the ground. The rest quickly followed suit, setting up a fire, as well as their bedrolls. Trixi jutted a small block of earth upwards, giving him a stool to sit on as he kept watch over them. Octavia remained unconvinced of his combat prowess, but would have to trust that he could keep them safe overnight.

Lowering herself down onto the makeshift bed, Octavia yawned, tired from a long day of traveling. Almost instinctively, her eyelids began to shut, and she would not fight herself to stay awake. She would need rest to continue fighting the next day. Soon, a dreamless slumber would find her.

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The next day, progress went well. They continued a good pace, watching the unending sea of trees pass them by. From her position in the back, Octavia noticed some changes. She noticed Jirei's newfound jitters, turning behind every so often, before hurriedly turning back forward. Since they had gotten back onto the road, not a single word had been uttered by the elf.

Trixi, on the other hand, had not stopped talking since they set off. He spoke so quick that she struggled to catch every word that flew from his mouth, excitedly yammering about the ruins they would be visiting soon. Ruzuli was unfortunately trapped into a conversation with him, as they had discovered she was the only one who could tolerate his lengthy rambles.

As the gnome finally paused to take a breath, Ruzuli pinched her nose and responded. “So these ruins are within Elven territory, but the elves didn't make them?”

Trixi nodded, motioning with his hands, painting a picture in the air. “They’re goblin ruins, from the era of the Silverwing Wars.”

“This far west?”

“The goblin empire once spanned a third of the continent, you know.” Trixi flipped his notebook to show an image of a forge. “When they discovered how to make steel, they smashed apart other civilisations who had merely began to dabble in copper and bronze. They conquered as far north as the Valley of Gears, and as far west as current Shurei.”

“Then the Silverwing Wars started, am I right?” In the distance, they saw a tall wooden tower, two or three storeys high, a telltale sign of civilization.

“The bloodiest conflict in written history, and indirectly led to the downfall of both the dragons and the goblin empire.” Trixi grimly nodded as he slid his notebook back into his pack, pulling out a map in its place. “And this town is...”

“Kaijian.” Jirei spoke for the first time that morning, slowing down to keep pace with their navigator. “Kai is the Elven word for small town, with Shu being the word for city. You'll see most places have either word in their names.” Trixi rubbed his chin, absorbing this newfound information.

After another half hour of walking, they finally reached the village gates. Unlike the guards of Shuxin, no one came up to meet them at the entrance, just a pair of simple bamboo gates and it's accompanying bamboo fence. Jirei rapped her knuckles against it, making a sharp sound. After a few moments, a villager ran up to open the gates, an elf dressed in light cloth armour.

“Hello! Travellers from Shuxin?”

Jirei bowed and replied, “Yes, headed for Shuyong.” She paused for a moment, then asked, “Why are the gates barred? And since when was there this fence here?”

The villager sighed and waved them over, allowing them passage into the town. As they walked, he spoke. “Security reasons, ever since those damned goblins began roaming into the countryside. We made them as a last resort to keep them from raiding villages. Thankfully, they haven't been so brazen yet, but-” He stopped to cough, before pointing at a dilapidated caravan, with arrows sticking out of it and a charred wheel. “It’s only a matter of time before they strike at us. Now if you'll excuse me, the paperworks need my help.”

As he walked away, Jirei could only sigh. “I remember when these lands used to be safe,” she said as she gestured around her. “When the biggest worry was a bad harvest or a wild bear breaking into the town silo.” Near them, a large yard full of fibrous sheets sat in the sun, a crucial part of papermaking. A small river ran through the town, powering a water wheel, usually used to mill various plants such as sugar or beets. The town was quiet, with its people hard at work, but their presence had already earned suspicious stares from the locals. They whispered to each other, pointing fingers and gossiping. The goblin threat had gone a number on the people, not just physically, but mentally too. Here in the rural areas the paranoia was palpable, and Octavia could feel it in every villager looking at her, wondering if she was the newest threat to their livelihood.

Octavia slid next to Jirei and whispered, “I don't think they quite like us.” The dirty stares were a new experience for her, as humans were a common sight no matter where they went, and rarely felt out of place. Trixi seemed to agree with her, looking around nervously, not even bothering to take down any notes. He managed to get a few words out, saying, “I think we should get out of this place.”

