Unstable Matters Chapter 5: I.S.C.P. (Part 1)
There's an old word from some spoken language called schadenfreude, which roughly translates into the feeling that comes learning about the suffering of others. It's an elation accompanied by a twinge of guilt for feeling so good, followed by a quiet fervent prayer that something like that will never happen to you. Like when the enemy jungler tries to gank an ally in lane, only to watch their strategic process go to hell and back resulting in your teammate getting a double kill. Or when you manage to kill the Ancient Golem or Elder Lizard in the enemy jungle, and your yellow trinket lets you see the look on the enemy jungler's face when their buff camp is empty.
With only twenty-four hours to plan for stopping a civil war, I'm sure anyone watching me had a genuine schadenfreude in their laps.
I often wonder if Morgana and Kayle are communicating the events of our world back to their own kind. I can only imagine what they would think, arriving in a new dimension only to find all of the current occupants too busy whaling the tar out of each other to care about them.
Sometimes I feel that there is so much planning and fighting going on around me, that no one is actually thinking.
I knew letting Shyvana go top while Jarvan was jungling would pay off some day.
Momentarily impressed by his own foresight, Zac tapped his own chin absent-mindedly as he stared down at a map of Valoran spread on the table in front of him.
At his request, Luxanna had gone and passed the papers Swain had given him to...whoever represented Demacian military in the Institute of War. After talking with a her a few times before and after matches, it seemed to him that Luxanna Crownguard knew just about everything. He had read about her past, and was impressed by how she was both a prodigy in magic and military tactics from a very young age. But what stood out the most, was that the young girl had managed to keep her sanity while being fully aware of the consistent idiosyncrasies around her. Because of this, she had unwittingly earned his undying respect as someone whom talking to was not a complete and utter waste of time.
He hoped that his reward for turning in the sensitive documents publicly handed to him would put him in the loop to be clued in on any inconsistencies against what other city-states knew. Specifically, the kind that would put his life, or anyone else's, in danger. There was always a catch when it came to everything Noxians did, and the best he could hope for was that the catch wasn't about catching him.
All of this was just one step of many he had to take before his official leave.
Speaking with Luxanna to get more information had been his first step. Politely ditching Ahri and not getting knocked down any flights of stairs would be the second. Notifying his Institute caretakers that everything was going as they had predicted would be the third.
Unfortunately for him, the second step was being very stubborn.
"Could you pass me that pencil?"
"This is all a trap, you know. It has to be."
Pinching the pencil handed to him between his large fingers, he began to scribble notes on the map of Valoran.
"I know."
"Some sort of evil plan to take over the world!"
Writing in silence, Zac reached over for the pencil sharpener on the table.
"Could be."
"But… Are they really selling weapons to the Order of the Shadow?"
Sharpening his pencil to a satisfactory point, he began writing where he had left off.
"Who knows."
"And the Institute approved it? I can't believe that!"
Scratching out a name here and there, he flipped the pencil over and erased some of his writing.
"It's not that surprising."
"I wish you would take this more seriously."
He stopped writing and looked up at her.
"I am."
"No you're not. I mean it."
Zac continued to stare at Ahri with a probing distrust, and she did the same right back but with a disapproving frown.
From the library's gardens she had followed him back to his apartment, attached to his hip the entire time like a leech. Walking back into the ruins of what had been his neat and orderly home, the first order of business had been to try to find some sort of surface he could write on. Preferably one that wasn't part of something that had been destroyed.
Ignoring the mystery trail of half eaten food leading to his kitchen from the front door, he found himself sitting back down on the couch across from where he had hosted Katarina earlier. Now, only a few hours later, he was playing host to an assassin of a very different nature.
"I mean it too."
"You say that, but you don't mean it."
Giving up, he went back to his writing.
"How do you know that?"
"I don't know how you can joke about this when innocent lives are at stake."
It was hard for him to tell if she was being serious or not, since the pouting face she always put on never seemed to change.
"Yeah, mine included."
"There you go again! How can you crack jokes about this?"
He gave her a dubious look, not sure if she was joking.
"You thought that was a joke?"
"I don't know. You always have such a serious face on that never changes."
He couldn't argue with that, Zac slowly realized. He had never bothered to check for himself, but it just seemed like one of those things his own hesitant reaction proved as true. Again, in the same night, he had been caught off guard at frank truth behind Ahri's stark observations.
Reaching over to the table between them, he picked up his half of the large sandwich on a small plate and took a large bite out of it. A rush of flavors hit him all at once, and he suppressed a groan in delight at the taste. The food served at the Institute itself was mediocre, but the restaurants and stores in the city surrounding it always had incredible things for sale. Without doing anything, the bread crumbs all along his lower jaw were slowly absorbed into his body. He was finally getting that snack he craved since early in the morning, and it had come from the most unexpected source.
When Ahri had handed him a small cloth wrapped box and told him to open it, he hadn't known what to expect. He had heard of the phrase "beware of Noxians bearing gifts" before, and it was safe to say that the phrase extended to nine-tailed foxes with soul draining magic powers too.
But a free meal was a free meal, and it was a really good-looking one at that. Even with all the craziness that constantly surrounded him, he still wasn't paranoid enough to look at a delicious sandwich like there was an evil plot planted between the bread too.
"Why do you want to come with me?"
Ahri blinked from the sudden question directed at her out of the blue.
"Do you have to ask? Ionia is my homeland!"
"...Is that why you're registered as an independent Champion with the League?"
"What!? No—! You—!"
He watched Ahri's face contort in frustration and from something...else. Something he couldn't read, and he felt a small twinge of guilt hit him. It seemed that he had accidentally hit a sore spot without meaning to. He remembered what Ahri had said earlier in the day, and her mood back then as well. He could imagine many of the Ionian Summoners and Champions wanting nothing to do with someone as...unique...as her. After all, she was probably one of the last Champions to fit the confirmed Ionian image of reserved modesty in everything.
For every one question answered, there were a hundred more unresolved.
"I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "Look, I just need to know if you're being honest with me."
"What? Don't you trust me?" she asked indignantly, a tone very different from the playful one she teased newer Summoners with.
"No."
"Spoilsport." Ahri stuck her tongue out at him, closing her eyes as she did. "You're being so serious all of a sudden. Is our date over already?"
"In twenty-four hours I'm going to have a large fraction of the world on my shoulders. That gives me the right to be serious."
