Unstable Matters Chapter 6: I.S.C.P. (Part 2)
The first sounds Riven heard was that of someone chuckling. It seemed to continue forever, but he could make out the words, "You mean her?" She had no idea what was so funny, but in the process of trying to figure it out she began to regain consciousness. It helped, perhaps, that the voice distinctly belonged to someone she would never consider letting her guard down around. Despite that, it was infinitely more pleasant then the smiley tone of the man who interrupted her. His words were harder to make out, and seemed to be part of a whispered conversation being carried on without regard for her.
"Why not?" said the woman, giggling. "Don't you think she's beautiful?"
"Don't go there." The man seemed to be cautioning the woman against something.
Riven tried to open her eyes, and watched as the hextech lights directly above her gradually come into focus. It was the type of light she'd been avoiding in the last years - a fluorescent bulb installed into a ceiling fan above her, the kind that decorated so many offices in the Institute of War.
Where am I? Is this one of those apartments? she thought, as her mind began to reassert itself. She had never liked the assigned housing the Institute provided to its Champions. There was something about it that just made her uncomfortable. Riven blinked several times. Aware of another presence, she felt very shy, but wanted to know what was going on. She tried moving her body for the first time, and winced at how stiffly her own body ached in turn.
"Are you awake? Can you hear me?" The voice that seemed a room away was far too bright and cheerful for how early it felt.
"Yes," Riven answered, hoarsely, trying her best to be heard. Then she stopped. Why had she replied so readily? She had no way of even knowing where she was, never mind who she was speaking to. Thinking about it, her mind was completely muddied and clouded when she tried to recall anything that had happened a day ago.
"You slept through the entire night," the voice called back, "but you should be all right now. If you're feeling light headed, don't strain yourself too much."
Unable to sit up any longer, Riven slid back down into the bed with a light thump. The mattress underneath her was more comfortable than anything she had slept on in months, having shyed away from the luxuries the Institute wanted to force on her. Everything from the pillow under head to the sheets partially covering her felt wonderful.
Too wonderful to be normal.
What happened to me? Riven rolled over in the bed, pulling the sheets with her as she did. She rolled back again, in a vain attempt to clear her head and keep herself awake.
"Do you want coffee, or tea maybe?"
"Urmgph," Riven answered back, mustering her willpower and forcing herself to sit upright again. Kicking the covers off of the bed, she forced her legs to move so that she could take her first steps to find out what was going on.
"Riven?" Dressed in a fluffy robe similar to her midnight costume, Ahri peeked her head around the doorframe to the bedroom. "I didn't quite catch that. What did you say?"
Looking down, Riven lay sprawled out on the floor next to the bed as if someone had just killed her in lane. Her unpinned hair lay in a mess, with parts over her face and down her shoulders in a tangled mess. Dressed only in a lacey white chemise, her face had a pained frustration written all over it from her inability to control her own body.
"Ahri," she said, in a way that she wasn't friendly or hostile. Despite that, the look in her eyes showed that she didn't trust her. Trying to stand up again, she let out a pitiful whimper before backing down onto one knee in vain. Not one to stand idle, Ahri walked over silently and gently helped Riven back up to a sitting position on the side of the bed.
"Where am I? How did I get here?" she asked, trying to shake free from the fog still plaguing her mind.
"You're in my home, and you were sleeping in my bed," Ahri answered, winking suggestively as she did. She then pointed to Riven, her eyes looking her over like a hungry fox eying a tasty rabbit. "I'm not used to having female humans in bed with me, but it was actually pretty fun. I'm still surprised how well you fit into my clothes, especially that—"
"Wait, w-what!?" Riven stammered in shock, hastily scooting away from her to get some distance between them. "You—!? T-this—!" she continued to stutter, finally realizing that she wasn't even dressed in her own clothes. Her only protection from the entire world (and a devious fox) was the lacey white chemise, which was only made worse by the fact that it did not belong to her.
"...Really? I was kidding!" Ahri said, covering her own mouth to try and stop herself from laughing at her reaction. "Did you really think I meant it? Oh, that's precious! You should see the look on your face."
Riven's shocked face quickly turned into a spiteful glare, as she closed her mouth slowly with her lips pursing into a miserable scowl. Why she trusted anything that Ahri had said, was a mystery. A stupid mistake that wouldn't be repeated. Remembering the scandalizing garment she was still wearing, she quickly reached over and pulled the nearest sheet off of the bed before wrapping herself in it.
