Chapter Text
Tryndamere often told Ashe that it was frightening to see her prepare for a hunt. When she asked if it was because she looked ready to kill, he replied that it looked more like she was ready to die.
She said it was just his imagination.
When Ashe receives an invitation to work with the finest researchers in the Borderlands and study the tracks of an unknown monster, her curiosity leads her to say yes. Especially because the Noxians asked for a hunter of great patience and tracking ability.
Tryndamere complains as they ride towards an outpost that resembles a cross between a castle and an inn in the distance, “I still don’t get why I couldn’t qualify.”
Ashe smiles, turning her head to survey the cliff landscape. “You have other strengths that are more obvious.” She places a hand on her belt pouch where the invitation is carefully folded, the wax seal of a Noxian family crest cleanly split into two. “It’s not often you get selectively chosen by a notable hunting family.”
The letter was terse, concisely explaining the troubling situation of the traces of an unknown monster rising in the region with a notable request for Ashe by name. The imprint of a Handler’s stamp replaced the signature at the bottom, a serpent wrapped around a sword with the words “Du Couteau” arranged in a ring. It was baffling to say the least, considering that the letter was a year old, and her mother just received it less than a week ago.
News from the rest of the world rarely makes it to the capital city due to the treacherous terrain, the jagged mountains and ribbons of rivers wrapped around Rekelstake. Consequently, Ashe didn’t have much to go on when it came to gathering information about the Du Couteaus other than what other travellers told her of their prestigious line of exceptional hunters and their recent rise to prominence through daring research. They did mention the name of a famous researcher who might be the mystery sender—a Cassiopeia Du Couteau who is renowned for her work on the history of the Twin Flames in Shurima.
“Grena sure was pissed when you accepted the offer,” Tryndamere guffaws. “I’ve never seen her turn so purple.”
“Yes, well.” That was rather funny. “She thought it was a marriage proposal at first and then lost her temper when she realized it wasn’t.” Her expression grows serious. “What I’m more concerned about is the profile of the monster they sent over.”
“It’s a strange one,” he agrees, furrowing his massive brows. “What kind of monster leaves a Rathalos corpse behind but doesn’t touch any of the meat? And a lot of them in different areas?”
Ashe exhales through her nose. “Not a good one. I can only hope that the Noxians have some leads into its identity.”
He hums, looking up at the sky above them, bright and vivid. “Do you trust them?”
“I trust that they are serious when they say that this monster is a possible threat to both of our nation’s borders. Other than that, my wish would be for them to at least be cordial about our presence, given they asked for it.”
“I’ll see it when I believe it.” Tryndamere snorts. “Better keep your guard up. You can trust a Noxian as far as you can throw them.” He pauses. “Although if there are any attractive ones, you mother doesn’t seem to mind you bringing them back.”
Ashe scowls, “You mean her edict of get married or don’t come home?”
Tryndamere rubs his chin in thought. “Well, you are nearing the retirement age for hunters, and the last fight with that ice dragon left you limping for—“
He cuts himself off at Ashe’s look, holding both of his hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m just saying that she might have a point. Someone’s gotta look after you one day, cause it’s hard when you have so many injuries.” His tone grows gentler. “And besides, when have you last had a—“
“Long enough ago.” She cuts him off, tone curt, and he drops the subject. After a few seconds of silence, she glances at Tryndamere, an idea coming to mind. “You know…”
He shakes his head, holding his arms in an “X”. “Nuh-uh. No way. I ain’t getting into some political marriage just to help you avoid dealing with your mother. You get your own spouse, and I’ll find mine.”
“This situation is ridiculous. Sejuani isn’t required to get married,” Ashe points out.
He snorts. “Sejuani doesn’t have her Warmother suddenly feeling her age and demanding grandbabies. And don’t change the subject. It’s not Sejuani’s fault that your mom is sick of your single status.”
When he spots Ashe sulking, he slaps her on the back with a loud smack. “Cheer up! Maybe your handler will be a hottie that you can take home.”
The rest of the journey to the outpost is uneventful, save for the lowering of the drawbridge at their arrival after they fire off a friendly flare.
As they cross, Ashe feels a prickle along her neck, and an instinct tells her to look up. She spots a redhead woman around her age glaring at them from a window from the highest level. Other than her leather outfit, Ashe can’t make out any other features, save for what looks like a mixture of curiosity and annoyance in her expression. When she realizes Ashe is watching her, the woman slips backwards behind the curtains, leaving Ashe staring at a closed off window.
