Arcane: The Gods Want Me to Pick a Route

Demacia lies in western Valoran, along the Conqueror’s Sea, with the endless snowy mountains of the Freljord connected to its northern reaches. Its geography is blessed beyond compare.

With valleys and plains ringed by mountains on all sides, Demacia enjoys an abundance of resources even without relying entirely on farming, timber, wild fruit, and game are plentiful throughout the surrounding lands. And beyond even that, there are the petricite groves, a resource so extraordinary it can only be described as miraculous.

Under such ideal conditions, Demacia spent several centuries building itself into an incomparably powerful lion kingdom.

From its founding ruler Orlon to the present Lightshield dynasty, Demacia rose step by step, and under Jarvan III, the kingdom’s strength reached its peak.

Generation after generation, the Lightshield family has given everything to Demacia. The founding emperor led from the front and charged into battle himself. Jarvan I died at the hands of Sion of old Noxus, though calling it a death in battle was not entirely accurate, because in truth, he took Sion down with him.

And so, with the will of the people behind them, the Lightshields turned the throne into a hereditary crown, second, third, and now the fourth, who still stood as crown prince.

Masei Village was a farming settlement near Jandelle. The village did not grow wheat, focusing entirely on grapes instead. That afternoon, an elderly man with a stern face, gentle eyes, and a tall build stood in plain linen clothes, speaking with one of the local fruit growers. Behind him stood a black-haired attendant.

"So, old friend, business has been pretty good for you lately?"

The old farmer flashed a big white grin and said cheerfully, "It sure has. Back in the day, when the harvest was too big and we couldn’t sell it all, the fruit would just rot in the orchard. Hurt to watch, I’ll tell you that. But things are different now.

"They say there’s some city-state, Piltover or whatever it’s called, buying fruit in bulk and shipping it off somewhere. Not only do they pay more than the Great City, it’s easier too. They send people out to buy it for you!"

Hearing that, the elderly man’s smile widened. He chuckled and asked, "Then tell me, old friend, from now on, will you sell your fruit to the Great City first, or to that Piltover place? And when you sell to the Great City, have you thought about raising your prices? Like you said, Piltover pays more, and it’s a whole lot more convenient."

"What kind of nonsense are you talking, kid?" The old farmer’s smile vanished. He rolled his eyes at the man and continued, "Are you from some nearby village, or from the town? Sure, Piltover pays more, but when we’ve got good fruit, of course that goes to our own people first. The stuff I sell to Piltover is all the bruised fruit. The good fruit stays with our own.

"As for raising prices, not a chance. In times like these, with war breaking out everywhere, the only reason we get to live like this now is because His Majesty is wise and mighty. He treats us well, so naturally we treat him well. Don’t go thinking like that. You’ve got such an honest-looking face too, handsome and dignified, but somehow you’re full of crooked ideas."

The old man could only laugh helplessly after being scolded, nodding again and again.

Behind him, the black-haired young attendant remained silent. He looked young, handsome, and still carried some of the softness of youth, yet there was an indescribable weariness in his eyes, as if he had seen far too much.

Then, the quiet attendant suddenly moved. His gaze sharpened toward a certain direction, and he stepped forward to whisper a few words into the old man’s ear.

"Well then, old friend, I’ve got some business to take care of. I’ll come visit again another time."

"Don’t bother," the farmer said, waving him off. "You’re full of bad ideas. I don’t deal with people like you."

The old man smiled apologetically, then turned and left.

The black-haired attendant followed closely. The two entered a wooded area, where they were met by a woman in silver armor, with long limbs and a slender sword at her waist.

Several knights stood behind her, each dressed in beautiful armor and carrying massive weapons.

Greatswords hung on their backs like shields, while short daggers and white crossbows rested at their waists.

In the Great City, ordinary soldiers and knights would show them the deepest respect at a glance, because that armor and those weapons were reserved only for Demacia’s finest, the Dauntless Vanguard.

And the moment they saw the old man, they all dropped to one knee in perfect reverence.

The beautiful blonde woman bowed slightly as well, giving the old man a knight’s salute as she said softly, "Tianna Crownguard greets Your Majesty."

"That’s enough, Tianna. How many times have I told you? With the kind of relationship we have, you don’t need to be so formal when we’re outside." Jarvan III waved a hand, warmly signaling for them all to rise.

