House Crownguard

The words of his father, Marcus Crownguard, echoed through Garen's skull.

Out of all the tasks on the planet, detective work was not exactly his strong-suit. An entire life spent blindly following a single line had ill equipped him for the event of said line becoming blurred, and now disappearing entirely.

The pieces of the puzzle, or at least the ones he had, sat on the table in front of him. Various records of shady dealings, intelligence reports of Noxian origin, gathered by Katarina Du Couteau herself; each and every one of them wiped clean of any useful information.

All except one.

Near the end of the "Kalamandan Crisis", as the journal of Justice had taken to calling it, rumors had circulated about a small scrap of paper that bore several codes. This fabled "note" had been left in the cell of a dead man, slightly torn, by an assassin who Garen himself had initiated in combat.

What seemed so unimportant could quite possibly have been the key to unraveling what had actually happened in Kalamanda.

After it's discovery, he had placed it in a file cabinet in his study for further examination.

and now was as good a time as any.

The might of Demacia stood; the white, gold and blue of his armor gleaming in the sunlight as he removed his blade from it's resting place.