Tryndamere catches her gaze and follows it, shielding his eyes against the day’s glare. “Hmm…yeah, I don’t think that colour works with the outer paint either.”
“That’s not—“ Their painter could have used a different shade, true. “—I thought I saw someone.”
He hums as their mounts amble towards the front gate. “A friend or someone else?”
“I’m not sure yet. We’ll have to wait and see.” Ashe quickly changes topic as the guards approach, putting on her brightest smile. She pulls a letter from her pouch. “We were asked to help out with the research at this outpost.” She hands it over for them to inspect. “I hope everything is in order.”
The guards squint and furrow their brows, pointing and muttering at the broken house crest. At length, one of them straightens up and gestures for them to follow him. “I’ll introduce you to the commander. Your mounts will be attended to by our stable hands during your stay.”
Tryndamere pats his overgrown wulg and hops off the wolverine-like creature. “Take good care of Bitey.”
They leave behind their mounts and some hesitant stable hands to follow the guard into the compound that looks like a cross between a stone castle and a Summerland inn with its bright teal roofs and what looks like the remnants of a windmill in the back.
Inside is a series of corridors constructed of aged wood that leads to a vaulting hall that their guide names as the Guild Hall where people come to eat and meet one another. Ashe suspects it had been a church at some point based on the sheer grandeur and stained glass windows, though the smell of roasting meat nearby makes even her mouth water.
Tryndamere stops in his tracks. He points at what looks like a large grey cat in an apron carrying a massive bowl of bread dough to the ovens at the back. “Are those cooking cats?”
The guide pauses, frowning. “Yes, we have Palicos who do cook and other various jobs around here, but I assure you we pay them a fair wage for their services.”
Tryndamere doesn’t appear to hear the rest of the sentence past “Yes”. He mouths, “Cooking cats,” and stares in awe as they pass through the hall and up several flights of stairs. They eventually reach a landing that curves around the railing to reveal a pair of large wooden doors and guards posted on either side of them.
Nodding to the guards, their guide knocks on the door and announces that the Freljordians hunters have arrived. A second later, they hear a muffled, “Come in”, and the guide gestures for them to enter.
Ashe and Tryndamere look at each other before they each put a hand on a door and push.
The office is a rounded space with bookcases stuffed full of texts, tomes, and missives carving along the walls. The general sits at his large wooden desk at the side of the room, an expansive window that stretches from ceiling to floor on his right, displaying green rugged hills beneath a grey-blue sky.
He stands when they approach, sighing as he puts down what looks like a report on a pile of paperwork. The “Out” tray has a shorter stack than his “In” one.
“Welcome to the Borderlands.” Marcus Du Couteau greets them with a subdued cheer. Ashe notes the sunken skin under his eyes, the explosion of white and grey strands at his temples amidst vivid red hair. He looks like a man who has aged a lifetime in a handful of years. “I would spend more time welcoming you, but the situation has changed and gotten more serious.”
Ashe and Tryndamere immediately stand at attention. She asks, “Are we being attacked or potentially at risk for an assault?”
Marcus shakes his head. “No, which is the good news. The bad news is that some kind of monster is raiding our supply line, and we’re short our usual amount of meat.”
Tryndamere’s hands curl into fists. “That bastard.”
“I agree.” Marcus sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Our plans are going to have changed, since we will need to divide and conquer.” He coughs. “That is for later. Let me give you a quick rundown before you settle in.”
He summarizes the history of the outpost. A couple of decades ago, it was established as a neutral entity in the Borderlands for the sake of ensuring the ecosystem’s balance because neither region wanted to deal with an influx of monsters on top of warring with one another. Only in the last handful of years have the two lands negotiated an uneasy truce, prioritizing unusual monster signs that have increasingly alarmed both countries.
“And here is where you two come in. In Noxus’ efforts to improve relations with the Freljords, we proposed a joint investigation into this new creature that has left many researchers baffled.” He studied them, frowning. “Given our history, I am surprised that the Freljordian chapter responded at all.”
Tryndamere and Ashe hesitate. When the leaders of the Hunter’s Guild in Rekelstake received the request, most of their responses boiled down to, “Noxus can suck it.”
Ashe smoothly replies, “It is true that the relationship between our nations is still healing after so much time spent fighting one another. While many were reluctant to answer your missive, some of us were curious and concerned enough about the problem you’ve described to at least take a look.”
“Indeed. I was especially pleased to have the help of esteemed hunters and researchers from the renowned Avarosa’s Trackers. I’ve heard your tendencies to catch and study monsters rather than slay them.”