"As if you needed that before," she gave a loud snort, and rolled her eyes at him patronizingly.
"How can I trust you if you're not honest with me?" he continued, ignoring her contempt. "How do I know you're not a spy for LeBlanc or something like that?"
"Just because I'm taking lessons from her, doesn't mean I'm worshiping that old hag's feet." Ahri waved his concerns off. "I'll learn what I want from her, and then ditch her."
Zac felt himself frowning from listening to her carefree concerns. Now he was even more confused if she was being serious with him.
There was something about magic practitioners like LeBlanc that always put him on edge, and it wasn't because of her lofty goals. Putting it simply, she was a dark arts master who never hesitated to use her powers to get what she wanted. Not only that, but she was the leader of an ancient clandestine order made up of an unknown number of mages, some of which were comparable in talent to many Summoners in the League. What if LeBlanc had already asked Swain to promote members of the Black Rose to the magic ranks of the Noxian military?
Worse off, despite all the measures the Institute took to secure its grounds, it wasn't too uncommon for incidents involving black magics to come up from time to time. Like that strange withering virus that had infected certain Champions around two years ago. When it came to circumventing League rules through barely legal means, Champions like LeBlanc were the leading authority on the subject.
Hell, it wouldn't have surprised him if she could spy on them in his own home somehow.
"...I don't think I've said it yet. But...thank you."
"Hmm?" Ahri blinked at him, before laying down across the length of the couch. As she did, her nine tails spread themselves out like an open fan behind her. "What for?"
"For keeping me company. I know I'm not a very good host."
"Ooh, ho ho ho. That's rich. You don't have to be so polite, you know. I know what you're really thinking about me." She laughed loudly, her tone making no effort to hide her own mocking contempt for him.
"I doubt that."
"You probably think I'm a pest, don't you?"
Zac thought about her words, trying to remember if he had thought of that specific word throughout the day.
"No."
"You don't think I'm annoying?"
"No."
"You don't think I'm crazy?"
"No."
"...Then I can come with you?"
"No," Zac said, shooting her down flat for the last time. "I still don't trust you."
"I bet I can change that, if you give me a chance." Ahri batted her eyelashes at him while smiling faintly, like so many times before. "You don't have to be so cynical. Lighten up a little."
Before he could think of something more cynical to say, just to spite her, Zac felt a strange tingle run up his back and to the tip of the tentacle on his head. The static touch of a mental link being established through magic, similar to how Summoners made sure they were connected to their Champions before matches. It was a strange sensation to describe, almost as if someone were running ice up along his back and to his head.
"Sir. All of the members of the I.S.C.P. have been assembled. We are waiting for your arrival."
A strange monotone and emotionless voice spoke to him through the link. It reminded him of Orianna's voice, cold, mechanical, and indifferent, despite that the person behind it was undoubtedly human.
I'll be there, but I'm kind of stuck here. Can you do something about it? He thought to himself, which he hoped meant that he was actually saying it out loud to whoever was on the other end of the link. It was weird how certain magics worked in the Institute, and he was never sure that he was doing things right on his end.
"...Understood. Try to find a place where we can teleport you here discretely."
Alright. I think I have an idea. Give me a few minutes to get ready.
"...Are you listening to me!? Hello?"
Ahri's irritated voice pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up at her, noticing how her nostrils were flaring in a look of savage disdain from being ignored.
"I'm sorry, I've got a lot of my mind," Zac apologized, picking up his pencil and continuing to scratch out writings on the map from where he had left off. "What were you saying?"
"I asked, what have you been writing?"
Zac rubbed his own chin in thought, looking up and down between Ahri and his work.
"It's complicated."
"Then explain to me."
He continued to rub his own chin, looking up and down between Ahri and his work again.
"...It's really complicated."
"Then explain it to me slowly."
She was persistent, he had to admit with a bit of professional esteem. Even if she was spying just to try to score points with LeBlanc, maybe something had changed once she had learnt about what he was up against. Maybe out of pity? Or just sympathetic curiosity? That was the problems with Champions like her that were similar to himself; there were no loyalties to be had when you had no real responsibilities to anyone or any group. How long would it be before she lost interest in him, and pursued whatever shallow interests that caught her eye next?
Did she really have any potential like they had suggested?
"I'm writing out how I think other city-states will react once the news of this deal goes out," Zac explained, pointing to the center of the map of Valoran between them.
"There will be two official statements on the matter two days from now, on the afternoon I leave. One from the Institute, and the other from the Noxian High Command."
Ahri stayed silent, waiting patiently for him to continue.
Thinking for a second, he then moved his finger from the Institute of War over to the left side of the map.
"Demacia has tried to predict what direction Swain is going to take the High Command after the Crystal Scar incident. All of their predictions, I think, have been greatly exaggerated compared to what has actually happened. With this new deal being announced, I'm wondering if the crown will concern themselves with it since they've been unable to turn up anything time and time again. Or maybe it will just make them try harder. I don't know."
With his pencil in his other hand, he quickly wrote down the names Luxanna Crownguard and Jarvan Lightshield IV before drawing a line to the opposite side of the continent.
"Swain approved this deal because he is testing the capability of Noxus to fill a large-scale weapons order without outside assistance. This is part of a multi-step plan to reorganize the economic structure of his city-state, away from the aggressive model that required that Noxus be ready to make war on any location in Valoran at any time. In return for his political immunity as a Champion, Swain is forcibly curving future Noxian diplomacy to always involve the Institute of War."
Next to Noxus, he wrote down the words Du Couteau and Black Rose with question marks attached to each. Across from him he could feel the intensity of Ahri's stare as she listened to him in an apprehensive silence.
A little amused at how quickly he had managed to rein in her interest, he drew a line connecting Noxus and Zaun together.
"The biggest victim of this restructuring won't be anyone in Noxus, but probably the profiteers in Zaun who have made careers out of catering to the Noxian war machine. If it's true that up to half of Zaun's economy comes from research and development contracts tied with Noxus, a change in the High Command's spending habits could be devastating for them. I have the feeling that the authorities in Zaun aren't going to simply let us get on that freighter without some sort of trouble."
Immediately as he had finished, he drew a line across from Zaun and added a large question mark over it.
