As the dawn breaks, the long-awaited March breeze finally graces this small city after the biting cold winds have passed.
On the streets, illuminated by the morning sun, two figures—a tall woman and a small child—emerge slowly from the station of the magic train, stepping through the thick morning mist.
The leading woman possesses a head of silvery, cropped hair, and her beautiful visage is tinged with an alluring charm. However, her resolute expression exudes a gentle strength, and her slender frame stands taller than most ordinary men.
A massive, lake-green greatsword rests against her back, forged entirely from fine iron, weighing nearly a hundred pounds. The juxtaposition of this seemingly delicate beauty with such a formidable weapon creates an oddly captivating aesthetic from a distance.
Despite her striking beauty, the indomitable aura of a battle-hardened soldier cannot be concealed in her every movement, nor does she appear to have any intention of doing so.
In contrast to this seemingly seasoned warrior, the small figure beside her appears even more diminutive and endearing under the influence of her strong demeanor.
This figure is a child, standing no taller than seven or eight years old, with a plump and adorable physique. A green cap adorns their head, accompanied by protective goggles, while a small, fully packed backpack rests on their back, from which a telescope and several rolled-up maps protrude. Their body is covered in the characteristic fuzz of the Yordle race, resembling an energetic, playful kitten or a charming raccoon.
"Riven, Riven, can we go see the War Academy?" the small figure exclaims, bouncing alongside her as if filled with the excitement of a child on their first outing with an adult. "I've heard there are many powerful sorcerers there!"
Observing the lively child dancing around her, the silver-haired woman, known as Riven, chuckles softly and gently pats the little one's head. "I fear we may not have the time; our bus departs in two hours, and such a brief moment doesn't allow for a proper exploration… Perhaps another time. Once we return from the Shurima Desert, I promise to take you on a thorough tour of the most renowned academy on this continent. How does that sound?"
Upon hearing Riven's refusal, the little one's demeanor dims slightly. They lower their head in contemplation before looking up with their adorable face, a hint of concern in their voice as they ask, "Then how long will our trip to the Shurima Desert take? What if we take too long and the War Academy is gone when we return?"
"Pfft… haha…" The child's question elicits an uncontrollable laugh from Riven. Unable to suppress her amusement, she ruffles the hair of the little one named Teemo and replies, "Rest assured, the War Academy has been established for over two hundred years and has stood unwaveringly without issue. It cannot simply vanish in a short span of time. Fear not; when we return from the Shurima Desert, the War Academy will still be here, awaiting the inspection of our dear Captain Teemo."
"Not 'dear'!" Teemo protests, slightly displeased with Riven's choice of words. In a voice that retains its childish lilt, they argue, "The term 'cute' can be entirely omitted! How am I cute? I am the renowned hero Captain Teemo of Bandle City, not cute at all! I am highly respected back home; I simply do not understand why all you human women insist on calling me cute. I am, in fact, quite formidable!"
Watching the little one assertively emphasize their prowess and fearlessness, Riven can only chuckle and nod in agreement, "Yes, yes, Captain Teemo is indeed the mightiest! I stand corrected; my apologies."
"Hmph… Although your apology seems sincere, I cannot forgive you so easily; I must continue to test your sincerity," Teemo responds with a triumphant air, strutting along proudly.
However, the little one's attention is quickly captured by something intriguing.
In a nearby square, a crowd has gathered around a fountain, creating an atmosphere of excitement.
"Hey? Riven, Riven, look at all those people! What's happening? Can we go check it out?" Although it is framed as a question, Teemo has already bounced ahead into the throng, quickly squeezing through the crowd thanks to their small stature.
With a resigned smile, Riven contemplates that there's no pressing matter at hand and decides to accompany the little one to see the commotion.
Upon entering the gathering, Riven discovers that there is no significant event drawing the crowd together…
A light, airy melody wafts through the air, interspersed with the sweet, melodious voice of a young girl singing, "As the moon sets and the crows cry… la la, through the frost of a thousand years, the waves still roar… not a trace of yesterday's la la la… today's la la la… how to repeat yesterday's la la la… this la la la… can it board your vessel?"
This tune is distinctly different from the mainstream music of the continent, and although Riven had never encountered such a genre before, she cannot help but appreciate the beauty of the song.
What amuses her is that a song, which should convey poignant emotions, is transformed into a cheerful and delightful rendition by the girl's charming voice.
As she steps closer to the crowd, the musicians come into view.
Seated by the fountain's edge is a cold, aloof man with long, gray-white hair, his expression frozen as he gently strums a guitar, a staple for any bard.
Clad in a tattered gray cloak, a somewhat worn and ancient sword rests beside him on the ground, while a small silver fox, about the size of a fist, curiously perches on his shoulder, its lively eyes darting about, observing the crowd with keen interest.
As his fingers dance across the guitar strings, enchanting melodies flow forth, harmonizing beautifully with the little girl's sweet voice, creating a serene and peaceful ambiance.
As the performance concludes, warm applause erupts from the audience.
The crowd cheers joyfully, eagerly reaching into their pockets to offer coins to the adorable girl, who approaches with a small jar to collect tips after her song.
Due to cultural customs, in a land with few entertainment options, people hold a fondness for bards, especially this seemingly sibling duo whose music is undeniably captivating. The public is more than willing to support such delightful performances.
Bards, indeed?
Standing quietly among the crowd, Riven finds herself pondering.
While this peculiar yet beautiful melody is quite enchanting, the siblings seem to possess extraordinary abilities. The girl, no older than eight, is already a seventh-tier sorceress—an achievement unattainable even by many seasoned mages who have dedicated their lives to the craft.
Moreover, the seemingly cold young man emanates a subtle pressure that can only be sensed by those of ninth-tier strength.
It is truly… strange that such powerful siblings have resorted to performing on the streets.
In the crowd, it seems the cold man has sensed her inquisitive gaze; he slightly turns his head, his indifferent, icy eyes piercing through the throng to meet Riven's.
"…" In the silence that follows, he swiftly averts his gaze, lowering his head in contemplation, lost in thought.
Those eyes…?!!
Riven is taken aback; what kind of eyes are those?
Within those cold depths, seemingly sealed by millennia of unyielding ice, lies a darkness and terror that embodies the most profound despair, akin to a still, lifeless pool of despair, devoid of any ripples.
Even someone as seasoned and battle-hardened as she cannot fathom the horrors and depths of despair that the owner of those eyes must have endured to cultivate such a chilling, lifeless gaze.