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Millennia’s ago, before the League of Legends was created, before Demacia and Noxus warred for control over Valoran, and even before the Runic Wars; there was the Empire of Shurima. Once spanning over most of the south of Valoran, centuries of internal strife, civil wars and plagues weakened the Empire and sent many of its citizens fleeing. These pioneering immigrants spread across much of the continent, building the origins of many of the cities that still stand to this day; Demacia and Noxus included. Others even fled overseas, inhabiting the Blue Flame Island, Ionia and even the crumbling kingdom of Burian in the Feral Isles. Yet with much work and political cunning, a young prince by the name of Azir slowly rose through the ranks of the Shuriman Empire, garnering support from all those who would declare allegiance, and crushing all those that didn’t. Once Azir had consolidated his control as Emperor over all of Shurima, he turned his gaze towards those that had fled the Empire. Those that, he claimed, were still part of the Empire.
The arrow cut through the air, sinking deep into the temple of its unsuspecting victim. The now dead soldier crumpled to the ground, marinating in the blood, vomit and piss that covered the battlefield. A foot passed over him, then another and another; as a formidable looking contingent of spearmen marched through the battlefield, finishing off all those that were still alive. The purple cloaks of the spearmen stood out strikingly, in contrast to the gold lining of their amour and shields. A long blast of a war horn rang out, echoing across the battlefield, bringing the spearmen to a sudden halt.
The battle, if it ever was a battle and not just a slaughter, was over.
The spearmen suddenly drew to attention as a large canine figure strolled into sight from behind them. Clenching a large spear from which protruded some blade closely resembling a war axe, the canine individual was a fearsome sight to behold. Once finished inspecting the carnage strewn across the battlefield, it turned back to the line of spearmen that was standing in attention in front of it.
“Officer. Give me a status report on the enemy survivors.” commanded the gruff canine voice.
A spearman on the far right flank broke away from the line, and laying down his shield and spear on the ground, kneeled and replied.
“My Lord Nasus. We have eradicated any resistance we have come upon. The enemy soldiers, though few in number, put enough of a fight to allow the women and children to escape into the Bubbling Bog. However our scouts are tracking them down now as we speak. Furt-”
“Pull the scouts back” interrupted Nasus with little hesitation.
“My Lord, my utmost desire is to obey your will; however did not the Emperor himself command all his legions, us included, to bring all Imperial citizens back to the Empire?”
“Fool! Do you dare lecture me on the will of our Emperor?”
The officer trembled where he was kneeling on the ground. He knew that his career, and possibly even his life, hanged on what he said next.
“No, my Lord. No.” replied the officer in a quivering voice. “I will send word to retract the scouts immediately.”
“Good.” replied Nasus as he turned and began to walk away, uttering a single phrase quietly under his breath.
“Enough blood has been spilt this day.”
3 Months Later
The water slapped and slurped against the wooden planks of the ship, like a sloppy wet kiss of two youngsters. A seagull perched at the bowsprit of the ship, enjoying the view and breeze as the stem of the slip sliced through the gentle waves. In the distance, the faint shapes of islands barely protruded from the horizon. Suddenly sensing movement behind it, the seagull cawed and quickly flew away as a young girl replaced its place at the bowsprit. The slicing of the waves splashed droplets of salty sea water into the young girl’s face. Sputtering from the onslaught of the droplets, the young girl wiped her face and quickly tied her raven black hair into a pony tail. Now no longer hidden by her fearsome dark hair, her gaunt face became illuminated as the rays of sunshine played across her face, highlighting her high cheek bones. She stood there for several minutes, soaking in the sunlight and rejoicing in the warmth of its soft caress.
“Kalista!” a voice behind her rang out, abruptly interrupting her.
She turned around to see a young boy making his way quickly through the deck, dodging the sailors as they went about their work. By the time he finally reached her, his breaths were quick and shallow; exhausted by the effort he had just undertaken.
“What is it Jaziun?” replied Kalista quite curtly, unhappy by the rude interruption he had caused.
Finally recovered enough to speak, Jaziun straightened out from where he had been bent over trying to catch his breath.
“Mum says we are almost at the Feral Isles. She wants you to be down in the bulge in a few minutes so that we can all be ready before we dock.”
“Get a grip Jaziun. We aren’t going to dock by the end of today, let alone even tomorrow. Can you not see how far away the Feral Isles are in the distance over there?” she remarked as she pointed a single finger to the faint islands on the horizon.
“Captain Fortune says we have a strong north westerly wind behind us. Captain Fortune says that the Conqueror’s Sea often creates very strong winds that blow ships very fast to their destination.” He paused to take a deep breath, before resuming his speedy monologue. “Captain Fortune also says that that’s why it’s called the Conqueror’s Sea; ’cause back in the old days lots of people from the Burian Kingdom in the Feral Isles sailed across this very sea and claimed the lands of Shurima, Urtistan and even Kaladoun, as their own. Captain Fortu-”
“Jaziun!” exhaled Kalista, clenching her fists tight and trying not to shout at him “Please….. Please, stop talking.”
Slowly stretching out her clenched fingers, she resumed.
“You can tell Mum that I will be down there in just a minute.”
Openly surprised by his sister’s frustrated reaction, Jaziun turned and quickly hurried away the way that he had came. Kalista turned back to the bowsprit after he had finally disappeared from sight, and took it all in one last time.
The gentle rocking of the waves.
The creaking of the ship as the wind continued to fill her sails.
The sound of the sailors being ordered here, there and everywhere.
The gentle marriage of sky and water as the sea and clouds faded into one at the edge of the horizon.
The Feral Isles slowly becoming more and more visible.
A chill ran down her spine as she looked closer and closer at the ever increasing isles. Whatever those isles hold will now be our future, she couldn’t help think. Chased from our homeland and into the embrace of a strange land which is now all that remains of the once proud and powerful Burian Kingdom. May the Ascendants take pity on us and protect all of us. Myself, my mother and my brother.
Letting out one final deep sigh, she turned around and began to walk away; leaving the ship’s bowsprit finally without an occupant.