"Where are my clothes," she asked in a deathly calm voice, glaring at Ahri as she did.
"Don't give me that look. Those rags were filthy," Ahri said, crossing her arms and matching the Exile's moody look. "Where have you been living the last month? Under a rock?"
"That's none of your business," Riven bit back, somehow frowning deeper. "I want to know how I got here, and I want my clothes back. Now."
"Tut, tut!" Ahri waggled a finger at his disapprovingly. "Is that how you speak to someone who took care of you? You should say 'please' when you ask for something."
"Fine, please."
"Please, what?"
Riven bit her lower lip, feeling her temper begin to rise at how smugly the nine-tailed fox was acting. Worse, was the fact that she still couldn't remember how she had gotten dropped off into Ahri's care. Everything about the previous night was a blurry haze. Something having to do with the Institute of War. Talking with the most lazy and cowardly weapon she had ever met in her life. Following him. Arguing with him. After that…
Riven sighed in defeat, rubbing her temples as she did.
"...Could you please tell me how I got here, and can I please have my clothes back?"
"No," Ahri said, shooting her down without any remorse. With that said, she then turned back around and left the room with a disgustingly cheerful spring in her step.
Stopping herself from just taking off after her, Riven unwrapped the bed sheet from herself. She then took the time to tie it around herself more carefully, into something that didn't scream that she was practically nude underneath it.
Taking a more careful first step, she slipped herself off of the bed once more and forced herself to stand. Slowly with baby-like steps, she made her way toward a large dresser with a mirror behind it across the room. Rummaging through the drawers, she eventually found something to pin her hair back behind her head. As strange as it sounded, she had never put any thought into something as simple as hair styles, until after she had deserted from Noxus.
Fumbling a bit with the unfamiliar hair clip, her eyes drifted down to the small piles of cosmetics lining the top of the dresser. Lotions, makeup, and perfumes. Now that she was the Exile, there were a lot of things she had to think about that had never been an option before. Personal things. Feminine things. Everything from her diet to her body had been subject to the regiments her city-state's military. She was a legionnaire, groomed from her first day to her last to be one of their finest. But not any longer...
"You can take a shower after breakfast, if you want," Ahri called out again, snapping Riven out of her drifting thoughts.
Breakfast. Even in her dilapidated state of mind, she could smell some wonderful aromas coming from somewhere else in the apartment. There were almost no limits to the services the Institute of War could provide its Champions, and meal catering (even with so many different cultures) was by far the easiest. But like so many other luxuries, it was something she had forcibly shunned herself from indulging in too much.
To be fair, she reasoned, there was no point in being miserable, confused, and hungry all at the same time. Her stomach gave an audible rumble in agreement, sealing the deal right then and there. Getting something to eat would be a good start to what could become another very long day.
"What's on the menu?" Riven asked, walking out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. She continued down the hall, letting her ears and nose lead her to where she was supposed to go.
"Eggs, rice, and a little liver for me," Ahri answered, turning away from something cooking on a stovetop in front of her. Riven resisted making a face, noticing the nearby cutting board that seemed very soaked in blood and some very fresh entrails. Wordlessly, she sat herself down at the table where it had been set up for her. "Since you're not busy today," Ahri continued, watching her guest fiddle with the silverware in front of her. "So would you mind coming with me on a little errand?"
"What kind of errand?" Riven asked, trying not to sound too wary as she did.
"Tag along with me into the city. I have to get a few things ready for our trip tomorrow."
"Our trip!? What trip?" Riven felt a slight chill go down her spine after she asked. Some things had definitely happened between the time she had woken up and passed out from yesterday. Now she was out of the loop, and at the mercy of someone she didn't really trust to bring her up to speed.
"What? You don't remember?"
"No," Riven growled in frustration. "I told you, I don't even know how I got here. And every time I ask, you avoid telling me!"
Ahri reached out and took two plates out from a nearby cabinet, before setting them on the countertop gently. It was amusing how poorly her guest responded to simple teasing. As if shouting like a soldier would make the world bend to her demands. Was she afraid? Nervous about being in debt to someone? She had figured that being a military fugitive would have grown her a thicker skin to their harsh world, but maybe there was still something childish behind her independent warrior act. Something that would provide her with easy entertainment for a very long time.