He looked at Tianna, the woman who, despite being born female, now served as the High Marshal of an entire kingdom, and asked, "Go on. You came all the way out here to find me, so something must have happened."

Tianna’s face remained calm as she answered, "The ambassador we sent to the Twin Cities has been arrested. The Twin Cities have delivered a formal letter demanding an explanation from us."

The smile faded from Jarvan III’s face. With a headache already forming, he said, "So the people in the Assembly are all waiting for me to go back, aren’t they?"

The Assembly was Demacia’s central power structure. Before the Lightshield family rose to prominence, Demacia’s emperors had been selected by its members. After the Lightshields took the throne, the Assembly’s power had been curbed, but even so, it still retained enormous influence.

With Tianna’s status, she had every right to take part in discussions of this kind. Leaving aside the fact that she was the High Marshal who commanded Demacia’s armies, she was also the current head of House Crownguard, the most celebrated and powerful family in Demacia aside from the royal Lightshields themselves.

In a sense, Tianna’s influence reached across the entire court. One of House Crownguard’s political enemies, a so-called traitor personally executed by Tianna, had said before his death that if the Crownguards were not checked, Demacia itself would one day change hands.

Voices like that were not rare beyond the palace walls, but both Jarvan III and Tianna understood one thing clearly, the Lightshields and the Crownguards rose and fell together. Whether Tianna harbored rebellious ambitions was something Jarvan III knew better than anyone.

Despite the fact that Tianna wore the face of a beautiful woman who looked barely past her twenties, she was in truth not much younger than Jarvan III himself.

She had protected him since the days when he first took the throne as a young man, and had saved his life more than once. No one knew her loyalty better than he did.

He did not care how powerful House Crownguard had become. Garen, after all, was close to his own son and had once risked his life to protect him. If there was any house more afraid of the Lightshields falling than anyone else, it was the Crownguards.

Even so, to keep down rumors and whispers, Tianna had chosen to rein in her own power and make herself appear smaller than she really was.

"Come on," Jarvan III said. "Let’s head back and see for ourselves."

He spread his arms, and behind him the black-haired young man shook out the cloak in his hands and draped it over his shoulders.

By evening, they had returned to the Assembly Hall of the Great City.

At that moment, Demacia’s highest ruling body had become little more than a hall full of people shouting over one another. They all wore white robes draped over their bodies like silk ceremonial garments, men and women alike. More than officials, they looked like priests.

Then the doors opened.

A black-haired young man with a ponytail and a long spear in hand stepped inside with a cold expression, and the arguing began to quiet, then stopped altogether.

Everyone there recognized him, the royal steward, the king’s guard, the crown prince’s instructor, and one of the people closest to the king.

Then the king himself appeared.

Dressed in golden armor, a crown like living flame atop his head, white hair slightly disheveled and beard meticulously groomed, he strode into the great hall like a lion. Reaching the seat at the highest point, he dropped into it heavily.

"Well?" he said. "Tell me what happened. Why, exactly, did Piltover and Zaun arrest our diplomatic envoy for no reason at all?"

Jarvan III leaned forward, one hand braced against the armrest, the other on his thigh, and stared down at the officials below with overwhelming pressure.

Then the voices erupted.

"Your Majesty, Piltover and Zaun must give us an explanation. They were the ones who asked for diplomatic relations, and now they’re the ones tearing up the agreement on their own!"

"Your Majesty, they must compensate us. The Twin Cities lie close to Noxus, and the only reason they sought formal ties with us was because Swain came to power after the Noxian coup, and they’re afraid Noxus will attack them!"

"I don’t think that’s right. The Twin Cities are called the jewel of Valoran. They benefit Valoran, even all of Runeterra. Swain’s mind far surpasses Darkwill’s. I don’t believe he’d do something that would provoke outrage across the world."

"Ridiculous! Why are you praising someone from an enemy nation? Swain is nothing but a usurper and a traitor."

"Duke Foer, it is precisely because he is from an enemy nation that we should take him seriously, understand his strengths, and respond accordingly, instead of arrogantly belittling our opponents."

The arguments continued without end.

Jarvan III listened in silence.

He watched them all with a blank expression, though inwardly he let out a quiet sigh.

Demacia had long lived a self-sufficient life. The people in the Assembly held lofty positions and were used to their pride. On top of that, Demacia had grown stronger with every passing year, and more closed off as well. That had made these people look down on the rest of the world as a matter of habit.