Octavia was inclined to agree. They quickly moved through the small town, heading to the trading post to grab more supplies. The owner offered them to stay the night in the local tavern, but Octavia hastily declined. After quickly packing their bags, they set off, not stopping for more than a minute that they had to. As they pushed open the gates on the opposite side of town, she could feel a hundred pairs of eyes staring into the back of her skull, watching her leave. She did not dare to turn back.

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Summer was the season of hot afternoons and sweltering nights, the season of bright yellow flowers and energy, the season of the spirit of adventure. Many a poem had been written, speaking of the beauty and passion of the season, inspiring the people of the land.

Right now, summer was none of those things, with a sudden evening shower drenching the party, soaking them through their clothes. Stray sunbeams from the setting sun shone through the stormclouds above, giving Octavia a strand of false hope, tempting her with a glimpse of what could have been. Ahead of her, her teammates were faring no better, with Trixi hastily attempting to stuff his map back into his bag, sheltering their one means of navigation from the pouring rain.

Finally, they found a shady tree to hide beneath, safe from the rain. Over the relentless downpour, their voices were drowned out by the wailing of the sky. Octavia could barely hear herself think, let alone hear her companions speak. She saw the mouths move but could not make out the syllables. Eventually, she caught some stray words from Trixi’s shouting, like ‘ruin’, ‘shelter’ and ‘run’. The rest seemed to have caught the gist of his message, and buckled down for a march in the rain. Evidently they would be staying there tonight.

Serving as the rear guard once more, she took the time to reflect as they settled into a steady pace. Over the two weeks, they had grown closer as a team, yes, but Octavia still felt distant. Like an outsider. Like something that didn’t quite belong, a thorn in their side. They weren’t four adventurers, traversing the Elven countryside. They were three and she was one, they just happened to be headed in the same direction. And she didn’t know what to quite think of that.

In the White Tower, being alone was the norm. Monks and priests alike were encouraged to reflect inwards rather than outwards, relying on self and self alone. Meditation. Prayers. A thousand ways to disconnect from the outside world, to create a monolith in living form, a physical dedication to the greater good. Duty wasn't just another word, to them it represented their destiny. And before fulfilling their destiny, they first had to cut ties to everyone and everything. They came to this world with nothing, and would leave behind nothing but a legacy when they left.

That part of the philosophy had always troubled Octavia. ‘Wouldn’t we fight harder and stronger if we had something or someone to fight for?’ She had asked that many a times to her teachers, but her words had only earned scoldings for not understanding their purpose in the world. Eventually she conceded. She would stand alone, fight alone, and one day die alone, hopefully performing enough heroics to make it into a book or two.

Except she had never stopped hoping. She still yearned to have a team behind her, that sorely missed human connection. Someone to share her joys and pains with, to have her back when it was just them against the world. That could be Trixi and his boundless desire for knowledge, could be Ruzuli and her dauntless heart, could be Jirei and her worldly wisdom. She wanted this badly, maybe even more than anyone had ever wanted anything. It mattered not to her. No one could always have what they wanted.

Up ahead, a sharp yelp pricked her ears, and she snapped out of her internal monologue, ready to spring into action. In the vanguard, both Trixi and Ruzuli’s natural superior vision in the dark had served useful, and they had evidently spotted the ruins they were to reside in tonight, even amidst the low visibility of rainfall.

The ruins were in pristine condition, well, as pristine as ruins got. It looked like no one had lived here for the better part of a millennium, and nature itself had taken back part of the settlement, with trees growing through buildings and creepers slithering up the walls like snakes ascending to the sky. She struggled to see anything beyond a metre or two, but still she managed to follow her leaders into a collapsed building, getting some well earned reprieve from the rain. Almost immediately, the sound of rain became muted, muffled percussive hits on the brick roof above her. She ran a hand through her hair, squeezing whatever out whatever water she could. It flowed out onto her already-soaked clothes, not bothering her in the slightest. Around her, the rest did the same, recovering from the rain and preparing to make camp. Ruzuli had laid out some firewood and tried shooting sparks into it, but to no avail. The damp wood refused to light, and she cursed at the inanimate object in her native tongue. It must have been something particularly graphic, for Trixi’s eyebrows raised as far as they could go, being the only other one who was remotely familiar with her language. Octavia decided she would help with the light, lightly holding her fingers together and closing her eyes.

