Trelle desperately pushed his weary legs, worn from the long journey, to run as if propelled by the wind. His breath came in sharp gasps, his flushed skin glistening with sweat, yet he forced himself to persevere.
He wore sturdy traveler's boots crafted from tough bison hide, treading upon the soft grass of the summer forest, occasionally stepping on a vibrant purple Dazhan flower. This plant, traditionally cultivated for its medicinal properties, was unique to the Gray Order. The fragrance of the crushed blossoms wafted up, urging him to run faster, ever faster.
He was uncertain of his whereabouts, but he was certain he had ventured into a territory long avoided by others. Striving deeper into the cool, gray-green forest, he had to navigate the tangled roots that threatened to trip him, forcing him to slow his pace.
A dim, brownish light emanated from the depths of the forest, starkly contrasting with Trelle's anxious and urgent demeanor. He quickened his steps, leaping over fallen, moss-covered trunks and ducking beneath low-hanging branches, moving with the grace of a mountain goat.
His camera, which he regarded as a second life, swung behind him, protected by a resilient black deerskin pouch, flailing in rhythm with his frantic flight. His lungs felt ablaze, and his legs screamed for him to stop, but he gritted his teeth, ignoring his body's protests, and pressed on.
Because…
"Roar!!!"
A sound akin to a beastly roar erupted from behind him, and Trelle's heart sank. A prickling sensation of impending doom enveloped his mind. The feeling that the scythe of death was swinging close behind him filled him with unease and frenzy. He commanded his legs to move faster, but they rebelled, heavy as if laden with lead, protesting against their master.
At last…
He weakly and fearfully caught sight of a massive figure, a forest giant tiger with a mottled coat, entering his periphery, charging towards him with ferocity. Its gaping maw revealed sharp fangs that glimmered in the sunlight.
"Roar!!"
As the beast's excited roar echoed, Trelle closed his eyes in despair, resigned to the inevitability of his demise.
Indeed… had he been too impulsive?
Reflecting on the warnings and advice from his colleagues and seniors at the newspaper before his departure, Trelle felt a twinge of regret. The Gray Order was indeed fraught with dangers, as described in the texts, and here he was, about to meet his end without even glimpsing the fabled city he sought.
Look, this forest demon-striped tiger was so robust and fierce; yet, in this brownish jungle, such a creature was merely a lower-tier predator, with far more formidable beasts lurking nearby. Yet, he, who had scarcely learned any combat skills, had foolishly dreamed of traversing this jungle. Was it not sheer folly?
However, the regretful youth did not have to endure the anticipated agony of being torn apart by the beast…
"Rage of the Flame Fairy." A gentle voice recited a spell that Trelle would remember for a lifetime.
In the next moment, searing air struck his face, and amidst the beast's dying wail, Trelle seemed to catch the scent of singed fur.
Having never encountered magic before, the youth could not comprehend the spell's meaning, but he silently committed it to memory, grateful for the words that had snatched him from the brink of death.
Later, upon safely returning to the city, Trelle had the fortune of interviewing a passing mage, during which he inquired about the spell's significance. He learned that it translated to "the wrathful flames of the fire spirit," a fourth-tier summoning incantation of fire magic.
Yet, at that moment, Trelle was unaware of all this; he simply opened his eyes, a mix of curiosity and trepidation.
Before him lay the charred corpse of the forest giant tiger, its once-mighty form now grotesquely twisted. The vibrant, majestic fur had turned into a blackened residue, emitting a strange odor from the intense flames.
With a sense of reverence, Trelle gazed at his savior, astonished.
Before him stood a mature and composed middle-aged man, wielding a massive crystal staff, its middle section smoothed and translucent from years of wear.
The man's face was stern, yet three lines of unknown dye etched across his visage lent him an air of the uncanny… or perhaps, absurdity.
Realizing that such thoughts were impolite, Trelle quickly lowered his gaze, as if afraid the man might glimpse his irreverent musings. To mask his abrupt movement, the youth respectfully bowed, saying, "Thank you for your rescue, Mr. Madikel."
Madikel was a title of respect for mages across the continent, a term used for almost all wandering mages—except for those malevolent necromancers.