“It is not always a popular philosophy, but I find that a hunter that truly respects their environment would not try to change it unless necessary,” Ashe elaborates. Her mother disagreed with her thoughts, being one of the loudest matriarchs who wanted to tell the Noxians to piss off. “Tryndamere and I have decided to come and see for ourselves what the situation is about.”
“We appreciate any help you could give.” He glances at the clock on his desk. “Unfortunately, I have a meeting in twenty minutes, so you will have to come back to be further briefed.”
Ashe nods, about to exit when Tryndamere raises a finger and loudly asks, “What’s with all the pictures on the wall?”
Marcus follows his pointing and immediately lights up. “Let me give a summary of our family history.”
He gives more than a summary. He goes on so long that he cuts it close to his meeting time while proudly gesturing to the photos decorating the walls. Various people who resemble him in scarred yet solid armour stare back with some occasionally caught smiling. “The Du Couteaus have a long lineage of hunters marrying hunters, ensuring the purest of combat ability remains in our line. We also have had brilliant relatives delving into research and contributing to the information that’s out there. In fact, I’ll have you know my daughter did her thesis in…”
Ashe studies the different pictures until she ventures onto one that looks like a younger Marcus laughing and holding up two young daughters with hair as red as his while a beautiful woman beside him soothes a brown-haired toddler to sleep. “Is this your family?”
Marcus’s smile slips off of his face. “It was. My wife died a couple of years ago, so it’s just me and my children.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Ashe feels a familiar twinge in her chest. “Was she a hunter too?”
“And a biologist.” He gazes out the window beside them, eyes staring at some place they can’t follow. “One of the best I’ve ever known.”
Tryndamere opens his mouth, and Ashe cuts him off with a nudge in the ribs. She says, “Perhaps, we should settle in and reconvene later to receive our mission.”
Marcus jerks, as if waking up. “Yes, go on. I’ll have one of my attendants show you the way.”
Tryndamere at least waits until they leave the room, shooting a glance at the general shuffling papers on his desk, before he loudly whispers, “I was going to say something nice.”
His version of sensitivity was a big tankard of ale and an offer to hunt the biggest buck they could find. “I’m sure you were.”
Tryndamere grumbles under his breath as the young man leads them to the hunters’ quarters above the cafeteria. A section of the outpost has huts settled along a stretch of fitted logs that zig-zagged down the length of a cliff wall like ribbons. The guide takes them close to the top where two empty homes sit, already cleaned and prepared for their arrival.
Ashe thanks the young man as she takes the one on her left, appreciating the sight of a flowing river not too far from her window. Her partner doesn’t seem to mind the hut with a view of the plains below them. “Look at how many deer are out here! I could hunt for weeks!”
She resists the urge to roll her eyes. Tryndamere, for good and bad, has always been remarkably one-track-minded.
They change out of their travelling clothes, grabbing a quick bite at the Guild Hall where food is served before they make their way back up to the commander’s office.
Marcus apologizes and asks for a few more minutes to finish up his document, somehow having gotten off schedule.
As he busies himself with sorting through his stack of paperwork, Ashe lets her eyes roam over the side wall of photos again, gaze landing on that one family picture with all of them together. The two girls, young as they are, already have the budding facial structure and features of women who would become beautiful later on. She wondered what they looked like now, given both of their striking red hair and electric green eyes. Which one is Cassiopeia, and who was the other girl?
Interrupting her thoughts, General Du Couteau hands them their assignments. “You will be working with the researchers assigned to the mystery monster while you—“ He nods to Tryndamere. “—will be on an ongoing project of primary importance: ensuring that our kitchens are stocked with meat.”
“Sweet!”
The general looks amused while Ashe sighs. Marcus comments, “I didn’t think you’d be so enthusiastic, but the excitement is appreciated.”
He turns to her. “As for you, you will be working with our lead researcher on identifying our mystery monster as well as paired with an appropriate handler for fieldwork. One of my men will guide you to the R&D department where my daughter works. You may have heard of her.”
Ashe nods. “Cassiopeia’s reputation extends up north. I’ve heard excellent things about her work ethic and dedication to challenging conventional thinking.”
Marcus snorts. “That’s an understatement.” He straightens up with Ashe and Tryndamere following suit. “Dismissed. We’ll have a meeting tomorrow at noon to introduce you to the rest of the team.”
Ashe and Tryndamere leave him to do the rest of his paperwork while the guards waiting outside of his office escort them to their respective destination. The R&D department opens to a massive laboratory, filled with scientists studying all manner of organic and inorganic materials—plants, droppings, types of rocks and metals, machinery, agriculture, and so forth. Ashe is fascinated by a frantic man hustling by with a basketful of crimson mushrooms that looked on the verge of exploding.
