Talking

"You call us nothing, yet we are everything. Every place, every time... we are you." ~ Belveth, The Empress of the Void.

Okay. I want to address this even if no one really cares. Some of Gregori's thoughts are repeated a lot. He keeps falling back into the same thoughts, I guess when something bad happens you keep thinking about it right? So I hope you can ignore the redundancy. Characters need change and even if you barely know him well enough, understanding a changing Gregori might be easier.

Also, please point out if I mess up chapter orders, I'm kind of retarded that way. Also you will help my OCD.

P.S. FLYQUEST made me believe....

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gregori woke up early and performed his morning ablutions. He returned back to his daughter and looked her over.

There were chances for her waking up. And he wanted to be there when she did.

He watched her chest rise and fall slowly. Running his hand through the hair, he felt that even if she woke up, she would forever feel the effects of the changes to her body.

Every time she looked at her reflection, she would see someone she didn't recognize. She would have to get used to her newfound strengths. Going from a normal fiver old to one with inhuman power was quite a leap.

Even if it would have been easier for her to emotionally adapt to the changes had she been older but she was five, almost six and that would make understanding her changes harder for her. There needed to be a certain level of maturity when faced with such things.

Daisy, despite having a harsh life, still didn't have that. It might even lead her to shrink out her future responsibilities and withdraw into herself.

Gregori hoisted her up with his right hand and went outside for a walk.

The night did on favors to Naljaag. The place was beautiful. The entire settlement tucked away by grand rock and ice formations. Ice formations large enough to look like cliffs, loomed over the place. Wooden platforms were present across the length of the cliffs, like scaffolding. Other wooden structures were littered about. Some looking a little beat up.

Gregori walked past most of these structures. Giving them a once over. These things seemed to be aimless creations. Some were large tree trunks standing straight. The carvings over them not resembling any runes he had come across.

More than likely to be an ancient language rather than standard runes.

The walk around town was uneventful to say the least. Just a man and his child walking through an abandoned settlement. The seemingly random structures felt off to him but Gregori couldn't find anything wrong with it. Nothing magical.

The center had nothing out of the ordinary as well.

So, he did the next best thing.

Walked close to people who were on and about. They were great sources of information after all and would be more open to speaking to other nomads, and his arrival with Roark would make them trust him more.

A few steps and he made his way closer to the nomads. Most of them setting up shop, arranging wares and spices and various dried meats, condiments and an assortment of clothes.

Some of them had brought large amounts of thread, wool and fur of various kinds.

Taking it all in, he strolled through.

"Out for an early walk eh?" A voice sounded behind him.

Turning, he faced the woman who spoke. 

"First time here, have to see the sights don't I?" Gregori replied. 

She looked at the large cliffside as she spoke, "It is quite beautiful this time of day." Looking back at him she continued, "Why are you here there?"

"Hmm?"

"You know what I mean. You are new to Roark's group. Don't seem like a nomad. So why are you here?" Her tone got rougher as she spoke. 

Her suspicion seemed unfounded, Gregori thought. Why would she bother when he himself had come with Roark? The other nomads all seemed to know him, even respect him. Then why was she suspicious?

Inspecting her, he slowly spoke, "I'm not a part of Roark's group. Just travelling with them for the time being. That should come to an end once the Avarosans come here."

"That doesn't answer to why you are here." She asked relentlessly.

"Why do you want to know?" Gregori countered, not wanting to share anymore information.

She crossed her arms, "We don't want the wrong crowd over here."

"And there isn't any. I will leave once the Avarosans arrive. And me being here has me owing a favor to Roark, and I will not participate in anything that would lead them to harm." He replied calmly, ignoring the woman's weak attempt to rile him up. 

Without waiting for a reply, he continued on his way. Eventually stopping at spot where a crowd had gathered.

A bunch of nomads and trader folk hunched over on the ground discussing something. Gregori listened in, absentmindedly patting his daughter's back with his free hand.

"-to try my luck with this."

Guffaws came from the men around.

"He thinks he can do it." The man who spoke wheezed. "Ah hahahahaaaa!"

More laughter.

Some of the men were now rolling on the ground, some hit the ground with their palms and some just clutched at their stomach.

The man at whose expense they were laughing at spoke once more, "You laugh now, but see when I become the most important man in the Freljord." He said this with conviction, as if sure to achieve his claims. 

A few seconds of shocked silence was broken by more raucous laughter. 

Intrigued, Gregori asked the closest person, "What's going on brother? What's got you in stitches?"

The man looked at him. "New?" He asked.

"Yes. I came in with Roark yesterday."

Recognition passed through his face, "Ah, the new man with Roark. Yes. Yes. Saw you yesterday, I did." He nodded as he continued. "Chances are you haven't heard of the Bloodsworn Competition?"

Showing the confusion on his face, Gregori asked, "Bloodsworn Competition?"

Raising his eyebrows the man answered, "You don't know about the Bloodsworn Competition?"