"Greetings, traveler, baladash malanore," the middle-aged mage responded with a slight bow, reciting the arcane language unique to his kind. "It is a pleasure to meet you. You seem to have encountered difficulties. Have you lost your way? What brings you into this forest, long secluded from the world?"
With a smile that was tinged with both relief and sorrow, Trelle sighed, "Esteemed Mr. Madikel, I am not lost; I am merely an audacious traveler seeking to find you through sheer determination."
"Seeking… us?" The mage's eyes widened in surprise as he regarded the impulsive and inexperienced youth, seemingly beginning to understand something profound.
The middle-aged mage smiled as he spoke, "To be honest, young man, your audacity is commendable. Since the turmoil a decade ago, you are the first traveler brave enough to venture alone into the Gray Order. Tell me, is there anything we can assist you with?"
Rather than feeling a sense of pride at the mage's compliment, the young reporter felt a twinge of embarrassment. After all, he was the one who had been terrified by a mere forest giant tiger moments ago. With a hint of awkwardness, Trelle replied, "Esteemed Mr. Madikel, I am Trelle Benseni, a humble reporter from Pilteworth. My purpose in coming to the Gray Order is to… to uncover the truth about your legendary city."
"Oh? You wish to interview us about our city? Ha! Young traveler, I admire your courage," the middle-aged mage said with a nod and a smile, "Though I cannot say how the outside world describes our city, I can guess that there are likely few commendations."
"Perhaps it would not be an exaggeration to depict this place as a den of evil. Yet, even so, you have come. So, young warrior, can you tell me what drives you to confront 'the darkness that is us'? What fuels your courage?"
"Um… well… it's not much," the young reporter stammered, feeling a bit flustered by the mage's praise. He scratched his head sheepishly and continued, "I simply wish to understand history better and compile the truths of it into a book for others to read. Perhaps I might even gain some recognition for my efforts. I'm not as brave as you suggest; rather, it is my thirst for fame and fortune that propels me."
"Ha ha… there is no shame in that, traveler. The pursuit of fame and fortune is not something to be whispered about," the middle-aged mage said, gently waving his staff and smiling warmly. "The desire for recognition is a common trait among all intelligent beings, and it is this very yearning that has forged countless great figures and remarkable achievements throughout history. It is a normal desire from which none can escape."
The mage's steady and seasoned tone carried the wisdom of the ages, instilling a sense of calm within Trelle. He couldn't quite articulate how he felt, but he undoubtedly sensed the mage's sincerity—this was no casual remark, his heart told him.
Thus, he instinctively straightened his posture and met Madikel's gaze.
"Then, young traveler, would you care to visit our city?" The middle-aged mage offered a friendly invitation with a slight bow. "I assure you, you will have a wonderful experience."
"Is that truly possible?" Trelle's eyes sparkled with surprise at the mage's words.
"Of course, my friend," the smiling mage replied kindly. "We can set off at once; tonight marks the day of the fullest moon of the year, and there will be a grand celebration in our city. If we hurry, we might just make it in time for the festivities."
As he watched the middle-aged mage lead the way, Trelle, though somewhat exhausted, forced himself to keep pace. His youthful pride would not allow him to endure another moment of embarrassment today. They traversed through the strange trees of grayish-brown and deep blue until the sun began its descent.
The evening glow transformed from crimson to golden, eventually fading into purple.
Trelle closely followed the mage's footsteps, occasionally sneaking glances at the elder, striving to appear polite—though it was indeed a novel experience. Perhaps he was the first to encounter the Gray Order in a decade.
With this thought, Trelle felt an inexplicable sense of joy, as if he had achieved something extraordinary.
In all the books he had read, the descriptions of the people inhabiting this land, deemed ominous, were filled with terms like "minions of the evil overlord" and "the abode of unrepentant sins," suggesting that those who established the legendary city were akin to unforgivable demons with horns sprouting from their heads.
According to the priests, these people were nothing less than fiends released from the deepest pits of hell, set ablaze by the inferno.
Yet now, having interacted with these so-called "demons," Trelle discovered them to be even friendlier than he had anticipated.
While acknowledging individual differences, as a reporter, Trelle understood that every race has its share of scoundrels and virtuous souls. Still, the middle-aged mage left a positive impression of his city on Trelle.