"Piltover is the unpredictable one out of this bunch. In the past Demacia and Piltover have worked together, but only because Piltover wants to snub Zaun for working so closely with Noxus. If it's true that Zaun might collapse economically in the foreseeable future, Piltover might resist Demacian requests to maintain their autonomy and pick up business from Zaun's ruins. A lot of Champions from Piltover probably wouldn't want anything to do with Noxus, but having good ethics doesn't pay bills."
He dropped his pencil on the map, and reached over for the rest of his sandwich off to the side. Greedily he stuffed the entire remains into his mouth, not even bothering to chew it and letting it slide whole down his throat and into his gullet.
"Last, but still very important, is what deal Swain will want to work out with Bilgewater. It's no secret that Bilgewater is the least stable city-state on Valoran, and calling anything built on Blue Flame Island a 'city' in a stretch. Gangplank and Sarah Fortune have plans to build up the island into a true city-state, but I'm not sure if that would fit into Swain's overarching vision for his future. The Guardian Sea is Noxus' own backyard pond, and dealing with a city-state full of disorganized pirates starved for gold is a lot safer than one with a dedicated naval fleet."
Stopping with an exhausted sigh of displeasure, he purposefully pressed the pencil down on the map after circling Bilgewater and snapped the sharpened tip with a small crack.
"And that's all I've got so far," he explained, getting up to leave. "So if you'll excuse me."
Watching him leave, Ahri snapped out of her complacent stupor with a shake of her head.
"Hey! Where are you going?" she called out to him.
"To the bathroom," Zac said, not bothering to stop. "Please don't follow me there too. Please."
"Don't even think about sneaking out the window, because we're not done here," Ahri called out to him, mercifully deciding to stay sprawled out on his furniture. He would never admit it to her, but the idea had crossed his mind. "And don't make me chase you! Because you know I will."
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear.
"I mean it! I'm not done with you! You're important to me, so powder your nose and come back."
That last part would have been more flattering if it weren't for the fact that she probably didn't give a damn about him. Or maybe she did, in her weird way of doing things. The weird unexplainable mind of a soul draining seductress, who never gave any damns except when she did, and who never gave any signs or cues about what she was thinking without meaning to.
Really though, none of that mattered. The unexpected bombardment of new information he had hit her with had the desired effect, and now he had a chance to be alone with no one else in the Institute watching him. No one except his faceless caretakers, who he hoped hadn't forgotten about him already.
Opening the bathroom door and closing it behind him, he didn't even bother turning on the lights or anything. Quietly focusing his inner voice, he took a deep breath and readied himself.
Alright Summoners. Whenever you're ready. And try to keep the noise—
Without warning Zac was hit with a thunderous whoosh, and surrounded by a purple light that was descending from the skies above piercing the roof of his home. Just like the Recall and Teleport spells used by Summoners on Summoner's Rift, he could feel himself being lifted into the air ever so slightly. And just like both spells, the effects of casting them were anything but subtle.
Even inside the bathroom with the dull roar of magic around him, he heard a loud crash followed by an equally loud cuss being shouted in pain. Then some very hasty footsteps, quickly heading his way.
He looked down at his feet, and saw the rings around him slowly expanding in number. Two. Three. Four. He knew that before Ahri could make it to the door to find out what was going on, he would be long gone with no trace that he was ever even there.
...But just for the hell of it, he reached out and locked the bathroom door anyway.
Deciding against shouting any sarcastic goodbyes he would regret later, he waited patiently as he was pulled into the sky with the world below him rapidly shrinking in size.
"Outrageous! Truly, truly, truly outrageous."
Zac could hear voices speaking as the magic behind the teleport Summoner spell begin to wear off around him. It was weird being pulled across the Institute from magic power alone, almost as if he were being sucked into a magical vacuüm chute and dumped out somewhere else. And as expected of being dumped out like slime in a pipe, when he reached his destination he landed hard with a loud splat.
Traveling with magic was an amazing, yet, horrifying experience all at the same time. If one knew how many factors went into how such magic worked, then you inadvertently knew how many things could go wrong that would mean terrible things they did. Getting picked up and dropped off at a place you did not want to be at was the least of potential problems. Becoming trapped in the arcane flows that the Institute's nexus' powered where creatures like Nocturne spawned was another. Or, alternatively, being picked up and never coming out at all was another.
Looking around as he began to restructure himself, he recognized the room around him as a dimly lit Reflection Chamber.
For these meetings he attended the location never seemed to change. Maybe there was something symbolic about hosting it in one of the most notorious places Champions knew in the Institute, but it also seemed like a shallow and pointless thing to do.
Lined in up a row were twelve seats, all filled except his own. By some magic trick or otherwise, each seat was lit in a way that each occupant could see the others, but not much else in the Reflection Chamber. Again, whatever symbolic or artistic merit this design had was lost on him.
"I mean no offense, as it is an honor to be here with you all," Taric said, the blue jewels in the Gem Knight's armor shining radiantly even if the shadows of the Reflecting Chamber. "But there must be a better way than to simply demand we show up on someone's beck and call."
"Yes! They called us here, so what's the hold up?" Ryze closed his spell book with a loud thump. "I don't have all day for this to start."
"That's right. I have a patrol to complete tonight, and I have no time for these games." Shuana Vayne agreed, dressed in her normal bodysuit and attire she wore on and off the Fields of Justice. Fiddling with her arm-mounted crossbow, she pulled out one of her silver bolts from a waist quiver and began inspecting with a keen eye.
"On the contrary, we all have a lot of time." Zilean commented, stroking his beard as he did. "Actually, how many times have we done this already? I keep forgetting."
"Hey, does anyone know if drinks will be served?" Yasuo asked, holding his flask upside down and shaking it. Slouching back in his seat, the wind wielding samurai kicked his sandals feet up on the table in front of them all.
"Hey, I know a good place to get a drink," said Jax, his trademark brass lamppost leaning on the side of his seat just in reach. "We can hit it after this. I hear Gragas has a new flavor of Graggy Ice coming out."
"Grabbing the bull by the horns, huh? Let's not make plans before this even starts," Alistar adjusted himself in his seat, the Minotaur's massive frame causing his chair to creak and moan as it resettled his weight. "We don't even know why we're here yet."
"I agree. This clearly isn't a normal meeting, so does anyone know why we're here?" Lucian said, toying around with both of his Lightslinger pistols in each hand. "We all have things to do and places to be. This must be serious if they're calling us together like this."
"Ahem."