Shaking his head, Gregori answered, "No, never heard of it."

Nodding to himself, "Well if you are new I would expect you haven't heard of it." He made eye contact with Gregori, "The Warmother of the Avarosa tribe, is currently without a Bloodsworn. She could have taken multiple men and no one would have batted an eye. But she wants to choose the strongest man. There is a competition that is going to take place soon. We will know for sure when the Avarosans come here, Jorde would surely tell us about this. I expect the competition to either begin in a week or so. Maybe two."

He pointed to the first man. "And that moron over there wants to participate in the competition, as if he is going to win." He broke down into laughter as he finished.

The man's face had a look Gregori hadn't seen in a long while. Defiance. He aimed to prove everyone wrong. 

It wasn't impossible but it was quite simple for Gregori to recognize that it was an extremely difficult endeavor. There were those who were built to fight and there were those who weren't. He could spot a warrior in any situation. They had an aura about them, something that put the other person on edge.

The war veterans carried it. The generals carried it. Even the ordinary soldier carried it. He couldn't explain it but a person who has experienced that kind of mortal combat exhibits it in some way or the other. The way they spoke or the way they carried themselves changed.

Some developed arrogance while other developed anxiousness. Some used their large bodies to intimidate and some kept their hands close to their weapons.

This man however, did not possess that quality. He had never seen combat and would likely not win this Bloodsworn Competition. If it was another sort of competition, he might stand a chance but the Warmother wanted the strongest.

She hadn't specified the sort of strength did she? Could be strength of will or strength of character. Gregori shook his head.

Not possible. 

This was the Freljord after all. They didn't care about those kinds of paltry things. Survival was all the mattered. Strength was strength. Who had the bigger fists. The law in these lands was just that. 

He didn't see this man winning.

But he appreciated the man's audacity and the capacity to dream. Not many of those remained. He could become something great with those dreams but without the skill to match those dreams, he would forever remain just that, a dreamer with delusions of grandeur. 

Catching his eye, Gregori nodded to the man. Not even the slightest smiles on his face. And the man's expression shifted. He saw this stranger recognize him, not as someone who spoke tall tales but one who could achieve his dreams.

He gave him a firm nod and a smile. The little interaction bringing within him a well of confidence. Turning to the crowd once more, he proclaimed loudly, "I WILL BECOME THE MOST IMPORTANT MAN IN THE FRELJORD! JUST WATCH ME!"

More guffaws rang about.

With a wistful smile, Gregori turned around and walked past the crowd. Occasionally stopping and asking for the prices of various goods that caught his eye.

He spotted someone selling items and foodstuffs from Demacia. He walked toward the vendor and inspected the goods. The goods were not fake, not at all, some whose authenticity made him doubt that this man was a Demacian delegate.

He ran his finger over the Tellstones on sale. The King's Gambit version. One he hadn't seen since his own days in Demacia. Tellstones themselves were incredibly popular across Runeterra, then again who wouldn't want to play a game where outwitting their opponent through clever tactics and strong memory.

The countless games he had played in various taverns, camps and even the legion, often winning rounds of drinks were some of his fondest memories.

This one. The King's Gambit. That was specifically Demacian. Named when King Santon the First faced his brother in the game for control over Demacia. A game to decide kingship and prevent countless deaths.

The brother lost and later died of 'natural causes.' 

When his caretaker had first told him the story, he looked up to Stanton. But as her grew older he came to understand the way things had gone. Underhanded tactics were used. Rules were broken. Politics was like that, all sides have something they want, by hook or crook they will get it.

Gregori looked at the threads, clothes and wool the man had brought. The clothes were white, blue, silver and gold, the Demacian colors, most wore a variation of these colors there. He placed a hand on a dress and squeezed the cloth, his mind taking him back to the days where he held on to the ends of his caretaker's dress.

"Good material eh?"

The voice brought him out of his thoughts.

He nodded and continued looking.

"Planning on buying anything?" 

He looked up at the man about to reply until his eye caught something.

He pointed, "Is that for sale?"

The vendor looked toward where Gregori had pointed. "A paper weight? The only thing that catches your fancy among all of this is a rock?"

Gregori nodded. "My daughter likes fancy rocks and I would like to gift her one when she wakes up. She is ill at the moment."

The man looked at Daisy. "Why are you carrying her around then?"

"Don't want to let her out of my sight, I just lost her mother and my other child." He spoke calmly.

"Well my friend, the rock is on the house. Its not like I would gain anything by having it with me. Anything would work as a paper weight." He picked up the white rock and placed in Gregori's hand.

"Take it. Give it to the child when she wakes."

"I'll pay you." Gregori spoke. His hands curled around the rock, trying to hide his discomfort.

"No need friend. Next time, buy some of my items. Something could tickle your fancy."

Gregori nodded, thanked the man and walked back to the large house the nomads had taken up residency in.