As he walked, Trelle eagerly searched for signs of the city within the jungle—perhaps paths trodden by travelers, illuminated markers, or silhouettes of buildings against the twilight sky.
However, he saw nothing. They continued onward, and suddenly, a wave of fear washed over him.
What if the accounts in those texts were true? What if this kindly middle-aged mage was merely a facade?
What if they harbored darker intentions—such as sacrificing him to their legendary overlord who had nearly annihilated the entire Valoran continent, or…
"We have arrived." The mage's words interrupted Trelle's spiraling thoughts. In response to Trelle's bewildered gaze, he gently extended his large, translucent crystal staff into the void and murmured an incomprehensible incantation.
In the next moment, to Trelle's astonishment, the dense jungle before them began to shimmer and ripple, as though a clear reflection on a lake had been disturbed by a thrown stone.
The ripples intensified, and suddenly, the entire forest vanished.
Before Trelle lay a broad, silver-white stone-paved road, stretching along the ridge to a place—a sight so extraordinary that Trelle could scarcely have imagined it, even in his dreams.
Trelle involuntarily gasped in awe.
"Ha ha… more than a decade ago, when we first established this city, we did not require such measures. However, following the turmoil ten years ago, we believed our existence would likely no longer be welcomed on the Valoran continent. Thus, our princess had no choice but to create a grand illusionary array," the middle-aged mage explained. "If the people of the continent cannot see the Gray Order, they will naturally not attack us."
"Princess… your highness?" Trelle swallowed hard, feeling a chill of apprehension. "Is it that princess?"
"Ah, indeed, it is her highness," the middle-aged mage replied with a gentle smile.
The inquirer's questions were disjointed, while the responder's answers seemed enigmatic, yet both understood implicitly who they were referring to.
There had always been but one princess of the Gray Order—Annie von Einzbern Xiao.
This girl, bearing the surname of the Overlord, was the sole princess and queen of the Gray Order, for the Gray Order was a city established by the very being rumored to have nearly destroyed the entire continent.
"Come, our new friend," the middle-aged mage said, standing at the forefront of the stone path, arms outstretched. "Welcome to a place you have never ventured before. Welcome to the Gray Order, to a realm untouched by your friends and family. Welcome to my home."
Trelle stood transfixed, as if struck by the same magical force that had felled the forest giant tiger. He felt utterly powerless.
He remained motionless, eyes wide and mouth agape, desperately attempting to comprehend the spectacle before him.
The city constructed by the people of the Gray Order was simply magnificent!
It was intricately nestled within the lush woodland, appearing as if it had naturally emerged from the earth. The harmonious blend of stone and metal created a perfect symphony, and to Trelle, it represented the most exquisite fusion of nature and artistry.
He struggled to articulate what he had witnessed; his once-proud command of language as a reporter felt utterly inadequate in this moment. Yet, he was certain of one thing: everything before him was imbued with an undeniable harmony.
As the concealment spell dissipated, the tranquil grandeur of the entire city unfolded before his eyes, and he instinctively widened his gaze at the breathtaking panorama.
The immense stone steps stretched upward, leading to a series of beautiful, harmonious buildings bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. The distinct edges of the steps appeared soft and smooth, and the amalgamation of these wondrous sights left him utterly astounded.
He turned his head, an involuntary expression of reverence adorning his face, while a subtle smile graced the lips of the middle-aged mage.
"Welcome, traveler," the mage said at the city's entrance, reiterating his warm greeting with a smile. He slightly parted his lips and, with a tone of pride, softly intoned, "Anar alaboleore, in the name of sunlight, may you have a splendid memory."
It was then that Trelle snapped back to reality, clumsily taking a couple of steps forward.
The cobblestones underfoot were smooth, though he could not discern whether this was due to the passage of time or the craftsmanship of the inhabitants of the Gray Order. Considering the city had been established for less than twenty years, he leaned towards the latter explanation.
They continued onward, and Trelle could see the city unfurling across the gently rolling landscape, with the steps leading to buildings characterized by graceful curves. He observed the long streets, paved with the same pristine white stones, seemingly untouched by dust.
