The villagers of Nohr had long since gone to sleep.
It was Shidan's first night on watch, but he wasn't afraid. Wild beasts would be scared away by torchlight; they wouldn't dare enter the village.
Standing beneath the torch at the village gate, drowsiness washed over him. He instinctively nodded off for a moment, and when he lowered his hand, several flickering, ghostlike lights had appeared in the distance.
"Ah—! Brendam! Brother Brendam, look! What's that!? Why is it moving so fast!?"
Leaning on a wooden post, Brendam was jolted awake by Shidan's scream and fell to the ground. His sleep vanished instantly. Panicking, he scrambled up and drew the short sword at his waist.
"It's someone using acceleration magic! Go find the village chief! I'll hold them here!"
"Okay!"
Running toward the chief's longhouse, Shidan struck the copper gong with all his strength.
"Gong—gong—gong!"
The deafening clangs awakened the sleeping village.
Village Chief Frawer hurriedly dressed and, protected by the spear- and dagger-bearing men, hobbled to the gate with his cane. Only after seeing that the soldiers wore Noxus's distinctive iron-plated armor did he relax.
"I am Frawer, chief of Nohr. May I ask why people from the main city have come in the middle of the night…?"
Lester didn't waste time. He directly handed the chief the sword Nadalz had entrusted to him.
"Village Chief—surely you recognize this blade."
Surprised by the stranger's directness, Frawer blinked, then accepted the sword and examined it closely.
"This is Lord Nadalz's sword. Please, come in, come in. May I ask your name, my lord? And what does Nohr Village need to do?"
After retrieving the sword, Lester's expression turned stern.
"My name is Lester, commander of the Noxus Conscription Army. I am under orders to protect Nohr and intercept the Headsman Raiders bandit group coming from the south. I hereby declare: Nohr Village is conscripted. Everyone will obey orders without exception. Understood?"
Still hesitating, Frawer noticed familiar Centurion Ottmann nod at him, and only then did he agree.
"Good. Gather all villagers. Tell them over four hundred bandits are coming to slaughter the village. Then collect every weapon and piece of armor you have.
Adult men are to take digging tools and logging tools and follow me. The elderly, women, and children will take dry rations and evacuate up the mountain with Altman.
Tell the villagers: no one is allowed to run. Anyone who flees will be treated as a traitor to Noxus and punished severely."
In the second group, fifteen-year-old Margaret kept a steady jog, easily passing boys her age and women in their forties, running ahead without effort.
Nohr Village was close now.
Unlike the girls her age who married early and had children, the dignified and graceful Margaret had always dreamed of joining the Noxian military—earning glory and merit with the blade, just like her father.
Her father had died on the battlefield, leaving her a Noxian longsword forged in the Blackiron forges of the Immortal Bastion.
The sword was supposed to be reclaimed, but her father's friend kept it for her under the claim that Margaret would one day become a Noxian cadet.
After her mother remarried another man and abandoned her, Margaret had no family left except her uncle.
Her father had barely been dead, yet her pregnant mother eloped with a man from outside the Noxii Tribe, fleeing Noxus entirely and going to Demacia on the western coast. To Margaret, it was a disgrace to the family. But because the woman was her mother, she couldn't bring herself to act. All she could do was swear never to acknowledge her again.
From that moment on, she vowed never again to let "softness" control her emotions.
She poured all her anger and desire for glory into training with her uncle. Through relentless effort, she mastered the sword and strengthened her body—yet she remained too young to enlist.
Until the bandits came. Chieftain Nadalz lifted age and gender restrictions. Margaret strapped on her beloved sword and joined the group led by the man named Lester.
Thinking back to Lester's commanding presence in Conqueror's Square, Margaret's breathing wavered—but she knew what she needed to do now.
Sweeping aside the flutter of girlish emotions, she returned to being the Margaret who sought glory. But now, in addition to glory itself, quietly following the almost godlike Lester had become another pursuit she could never confess.
"You're doing well. What's your name?"
Just as she easily passed the exhausted youths ahead of her, a one-armed veteran leading the way spoke up.
"Sir, my name is Margaret."
"I'll remember you."
He said nothing more. Instead, a boy she had just passed spoke between breaths.
"You… I haven't seen you around the Immortal Bastion. Where do you live?"
Margaret turned her head. The boy's square face wasn't notable, though he did have a bit of determination in his eyes.
"That has nothing to do with you. Are you here to fight or to chatter uselessly?"
"S-so cold…"
Seeing she didn't want to talk, the boy gave up and focused on breathing.
When the second wave reached Nohr, Meredith—the square-faced mage who had been waiting—walked forward to greet them.
"Lady Meredith, what orders does Commander Lester have?"
Nodding at the leading veteran, Meredith spoke.
"Assign them. Anyone without a proper weapon goes to the village center for a wooden spear. The rest will go to the east side to dig traps with Lord Lester. The best boys and girls—come with me."
The veteran called out over a dozen names. Margaret and the other selected youths followed Meredith.
The mage gave the uneasy group only a brief, indifferent glance, saying nothing as she led them away.
Feeling the mage's intimidating presence, none of the youths dared speak. Only Margaret hesitated before asking calmly:
"Lady Mage, where are we going? Aren't we supposed to help Lord Lester?"
"You'll know when we arrive, girl."
Meredith turned back and gave her a meaningful smile. She doubted the expressionless girl would stay that calm for long.
Soon, Meredith brought the thirteen physically strongest youngsters to a storage house.
Pushing open the door, she gestured toward the pitch-black interior—where muffled struggling noises could be heard—and smiled kindly.
"Go in."
"L-Lady Mage… what's inside?"
Meredith's smile vanished instantly.
"Go."
"…Yes."
Once the door closed, Meredith lit a prepared torch and led the frightened youths to a corner of the warehouse.
In the flickering firelight lay over a dozen villagers—hands and feet bound, mouths stuffed with torn cloth—whimpering desperately.