The next morning, Faen and Riven began packing their gear. However, a new problem arose before departure: the Noxian prisoners. The Xan family didn't have enough food to feed them, nor did the village have any desire to provide for the enemies who had come to invade their home.
After the battle, over five thousand of Duocal's legion remained. The Xan village, including the elderly and children, only numbered about two thousand.
Handling five thousand prisoners wasn't just a matter of military victory; it was a massive political and survival crisis for the Xan family. One wrong move could lead to disaster.
The obvious problem was that the village "couldn't swallow or chew" them. Especially after Faen left, the Xan family lacked the capacity to control, imprison, and feed five thousand professional soldiers long-term. Consequently, Faen contacted the Temple of the Long-Standing directly, ordering them to take the prisoners away.
Before that, he had their weapons confiscated and their unit structures dissolved. Officers were imprisoned separately, while the rest were put to work—with the war starting, the land spirits found it hard to communicate with humans. There was a massive amount of farm work to be done, and the extra labor was put to use.
"Until the Temple arrives, guarding these men will be your biggest challenge," Faen said to Lady Xan. "It looks like you'll be busy for a while."
"It's already much easier," Lady Xan replied with a helpless smile. "If I had to do this alone, contacting the Temple and reorganizing these Noxians would have taken far too long. Now that the difficult structural problems are solved, the rest is much simpler."
Lady Xan didn't possess the Mark of the Twin Dragons. In such an urgent situation, sending messengers to the Temple and back would have taken at least a week or two.
Faen wasn't surprised. The fact that the mark could force the unconditional recognition and assistance of most Ionian spirits proved its worth. For Karma herself, granting the mark was likely no simple feat; she would have had to negotiate and reach a consensus with the many past versions of herself in her mind.
Looking at his hand, Faen guessed Karma had been quite willful in giving him the mark. As for those old relics in her head...
He shook his head, not wanting to think about it too much. Their pedantry was a product of Ionia's past.
He glanced at the Noxian prisoners being reorganized. Once they reached the Temple, the conflict between the elders who wanted change—like Faen and Karma—and the stubborn traditionalists would naturally manifest in how the prisoners were treated.
Amidst these thoughts, the group set off again. As they truly entered the border regions, the cruelty of war entered their sights.
Almost the moment they crested a ridge, the salty sea breeze—mixed with the smell of rust and the pungent sulfur of burnt gunpowder—hit them full force.
The coastal bay, once filled with colorful sailboats, was now bristling with Noxian ironclads. A quick scan convinced Faen that Swain wasn't here—Swain's flagship, the Leviathan, was a magical masterpiece advanced even by Piltover's standards. The ships here were mostly smaller versions, not yet fully powered by magic and steam like the Leviathan, still requiring sails.
Even so, compared to the small Ionian fishing boats, these ironclads were terrifying behemoths. Standing in the water, they looked impossible to oppose.
Beyond the water, the golden sands had faded.
The soft beach was scarred with messy tracks where adult Basilisks, barely under control, dragged heavy siege weapons ashore. The ruts in the sand looked like festering sores.
On land, Noxian craftsmen were working together to saw down thousand-year-old trees—sacred in the eyes of Ionians. In this land of spirits, such trees possessed life and consciousness, but the Noxians, who had no understanding of such things, couldn't hear the spirits' wails for mercy.
Seeing amber resin flowing from the stumps, only to be casually wiped onto the Noxians' waterproof boots like a joke, caused even the stoic Shen to clench his fists. Akali, with her impulsive and combative nature, looked even more furious.
Noticing Shen's reaction, Usan (Zed) said nothing, only patting his brother's shoulder before moving to Faen's side. "What should we do?"
"Rest for now."
Compared to the emotional reactions of the Ionians, Faen showed no surprise. Ultimately, expecting invaders to respect you was unrealistic. These Noxian soldiers were there for merit; who would bother learning about Ionian culture between battles?
Forget the Noxians; even Faen sometimes couldn't stand Ionia's "long and smelly" dogmatic traditions.
Estimating the time, Faen said unhurriedly, "Wait until nightfall. We'll take out the fleet's leadership first, then seize the flagship and sail for Fae'lor."
Hearing his plan, especially the part about eliminating the officers, no one objected this time—not even Shen. Akali simply licked her lips, her grip tightening on her chain-kama, her eyes filled with anticipation.