As he ambled along the thoroughfare, brushing past a multitude of differently attired individuals, Trelle soon became the focus of their curious gazes.
From beneath awnings in front of houses and behind the windows of small buildings, people quietly scrutinized the young man, whose attire marked him as an outsider.
Particularly the exuberant children, as if they had never encountered the outside world, gathered together, whispering and pointing at Trelle, sharing their thoughts in a chorus of excitement.
To be candid, Trelle felt a twinge of embarrassment; this was his first experience basking in such attention. The multitude of friendly yet inquisitive stares converged upon him, leaving him with an overwhelming sense of vulnerability, as if all his secrets were laid bare beneath the spotlight.
Sensing Trelle's discomfort, the middle-aged mage stepped forward, smiling at the crowd. "Our guest seems a bit shy, everyone. Let us not overwhelm him, lest we frighten him away."
The mage's playful jest prompted a ripple of good-natured laughter, and most of the onlookers returned to their own affairs.
As the two continued their journey, they passed a small building where the heads of several girls peeked out from the second-floor window.
In unison, they called out to the two men walking below, "Mage Kolf, Princess wishes to meet our guest. Can you arrange that?"
After their synchronized plea, the girls erupted into a fit of giggles, leaving Trelle feeling somewhat perplexed and embarrassed—he had no idea what was so amusing.
In contrast, the middle-aged mage exuded calmness, merely inquiring with a hint of curiosity, "Does the Princess know of our guest?"
"Of course! You walked right through the front door. If the true eye had missed that, we'd have turned into a grand spectacle of fireworks ten years ago," one girl replied, hands on her hips, prompting another wave of laughter from her companions.
The inexplicable mirth continued, but the middle-aged mage appeared unfazed by the spirited girls' antics—he showed none of Trelle's discomfort or unease.
Mage Kolf turned to the bewildered Trelle and smiled, "Well then, my friend, our Princess wishes to meet you. What say you? Will you accept her invitation? Ah, of course, even if you decline, rest assured, she is quite gracious and will not be angered by your refusal."
At that moment, Trelle was genuinely taken aback, as if struck by a sudden stroke of fortune.
To be honest, in the past thirty years, he had never encountered anything as astonishing as today's events.
Whether it was the privilege of visiting this legendary city of the Gray Order or receiving an invitation from that young lady—oh no, according to the customs of the continent, a married woman should be referred to as "Lady"—the very notion of being invited by Lady Annie von Einzbern Xiao, the only known woman bearing the Overlord's surname, was something he had never dared to imagine.
This former prodigy of darkness, now known as the Lady of Darkness, was said to be the closest being to that infamous man in this realm.
As a reporter, was it not his lifelong pursuit to unearth the truth?
If he could glean any fragment of authentic stories about the legendary Demon Emperor from her, it would undoubtedly bring him immense glory upon publishing his findings.
After all, this would be a groundbreaking achievement in the realm of journalism.
Without hesitation, Trelle nodded vigorously.
Thus, their course of direction shifted.
The middle-aged mage named Kolf led Trelle along the winding, ascending streets, passing by a succession of beautiful edifices, toward the grandest structure at the summit of a small hill in the heart of the city.
The square stone steps seemed endless; as he climbed, Trelle found his breath becoming increasingly labored. At last, he reached the pinnacle, where a magnificent castle—or perhaps a palace—stood before him in all its splendor.
As he curiously surveyed the opulent structure, the middle-aged mage spoke, "Look behind you."
Trelle turned, and in an instant, he held his breath.
The city of the Gray Order lay sprawled beneath them like countless jewels embedded in the earth. The last rays of the setting sun bathed the buildings in fiery hues, and as that final glimmer faded, the entire city was enveloped in a soft, silvery glow.
Lights flickered from the windows of each home, creating the illusion that the stars themselves had descended to the ground.
"I do not mean to boast, but I genuinely take pride in my people and our city," Kolf remarked. "Under the leadership of Her Highness the Princess and His Majesty the Demon Emperor, we have labored diligently to escape the blood-soaked horrors of Noxus and establish this city. We cherish it deeply, and we have longed to share our pride with the other nations and races of the continent. Unfortunately, the paths of fate can be peculiar; forces beyond our control have distorted our goodwill, and ultimately, we were left with no choice but to construct a great barrier, isolating ourselves from the outside world."
