The meeting concluded swiftly. After everyone else had left, Tianna allowed Garen to enter.
Garen stepped forward, his hands clenched into fists, and his arms crossed over his chest, performing a standard Demacian salute to Tianna.
"Self-disciplined and strong," Tianna said, offering her greeting.
Garen immediately responded, "Diligent and resolute."
This was the Crownguard Family motto, and also the cornerstone of Garen's life, allowing him to always remain as steady as a rock and fully focused.
After their greetings were complete, Tianna handed Garen a parchment filled with writing.
This was a document, a regular report sent back by Hargold, Demacia's ambassador to Nockmur, which arrived punctually every month.
Nockmur was a small country nestled between Demacia and Noxus, maintaining an unbreakable alliance with Demacia for hundreds of years.
Hargold was Garen's maternal granduncle, and also a member of the Crownguard Family; Garen had met him once when he was a child.
But Tianna pointed to the document and said, "The recent documents Hargold sent back have some issues. Although the handwriting is the same as before, there are some peculiarities in the brushstrokes, and the wording doesn't seem to be from Hargold's hand."
Garen carefully examined it and found that something was indeed amiss; both the handwriting and the content seemed peculiar.
"Why would Nockmur forge Hargold's document?"
Tianna directly stated, "I need you to take the Fearless Vanguard to investigate this matter, and while you're there, check on your granduncle's well-being."
Garen did not immediately agree. He had never fully understood what the Silver Council actually did, and now the former Emperor had passed away, the assassin Sylas was still at large, internal mage unrest was rampant, and he suspected his aunt and other families likely harbored ill intentions.
Garen could only guarantee his absolute loyalty to Jarvan; he could not guarantee that his large family was also absolutely loyal.
Seeing Garen hesitate, Tianna gazed at him from top to bottom.
"Military orders are like mountains. Are you going to defy a military order?"
Garen was in a dilemma, remaining silent.
But Tianna looked at Garen with sharp eyes.
"You look like you're carrying the burden of the entire kingdom on your own shoulders, Sword Captain," Tianna said sternly.
"This burden doesn't belong to you alone. You will be crushed, and if you are crushed, it benefits no one—not yourself, not your soldiers, let alone Demacia."
These words were profound, making Garen take a closer look at his aunt.
Until Tianna's final sentence: "Demacia is more important than any single person!"
"Including the King!"
Garen felt an invisible pressure; he couldn't discern Tianna's true intentions.
Then, she handed Garen an emergency deployment order, clearly stamped with Jarvan IV's personal seal. Garen could only obey the order, immediately organizing the Fearless Vanguard to march towards Nockmur!
In less than an hour, the Fearless Vanguard hastily departed Demacia.
At this moment, Jarvan stood at the palace window, gazing into the distance as Garen left...
Jarvan stroked his chin, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Luring the tiger away from its mountain lair? Do they truly believe I have no one left by my side?"
Jarvan slowly turned his head, looking at the man behind him.
"Uncle, the time to uncover the truth is not far off."
The man Jarvan called "Uncle" sat cross-legged on a stone platform behind him, a long spear propped between his knees, his hands resting on its shaft. He gazed down at the layers of garden terraces, the distant battlements of the city walls, and beyond that, the entire expanse of Demacia.
His name was Xin Zhao.
...The night after King Jiawen III of Demacia was assassinated six months ago.
Weak and despondent, Xin Zhao felt like a lingering ghost, wandering the place where his life had ultimately ended.
He would have preferred to have died in battle, to have died saving the King; at least then he could have died with dignity.
Finally, Xin Zhao arrived before a closed door.
He reached out to knock but stopped. Was his hand trembling? He cursed his own weakness silently, then rapped sharply on the oak door several times, straightened up, and planted the butt of his spear on the ground.
After a long, still moment, he remained motionless, staring at the door before him, waiting for it to open.
A guard reminded him, "I believe Marshal Crownguard went to the North Wing, Chief Steward."
Xin Zhao turned and walked along the corridor towards the north wing of the palace, searching for Marshal Tianna Crownguard.
But Marshal Crownguard was not in her office; he searched the entire palace but found no trace of her.
In a daze, Xin Zhao found himself at the entrance of the training hall.
He had probably spent most of the past two decades there. That was his true home, the place where he felt at peace, where he had spent countless hours sparring with the King.
It was also there that the King joyfully watched the Prince accept Xin Zhao as family.
Xin Zhao taught the Prince swordsmanship, spear fighting, and polearm techniques there, wiped away his tears when he fell, helped him up, and shared laughter and celebrated victories with him there.
The thought of the Prince was like a knife plunged into his gut. What Xin Zhao had lost was a dear friend, but young Jarvan had lost his father.
Jarvan IV's mother had died in childbirth, leaving Jarvan IV now utterly alone.
Xin Zhao felt a lump in his throat. He was about to continue moving when a familiar sound made him stop.
A blunted sword struck a wooden post.
Someone was training.
Xin Zhao frowned.
He slowly pushed open the heavy door, a feeling of nauseous dread rising in his chest.
At first, he couldn't clearly see who was inside. The surrounding arches and pillars in the room seemed to deliberately obscure the person, and the sound of the blade striking echoed loudly in his ears.
After navigating around several pillars, he finally saw the Prince, wielding a heavy training sword against a wooden dummy.
The Prince was sweating profusely, panting, his expression revealing pain, his moves wild and erratic.
"Uncle?"
They were not blood relatives, of course, but twenty years ago, shortly after Xin Zhao began serving the King, the Prince had started calling him "Uncle."
Jarvan IV was just a child then, and no one corrected him.
At first, the King found it amusing, but over the years, Xin Zhao's relationship with the royal family grew as close as blood, and he regarded the King's son as his own.
"Your Royal Highness."
Xin Zhao knelt on one knee, bowing his head deeply.
"I apologize!"
"Is it for disturbing me, or for failing to protect the King in time?"
Xin Zhao slowly looked up. Jarvan was glaring at him, still holding the heavy training sword. He didn't know how to answer, how to articulate his feelings.
"I failed him," Xin Zhao finally said.
"And I failed you."
Then Jarvan suddenly charged at him, fiercely swinging his spear, shouting at him, "Where—were—you?!"
The spear's tip darted like a serpent's tongue. The strike was incredibly fast, exquisitely skillful, and powerful enough to pierce bone and flesh, almost capable of killing Xin Zhao instantly.
Both the footwork and the spear techniques were taught by Xin Zhao himself to Prince Jarvan, and now Prince Jarvan was about to end his life.
Xin Zhao could have blocked it with his own spear, but he had no will to fight. He slightly raised his chin, allowing the fatal thrust to strike without impediment.
The deadly move stopped just as it touched Xin Zhao's throat.
A string of blood dripped down; that was all.
"Why didn't you say where you were?" Jarvan asked.
Xin Zhao swallowed, warm blood tracing a path down his neck.
"Because I am to blame. I should have been there."
As the Demacian Chief Steward, Xin Zhao's primary duty was to protect Jiawen III's safety, yet he was not present when Jiawen III was assassinated.
Jarvan held the blade across Xin Zhao's throat for a moment, then pulled back. He seemed to suddenly wither, all his fury spent, leaving only a sad, lost son who had lost his father.
"So, Father ordered you to leave."
Xin Zhao remained silent.
"I was right," Jarvan pressed, "Wasn't I?"
Xin Zhao sighed, looking down.