She would have to thank Zac for breakfast and the show later…
"You're not a soldier anymore, battle bunny." Ahri waved the chopsticks in her hands, jabbing them in the air at her. "Shouting won't get you anywhere with me. Try chocolates and flowers, first."
Riven bit her lower lip, again, and Ahri could just picture steam coming out from both of her ears. There was something amusing about all of the soldier-types that were Champions in the League. Very few of them had any sense of humor, or manners for that matter, and the few that did would never even give her the time of day. So many people, running in circles for so many different causes, and each one believing themselves right over others. All part of a never ending cycle that seemed blissfully unaware of its own existence.
"Now, if you're going to be civil with me," Ahri offered, deciding to teasing on hold for a little. "I'll answer your questions over breakfast, and afterward, I might be nice enough to give you something to wear other than my bed's sheets. How does that sound?"
Riven muttered something under her breath (which Ahri assumed was a concession of defeat), and shifted about uncomfortably in her makeshift clothes. It was probably the best answer she was going to get, considering the circumstance.
Pride. Maybe she had underestimated how much pride Riven still had, considering that she lived as if she were under some religious vow of poverty. Was she dealing with an exile, or a reclusive hermit?
Sorting things out over both plates, Ahri divided what she had cooked between them both making sure to give a little more to Riven. Admiring her handiwork for a second, she took both plates and placed them onto their spots on the table.
"Moke ga," Ahri said, noting how Riven was looking over her meal carefully as if it were poisoned. Reaching out, she pushed the salt and pepper shakers on the table over toward her. "They're not going to kill you, okay? I bet you'll want to chase after Zac, but that will have to wait for a little."
"Wait, was Zac here?" Riven asked incredulously, momentarily forgetting about the free meal in front of her. Had the voice from before belonged to him?
"Was," Ahri said, taking her time between bites of egg. She then picked up a piece of liver she had sliced up, before popping it into her mouth casually. Riven wrinkled her nose at the sight, noticing that the cut of meat seemed to be barely cooked. "He left after you woke up. He was saying something about wanting to get some fresh air. You know his type, he can't do anything without worrying about it first. We can catch up with him later, if you'd like."
"Yeah, I would like that." Riven stabbed at the fried eggs on her plate with a little more force than needed. Taking her first bite, she decided right then and there that the eggs tasted too good to be a trap. "Any idea where he went?"
Thinking for a bit, and chewing her food some more, Ahri nodded.
"I think I know where he's going, but you aren't going to like it."
"Try me," Riven dared, with a mouthful of food.
Ahri arched an eyebrow her way, a coy smile tugging at her pursed lips. Riven swallowed what was left in her mouth. It may have been from the little dribble of meat juice on her lips, but despite everything that had happened so far, this was the first time she felt like she was being stared at by a hungry predator. One who had been waiting patiently for the right moment to strike. On the battlefield, she had learnt the hard way that even one second of carelessness could be the difference between life and death. Talking to Ahri, it seemed, was no different.
"How tempting. Since you owe me, as soon as breakfast is over, let's have some real fun."
The Twin Dragon Sanctum was an official-sounding name, appropriate for how stepping into the Ionian section of the Institute was like entering a different world. Zac could only imagine how long it must have taken to completely mask the industrial and institutional architecture of the Institute of War with something much more organic, but they had done it. Stone gardens and tall grass fields, fish ponds and bending rivers, bamboo and reed forests as tall as three storey buildings. Everything had been completely redesigned with an Ionian flare, all of which was unique to the continent of Valoran.
Getting into the Ionian section hadn't been too hard. All of the posted guards and League officials had just let him through, almost as if they had been expecting him. This, in his line of work, was a telltale sign that they had been.
Still, even if he was walking into someone else's plans, it could be worse.
Zac almost laughed at the thought. The idea of being used by Ionia didn't really sound as...scary, as it did with other city-states. It made sense why Ionia's self-imposed isolation had originated from ideological differences from the rest of Runeterra. Maybe it was just a naive hope, but it was nice to think that there was some place in the world filled with humans who weren't only out for themselves. Or maybe the island's inhabitants were just going for some sort of long con, pretending to be peaceful when they were really preparing to build some sort of doomsday device that would be used to conquer the world.