But Jarvan III was different. His perspective far exceeded theirs, and in secret, he had been working toward something enormous.

When the Twin Cities had extended their invitation, Jarvan III had been pleased. What he was planning would shake Demacia to its core, and to make both the people and the nobility accept it, reconnecting with the outside world was a very good thing.

But now it seemed that opening Demacia to the outside world brought major trouble along with it.

"Your Majesty, order High Marshal Tianna to gather the troops and point our swords at Zaun until they release our envoy!"

In the end, that was what the discussion became.

To be fair, there had been voices arguing that since Zaun had always shown Demacia goodwill, there had to be a reason they would suddenly act this way, that the envoy abroad must have done something to provoke Zaun’s anger, and that Demacia should first understand why Zaun had acted as it had.

But those voices were quickly suppressed, because Demacia was a great nation, and the dignity of a great nation could not be violated. Even if the envoy abroad had done something wrong, then he should be brought back to Demacia and judged by Demacia, not by Zaun.

And because of that, even the faction that had leaned toward easing tensions with Zaun changed its tune.

That was right. Demacia was a great nation.

Just as Jarvan III was about to speak, hurried footsteps suddenly sounded outside the chamber.

Then came a sharp cry.

"Urgent report from the front!"

Standing beside Jarvan III, Tianna’s eyes narrowed instantly.

"Open the doors," she ordered.

The doors swung wide, and a scout of the Dauntless Vanguard rushed in. Muddy snow clung to his armor. It was winter, but no snow had fallen in Demacia lately, the mountain chain of the Freljord blocked most of the storms, and yet the man was covered in half-melted slush and filth.

His lips were pale and his eyes bloodshot. Once inside, he dropped to one knee and slammed a clenched fist against his left breastplate.

"Rogeman, scout of the Seventh Shield Formation, Thirteenth Company of the Dauntless Vanguard, reporting to His Majesty the King!"

"Rise," Jarvan III said calmly. "Tell us what happened."

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

Rogeman stood and raised his voice.

"Report from the north. The strange omens in the heavens over the Freljord some time ago have been fully investigated. According to the information we’ve gathered, those omens were caused by gods, it was a battle between gods! After the battle, the Avarosans and the Winter’s Claw formed an alliance and established the greatest tribe in the north. The Freljord has been unified, and the one responsible for making that happen was Zaun!"

"The Freljord has publicly declared that it will establish an alliance with Zaun. Warmother Sejuani has already left her tribe, and is suspected to be on her way to Zaun."

"The information is reliable?" Tianna asked, her face icy even as shock rose in her heart.

The Winter’s Claw was based in the far north of the Freljord, but it was also the northern tribe Demacia had dealt with most often and understood best, because Noxus had suffered defeat at the Winter’s Claw’s hands.

Rumor even held that the general destined to inherit the title Hand of Noxus had been captured alive, and because of that, Tianna naturally kept a close eye on the tribe.

"Reporting to the High Marshal, the information is reliable. Warmother Ashe herself said it," Rogeman answered loudly.

An uproar broke out in the chamber.

If the north had truly been unified, and had also established allied relations with Zaun, then the things they had just been shouting about a moment ago were no longer possible.

No one understood the strength of the Freljord better than Demacia did. Even soldiers of the Dauntless Vanguard found it difficult to endure the northern storms, which said everything about the sheer physical might of the Freljord’s warriors.

Just as the officials were reeling from the shock and beginning to wonder if they needed to rethink everything, another round of footsteps echoed outside.

A second scout rushed into the hall.

This one was a tall woman, dressed in a ranger’s outfit with armor over it and a close-fitting suit beneath. Her long legs carried her forward in quick strides, and her handsome, striking face was composed and steady.

She entered, dropped to one knee, and said, "Ranger-Knight Quinn has urgent intelligence to report to His Majesty!"

Tianna’s gaze shifted to Quinn and lingered on her for a moment.

Ranger-Knight Quinn was extremely well-known in Uwendale. She was a famed huntress there, renowned not only for her agility and extraordinary eyesight, but also for the falcon at her side, one that some suspected belonged to a species long thought extinct.

Tianna had once sent people to recruit Quinn into the Dauntless Vanguard, but Quinn had refused. Compared to the strict order of military life, she seemed to prefer defending Demacia as a lone sentinel, spending year after year along the kingdom’s borders.