The guard stops at an office at the back of the lab, knocking on the door and bowing shortly before taking his leave. A woman’s voice from behind the door tells Ashe to come in, and she enters without hesitation.
In a single office with walls covered with charts of various monsters, Ashe finds Cassiopeia leaning against her desk, reading a dossier while waiting. As she suspected, the girl from the photo turned out to become a woman with high cheekbones, a proud tilt to her head, thick lashes, and an amused quirk to her mouth that could charm a hawk to come down from the sky. “Ashe, I presume?”
“Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Offering her hand to shake, she notes that Cassiopeia’s palms and fingers are smooth and soft. “I have heard about your work in Shurima.”
“Really?” Perfectly shaped brows rise in an arc. “I’m amazed that an article from a boring science journal made it all the way up north.” She waves off the comment. “Old news anyway. We have something much more urgent to work on.”
She flips open the file, and Ashe recognizes a photo of herself clipped to one side. “I was just reading about you, and you’re quite an established hunter. Barioths, Stygian Zinogres, Beotoduses, and even an elder dragon.” She hums as she peruses the information. “According to this, you were one of the few hunters that returned from that last expedition, correct?”
“No.” Ashe goes quiet. “I was the only one that came back.”
“And badly so, based on these reports. You even used to be blonde before that hunt.” Cassiopeia tsks, looking annoyed. “What is it with stubborn hunters who injure themselves and insist on going on?” She shakes her head, russet red ringlets gently bouncing. “Never mind me. We’ll have the medical team examine you before we launch you into your mission. Standard procedure here.”
Cassiopeia closes the file. “Your last high-profile hunts were for incredibly dangerous monsters.”
“Yes.”
“Some—“ She levels her gaze on Ashe. “—which had a very high likelihood that you would not come back from it.”
“…yes.”
“Is there something I should know about you, Hunter?” Cassiopeia sounds bored, though a sharp look comes into her eyes. “Something you’re seeking?”
“Just a desire to keep the peace in the region, no matter what it takes.” Ashe keeps her gaze ahead, back straight. “Whatever happens is a consequence of my duty.”
Cassiopeia studies her for a long minute before she sighs and hands over a gold folder, nearly an inch tall and filled with documents in multiple languages and their translations. “We need your expertise to confirm whether it is something from the Freljords.”
Ashe flips through the folder, scanning the reports, documented scales left behind, and the unusual teeth marks left on herbivore carcasses across the area. She’s particularly puzzled by the retrieval of what seems like dried up leeches from the scenes of its attacks. “Why do you think that?”
“Process of elimination.” Cassiopeia presses a button, and a projected image of a long, serpentine monster crackling with electricity appears on the white wall behind her. “First, we thought it might have been Abyssal Lagiacrus, but that didn’t make sense since that monster tends to historically show up around Bilgewater. We haven’t received any records of mass electrocution around the city, so we ruled out its resurfacing.”
Cassiopeia’s finger drifts over to an intricately illustrated monster with black scales and several biohazard symbols on his chart. “Gore Magala was ruled out after checking with our Zaunite brethren. Thank gods,” she mutters under her breath.
She clicks a button, and her next slide comes in. A series of beasts that range from a skeletal beast with what looks like a rotting veil stretched over its head to flying lions breathing fire to a strange, greenish creature with tentacles. “The same with Vaal Hazaak and the Shadow Isles, Teostra and Lunastra from Shurima, and even that weird floating mountain octopus from Ionia.
“We’ve eliminated the possibility of it being a Valstrax from Bandle City as well as Shara Ishvalda from Mount Targon. Demacia hasn’t been wiped out again from the appearance of a White Fatalis in a millennium, so it’s likely not that calamity.” She looks up at Ashe. “We’re not left with a lot of other candidates.”
Ashe digests this information, crossing her arms and chewing on her lip. “So, you’re certain it’s an elder dragon.”
Cassiopeia nods. “It’s either that, or it’s a black one.”
Cold spikes run down Ashe’s spine at the thought. Cassiopeia looks composed, save for the clawing of her nails down the dark wood of her desk. Ashe shakes her head. “Let’s hope that it’s not the latter.”
“And if it is, all we can do as researchers is pick a god and pray.” Cassiopeia briefly rubs at her face. “Anyway, thank you for attending this debriefing. I’m mildly pleased that you seem to have a good head on your shoulders. I prefer a no-nonsense approach to things.”
