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Time passed inexorably.
The events of the Academy of War's Open Day—whether it was Ryan's miraculous display of magic or Ezreal's cryptic words about prophecy—gradually spread across various regions of Runeterra.
In the Freljord, the tribal conflicts persisted, exacerbated by the recent revelation that the Noxian forces had mysteriously vanished from the frozen tundra.
Meanwhile, in Shurima, the once-mighty empire reduced to sand and ruin, the nomadic desert people found themselves drawn to the allure of Noxian dominion.
Rumors circulated that joining Noxus required little brute strength if one could bring historical discoveries to the Empire.
The Explorers' Guild offered a rare opportunity: uncover relics or monuments of the past, and one could earn a place as an explorer in the service of Noxus.
For the Sand People of Shurima, who knew the desert like the backs of their hands, the idea was tantalizing.
They dug feverishly, scouring ancient cemeteries and ruins for anything of value that could secure their favor with Noxus.
Elsewhere, Piltover and Zaun remained focused on innovation.
Their leaders had traveled to Noxus to study the Empire's advanced systems and concepts, eager to implement these learnings in their own cities.
Their loyalty was clear: the interests of the empire aligned with their own.
Far above, at the summit of Mount Targon, the Giant's Peak remained unchanged, its perpetual beam of light piercing the heavens.
The ripples of change seemed most evident in Demacia and Noxus.
While Noxus burned with fervor for expansion, Demacia found itself more precarious.
The Crownguard family, second in prominence only to the royal Lightshield dynasty, stood at the heart of Demacian politics.
In a chamber resembling a council hall, a man and a woman sat at a long table.
They were Tiana Crownguard, the esteemed High Marshal of Demacia, her husband Eldred, captain of the Mageseekers.
The door creaked open, and Garen entered, his tall, battle-worn figure clad in heavy armor still stained with the blood of recent skirmishes.
His face bore the fatigue of war, but his resolve was unshaken.
"Apologies for my lateness," he said as he approached.
"Garen, your timing is perfect," Tiana replied, her tone measured and calm.
"Why did you summon me back?" Garen asked.
"Now is the ideal moment to reclaim the lands Noxus has occupied."
Tiana regarded her nephew with a stern gaze.
"Be disciplined and strong," she said firmly.
Garen immediately straightened, instinctively responding with, "Diligence is hard!"
The family motto of the Crownguard echoed in his words.
It was a guiding principle for Garen, keeping him steadfast and unyielding through every trial.
As he spoke, his demeanor shifted. He grew composed, his piercing blue eyes fixed on Tiana and Eldred, waiting for the purpose of the meeting to be revealed.
"Darius is advancing toward the front lines," Tiana stated, her voice steady.
"The Hand of Noxus?" Garen's brows furrowed.
"Yes," Eldred confirmed.
"He is not only a military powerhouse but one of Noxus' three Trifarix leaders, embodying the principle of strength."
"I am not afraid of him," Garen declared resolutely.
"I believe in you and the Dauntless Vanguard," Tiana said, her expression softening with pride.
"Noxus appears to be consolidating its forces, drawing back its front line. But we summoned you here for something beyond the battlefield."
"More important than war?" Garen questioned, a flicker of skepticism crossing his face.
Tiana gestured toward the wooden table, where several photographs were scattered.
"Look at these."
Garen leaned in, inspecting the images.
"These seem to depict real scenes. What are they?"
"They are photographs taken by a Hextech camera," Tiana explained.
"A tool developed by the Academy of War, capable of capturing reality as it is."
Garen straightened, his expression hardening.
"A remarkable invention. But if this comes from Noxus, we must tread cautiously. Such a device could revolutionize intelligence gathering in warfare."
"That's true, but this is only the beginning," Tiana replied, her tone weary.
"Noxus already has countless ways of obtaining information about us. This new technology is concerning, but our greater problem remains... magic."
Garen frowned deeply, his lips pressing into a thin line before he spat out two words:
"Damn magic."
He was fed up with the constant innovations in Noxian magic, which seemed to produce one unpredictable weapon or strategy after another.