As he spoke, a shadow of sorrow crossed his resolute face, but he shook his head, dispelling the thought, and smiled gently. "Come now, my young friend, we shall take good care of you."
At that moment, Trelle found himself at a loss for words; he could only follow in silence as the middle-aged mage guided him through the ornate corridors, brushing past many leisurely passing maids who cast curious glances in his direction.
After all, he was unaware of the full truth surrounding the turmoil that had erupted a decade ago—indeed, even ten years later, he remained in the dark. The only knowledge he possessed was the name of the Demon Emperor, "Xiao Muyu," as recorded in the Church's "Holy Scriptures of Redemption," along with tales of the malevolence and cruelty of the Emperor's formidable generals.
He understood the principle that without investigation, one cannot speak; as a journalist, he was acutely aware of this, and thus he could not offer solace to the seemingly melancholic mage.
Under Kolf's guidance, they traversed splendid hallways until Trelle was led into a lavishly adorned chamber.
The room was indeed beautiful, though its decorative style, while faintly reminiscent of Valoran's influences, was unlike anything Trelle had ever encountered.
Fruit was laid out for his enjoyment, peculiar garments were provided for his change, and in the center of the room sat a basin of steaming hot water.
"Dear friend, please feel free to indulge in the bath and the fruits. Her Highness the Princess will invite you to dinner in an hour, and someone will come to escort you. Is there anything else you require?" Kolf inquired.
Shaking his head to indicate his satisfaction, Trelle hesitantly asked, "Someone will come to escort me? Isn't that you, Mr. Kolf?"
"Not at all," Kolf replied with an amiable nod, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Did you forget what I mentioned earlier? Tonight marks the fullest moon of the year, and our city will host a grand celebration. However, it is customary for us to spend this day with family, so regrettably, I must take my leave. Fear not, my dear friend; the Princess is quite kind, and I shall return to see you first thing in the morning."
Trelle nodded, and Kolf exited, closing the door behind him.
Turning to face the room, Trelle felt a sense of disorientation; the moment Kolf departed, he was engulfed by a feeling of loneliness and helplessness in this unfamiliar environment, as if he were without a friend by his side—even though he had known Kolf for less than a day.
Taking advantage of the steaming hot water, Trelle took a bath and donned the strange yet beautiful attire. Instantly, he felt invigorated, as if the weariness of his journey had been washed away. After all, finding a hot bath while traveling was a rare luxury.
After his bath, Trelle approached the window, resting quietly on the pristine windowsill, where the dazzling beauty of the city below unfolded before his eyes.
No matter how many times he gazed upon it, he was profoundly captivated by this enchanting city, truly deserving of its title as the legendary City of Miracles. He marveled at the sight below, his thoughts gradually drifting away…
After an indeterminate time, the gentle sound of the door opening interrupted Trelle's reverie. He turned to see two lovely maids standing respectfully at the entrance. "Is this Mr. Trelle? Her Highness the Princess invites you to dinner."
She was a vision of beauty, an angelic presence.
This was the moment Trelle locked eyes with Annie, and the first thought that sprang to his mind was that she was indeed stunning.
To be frank, the various accounts of the Dark Lady in numerous texts described her as a "seductress who brings ruin to nations" and "a beautiful enchantress who ensnares hearts, compelling them to willingly serve her as slaves." It seemed as though this Dark Lady was a skilled manipulator of souls.
However, facing the legendary wife of the Demon Emperor in person, Trelle was reminded of the truth in the saying, "Rumors are never to be trusted."
She stood a head shorter than Trelle, and beneath her soft, resplendent crimson gown, she appeared delicate and fragile.
Her skin was a warm, pure ivory, radiating a captivating sheen in the warm candlelight.
Her eyes were clear and beautiful, resembling a tranquil spring under the moonlight, serene and gentle.
Her strikingly vibrant red hair was elegantly styled into a bun, symbolizing her status as a wife, secured by a lovely hairpin. A tranquil and gentle aura emanated from her, akin to that of an exquisite noblewoman.