“I do as well.” Ashe smiles. “I look forward to working with you. My sources back home tell me that you’re one of the best researchers out here as well as being a meticulous handler in the field.”
Cassiopeia studies her. She drums her fingers on the table before smiling. “Your sources may be a little out of date. I got promoted from field work a couple of years ago. You’ll be partners with my sister instead.”
“Oh.” Ashe’s eyebrows briefly rise. “My apologies for the error. I’m sure she and I will work well together in any case.”
The corners of Cassiopeia’s lips twitch. “I’m sure it will be a relationship to remember.”
The researcher gives her a file of Katarina’s previous work upon Ashe’s request, the latter heading back to her hut with the folder tucked under her arm. Tryndamere was waiting at his lodging for her, having finished his own debrief.
They went to grab dinner together, fuelling their own theories about the monsters attacking this part of the world before going back to turn in for the night.
Before she turns off the lights, Ashe reads a few surveys and reports done by Katarina to get a sense of her style and work ethic. Everything is filled out to the brim, thoughtfully crafted and detailed, giving the impression of someone with a serious professionalism that Ashe can respect.
The reality when she meets Katarina the next morning shatters her reasonable expectations.
Halting Ashe on her way to the meeting, Cassiopeia warns, “My sister has…a strong personality. You might need the patience of a saint to cope with her at first, but I assure you there are redeeming qualities underneath her standoffishness.” She shrugs. “Probably.”
Not the most reassuring bio, but Ashe has dealt with stubborn, one-track-minded individuals before. Katarina cannot be that bad.
Her new partner is that bad.
In the sitting room besides the main meeting hall, a redhead woman lounges in a leather chair, looking like she couldn’t give a care in the world as to what’s happening. Her resemblance to Cassiopeia was obvious enough that Ashe goes over to introduce herself.
Katarina flips through a leather bound book with a casual motion, her stare as intense as if she’s committing each word to heart. When Ashe approaches, her gaze flicks up like an animal assessing the oncoming threats. It doesn’t help that Ashe’s breath catches in her lungs at the sight, feeling like each strand of hair and eyelash is examined with diamond-edged sharpness. Her electric green eyes send a jolt through Ashe’s system as they sweep up and down, searching out every detail. At the end of it all, Katarina tilts her head, expression inscrutable. She gives Ashe the impression that she’s still reserving judgment.
Cassiopeia strolls up to Katarina with an air of casual annoyance. “This is Ashe from the Freljords’ delegation. She’s going to be your hunter.”
Katarina drops her book in exasperation, gesturing with one hand. “Look at her. She looks like she should be fainting into couches, not leading an expedition.”
Ashe’s temper sparks. “Excuse me?”
“Okay, both of you, play nice.” Cassiopeia glances between them. “You’re stuck together until Father changes his mind, so deal with it.”
Katarina snorts before returning to her reading. Her upper lip curls. “Yeah, whatever. Nice to meet you and shit.”
Ashe has never wanted to strangle someone on the spot so much.
Sighing, Cassiopeia turns to Ashe. “And there’s my sister. Good luck and godspeed.”
Perhaps, when it comes to working with her new partner, Ashe should pick a god and pray.
Turning back to Katarina who continues looking her up and down, gaze dark with something Ashe can’t identify. “I would say it is a pleasure meeting you, but I don’t want our relationship to start off on a lie.”
Katarina laughs—a short bark with eye teeth showing. “What a charmer.” Flipping her hair back, she tilts her head, exposing the long lines of her neck. “So far away from home.”
“I’m here upon a request from your House.” Ashe’s tone is slightly tense.
Irritation flickers through Katarina’s gaze, invisible hackles raised. “I know.” She takes a breath, settling down and dropping her scowl. “That same House dragged us both here for this wasteful meeting.”
She rises, closing her book, her movements smooth and graceful, nearly effortless. Yet, there’s something about her motions that raises a sense of danger, like watching a Barioth stalk its prey with a fatal fluidity. Katarina gives Ashe the impression that she would be hard to knock off-balance.
Smiling in a way that has Ashe’s stomach twisting, Katarina offers a handshake. Hers, unlike her sister’s, came with a firm grip and worn calluses at the base of her fingers and across her palms.
Ashe already has questions about this woman, and it has been less than a minute.
“C’mon, the faster we attend, the faster we can get this over with.” Katarina moves on ahead without looking back.