All heads turned to the sound calling their attention. Nasus continued to stare down at the book in his large hands, flipping the page once without care for their stares.
"I believe it has something to do with the green one," he said, not bothering to even look up from his reading. "I have noticed that he has become very...popular...as of late."
Walking up to take his seat, Zac shot Nasus a look, now feeling the inquisitive stares of everyone in the room save for the few that were polite enough to restrain themselves. He groaned out loud, not knowing what to say that could somehow pacify so many personalities with different expectations.
"It's complicated," he finally said, giving up on thinking of anything else. He shrugged and crossed his arms in frustration.
The only two members who hadn't said anything were Twisted Fate and Riven. Both sat unmoving and not speaking, maybe with something more pressing on their minds. He was thankful for that, not that the others in the room were renown for their outspoken personalities.
"You hate weapons, and the people who use them. Yet how can you hope to achieve your goals without them?"
Trying to settle down and not be overly self-conscious from the stares he was still getting, a sudden wave of nostalgia washed over him. It was the same thing he felt every time he sat down and waited for these meetings to begin. He could hear High Councilor Kolminye in his head, her voice repeating the same words she had said when they had first met.
It hurt to admit it, but she had his personality pegged from the start.
His time in the Reflection Chamber hadn't been like other Champions. He had read stories of Champions being forced to look back into their past, facing their inner demons, or something crazy stuff like that. Having their mind probed and read, recited back to them like someone was reading a manuscript. But the Institute of War already knew everything they needed to know about him, so making him look back into a past he didn't regret was redundant.
What they wanted to know was how useful he could be to them.
Not only that, but maybe if he could find it in himself to take pride in working for them.
"Look around you. Say what you want about their looks and personalities, but they are all very good at what they do. Could you beat them all with your bare hands? No. You would need a weapon."
He hadn't yet met any of the Champions that he would come to know one by one back then. All he had heard about were their stories in the news, or over hextech radio broadcasts played out and over the streets of the Institute's city. Wild stories of exotic adventures, beings wielding amazing powers, and incredible feats of skill. There were also stories of dangerous monsters, other worldly abominations, and other horrible things from the past.
Everything seemed to have a place in the League, from mages commanding incredible arcane powers, to dedicated soldiers fighting for their city-states. Hell, even mercenaries were there, always ready to fight for the highest bidder.
"You hate the idea of being a weapon, but could you give it up?"
Kolminye's words had hit their mark. It was something he hadn't put much thought into, maybe out of some unwarranted blind optimism that his exotic nature would cut it fighting in the League.
"No you can't. You may hate weapons more than anyone, but that doesn't matter in the end. You know better than anyone how necessary it is to be strong. You should put aside your self-loathing, and be true to your own potential."
Potential. Now there was a word that could be twisted and folded to fit anyone's needs.
"I'm not blind to the irony. Me telling you that we're trying to create peace by managing war."
The idea had seemed ludicrous at first. But the longer he lived in the Institute, and the more fights he fought in the League, it began to slowly make sense.
"Stick with us. We can teach you how to satiate your hate without giving up who you are."
But before his disgruntled trip down memory lane could continue, the same soft and mechanical voice that had called him earlier began speaking out loud to everyone.
"I confirm that all twelve members of the Institute's Special Champion Pool are now present. The seventh meeting of the I.S.C.P. can now begin."
Twelve seats, each filled with a Champion of the League of Legends.
A minotaur of incredible strength, and survivor of countless gladiatorial battles.
A mysterious mercenary with the longest undefeated streak in the League's history.
An incredibly skilled pistol wielding exorcist, always keeping his eyes on the monsters hiding in the shadows.
An ancient guardian from another dimension, who works to maintain peace in his new home.
An ex-soldier walking her broken blade down a path toward redemption.
A mage protecting forbidden knowledge that could lead to the destruction of the world.
A noble gem-powered knight, who has dedicated himself to helping those in need.
A magic gypsy with a pair of skillful hands that could cheat the devil himself.
A dark knight, who relentlessly hunts the wicked abusers of black magic.
A samurai walking the lonely road of justice, only leaving the corpses of his pursuers in his wake.
A bio-weapon that has decided that he didn't like being one.
And last but not least, the sole survivor of Urtistan, whose experimentations with temporal magic have accidentally blessed him with immortality.
Hovering in the air like haunting specters, the Summoners chairing the meeting stood separated from the Champions. The room they were all in was perfectly divided in half by the large sterile table between them, made of something that was similar to Blitzcrank's strange futuristically polished skin. Magical devices stored in the table hummed quietly, setting the stage for everything to begin.
Flanked by two of her juniors on each side, Vessaria Kolminye, one of the three members of the Council of Equity, stepped forward out from the shadows. She remained concealed by her robes through the use of some sort of magic, making it appear as if they were being worn by someone unseen.
"Champions, you have my thanks for coming immediately when asked," Kolminye began, and the Summoners on both of her flanks bowed their heads along with her when she did. "As of a show of my respect for your time, let us skip the formalities and get straight to the issue at hand."
She then pointed straight at Zac, motioning for him to get up and come over toward her.
"Secret Weapon. Please explain to everyone here what happened earlier this afternoon."
Zac grimaced again, feeling the stares of nearly everyone on him. Standing up obediently, he shuffled over to the table between all of the Champions present and the Summoners looking down on them all.
"Uh… Right, well, if you remember from our last meeting," Zac started off, waiting and watching as the magical display changed it's image right behind him. From the Institute of War, it changed to an view of Noxus from some balding hilltop outside of the city. All of the different districts could be seen to a varying degree, but what stood out the most was the human skull carved out into the stone mountain that was home to the High Command. One of the most infamous, if not the most, sights in all of Noxus for anyone visiting. Other than a tasteless display of gritty might, the height and size of it meant that anyone from any part of the city-state would have it looming over their heads their entire lives. An unsubtle reminder of how tied the military command was to the identities all Noxians.
"We were all talking about the changes being made to the High Command's structure, now that the Darkwill lineage has been removed from power. There were some ideas about how Swain would remodel the hierarchy now that he's Grand General, but we couldn't be sure until he started actually making some moves toward anything."
"And that's what this is about?"
Zac turned to see Riven staring right at him, her eyes matching a completely humorless look on her normally soft features. For a second he felt a chill run down his spine, knowing that he was stepping on eggshells.