Yet Trelle knew that, if the legends were true, this composed and gentle matron was actually several years his junior; at twenty-something, she was still considered a girl in Valoran, where the average lifespan reached one hundred and eighty years.
Seated somewhat awkwardly at one end of the long white table, Trelle felt out of place.
Sitting at such a lavish table, on such exquisite chairs, with a row of elegantly dressed maids ready to serve him… These were privileges he had never experienced as a commoner, leaving him uncertain of where to place his hands and feet.
Soon, the food was served, and Trelle exhaled in relief.
Roasted goat legs, steaming leaf soup, tender and succulent chicken, platters of bread, and a variety of delicately prepared vegetables he could vaguely identify—all familiar fare, which surprised him, as he had half-expected to be presented with unfamiliar dishes.
The Dark Lady proved to be an exceptional hostess, kindly inquiring about Trelle's experiences, listening intently to his responses.
Were the nations of the outside world at peace? Was his work as a journalist challenging? What difficulties had he faced traveling alone to the Gray Order? What was the outside world's perception of their Gray Order?
To be honest, some of these questions left Trelle feeling awkward, as the criticisms and rumors about this place were not easy topics to broach—especially after he had begun to understand the reality of the situation.
In the midst of their pleasant conversation, Trelle finally mustered the courage to ask the question that had been on his mind, "Um… Dark Lady, could you tell me about your… that is, your husband?"
After uttering those words, Trelle felt a surge of embarrassment; in his nervousness, he nearly referred to the man by the title "Demon Emperor," a designation not typically spoken of with pride.
"Ah…" In contrast to Trelle's discomfort, Annie laughed lightly, her demeanor warm and gracious. "My esteemed guest, you need not feel embarrassed. I am more aware of my husband's reputation on this continent than you might think. The title of Demon Emperor, upon reflection, is rather fitting, don't you think? Hehehe…"
Trelle dared not respond, only managing an awkward laugh from the sidelines.
"Very well, my esteemed guest. If you do not mind my rambling, allow me to share the tale of my husband," the Dark Lady chuckled softly, "It is quite a lengthy story."
"Um, where shall I begin?" With a slight tilt of her head, Annie von Eynzberen Xiao pondered for a moment. "Let us start from the moment I first encountered my husband."
Due to his profession, Trelle swiftly retrieved his notebook and pen, eager to listen and document this historical account that few could truly comprehend.
"The first time I met him was on a winter's night, as the harsh season was drawing to a close. Even now, I can vividly recall how bitterly cold that night was, as if warmth had entirely forsaken the world."
Annie parted her lips, her gaze drifting into the reverie of past memories. "I was merely eight years old, yet I had already attained the rank of a seventh-tier mage. I was immensely proud of this accomplishment, engulfed in the adorable yet laughable self-satisfaction typical of a child."
"Driven by that ridiculous sense of pride, I heard news of ancient magical relics being discovered in the Shurima Desert. To prove my courage and abilities, at the tender age of eight, I impulsively ventured out of Noxus, whimsically seeking to uncover the magical treasures of a bygone era."
With a warm smile, Annie reminisced fondly, "Yet, what could an eight-year-old, utterly naive to the perils of the world, possibly achieve? When the magical train arrived at the War Academy between Demacia and central Noxus, I discovered that my wallet had been stolen, leaving me with only a small crystal necklace. It was then that I first felt the pangs of helplessness. To avoid starving, I sold that invaluable crystal necklace to a passing traveler, receiving a mere gold coin in return."
"What could a single gold coin accomplish? Perhaps it would barely sustain me for half a month. Of course, if I sought aid from my family's influence, all these troubles would have easily dissipated. However, at that time, my childish pride would not permit me to do so."
"Thus, I resolved to learn the art of commerce to support myself. With that gold coin, I purchased numerous items I believed would surely sell well at the magical train station. Yet, in my youthful naivety, I thought the most marketable goods would be delightful plush toys—things children adored. But how many adults would truly appreciate such trinkets?"
"As a result, I spent three entire days without selling a single plush toy. I fell into utter despair, feeling as though the world was shrouded in darkness. Just as I was about to give up, he appeared, and our story began from that moment..."