Ashe gets a seat at the front alongside Tryndamere as guests that Marcus plans to introduce while Katarina growls, pacing the back of the room like a furious caged animal. Marcus launches into his speech without preamble, outlining the core mission, why they needed outside help, and the good behaviour he expects from the inhabitants at the outpost towards the visitors. Beckoning the two Freljordians up to stand beside him, Ashe does so awkwardly while Tryndamere looks around the room like an excited dog.
After announcing their respective partners for their missions, Marcus also calls out their squadron name, “From here on, you and Katarina will be known as Lotus Unit.”
Katarina can be seen throwing her hands up from the back, having refused to come to the front. “Why the fuck did you call us that?”
He ignores her. “Tryndamere and Talon will be Thyme Unit.”
Katarina mutters, “Why not Tarragon instead?”
Marcus frowns in her direction. “I’m sorry. Do you have something you want to say?”
“These names are—“
Ashe cuts hers off. “With all due respect, sir, a more serious title would lend credence to our respective missions.”
Marcus gives her suggestion some thought. He points at the men. “Clover Unit.”
Tryndamere rapidly nods. “I’ll take that. I like clovers.” He thinks to himself, chuckling. “And cleavers.”
Continuing on, Marcus says, “The researchers are collectively known as the Sage Unit.”
Katarina yells from the back. “Lame!”
Marcus ignores her once again.
This is how the rest of the meeting goes.
By the end of it, Katarina and Ashe are assigned to go on their first outing together as Hunter and Handler—a simple survey around the area and back.
Ashe bites her lip to hold back her laughter as the stable hands bring them a pair of stout, shaggy ponies. “They’re adorable.”
Katarina jams a hand on one hip. “Take them seriously. They’re a crucial part of our expedition team since they can quickly cross rough and jagged terrain.”
“My apologies. What do you call that breed?”
Katarina scowls, crossing her arms. “Hobblers.” When she sees Ashe’s expression, Katarina’s scowl deepens, and she turns away. “Shut up.”
The trouble with riding the hobblers should have been the first sign that this small expedition would not go well.
Ashe’s pony responds well to her gentle tone and reassurances. Katarina’s mount tries to knock her off its back by running under a low tree branch and nearly succeeds.
“I can’t imagine why she doesn’t like you. You’re so charming,” Ashe says, smiling. She feels Katarina’s glare burning a hole in her back. “Maybe she just needs some time to warm up to you.”
Katarina furrows her brows, miffed. It’s unfortunate for her that she looks adorable when she’s annoyed. Much harder to take her seriously. “I just need her to get me from point A to point B.” She pauses, running her fingers through the pony’s white mane. “Sure is a pretty girl though. What will it take to let me ride you properly?”
Ashe coughs, turning towards the horizon. “Where are we going?”
“A settlement about an hour’s ride away. We’re just checking on them, since our scouts have reported increased monster activity around there.” Katarina frowns. “That’s unusual for this time of the year. Some of them should be starting to hibernate.”
“Are they causing trouble?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
They arrive at the edges of a small settlement by a lazy river, wooden beams forming a barricade on the outside. The inhabitants glance over and nod in their direction, acquainted with the presence of the Hunters’ Guild. Ashe tries not to show her shock at their appearance.
A young man greets them with a proud bearing and cheekbones reminiscent of Katarina’s. His white-blond hair and eyes the colour of a glacial water dilutes the fierce effect. “Hello, hunters. It’s exciting for you to visit us today. Would you like to trade?”
Katarina grunts. “Just one hunter today.” She looks around, avoiding eye contact. “Have the monsters given you any trouble?”
He shakes his head, the shock of blond hair bouncing. Ashe wonders what Freljordian tribe his ancestors came from. There is no Noxian she knows of with his kind of colouring. “Not lately. There has been a lack of deer and wild sheep in the area, which is worrying.”
Katarina nods along, scribbling something in her journal that wouldn’t surprise Ashe if it turned out to be a doodle. “We’ll send someone to look into that.” She eyes the wicker basket held on his hip, covered with a colourful cloth. “What do you have for trade?”
He lights up. Twenty minutes later, they leave the settlement with two wicker baskets full of medicinal herbs, flowers, roots, and vegetables. Ashe eyes Katarina’s burgling pouch on her belt, stuffed with dried jerky and smoked chunks of fish. “Do you really need that much to munch on?”
Katarina shrugs. “It makes the day go faster.”
Which is not really an answer.
“Besides, the villagers hardly get any travellers around these parts at this time of the year.” Katarina glances off somewhere, pretty profile on display. “They could do with extra coin for the winter.”