Slowly, a dirty light emanated from her body, not seeming to begin or end at any one point. She let the light warm herself first, ignoring the awestruck looks of the others. And then she thrust her hands upwards, firing the essence orb into the air. But unlike the others she had fired in the past, this one was not destructive, but rather constructive. The orb reached the ceiling, staying there, now shining a soft, but still dirty light around the room. Octavia looked upwards, rather proud of her handiwork. A surprising amount of finesse had been required to make that little trick possible, the products of weeks upon weeks of practice. It lacked the warmth of a fireplace, but the light would be sufficient for them.

“It’s no swarm of fireflies, but it’ll do.” Ruzuli gave her a wry smile. “We should get some rest, the rain did a good number on us.” “First watch?”

“I’ll take it.” Thankfully, the dragonling seemed to still be full of energy. She watched as Ruzuli pulled out a dried piece of pork and heated it above her hand. In a corner, Trixi was already asleep, weary from the long hike, slumped against a cracked pillar. Jirei was still up, having stripped down to the cloth clothes she wore underneath her now-soaked robe, dark green above and brown below. Just like a tree, Octavia mused to herself. Already feeling the lethargy hit her, she let out a loud yawn and lay down, laying beneath her essence orb, listening to the sound of falling rain and a dragonling loudly devouring her meal. It was soothing, calming, a rarity out on the road. She let her eyelids shut slowly, drifting into the abyss of her own mind.

Her rest was rudely interrupted by a huge shockwave.

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Her eyes flashed open and she looked around. She felt another wave, and another, shaking her to her core. No physical damage, no one around her even seemed to notice. Immediately, she shut her eyes once more, not to rest, but to focus. She shook off the annoying need to sleep and tried to pinpoint the source of the shockwave. Reckless essence usage, she thought, someone’s trying to find something, and I hope it’s not us. She felt two strong sources, stationary, pulsing their essence all over the place with reckless abandon. It has to be the Order of Lua’s agents. No self-respecting essence mage joined their ranks, with their brutish measures and reckless use of essence, not to mention the cult-like . She could feel one of them coming from a mile away on a good day, but perhaps she had been so absorbed in her own thoughts that she had missed their telltale signals.

Nevertheless, they had maybe minutes before they were descended upon by them. She already sensed the two sources moving towards them, and at a pace that exceeded any living being, likely on horseback. The essence orb she had made had consumed a fair amount of her own essence, and would raise suspicions, no matter how incompetent the essence mages were. She hastily informed Ruzuli, much to her surprise. But within a moment they got back to the plan. They had always known the day might come where they would be pursued. Granted, their party was not the most subtle, with the large height disparity between the elf and the gnome, not to mention Ruzuli’s eye-catching blue skin. Hence, the plan was to run like hell with their faces covered up. In the dark, their pursuers would hopefully be unable to identify them properly. She swiftly woke up both their sleeping teammates, Trixi still moving groggily, while Jirei didn’t hesitate in gearing up, throwing her robe on in a matter of seconds. When she heard that someone was coming for them, she somehow remained unfazed, merely steeling herself for whatever came for them, her face not displaying a single ounce of hesitation or surprise, as if she had expected it. From Ruzuli’s pack each of them grabbed a black cloth, wrapping it around their faces, obscuring their mouths. Octavia reached up above and swiftly pulled her hand downwards, pulling the orb back into her and plunging them back into darkness. From there, they split up, Ruzuli with Jirei and Trixi with Octavia, each pair having at least one with natural night vision. Whoever was chasing them would have to take them out separately.

Trixi and Octavia had hunkered down behind a cracked wall next to the main road of the ruins, while across the road Ruzuli and Jirei hid on a roof that was barely structurally sound. Octavia crouched and waited. In the darkness, the ones who struck first won, and she had no intention of giving up that tactical advantage.

In the distance, the thundering of hooves swept into the ruins, bouncing off every broken wall and splintered ceiling. The rain was forgotten as she zeroed in on the faint silhouettes approaching the ruins. The time for running was over. Now was the time to fight.

Next Chapter ｜Start from the beginning

Authors note: As of this chapter being published, the intro, as well as Chapters 1, 5 and 6 received updates. Story details may have changed, and hence rereading them is recommended.

#authors on tumblr #original story #my story #original content #the compass of faith #chapter 7

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