"Secret Weapon, we are honored by your presence. What have you come for today?"
Two Summoners wearing their familiar deep purple robes bowed to him, their hands linked together and concealed underneath the overflowing sleeves of their outfits. There was neither suspicion nor hostility in their voices, but they had both purposefully stepped in front of him before he had gotten past the entrance to the inner gardens. The Institute of War forbade Summoners from altering the exterior of their robes, and giving telltale signals to their city-state loyalties. Judging by their behavior, perhaps they were acting as unofficial guards to the Ionian interior.
Zac raised a hand, waving off the over the top respect he got from Summoners all of the time. "I'm just here to deliver something," he said, gesturing to the brown envelope in his hand. "I was invited by Karma too, by the way."
"Ah, have you come for her mantra sessions?" the other Summoner asked. They both stepped aside together, giving him space to pass by between them. "She only started a few minutes ago. I'm sure she understands that you were busy."
"Yes, actually, thank you. I hope she won't mind that I'm late," Zac lied, this time returning the bowing gesture from both Summoners before he walked past them and into the interior gardens.
The morning sun hadn't yet reached its apex in the sky, and so he could still feel the cool chill of the early morning on the soft grass underneath his feet. There was a still, almost pristine sense to the land around him. The gardens seemed to be waking up too, preparing for what was to come later in the day.
"Sae eleisa tera vi phyla. Discover the meaning of tranquility. Feel the world around us, which is blooming into another day."
The closer he got to the inner sanctum of the garden, he could make out the large statue of two twin dragons that represented the land of Ionia. At its base, Karma, the Duchess of Ionia, shifted into a different meditative stance. At her side was Irelia, Captain of the Ionian Guard, who was doing her best to mimic the same stance along with several other people in regular clothes in front of them. At their sides on the ground were the purple robes all veteran Summoners owned, identically folded separate into a neat and respectful shape.
"Lath rian oune vi saera. Weave the threads of magic," Karma said, reciting one of the ancient Ionian mantras she always used on and off the rift. "We stand at one of many tips of our world. Feel the magic in the air around you."
Zac tried not to smirk at Irelia struggling to match the awkward stance in her full armor, while Karma was able to switch poses effortlessly in her dress. The four blades on her back were probably much heavier than the twin dragons on Karma's, although maybe that wasn't true, considering how fluidly Irelia could fight with them on the fields of justice. Then again, he had never asked what the two dragons on Karma's back weighed either.
Weighing his options, Zac stopped himself before he got too close where he would have to explain himself. Deviating off of the main pathway, his trudging steps lead him to a sand pit out of the way from the rest of the gardens. Polished granite squares rose out like monoliths from the golden sands, acting as platforms for anyone to use. In fact, three out of the six already had occupants on them.
Not saying a word, Zac raised his leg to step up onto a square before sitting down with a splat.
"I sense we have an unexpected guest." Lee Sin turned to him, relaxing and relieving himself from the stance he had been holding. Somehow the Blind Monk had been balancing the entire weight of his body on one leg, crossing the other over in the same way as if he were sitting cross legged. Lowering himself down to the ground slowly, he crossed his legs and sat down in the same position as Zac next to him.
"Allow me to welcome you to our little part of the Institute of War. May I ask what you have come for today?"
"Perspective," Zac decided, after thinking a bit.
Envelop still in hand, he threw it in the air at Lee Sin who caught it with no effort. Feeling it over with both of his hands for a second, he quietly slipped it into the front pocket of his training poom dobok. Still leading her group with their stances, Zac noted how Karma had glanced over at them both before going to back to her lecture.
"Karma had offered for me to come here in the past, but I didn't think much of it. But now I have some thoughts on my mind, and this seemed like a good place to get a second opinion."
"My thoughts? Hmm, well, I can certainly try," Lee Sin nodded. He then gestured to Orianna and Blitzcrank who were still sitting together, as still as stones as if they had been both turned off. The only signs that either were still operational was the decorative key handle slowly turning in Orianna's back, and the occasional puffs of steam rising out of the pipes of Blitzcrank's smokestacks. "Perhaps our other guests would be willing to share their thoughts as well?"