Ashe stays silent, thinking the flowing heap of gold Katarina dropped into the young man’s hands, the way his eyes popped open in shock. The way he thanked her so profusely that his forehead nearly scraped the ground when he bowed in gratitude. “You are surprisingly generous when the occasion calls for it.”
Katarina raises a brow. “Are you saying you don’t think I’m always generous?”
Ashe bites back a laugh. “You might want to try harder if you’re fishing for compliments.”
Smiling, Katarina glances away.
Their tentative goodwill evaporates an hour later.
They find an ugly bird monster with a strange rat tail chasing and attacking a flock of wild sheep, scattering the herd. The most concerning thing is the abundance of poison it spews everywhere, turning the ground into withered patches of dead brush.
Ashe stands on top of a small hill, eyeing the creature. “Permission to hunt or capture that monster?”
“Denied.”
She must have misheard. “What?”
Katarina sighs and takes out the journal. “You don’t have authorization to hunt anything in this area right now.”
Furrowing her brows, Ashe says, “But you’re the one who gives that to me.”
“Yup. Not planning to permit you at all.” Katarina opens her journal, flipping through her notes. “Huh, a Gypceros.”
“Then, why am I here? Why did you summon me? To spend weeks travelling here?” Her temper flares, threatening to spark into wildfire. “Why play this game?”
Katarina bristles, pulling out a pen to draw in her book. “Listen, Princess. You’re here to survey and help out my sister with her research. That’s it, so shove your attitude up your ass and do your fucking job.”
“I am trying to do exactly that. A certain someone is blocking me!” Ashe rages, eyeing the monster in the distance ravaging the wildlife and feeling herself boil over Katarina’s complete indifference. “You are the worst handler I’ve ever met!”
Katarina continues doodling in her journal, not looking up. “Sucks to be you then.”
Ashe wonders how many international laws she would break if she strangles her handler on the spot. She takes several breaths, stemming the tide of her rage before she pivots on her heel and hops onto her pony.
Katarina frowns, watching her. “Where are you going?”
“Back to base.” Ashe’s voice is so tight, it could cut into flesh. “This is a waste of time.”
She whips the reins and rides to the outpost, not caring if Katarina follows.
When she returns alone, she hands off her hobbler to the stable hand and storms up to Cassiopeia’s lab. Someone has to turn in some kind of report, and she doubts her handler would uphold her responsibilities.
Cassiopeia scans the torn page from Ashe’s own log, raising an eyebrow. “‘Unprofessional, irresponsible, and lazy to the required conduct of duty.’ Those are strong words.” She leans back in her office chair, shrugging. “I don’t disagree with you though. However, it is also highly irresponsible to leave your partner in the field. Down here, a hunter must protect their handler at all times. Do the Freljords have a different creed?”
“No, I—“ Ashe’s temper has since cooled, and she feels a hot flush of shame rising up her throat, wondering why she felt so enraged at Katarina’s actions. “I lost sight of my priorities. The creed is the same up north.”
Cassiopeia cocks her head, studying Ashe quietly. At length, she tsks and reaches for a rolled up page on her desk. “It’s not an uncommon response a prospective hunter has had to my sister. She has a way of bringing out that side in people.” She unfurls the note. “Kat already sent her report of the expedition via homing pigeon. Everything was normal in terms of environmental factors.”
Her eyes flick up to Ashe’s. “Her only comment about her hunter is that she thought you were ‘whiny’.”
Ashe inhales sharply, biting her tongue as her fury roars into flames once again.
Cassiopeia looks impressed. “That’s a more controlled response than other hunters’ who worked with her. You even tolerated her company for a record two hours.” She scribbles something on her own report, compiling Ashe’s and Katarina’s notes. “You might be compatible partners yet.”
“I don’t want her.”
“Too bad. She’s got the best tracking experience and hunting record of all the handlers here. Plus, she’s the sole person acquainted with the mystery monster we’re trying to find.”
Ashe has a lot of questions. “Why is she the only person?”
“Because—“ Cassiopeia doesn’t look up from her writings. “—she’s the only one who came back from the expedition. Something that you and her have in common.”
Ashe has nothing to say to that. Cassiopeia dismisses her, and Ashe slowly trudges back to her hut, fatigued in more ways than physical.
After she reaches her room and changes out of her hunting leathers, she wonders if her Freljordian partner had as much trouble on his first day as she did.
A series of rapid bangs on her door startles Ashe out of her thoughts, prompting her to quickly open it. Tryndamere, wide-eyed and awestruck, grabs her by the shoulders, squeezing briefly before letting go. “This place is awesome! The cooking cats let me touch their little paws!”