"It's more than that," Kolminye interrupted, outline still shadowed by magic. "Something has happened that runs contrary to many of the theories we predicted. Now please continue, Secret Weapon."
He had turned to face Kolminye when she had started speaking, maybe in hopes that she would spare him from the scrutiny of his peers. But seeing how that wasn't to be the case, he turned back around and waiting for the magic projection to change again.
"Right, well… This afternoon, I was ambushed by Katarina Du Couteau and Talon in my home—"
"Hold it. You said 'in' your home?" Vayne interrupted, an eyebrow raised in interest behind her red tinted glasses.
"Correct," Kolminye boomed once again, and Zac turned around once more. If she was going to keep explaining things for him, then why not brief everyone herself? Or was it to just to play to the image that those managing the Institute of War knew everything? "Both assassins were able to bypass the defensive runes placed inside of the building. We are still investigating how."
"Lovely," Vayne said, the disgust dripping from her voice. "Have you no shame? When will this Institute stop underestimating Noxian devilry with dark magics?"
"The incident has yet to be confirmed as involving dark magic," the Summoner to the right of Kolminye countered, with a hint of frustration in his voice from Vayne's biting accusations. "Night Hunter, as much as your services have helped us strengthen the security of this Institution, not everything is something for you to be concerned with."
"That has yet to be seen," Vayne said, brushing him off. "Don't expect me to clean up your mess wh—"
"Yeah! Great! So like I was saying!" Zac said, just loud enough to make his point clear. Choosing to stop herself, Vayne settled back down in her seat and put the attentive but silent mask she always wore. "...Katarina and Talon broke into my apartment with an offer from Swain," he continued. "They're asking me to act as a Champion escort for some deal they worked out with the Order of the Shadows."
"Ninjas, huh?" Yasuo let out a groan from his seat. "Of course it's ninjas. Ninjas are always trouble."
"The deal has already been authorized by the Institute," Kolminye said, taking over again. The images behind Zac changed, and he turned to look at them too. The wall was now painted with some kind of diagram or schematic, parts of some sort of complicated hextech sword weapon things he knew nothing about. Looking it over harder, he couldn't tell how to hold the thing never mind how to use it. "Since this deal was negotiated through the Institute of War from Champion to Champion, the Ionian Council of Elders have no say in this matter."
Well that explains that, Zac thought to himself, the question of why he hadn't heard anything from any of the Ionian Champions. His thoughts drifted back to Ahri, and he wondered if her sentiments had been more genuine than he originally thought.
"Seems to be that Ionia is part of our little game, but still needs to learn the rules," Twisted Fate commented. "You have to hand it to that old dog. Using the Institute as a medium was downright clever."
"And that is where the problem lays. Jericho Swain has gone through considerable lengths to make sure that every aspect of this deal was laid out to the Institute in advance." With a wave of her hands more magical displays appeared, this time displaying some of the pictures Swain had included in the papers he had given Zac. Even the gigantic iron washtub ship from earlier was there, but with a much more detailed diagram of its insides.
"If there is some sort of subversive plan, then at the moment we have no way of proving what it will be."
"What does this have to do with us?" Ryze asked bluntly. "Not all of us here care about the petty acts of city-states against each other. Aren't there enough problems in this world?"
"But you said 'proving,' just now? Didn't you?" Taric said, leaning forward in curiosity.
Kolminye nodded, as did the shadowed Summoners to her immediate sides. "Correct. We have no evidence of what Noxus is planning, but we believe we know what their aims are. This is why we have called you here tonight. We believe this is the beginning of a plot that could be devastating to the integrity of the Institute of War."
"Hmm. How ominous," Nasus said, the bored look on his canine features running counter to any concern in his voice. "Those are words not spoken lightly. I hope you will tell us more about this...unseen threat."
"In due time, Champions. For now we must focus on our own preparations."
Kolminye swept her arms out in a broad stroke, with everything that had revealed themselves returning to the shadows. Not waiting for an explanation, Zac walked back and took his seat.
"Secret Weapon has already accepted Swain's offer. We know that Katarina, the Sinister Blade, will be the one heading the mission. As part of negotiations, he was given permission to pick two other League Champions that will join him on this journey. Although these events may seem unconnected to your own reasons for working with us, we expect every one of you to be ready and willing to aid another member of the I.S.C.P. if and when they need it."
The still silence from his compatriots was so stagnant that he could hear the soft hums of the technomagical devices spread throughout the room. It was funny to think that the eleven Champions around him were sulking over the idea that their upcoming weekend plans could be ruined, as unlikely as that seemed. Hopefully, by some mercy, everyone around him would be as reliable outside of the Institute as they were on any Field of Justice. If not, then his trip was going to be either incredibly boring, or incredibly short.
"Every one of you understands how important this Institution is to the safety of our world. Just as the twelve of you have been granted special privileges that other Champions have not, when the time comes, we trust that you will act in the interest of preserving this Institution."
Ten lights for ten teleporting Champions. In another brilliant cascade of arcane power, light suddenly flooded into the Reflection Chamber from the heavens above and engulfed the other members of the I.S.C.P. Some of them stood up in preparation to leave, while others remained seated, probably in the same position as they had been scooped up in.
Just as fast as they had all arrived, they were gone. At the same time, the Summoners that had accompanied Kolminye disappeared. Whatever devices or spells they had been using to attend the meeting, disconnected from their end. No parting words said; no sounds at all.
From up above them all where she had been chairing the meeting, Kolminye stood up and began descending down invisible steps toward him. Zac remained seating in his own large chair, rocking back and forth on its base absentmindedly.
Folding her slender hands into the long sleeves of her robes, Kolminye took the last step down and started walking toward him. Her robes carried in them some sort of magic veil that all elite council members wore. Every time he talked with her, it was as if he were conversing with a ghost in a robe.
"Secret Weapon, a word if you will?"
"Since I didn't get a free ride out, I don't think I have a choice," Zac commented noting how quietly everyone had left despite their differences.
Instead of a reply, all he got was a raised open palm, before the same human hand pointed to the seat next to him. Zac looked at her quizzically, mouthing a silent question for an explanation her way, before looking back at the seats where the other Champions had been.
Sure enough, sitting with her arms crossed and a small frown on her face, Riven looked at them both with a hint of irritation from having not been noticed earlier.
"Do have something to say, Exile?" Kolminye ventured to ask, breaking the silence.