"We too are here to observe," Orianna explained, speaking (Zac assumed) for Blitzcrank and herself. "Many humans take time to reflect on their thoughts in the belief that it will better themselves. Though our bodies and minds are made from metal…"
"WE SEEK UNDERSTANDING," Blitzcrank blared, remaining unmoving like a large yellow rock. "A GOOD ROBOT DOES NOT IDLE. THIS IS AN EXPERIMENT. OBJECTIVE: FIND MORE ABOUT THE CONCEPTS OF HUMANITY."
Blitzcrank's head slowly turned to look at him, as did Orianna in synch.
"WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS, NON-HUMAN LIFEFORM?"
Both of them stared at him intensely, with their cold steel faces incapable of showing that they were really thinking. Despite that, he couldn't help but feel that there was an almost child-like curiosity behind the question being asked. There wasn't anything malicious behind Blitz's question, as far as he could tell. In fact, both the Steam Golem and Lady of Clockwork shared more in common with him than he had first realized. Whimsical creations of the most dominant species of their world, which had been later deemed independent, intelligent, and deserving of respect after some unique circumstances.
"I'm not sure how to say it."
"QUERY: WHAT ARE YOU ARE UNSURE OF?"
Zac resisted the urge to give a sarcastic answer, simply because he didn't know whether or not Orianna or Blitzcrank would understand it.
"I've been chosen to take part in something very...dangerous," he continued. Hesitating, he began to think more about it. How much should he divulge? He suspected that Lee Sin already knew everything, as did Karma and Irelia who were still attending their own business. If they were going to be working against him, could he convince them to help him? Would he be able to somehow make them accept the Institute's decision, and not resort to their own plans which were surely already being implemented long before the Garuda reached Ionian waters?
"It's something that could get a lot of people killed. I'm afraid that I won't be strong enough or smart enough to stop people from losing their lives in needless bloodshed."
"Such thoughts are perfectly normal, for any rational individual," Lee Sin commented. "I sense this is not just about protecting the innocent from the wicked. You hesitate because you want to remain true to your responsibilities, and the people who have placed their faith in you. Would you say that you have the courage to face their expectations?"
"I don't know about that," Zac said, more sure about that than anything else at that moment. "I don't know if I have the courage or resolve, but I know that a lot of powerful people are choosing to believe in me. I don't know if I can match those expectations."
"I'm surprised to hear that. I did not think a Champion as strong as you would willingly confess to such things."
"Yeah, well, we all have our moments of weakness," Zac said neutrally. Something in the back of his head reminded him of the Blind Monk's own past as a student of the Institute of War. One of the first, in fact, of a generation that had grown up smothered by the image the Institute promoted across the entire world. So maybe, like so many other Champions, there was more to his relations with the Institute than had been made public.
"Weakness? Hmph! The matters you speak of are matters of the mind and heart. You should not rely on the words of others when it comes to such things. A wise man looks at the world, and not what is just in front of him. Beware of those who lecture with unfounded confidence in their voices."
"Does that include you?" Zac felt compelled to ask, after thinking on the blind monk's words.
"Yes," Lee Sin answered without any hesitation. So much so that it actually impressed him. "My words are only my own. It is my hope that you will find the good in yourself to do what is right."
Honest words, spoken by something with a clear conscious about why he had chosen the words he had. It was the advice Zac had been looking for, but there was something about it that made him uneasy. Something he couldn't put in to words to describe.
The man next to him was one of the most famous men in the entire world. His own disability had been self-inflicted, as a form of protest against one of the most serious political strife in Valoran's history. Word of his own unique form of protest had gathered so much notoriety, that it had actually influenced the Institute of War into giving Ionia a second chance to fight against Noxus on the Fields of Justice. Not content with Ionia's victory, the moment he had recovered he immediately petitioned the Institute of War to be inducted as a Champion representing his home city-state. The Blind Monk. What was a crippling disability in the eyes of many was nothing but another character trait for him. To this very day, Lee Sin continued to be an extremely popular pick for every tier of Summoners throughout the League's ladder system. As well as a frequent ban, despite there being over one hundred other choices beside him.
He was sitting and conversing with a man who was a saint. A pariah. A god amongst men. Someone who had devoted his entire life toward aiding others, supporting those in need, and investing in humanity's potential for good in the miserable world they lived in.
But, despite knowing this, the feeling remained.
An animosity. A foreign distrust. A cold sensation, the seemed rooted in the core of his being.
