"Seven times," Isad Tomily tried to keep her voice steady and her expression calm.

Captain Odiz didn't immediately respond to his first mate, his attention was all on the map and report on the table—at least it looked like it was real. Actually, Ishad was standing here because Oditz had asked her to stand in the captain's room of the Kirenya, but as with many negotiations between the two men during their short time together, the most basic intention was nothing more than a show of authority.

"I ask to see the High Command," Ishad began. This time she didn't want to play with the captain anymore.

"Here, I represent the Supreme Commander, Commander Tomily," Oditz said without looking up. "But you don't seem to be able to recognize that fact all the time, or you just don't want to accept it."

"Seven times," Isad began again. "I ask to see, not for a petition, not for a wailing, but for a promise."

"Promise?" The captain finally lifted his gaze from the spread out parchment and glanced at Ishad.

"Yes," she replied. "Promise them the glory I am about to win, the lands and the people I am about to conquer. Persuasion with rhetoric, or persuasion with blood, ultimately contributed to the empire. Every day there is a newly mobilized expansion army, and every day there are envoys who go out to fight for new lands for Noxus. I can do the same. All I need is a detachment. ”

"We discussed it," Oditz muttered. "Seven times, you know it yourself. How to interpret the will of the Trivary Council is determined by the High Command, not its subordinates. ”

Ishad tensed her body. Her patience had been drained by disappointment. "When Captain Khurard was defeated by pirates on the outskirts of Ruger's coastline, it was I who led the crew of the Kirenya to victory, not you. It was I who led the men to forcibly board the ship and take the pirate ship. When the last enemy fell, everyone shouted my name. I think it should be. After such a victory, I thought—"

"Why?" Odiz asked. "You have your own team? Just because you drove a bunch of hungry Freljords back to sea? You feel like it's you, not me, sitting here right now. So you want to ignore my authority and skip the command to the high command. ”

Oditz calmly put down his quill and got up from his chair. He was tall and burly, and the light reflected his face, the scars carved by his life's horses. "I should condemn you to indiscipline, remove your rank, and throw you into the reckoning field, Commander Tomily," he said forcefully. "But, God seems to have helped you out."

He took out a scroll and rudely threw it to her.

The wax seal of the scroll had been opened, and Oditz or his attendants had seen it, and it was their right.

"Take it. Leave. ”

After a moment of surprise, Ishad took the scroll. She gave a military salute, then walked briskly back to her cabin, unfolding the scroll and scanning it quickly.

It felt like a stream of molten iron poured from the furnace into her heart. For the first time in her life, Ishad felt as if it were providential, no longer going against the wind. Finally, her skills can be put to use.

She was ordered to go to the capital. Finally, she had her own detachment.

The port was crowded. Merchants, hawkers, and dock workers bustle with crews up and down, creating an uninterrupted flow of people. Exotic animals howl mournfully in iron cages, and their fate is to become entertainment in the Colosseum, or a collection of curiosities in the courtyards of wealthy families. Food from all corners of the Runeterra was unloaded from trade ships in droves and distributed to feed the countless inhabitants of Isad's barren homeland. It's an amazing sight, the estuary of new goods, new cultures, and new ideas flowing into the empire, making it expand, enrich, and make it stronger.

All of this, as well as the city that spread into the distance, was shrouded in the shadow of the immortal fortress. From the road to the port, Ishad gazed at the magnificence of the ancient building, its impenetrable façade and towers hung with countless imperial flags. Nothing embodies the power of Noxus like it—the power that stirred in her heart.

Ishad took a moment to admire the energetic scene in front of her, and then her expression became serious. She had to think like a commander now.

A magnificent expedition awaited her. She hurried to where her ship docked.

In Isad's view, the "Far Hope" is like a ship from a previous era. The scars on its body have indeed witnessed the baptism of time. From the sharp iron tip at the bow of the bow statue to the creaking walls of the stern building, the scars left by decades of service are like spider webs all over the body. This small frigate, like the Kilenya, was a cover for large warships. They were designed to be smashed into pieces by enemy vanguard sentry ships, leaving only the bottom of the ship, and used as interceptors to absorb firepower, make the most of it, and finally sink themselves or abandon them. In Ishad's eyes, both fates are likely to be the final destination of the Far Hope.

The crew was not much better than the ship. A messy and filthy group of sailors, both men and women, worked together undisciplinedly, spending most of their time intimidating each other rather than loading supplies or cargo. Their combined number does not exceed sixty, which is almost the lower limit of the number of crews. Ishad snorted her teeth in disdain.

Ishad forced herself to put away the sneer on her face. The things she gave her didn't make it to the table, but it didn't matter. It only made it even greater for her to take advantage of the victories they had won.

"Who," she called out to a foreman, asking him to temporarily put down the crew he was directing. He turned, tugged at the collar of his weathered fur coat, and walked over with a relaxed and confident smile. The smile made Isad grit her teeth.

"Get the cargo and crew ready to sail right away," Isad said simply and directly. "I want my ship to leave as soon as possible, without delay."

"Your ship?" The man's voice was a rough middle-aged man. His brow furrowed, and then he suddenly realized something. "Ah, then, that Noxian genius on my stall is you. You can sail your boat however you want. If you can stop interrupting the way, you just need to wait for me to finish moving my things, and we'll be able to go right away. ”

"Presumptuous," Isad blushed at his rudeness, her hand reaching for the ornamented sword hanging from her waist. "What's your name?"

"Odilon," replied the man nonchalantly. "But my friends call me Neander."

"Neander Odilen," Isad repeated. She saw the heavy wooden crate being loaded with the Lookout, and the label on it showed that it contained harness, lasso rope, and cage. "Master Beast Tamer?"

"Ah, it looks like you still know about me."

There is very little one in the capital who does not know him. Although she hadn't been to the Colosseum much — she was fighting for the Empire, after all — Ishad knew that whenever she heard the name Odilon would see the beasts roaring to the roar of the crowd in bloody and spectacular fights.

What is he doing here?