"I want to join him on this mission," Riven said, stepping up to them both and pointing to Zac as she did.
"You can't be serious," Zac blurted without thinking.
"I am!" Riven spat back at him sharply, making him wince. She then turned to Kolminye, before continuing.
"You probably want another member of our group to join him, right? Well I volunteer myself!"
Zac and Kolminye exchanged looks, saying nothing as they did. They both stayed silent as seconds continued to tick past, and Riven wondered if they were now communicating telepathically with some sort of magic. She stood waiting in a silent defiance, the determined look on her face unwavering despite their unreceptive reactions.
"Are you sure, Exile?" Kolminye finally asked, in a much more gentle tone. "You would be coming face to face with many demons of your past."
"I know, but this isn't something I can just let go by." Riven balled her sword hand into a fist, raising the clenched oversized gauntlet in a show of strength. "I'm done wandering. If I'm ever going to make amends for the past, I need to keep living in the present."
Kolminye nodded sympathetically, and let slip a low hum in consideration. Still standing next to her, Zac felt himself glaring at her in disgust. He doubted she cared about any good intentions of Riven, misguided or otherwise, and was just thinking how she could be added into her plans. Maybe it was the fact that the more complicated things could get, the more he would have to rely on the Institute of War for guidance.
"We will consider your request," Kolminye finally spoke, waving her hand to dismiss her. "I will contact you once we have decided. If you mean what you say, I expect you to be prepared by tomorrow morning."
"I understand." Riven get a curt nod back to her, but only glanced at Zac. "All I ask is that you take my request seriously."
"We will have to see," Kolminye said, in a much more neutral tone that he preferred. "Go enjoy your evening, Exile."
For the second time a deep purple light broke through the ceiling, striking Riven and engulfing her as it hit the ground of the Reflection Chamber. Her white dress and tattered linens she always wore blew a bit from an unseen wind, before the spell finished and whisked her away. Through the spell's casting time she had remained silent, but there was something about her insistent stare directed at him that unnerved him a little.
"Did something happen between you two?" Kolminye suddenly asked him after she was gone, pulling Zac of his thoughts. "She was looking at you this entire meeting. Very intensely, at that."
"Not that I remember," he answered honestly, shrugging as he did. "Nothing out of the ordinary. I've tried to kill her, she's killed me. Just the usual."
"Tried?"
"Tried," Zac repeated, not wanting to focus too much on the past. "Something weird happened in a match, and I ended up letting her live after I should have killed her. I played the whole thing off as a communication error between me and my Summoner, but now I'm wondering if I bruised her pride, or something."
"...Is that all?"
Zac scratched the back of his head, letting out a low groan as he did.
"Well, there was one other thing…"
"Go on," Kolminye said, not bothering to hide the piqued feminine interest in her voice. He knew immediately that he had spoken too much about something that would only cause stupid problems in the future.
"Someone got it in their heads to link us together in one of those fliers Summoners get about costume sales," Zac said, reminiscing about the past. "They titled it, 'Bunny and the Beast,' or something cheesy like that. I didn't even know about it until Riven confronted me. She kept going on about tabloids this and tabloids that, and how she didn't want people getting the wrong idea from it."
To his surprise, Kolminye let a small snicker slip before breaking out into a light laugh.
"Ooh, that poor thing. She takes everything so seriously, wouldn't you agree?"
"Yeah, well, it would be the pot calling—" Zac started, but then stopped when he remembered that he was speaking with someone who could find everything she ever wanted one way or another anyhow. "Hey, wait a damn minute. You're not considering her request, right?" Zac said, her sudden silence acting as a warning sign that he was losing control of his own fate. "Bringing her along would be a terrible idea. A Noxian deserter joining me on a Noxian arms deal orchestrated by their High Command, into a country she fought a war against?"
"You underestimate her strength of character," Kolminye said, waving a hand as if to waft away his statement. "She is famous across Valoran for unique sense of justice that runs contrary her upbringing and heritage. Riven is a shining example of an heroine with a muddied past in search for redemption, and the Ionian people will see that."
Zac nodded understandingly as he mulled over her points.
"No, I'm sure it's still a terrible idea. Did you remember that we're stopping at Zaun first? Home to the people who ruined her life? What makes you think she's even going to make it to Ionia?"
"Then who were you thinking about?"
"I was… Thinking about Yasuo, and someone else. You know, someone who knows the land?"
"Do you think he would fare any better?" Kolminye asked, and Zac wondered if she had pulled him away from his second point on purpose. "Do you know that the School of the Wind still seeks his head for the death of that Ionian Elder?"
He blinked at what she had said, slowly processing it in his head for a few seconds. He had heard everything that the League had published about Yasuo with his entry as a Champion; all part of the standard routine for combat with and against him on a Field of Justice. Ignoring the sympathetic aspects of the story, it was well known that all Champions were granted immunity from any looming problems in their past the moment they were accepted by the Institute of War. Had the people from Yasuo's past actually petitioned the Institute to hand him back over to them, despite everything that was known to the world?
"Are you serious?" was all he could think to ask at the revelation.
"Quite." Something about how Kolminye was acting made it seem to him as if she would be rolling her eyes right now. But with the magic veil that all elite council members wore, it still looked to him as if were conversing with a ghost in a robe.
"Do still they really think he did it? Killing that Elder with his wind techniques?"
"What? No, of course not. The entire chase is to save face for their school, so that the Council of Elders will continue to hire them as part of their security entourage."
"What!? Are you serious?" he repeated again.
She nodded, knowingly. "It's all politics, I'm sure you can imagine. The poor fool never had any chance to prove his innocence from the start."
"You're telling me that he killed his own brother for nothing?"
"Sad, isn't it? But who knows? Maybe it's better this way. He was probably jealous of Yasuo his entire life, anyway."
Something about how casually Kolminye could explain a tragedy as if she explaining to a server how she liked her coffee prepared irked him a little. But maybe that was something that come with her position; the ability to distance yourself from every little or large tragedy that hit her desk every morning.
Maybe she was a victim of circumstance herself. There was always the possibility that she had never expected to come to power as she did. After the mysterious circumstance surrounding the disappearance of Reginald Ashram, Relivash had filled his position until evidence from the Crystal Scar incident at Kalamanda emerged. He had read the papers about it long before he had joined the League, and even in his youth Zac knew how the impact of events had shaken the continent to its core. Evidence that a member of the Council of Equity, the highest adjudications appeals court in the world, had taken steps to instigate a war between two city-states.