Ashe closes the door in his face.
The next morning, Ashe spies that traitor Tryndamere chatting off his partner’s ears, gabbing on about how cooking cats would revolutionize the abysmal cuisine culture of the Freljords. “They use seasoning here! Seasoning!”
His partner—a brown-haired man with a perpetually stoic demeanour—appears to give his comments some thought before shrugging. “I hear in Ionia they have samurai cooking cats.”
Ashe ignores them as she grabs breakfast from the kitchen. She glances back at them before thanking the elderly Palico for a particularly delicious eggs benedict. The Palico smiles with pride, rattling a nearby tin can with a label that says, “Tips.”
Sighing, Ashe drops a handful of coins into the can before taking her food to the patio for a scenic view and some peace and quiet.
Katarina has already taken the nicest spot on the side that has the view of the river and fertile grasslands. Ashe deliberates between going back inside and possibly having to listen to Tryndamere’s newfound love for gastronomically gifted Palicos or dealing with Katarina.
She eventually settles on actually talking to her handler if only because she could finish her food faster than Tryndamere could finish lecturing about his culinary thesis.
“Good morning. I hope you don’t mind if I join you.” She leans a bit too far over Katarina who twists around like a startled animal. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
“You didn’t,” Katarina snaps. “Not much anyway.” She sighs aggravatingly, running her fingers through her hair. “Sorry,” she states, tone tight.
It’s the politest response Ashe has gotten from her yet. She’ll take it. “It seems like you have a lot on your mind.”
“That’s one way to put it.” Katarina stares into the distance. She looks strangely sad. “It’s a beautiful view.”
Ashe studies her companion, noting the slope of her nose and the shape of her mouth. “It certainly is.”
Katarina is not short on looks. Thick, lustrous hair; arched brows; intense, piercing eyes; and a defined jawline. Now, if she wasn’t so unpredictable, she’d be a lot easier to be around.
Ashe glances down. “Thanks. For not reporting my behaviour.”
Katarina turns, raising an eyebrow. “You owe me one.”
“I”ll pay it back with interest,” Ashe dryly replies, sensing her half-hearted sass. “Are we going out for another survey soon?”
“Why? Plan to leave me high and dry again?”
“Are you going to bring that up every time?”
“Yes.” Katarina bites down on a forkful of salad. “No expedition today. Review the documents we have on the unknown monster.”
She pulls out a bundle of files from her bag and pushes them across the table. “These are from my own encounter.”
Ashe’s eyebrows jump upwards. “You fought it?”
“‘Fought’ is subjective.” Katarina polishes off her meal. “‘Getting nearly knocked’ into the next life is more accurate.” Her brows furrow in thought, and she takes a moment to compose her next sentence. “So, you and Tryndamere banging?”
Ashe nearly spits out her drink. Coughing, she grabs a napkin and wipes her mouth. “Why would you even think that?”
Katarina shrugs. “I don’t know. You two seem close, and you came together.”
“He is my partner but not in a relationship sense. More of a friend that wants to build a vision with me.” Ashe taps the table with her fingers, debating on how much to reveal. “We did try to court, but growing up as childhood friends made things really awkward so we let it drop. Plus, he isn’t my type.”
Raising an eyebrow, Katarina asks, “If tall, buff, and handsome isn’t your type, then what is?”
Overconfident. Infuriating. Defiant. Strategic. Charismatic. Intelligent. Open-minded. Determined.
Pretty.
“I prefer people who are more nuanced.” Ashe sips at her drink. “I think they’re more interesting and have more depth.”
Katarina laughs. “Nice dodge, but I meant physically.”
Ashe needs to add annoyingly observant to that list. “Good looking, in-shape, well-groomed… I don’t think these are unreasonable things to ask for.”
Katarina leans forward, curiosity sparking in her eyes and the curve of her lips. “Why is it that you can’t answer a simple question directly?”
Ashe averts her eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I have given you enough of a response.” She matches Katarina’s body language. “What about you? I assume if you are asking about mine, then you have a type too.”
Looking amused, Katarina slowly smiles. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?” She glances at the bowl of sliced orange fruit beside her hand, sliding them over. “Here, these are a specialty from Ionia.”
Ashe eyes her. “Why are you giving it to me?”
“Because—“ Katarina straightens, expression carefully blank. She takes her tray and moves to leave. “—you look like someone who likes melons.”
Ashe nearly chokes on the first bite as Katarina walks away, holding in her laughter based on the shaking of her shoulders.
She’s insufferable.