Maybe, Zac wondered, what he was feeling was the origin of all conflicts in the world.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm fighting against the ocean. Every wave that gets pushed back, good or bad, will just come back eventually until it's too strong for anyone to do anything about."
"You are talking about the Institute of War, and the League of Legends, yes? You know that it exists for a 'greater good,' but you are distrusting of such idealistic claims."
Still sitting next to Blitzcrank, who remained silent, Orianna then spoke up.
"Human curiosity is limitless. Limitless, and dangerous. Imbued by hubris, humans seek knowledge they cannot use, and power they cannot control. Human greed has given birth to monsters like Nocturne and Fiddlesticks, and destroyed the lives of countless other intelligent life forms."
Orianna stopped speaking, taking a moment to reach around her own back and wind the large kay handle sticking out of her. Once. Twice. Three times in total, before looking over to Blitzcrank next to her. Small wisps of steam continued to gently rise out of the steam golem's twin smokestacks, as he remained silent and unmoving. As time continued to pass by, his mismatched eyes lit up with a dull glow.
"HUMANITY MUST LEARN CONTROL, IN ORDER TO REGAIN ITS DIGNITY."
"I agree. Humans are different from animals," Lee Sin said, standing up to retake the meditative stance he had held earlier as he spoke. "We are supposed to respect the lives of others, and yet, we are responsible for so much bloodshed. Directly and indirectly. Not only aggressors who pride themselves in their strength, but those who stand idle when forced to face the future."
Again, the blind monk's words stung ever so slightly. It wasn't that Zac believed his words were directed at him, as relevant as they might have been, but it was that he agreed with him that pained him the most.
"For all we may experience, humans like me live tragically short lives. Since one's own experiences are their own, it is hard to pass lessons on in ways that they can understand without having to bear similar burdens. It is my belief that the Institute of War was created for that purpose," Lee Sin continued, with no commentary toward Blitzcrank and Orianna's own contributions to their discussion. "The Institute is responsible for uniting humanity under its own common history. In the end, it may be impossible to tame the natures of so many different peoples. A single organization cannot embody the will of all humanity; but perhaps, over time, humanity will learn to curb its own selfishness by living in closer company with each other."
"Yeah. Sometimes I'm surprised that mankind has gotten as far as it has," Zac said, thinking back to Morgana's words a day ago.
If the things the fallen angel had said were all true, then short life spans and repeated mistakes were not as deeply linked as Lee Sin was implying. It made humanity's survival in the present more impressive, but hope for any positive change in the future seemed very grim.
Or maybe not. There was no reason to believe that angels and humans were linked in development, just because one could understand the other. There was no proof that one was inherently superior to the other too. Both were capable of love, hate, and misunderstandings. Flaws that living short lives or immortal ones would not help fix.
Just as Blitzcrank and Orianna were the first generation of their own kind, so too maybe all of the people around him were on the threshold of a new potential. Something birthed from the countless generations before, that had been forced to endure all manner of threats and terrors their entire lives. A new generation of humans, who could appreciate the value of the world they were born into? Appreciate the safety and security that the Institute of War provided. Could it be possible? Was hoping for something like that foolish?
Maybe it was all just a delusion he was entertaining to keep his mind off of his own troubles...
"You've come at last. I sensed you were looking for something. Have you found what you were seeking?"
Zac jumped a little at the interruption, a single wiggly vibration running all of the way up from his legs to his head. Standing in front of him was Karma herself, who had somehow managed to sneak away from her students without him noticing. Behind her he could see Irelia leading the group now, altering between the different forms taken in her unique hiten style of sword fighting.
"No," Zac mumbled, finding the uneasiness from before returning. The question she had asked him was simple and without hidden intent, but just the thought of it made him feel sick. "But… I'm trying. I think. I guess. I don't know," he stumbled, groaning as he did at his own clumsiness.
"SLOW ANSWER TO SIMPLE QUESTION. TAXED PROCESSORS DETECTED. SUGGESTION: RESTART TO CLEAR MEMORY?"
Zac shot Blitzcrank a glaring look for the stupid, but irritatingly accurate observation. Blitzcrank and Orianna said nothing, the pair finding nothing wrong with the steam golem's assessment. Next to him Lee Sin cracked a small smile, and Karma laughed gently at the suggestion.