It was ironic really, to think that all of this had happened because the Institute of War was doing its job too well. So much so that one of its leaders had decided to try and spark an artificial war, just to remind the world how important the Institute was to keeping the peace on Valoran.
With unequivocal lightning speed, the Institute had made efforts to amend its shattered image. Vessaria Kolminye had been one of many sets of eyes and ears on the ground in Kalamanda, lending her power as both a mage and Summoner to the people. Perhaps it was her unexpected fame from being featured in the Journal of Justice that would lead to her replacing Relivash on the Equity Council. Or maybe like all wars it had been planned from the start, only for things to go awash as all plans inevitably do, and then the Institute had been forced to improvise in order to survive.
"...Does Yasuo know that his old family still wants him dead?"
"Yes, and no. Despite what you may think, we respect the privacy of Champions when it comes to their personal affairs. Perhaps you've noticed that he's dropped his pursuit of a certain someone over the last months? Hmm?"
Zac frowned, and scratched his chin again. He knew exactly who and what Kolminye was referring, but the matter in its entirety had been something that he had wanted nothing to do with. There were enough problems in his world that didn't include two convoluted pasts that happened to intertwine with each other.
"So let me get this straight. You don't want Yasuo to come with me, because you think his old chums will try something. Instead, you want the person who may have been the real culprit to come in his stead?"
"Yes." He could imagine the evil and devious face Kolminye was giving him underneath her magic mask. The face of someone with a master plan, and who had no interest including others in on it.
"Just making sure, do you remember the part where I said this was a terrible idea?"
"We have our reasons. Trust in us, Secret Weapon."
Trust. Again, another word that could be twisted and folded to fit anyone's needs.
Everything around him that kept the Institute of War functioning from day to day revolved around trust. The League trusted that city-state would continue to bring their business to them. City-states trusted that the Institute of War wouldn't begin favoring one over the others. Champions trusted their Summoners not to get them killed on the Fields of Justice. And the world trusted the Institute not to dabble too heavily into things that would bring about the cataclysmic end of the world.
There was no reason for him to doubt her. There never had been. Despite her authority, Kolminye had never hesitated to help him in the past. Maybe it came with the territory of being a member of the I.S.C.P., but sometimes he could sense the maternal concern Kolminye gave off toward people she worked closely with. On eve of his virgin mission to the outside world, was he really going to start questioning her intentions now?
It was awfully difficult, Zac realized, to earnestly judge people by first impressions. Those who seemed pleasant at first in the Institute, usually were good people. Usually. Vessaria Kolminye wasn't particularly pleasant, but the instant he had joined the I.S.C.P. she had become so friendly that it was uncanny. Perhaps, he thought, it was just another characteristic of someone with so much responsibility not on par with anyone else in the world.
"Alright, but I still need someone who knows the lay of the land," Zac protested, trying not to seem like his points had been subdued. "You know that none of the Ionian Champions want anything to do with this deal. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if they're already planning to sabotage it."
"Well, you're half correct," Kolminye said, looking past him and at something unseen by him. "Irelia has already addressed the Council of Elders and tried to stop the deal from going through. But the Elders in the regions where the Order of the Shadows operate have refused to comply with her demands."
This was a surprise to him, if what she was saying was true.
"I don't understand. Does that means that the Council of Elders aren't against this?"
"It's complicated, like everything these days."
"Oh, of course. How silly of me."
"Think of it this way. How do so many different school teaching the killing arts manage to exist in a peace-loving land like Ionia? It is because they hire themselves out to government officials, or volunteer their ranks as a peacekeepers in their regions. Ever since the Kinkou Order was gutted by Zed and his followers, the Order of the Shadow has taken their place in these same roles."
"So for some places, the Order of the Shadow is just the new group replacing the old?"
"Exactly," Kolminye nodded. "I can't say I know for certain, but I've been told that the Order of the Shadow takes a much more proactive approach than the Kinkou did. Despite their ideological differences with the masses, many people credit the Order of the Shadows from keeping the poorer regions of Ionia from breaking down into chaos years after the war."
"I get what you're saying, but I still don't like it. I don't like being a part of other people's politics."
"Then why did you come to the Institute?"
"To try and do the right thing," Zac answered, suddenly aware of how stupid his own answer sounded.
"Everyone has a different idea of what is right and what is wrong. You've chosen our side, and you should stick with us. That means putting your trust in us. Trust that we know what we're doing."
"Isn't that what everyone says?"
"If we didn't have the confidence to say that, than we'd be fools for trying. Don't you understand?"
"I don't know. I'm not good at this. I'm only good at fighting."
"And I'm sure there will be plenty of that where you'll be going," Kolminye remarked dryly, to which he groaned in despair. "I will say it once, and I will say it a hundred times; do not fear. We will be supporting you all of the way."
"I hope so," was all Zac could think to say back. From the ceiling, just as with Riven and the others Champions before them, a blinding light began to shine down on him. At his feet rings of light started to complete themselves, layering each other as they did.
"Honestly, I'm feeling kind of alone right now."
"You are never alone, Secret Weapon," Kolminye said with an unexpectedly sharp rebuking tone. "Now go make a friend, and look out for your other one."
"Wait, what?"
Before he could ask another endless question, Zac was lifted off of his feet and sped away in a brilliant stream of luminescent flash. Whisked away with teleportation magic, like the other Champions before him.
Watching him go, and having gotten the last word in, Kolminye would leave the same way shortly after. But not before taking a few mental notes about the changing world around her, and some interesting things she learnt that day. Being a member of the Council of Equity wasn't just pomp and circumstance, and there was a lot that needed to get done if everything was to go smoothly. With so many powers invested in the Institute of War, there was never any time where she could sit back and simply watch matters develop on their own.
It was a little surprising, though. Zac's unexpectedly timid behavior around his fellow Champions. She hadn't expected as much resistance from him. The entire time she could feel his hesitation, acting like he had some sort of nervous concern about being judged. Was it from the Exile? Or maybe something else?
Well, regardless; one of his greatest strengths was his flexibility, both physically and mentally. Zac would have to learn how to adapt, one way or another. What couldn't kill him would just make him stronger, in more ways than she suspected he knew.
