"Tell me, foreigner — how did you get in here?"
When Nadalz asked, the man did not kneel. Dault angrily kicked at the man's straight knee, but the man nimbly dodged; Dault slipped instead and fell, looking like a clumsy bear toyed by a winged predator.
"Heh heh heh—"
Lester gave a polite smile to the beautiful woman who covered her mouth to hide a laugh, then bowed slightly to the burly, whiskered leader who clearly owned the place. Dault scowled at that, but fell back at Nadalz's warning.
"I suppose you don't understand what I'm saying, just as I don't understand what you're saying," Lester answered. (in his own tongue)
As Lester expected, everyone present grew puzzled. The woman in the revealing purple robe rose from her seat and leaned forward, eyes full of curiosity.
"What language is that? I've never heard it." (a branch of Old Valoran — Noxian?)
Lester shrugged helplessly.
"She can't understand our tongue."
Rose said this to the tribal leader beside her, then refocused on the man. More than his striking looks, it was the mystery about him that obsessed her.
Nadalz was pleased to see Rose — usually composed — offering more attention than usual; after all, this foreign spy was their captive.
"Can he understand Noxian?" Nadalz asked. (Noxian / Old Valoran branch)
Lester shook his head.
"Demacian?" Nadalz tried.
Lester still shook his head.
"Freljord?"
Again, no.
"Shuriman?"
"Ionian?"
They rattled through languages one after another. Under the barbarians' mixed looks of bafflement and dread, Rose sighed and turned to Nadalz.
"He has his own beautiful tongue but cannot speak Valoran. I suspect this strange man is a remnant from some ancient ruin — there must be great secrets in him."
Nadalz brightened; the idea set his mind racing.
"Take him down to the cells—" he began.
"For what? You intend to interrogate an ancient relic who doesn't understand a word? Let him rot in a dungeon?"
Rose's mocking look made Nadalz realize she had a point. The mystery of this 'ancient survivor' could not be beaten out with a whip; violence would only make the secret vanish.
"Then what do we do?" Nadalz asked.
Rose smiled and let her fingers glide lightly over the man's broad chest. Lester's expression flickered.
"We'll change the terms of our bargain. I will teach this man Noxian. Any secrets we uncover will be shared between us. After that, we will decide his fate. How does that strike you, Chief Nadalz?"
Nadalz thought it over. He had no one in his tribe who could teach such a relic—he had little choice but to nod.
"Ahem—Lady Rose, I trust your skill. I agree."
"Perfect. Your wisdom and decisiveness are as admirable as your bravery. The Noxii will receive support from the mage corps from this day forth. Let us toast to our alliance!"
When the elders stared blankly at one another and Rose raised her cup, Nadalz realized he had been deftly led into her web. The entire morning council had ended absurdly; he hadn't even bargained with her, much less bedded her as he'd half-hoped.
"To… toasting," he mumbled, voice thin.
Watching the woman lead the ancient relic away on a leash, Nadalz felt empty — foolish, even. From the way Rose looked at the captive, he could tell the language lessons would almost certainly take place in bed — and the bedmate would not be him. The thought turned his face green.
"Chief! Look — I captured an ancient relic! I did a great deed! Can I be a squad leader now?" Dault begged.
"Get out!!!"
After Dault had gone some distance, Nadalz's voice rang out again.
"Come back! Take me to where you found that bastard! Now!"
…
Lester had thought many times about what death might bring: ascending to heaven, falling into hell, passing the ferryman's bridge to be reborn — all manner of fates. He had never imagined that after dying on a plane he would reappear bathed in green light in a baffling other world. He certainly had not expected the woman before him to resemble a character from a game he'd once played.
Same habit of dressing skimpily, same charm and guile, even the love of purple — her eyeshadow matched eight parts out of ten. Only the face wasn't quite as gaudy. There was no proof she was the game's LeBlanc, but Lester found himself making the connection instantly. It felt anything but coincidental.
If it wasn't coincidence, then he had been transported into the game's world — a continent called Valoran.
Absurd as the idea was, Lester kept the thought to himself. A killer's instincts told him that following this dangerous woman who seemed interested in him was better than trusting the big, brutal, spear-wielding oaf.
They walked the narrow road toward the Immortal Bastion in silence. Lester's tatters drew the eyes of many newly risen Noxian women; had they not recognized Rose's identity, a public abduction of a handsome youth might well have occurred.
The architecture of the Immortal Bastion emphasized severity and hardness — even the subterranean levels mirrored that severity. Roads spread down toward the city below, flanked by overlapping bastion walls. Rose led Lester through the "Ironblood Gallery" to her temporary residence.
It was an old noble quarter built beneath the fortress and above the underground city — destined to become the enclave of new nobles. In the Immortal Bastion, only true rulers lived above the city and below the walls.
"Lady Rose, welcome back."
Two members of the Black Rose mages who guarded Black Rose Street stepped forward, placing right hands over their chests to salute when they saw Rose.
She nodded and pointed to the ancient relic at her heels.
"Meredith, take him to be washed. Give him some decent clothes and bring him back to me. Remember — keep his clothes exactly as they are for me. And he doesn't speak; try using gestures with him."
"Yes, ma'am."