So when Quinn said she had intelligence, Tianna guessed it was probably related to Noxus.

And it was.

"The Noxian legion stationed in the Silvermere Mountains erupted into chaos. Nobleman Vince was sentenced to death and hanged in the market yesterday afternoon. The former force there was suppressed, and the Seventh Trifarian Legion has taken its place as the new border army."

Those few sentences were enough to make Jarvan III rise to his feet.

"Is Noxus preparing for war?!"

The Trifarian Legion was Noxus’s elite force, the equivalent of Demacia’s Dauntless Vanguard. And now that force had marched out of the empire and into the Silvermere Mountains. Damn it, did Swain intend to start a war?

But Quinn answered at once, "Noxus is not preparing for war. Vince was executed for treason. On the day of his execution, the entire town was informed that, without Grand General Swain’s authorization, Vince had privately sabotaged diplomatic ties between Noxus and the Twin Cities and secretly profited from dealings in the Twin Cities. After the matter was exposed, he refused to confess and surrender, and so he was sentenced to death."

"The Twin Cities again?"

"The Noxian legion stationed in the Silvermere Mountains originally had around seven thousand men, if I remember correctly, and stood opposed to our own forces at the Gates of Mourning. Vince was a marquis. Wait, a marquis was executed for that alone?"

"What is Swain thinking? Why would he cut off one of his own arms just because of the Twin Cities? How are the Noxian nobles supposed to react to something like that?"

The discussion flared up again.

A moment later, the duke who had earlier demanded that the Twin Cities apologize and return Demacia’s envoy stepped forward. With a solemn expression, he said loudly, "Your Majesty, it would seem the Twin Cities have developed beyond our expectations. Our information on the outside world... has been arriving far too slowly."

"We didn’t even know when Noxus established diplomatic ties with the Twin Cities, let alone that Zaun had played a role in the unification of the north. I believe that now we should..."

What followed was essentially a long-winded argument that Demacia needed to reconsider its relationship with the Twin Cities.

If that were all there was to it, Demacia could have simply ignored them. If the Twin Cities were strong, then so be it. Demacia was far away from them, and Demacia fought defensive wars, never wars of conquest. It had no interest at all in dominating the world.

But now things were different.

The technology of the Twin Cities, and the explosive economic growth Demacia had enjoyed after coming into contact with them, made it impossible for Demacia to simply walk away from those benefits.

And from the look of things now, trying to bully them through force would be a foolish decision.

The north had been unified. Warmother Sejuani was heading to Zaun. Grand General Swain had executed a marquis in order to preserve Noxus’s alliance with the Twin Cities.

The Twin Cities were not afraid of Demacia at all.

And after hearing all of this, Jarvan III suddenly laughed.

He stood, smiling, and looked at the duke with deep meaning in his eyes before saying in a ringing voice, "In the span of barely half an hour, your attitudes have changed again and again. First you wanted to suppress the Twin Cities and force their hand, to pressure them into releasing our people. Then you heard these reports from the front and realized the Twin Cities are not so easy to handle, so now you want to ease relations."

"But here is what I want to know. Has no one among you thought to ask what our envoy abroad actually did? Four hours have passed since Zaun’s letter demanding an explanation arrived, and yet not one of you has told me what crime our envoy committed."

"I would like to know, did anyone among you ever think to find out?"

Jarvan III’s voice dropped lower.

"Humility, integrity, compassion, courage, justice."

"Have you forgotten Demacia’s code?"

Anger slowly rose on his face. Though age showed beneath his golden armor, the presence pouring off him only became more terrifying.

Like a lion growling before a roar, he said in a low, thunderous voice, "More than how we should repair our relationship with the Twin Cities, more than learning what happened in the north or why Noxus acted the way it did, what I want to know right now is this, what exactly did Noel do out there that made Zaun abandon its former goodwill?"

"I refuse to believe that none of you know what Noel did. Or do you think I am truly so old that I know nothing anymore?"

"Tianna!"

"I am here, Your Majesty!"

Jarvan III gave the order. "Deploy every member of the Dauntless Vanguard in the Great City. Search every noble house, great and small. Compared to Demacia’s foreign relations, I think the more urgent matter is cleaning our own house first."

"You may have forgotten the knightly code, but I have not."

The great hall fell silent.

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