At the breakfast table, Lester and Rose sat across from each other, eating with practiced grace and poise.
"Lester, it's been… what, half a year since you came here?"
A crumb clung to the corner of Rose's lip. Lester reached over with his finger, brushed it away, then—under her flushed, wide-eyed stare—placed it casually in his mouth, a teasing smile in his eyes.
"From the day you brought me home until now—exactly one hundred seventy-two days, three hours, and fifty-two minutes. But somehow, it still feels like yesterday."
Rose giggled softly. "Time really does fly when I'm with you. It never feels like enough."
"That's fine. If we've lost half a lifetime, we still have the other half left. That's plenty."
"You always know what to say~"
When the dishes were cleared, Rose plopped down beside him, wrapping her arms gently around his waist.
"Lester, now that you understand Noxian, will you tell me your story? Are you really some relic of an ancient civilization? What's that beautiful language you speak? Where did your clothes come from—were they made by some long-forgotten culture?"
Lester blinked, caught off guard. His expression darkened with quiet sorrow.
"Oh—don't look so sad," Rose said quickly, guilt flickering across her face. "If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to."
He shook his head, pulling her close with calm tenderness. "It's all right. You saved my life—there's nothing I wouldn't tell you."
His voice trembled slightly with what sounded like unfeigned emotion.
"Maybe I really am a remnant of the past. Most of my memories are gone. I only remember my name… and the great language carved deep in my soul. I recall snow and endless cold. Then—light. And suddenly, I was standing in a city square. I knew no one. I understood nothing. Every spear pointed at me, and the world was cold and dark… until I saw you."
Rose stiffened slightly, her heart stirred by his words. She gently patted his back. "It's all right. Lost things can always be found again, as long as you try. But, Lester… I think I can't be without you anymore. Promise me—no matter what happens, we face it together. Don't leave me, all right?"
Lester smiled faintly, tightening his arms around her. "Silly girl. How could I ever leave you? Though… there's still Lord Nadalz to think about…"
"Him? He's too busy fighting wars to remember you even exist. When he does, I'll handle it."
"You're too good to me, Rose."
"It's enough that you know… oh, by the way, Lester—I suddenly feel like teaching you Ionian."
"Then let's go upstairs. I was just thinking I'd like to learn… and are we starting like with Demacian—'mm,' 'ah,' and 'no,' again?"
"You shameless thing!"
---
Meanwhile, in another chamber of the Immortal Bastion, Meredith of the Black Rose delivered Lady Rose's message to Lord Nadalz.
"Lord Nadalz," she said formally, "Lady Rose reports that the foolish foreigner has only just begun learning the most basic forms of Noxian speech. His vocabulary is far too small for proper communication. At best, he can respond with sounds like 'mm' or 'ah' to pretend he understands, but in truth, he comprehends very little."
Hearing this, Nadalz puffed up with pride.
"As I expected! Handsome face, empty head. At this rate, he won't even master Noxian by year's end. I myself learned to use 'mm' and 'ah' with my mother in just four months. That so-called ancient relic has a long way to go to match me!"
"Yes, Lord Nadalz," Meredith replied smoothly, bowing low. "Your wisdom is unmatched."
---
Noxian Calendar, Year 1.
War ignited once more. The fragile peace that had nurtured Noxus was shattered overnight.
Resentful of the Noxii tribe's occupation of the Immortal Bastion, the northern Mostak war clans forged an alliance with the Upor tribes. In exchange for free plunder of Noxian lands and people, they rallied bands of marauders—chief among them the Headsman Raiders—and began ravaging Noxian territory.
Frontier villages were the first to fall. Their inhabitants and patrolmen were beheaded; their skulls impaled on stakes along the roads. Homes burned to ash. The women died in agony.
Drunk on their success, the Mostak marauders swept south in a storm of blood and fire, looting and feeding their armies on conquest. From the Dalmo Plains northwest of the Bastion, they cut a burning path to within a hundred kilometers of the fortress—before the Black Rose mages finally managed to halt them.
Relying on the eastern Paglus Peaks and the western Gorril Range, Noxian soldiers fortified the village of Nota, beside the northern fork of the Black Iron River. With the aid of earth-shaping mages, they built stone barricades overnight—turning Nota into a bulwark against the barbarian tide.
---
Woken in the middle of the night, Nadalz tore himself from his third wife's bed, shirtless, and sprinted through the noble quarter toward the war room atop the Bastion.
When he burst through the doors, Lady Rose sat calmly at the table, representing the Black Rose. Across from her was Stanlda, leader of the Noxian loyalists who opposed the Noxii tribe's control.
"How bad is it?" Nadalz barked.
Panting, Dault—his lieutenant—rummaged through his pack and handed over a rolled parchment. It was a letter from Brent Light, Centurion of Nota Village. Nadalz broke the seal and read.
---
"To the Great Lord Nadalz, Leader of Noxus:
When I set quill to parchment, the Mostak beasts were once again upon us.
With aid from the Black Rose mages, my men captured one of their centurions. From his trembling lips, we learned a dire truth:
The Headsman Raiders, leading the marauder host, bypassed the Gorril Mountains two days ago. They are cutting south through the western passes, leaving fire and corpses in their wake.
By my reckoning, their vanguard cavalry—nearly a hundred strong—should already be deep within the mountain's heart.
My lord, these raiders are vicious and cunning. Their horsemen slay every messenger who tries to carry word to the Bastion. If no tidings have yet reached you from the west, take this letter as warning—prepare for war. Strike them before they reach you.
The enemy's blades are at our doorstep. I will hold the line with my life. By my blood, I will bar the Mostak horde north of Tano Village.
For Noxus—fight without retreat. For Noxus—fight to the death!
— Centurion Brent Light"
As he lowered the parchment, Nadalz's breathing grew heavy.
The fires of war had returned.