Tumbling about in a magical vortex, Zac opened his eyes only briefly and immediately regretted it. He could only imagine what kind of narcotics or hallucinogenic substances he would have to take to replicate what he had briefly glanced at. There was nothing beautiful about it, as far as he was concerned. It was terrifying to know that he was being teleported between two points using things he had no knowledge about and could not fix if something were to go terribly wrong.
Counting down in his head, he waited patiently before opening his eyes again. The forces pushing on his body were beginning to ease up, a sign that he was close to wherever his destination was going to be. Twisting his body as best he could, he braced himself to land feet first and try not to splatter all over the first surface he hit the moment the teleportation spell ended.
Being dropped out of thin air in a blinding flash of light, Zac hit the stone floors of the Institute and immediately rolled into a ball. Doing his best imitation of Rammus, he forcibly turned himself so that he would roll in a continuous circle, letting the momentum of the magic slowly decay until he came to a complete stop.
Satisfied with his own performance, he changed shape one more time and sprung to his feet. Leaping into the air, he put his arms out to steady himself before planting both feet down like a long jumping athlete with two loud wet slaps as he did.
Not bad, Zac thought to himself. I bet I could do better though. Maybe—
"Ahem."
Still with his arms out holding his acrobatic pose, he turned around to see Riven staring at him.
"...Shit," he muttered, again without thinking. The gears in his head were turning furiously, at the realization that he had been set up. But this time Riven ignored his reaction, and chose to take a step closer to him with her arms crossed firmly.
"I want to talk to you."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Let me come with you."
"No," Zac said, shooting her down flat. Without a goodbye, he turn right around and started to head back to his home.
Before he could take a second step, he was broadsided from behind. Riven had slammed into him with a flying tackle, knocking them both down and onto the floor. Zac landed with a hard splat, partially cushioning her as she landed on top of him spraying green slime out in every direction.
"Let me come with you," she repeated, after he had partially reformed himself. She showed no signs of remorse for her actions.
"Let me up," he demanded with a cranky and irate tone. "I'm not talking to you on the floor."
Riven crawled off of him slowly, standing up on her own and taking a step back. Zac began to reform the rest of his body, slowly building himself back up while keeping a wary eye on her the entire time. Despite being soaked head to toe in his green goo, she still wore a face of unnerving determination that seemed invincible to everything. After a little he was satisfied that he was completely back together, still wary of being attacked again, he looked her with the same exhausted concern from before.
"Alright. Why do you want to come with me so badly?"
"I have my own reasons."
"Can't you just wait like she told you to?"
"That's not good enough," Riven explained. She continued to follow behind him as he started walking off again. "You and I both know she's made up her mind, whatever that may be. I want to hear it from you that I can come along."
"I haven't made up my mind yet."
"Do you mean it?"
"Yes. I don't know what I want yet."
"...Do you really mean it?
"Yes!" Zac threw his arms up into the air in exasperation. "Is this going somewhere? Or are you just making an effort to be a complete a pain in the ass today!?"
After snapping at her, Riven stopped walking. Noticing this, so did he.
"Is it because you're afraid?"
"...What?" was all Zac could think to say back to her.
"I asked, are you afraid?"
"I'm not—"
"You're afraid, aren't you? Are you afraid of actually meeting the people you've been fighting against?" Riven accused, staring him straight in his eyes with her own. "Everything here is so distant from the world. So far away from real people's troubles, and the troubles you might have caused for them! That's really why you don't want me around isn't it!?"
Even though her words stung, he knew the source of his frustration wasn't her. Looking at his own palms, the undeniable facts of reality were back in full force. He wasn't flesh and blood like her, and he wasn't a machine either. He was a weapon. An artificial lifeform, birthed from test tubes and flasks for the sole purpose of taking orders. He yearned desperately to refute the repulsive ideas of his own self reflections, and assert a higher purpose in his life for himself.
But the swirling undercurrent of self-doubt in his heart undermined his ability to do so. An undercurrent that wasn't coming from any malicious or devious source, other than the straight plain truth being told to him.
"Oh come off it!" Zac shouted back at her. "This isn't about your little crusade to do whatever your heart is telling you! Can't you see how much of a liability you are!? Do you really believe that you'll just fit quietly, and not stand out to everyone involved in this!?"
"That may be true, but I won't just hide from the world. What about you? You've never hesitated to throw a punch on any Field of Justice! I've seen you kill people in more ways than anyone else, but you never volunteer to help with anything outside of the Institute!"
"Because this isn't a damn game! The world outside isn't some place where people who get killed will come back to life! The Institute can always revive us, but they don't give two damns about anyone else out there!"
"That doesn't mean you can just sit back and separate yourself from the world! You should stop hiding like a coward, and make yourself useful!"
"I don't have to do a damn thing other than what the Institute wants me to!"
"And what if everyone in the world thought like that! What if everyone in the world never did anything other than what they were told to do!?"
"Then you would still say I'm a damn fool for doing different!" Zac shouted back at her, their argument having blown up into something very noisy. Around them the different personnel of the Institute were slowing filing away, not wanting to get involving themselves between the two Champions. "You're one to talk! You deserted the Noxian legion the moment you realize how you were just a means for other's ambitions! But now you're here doing the same damn thing for someone else, just like the rest of us!"
"Because what else is there!?"
She hadn't reacted at all like he had expected, with the exception of her sword arm that had been slowly heading toward her broken blade. But her words, as simple as they were, shocked him. He felt his energy draining from him, as if he were ready to melt into a puddle of sludge onto the ground at any moment.
Then he realized; what he was feeling was his own mortality. Not in the same way on or off a Field of Justice, but something completely different. Something that put him at a complete loss for words, despite his temperament before it. He felt like a fish in an ocean. Or like an ant crossing a desert. A wave of revulsion began to build up in his stomach, from his own painful realization about how quickly he had assumed his life was more valued than others. And from what? Just because he was more exotic in nature than his contemporaries?
"Because what else is there," Zac repeated, the words barely audible.
"Because what else is there," Riven repeated too, much quieter this time too.
What could he say to her? What could he say to comfort someone who had managed to escape the horrors of war, only to wind up working for a group promoting peace through perpetual conflicts? What could he, a weapon born in a laboratory as a replacement for everything she was, say to comfort her?
He looked down at her, and she looked up at him. Their eyes only met for a second, before they both couldn't stand what they saw and looked away.