Without their enchanted-forged weapons and armor made of petricite, Demacian soldiers would stand no chance against the dark ingenuity of their foes.
Before he had ever confronted the Noxian army in person, Garen had thought little of Demacia's strict treatment of mages.
He accepted it as the rule of the land, a necessary measure to protect their nation.
But once he stepped onto the battlefield and took command of Demacia's First Army, new and uncomfortable thoughts began to take root.
He'd seen firsthand the devastating advantage magic gave Noxian forces, and sometimes, against his better judgment, he wondered:
What if there were mages in the Demacian army?
Snapping back to the present, Garen shook his head as if to dispel the thought.
"I assume you didn't summon me here just to look at these photos.
His gaze fell back to the photographs scattered across the wooden table.
"Have you heard about the prophecy circulating in Noxus?" Tiana asked, sliding one of the photographs toward him.
"This is the stone tablet."
The image depicted a fiery red stone tablet inscribed with ancient Shuriman script.
The markings, angular and precise, were etched deeply into the stone.
"I can't read this," Garen admitted after a moment of squinting at the photograph.
"There's a translation on the back," Tiana replied, gesturing.
"Oh."
Garen flipped the photo over, revealing text written in the common tongue of Runeterra.
His brow furrowed as he read aloud, uncertain:
"A prophecy of doom... about magic? But what does this have to do with Demacia? We don't have magic here."
Tiana let out a dry laugh tinged with bitterness.
"A mage struck a deal with the Lightshield family. They've hidden something beneath the Forbidden Forest."
Garen's eyes widened in disbelief.
"A mage? That's impossible!"
Demacia was a nation built on its hatred and fear of magic. Any mage discovered within its borders was exiled, imprisoned, or worse.
Cooperation with a mage—especially by the royal Lightshield family—was unthinkable.
"This mage was someone the Lightshield family and the kingdom could not refuse," Tiana said gravely.
"We don't know what they've hidden there. Perhaps only the Lightshields and the mage know the truth."
"What are you implying?" Garen asked, his confusion evident.
"It's not just about this prophecy," Tiana explained.
"Garen, your future is more than just being the Sword Captain. If you want to rise further, you'll need more than strength alone."
Garen scratched the back of his head, his expression sheepish.
While he respected his aunt's insight, he had no interest in the complexities of politics or leadership.
All he wanted was to defend Demacia with his sword.
Tiana sighed at his reluctance but pressed on.
"Jarvan III's recent actions have been... peculiar. He seems to be softening his stance on mages."
Jarvan III, the current king of Demacia, held immense influence.
Though he did not represent the entirety of Demacian thought, his decisions often set the tone for the nation's direction.
"There's nothing inherently wrong with that," Garen said bluntly.
"Not all mages are evil."
It wasn't like him to say such things aloud, but his time on the battlefield had changed him.
He had watched comrades fall to enemy mages and wondered why Demacia denied itself the same power.
Why couldn't they have mages fighting alongside them?
Still, the laws of Demacia were clear. Magic was to be feared and suppressed.
And though Garen sometimes struggled with doubt, he abided by the rules of his homeland.
That guilt, however, lingered each time he saw a Mageseeker dragging someone away in chains.
"No, Garen," Tiana said firmly, interrupting his thoughts.
"This isn't a trivial matter. Consider this: according to the Runeterra calendar issued by Noxus, Demacia was founded in 292. It's now 989."
Garen blinked, slightly startled by the sudden history lesson.
"Demacia has stood for nearly 700 years," Tiana continued her voice grave.
"Do you understand what that means?"
Demacian history, like its calendar, had undergone numerous changes with the rise and fall of royal families.
To make her point clear, Tiana used the standardized Noxian calendar as a reference.
"It means our traditions and principles have endured for centuries," Garen replied instinctively, though he wasn't sure where she was leading.
"Exactly," Tiana said.
"But traditions alone cannot guarantee survival. We are facing a world that is changing, Garen. And whether we like it or not, we must decide how Demacia will face that future."