"If only it were that simple. We have much to envy of machines," Karma said, turning back to look at Zac with the warm and gentle concern that was so off putting to him. "How about you two? Has your time here been enlightening?"
"This unit believes so. But, we will review the data of our observations later...together," Orianna said, looking to her compatriot who nodded as well.
"CORRECT. BASE ALGORITHMS OF HUMANITY ARE COMPLEX. IT WILL TAKE TIME TO DECODE…TOGETHER."
Oh boy. Understatement of the year, Zac thought to himself. Karma and Lee Sin both nodded in understanding, before turning back to him. For a brief second, he noticed Karma glance over at Lee Sin, as if to silently ask for him approval over something. If some message had been sent back, it was impossible to tell with the Blind Monk being who he was.
"Forgive me if this is too forward," Karma began suddenly, after the moment had passed. "Perhaps you know what I am going to say, but… I want to speak with you about this weapons deal that you've become a part of."
Oh boy, here it comes, Zac thought to himself again. Karma was still regarding him with a gentle concern that betrayed nothing of what she was really thinking. Maybe that was what made him so uncomfortable around her more than anything else. Being the duchess of Ionia meant more responsibilities and priorities than her quiet but willful demeanor ever let on. Calling her a snake seemed highly inappropriate, but at the same time, maybe it was just because he knew nothing about how far she would go as a leader for her people.
"Please excuse me for the interruption everyone. Secret Weapon?"
Without warning, a Summoner in his purple robes stepped out from the path and into the sand to join them. Zac looked at the Summoner, feeling a bead of sweat drip down his back as he recognized him as one of the two who had been posted to guard the entrance to the Twin Dragon Sanctum.
"Champion Ahri is waiting for you at the entrance with Champion Riven. She wants to speak with you about something."
Zac almost laughed at the first thought that sprung into his head at the news. It seem that today, salvation had come in the form of a charming soul eating monster, in company with a moody ex-soldier. Ahri may have had nine beautifully white tails, but she was the only thing he needed to slip away back into the Institute's protective halls.
"I guess I have to go then. I don't want to keep her waiting," Zac said to excuse himself. "I'm sorry we couldn't talk more, but I'm on borrowed time right now."
Repeating the same bowing gesture he had given the two Summoners before to both Karma and Lee Sin, he got up and hastily headed straight for the entrance where he could see Ahri was waiting for him. As he walked away, he knew that Karma was watching him go with a much steelier gaze than anything he had gotten before.
"Heya," was the first thing Ahri said, as she leaned against the entranceway frame lazily. "Did you miss me?"
"More than you'd believe," Zac said back, getting a deep smile out of her in return. "You're a lifesaver, you know that?"
"I can't say I get called that too much," she shrugged, still smiling as she did. "Was it really that bad?"
"More than you would believe," he said, realizing that what he had just said probably wasn't true. "There's something about her I can't put into words. Karma, I mean. It's just very off putting to me."
"You said it before, remember?" Ahri poked his arm with a finger, her sharpened nail digging into his goo. She watched a small bit of stringy slime stretch out when she pulled finger out of him. With a childish fascination and mischievous glimmer in her eyes, she licked her finger to taste it when he wasn't looking. "You told me you weren't a fan of people who were overly confident in themselves. Karma is just like that, you know? She's been through a lot in her life. It doesn't mean that she's secretly evil, or something."
"Yeah, I guess so," Zac conceded, more satisfied that they had walked far enough away from the Twin Dragon Sanctuary to constitute an escape. "I just don't think she understands people like me very well."
"Oh? And what kind of person are you?"
"I just want to live forever, or die trying."
"Why did they pick you?" Ahri asked Zac, for the tenth time since they had met up and escaped from the tranquil Twin Dragon Sanctum.
Not skipping a beat, Ahri had started barraging him with questions the moment they had left the Ionian Quarter of the Institute of War. Asking everything from what his plans were for the rest of the afternoon, what was his plan for their mission together, and whether he had eaten breakfast yet. In some respects it was an endearing display of concern he imagined Ahri rarely spared for anyone, yet, he couldn't help but wonder if half of the questions being asked weren't for her own satisfaction.
Following a few steps behind them both, Riven remained silent with a face that seemed distanced for everything else in the world. Zac's thoughts went back to the night before, still unable to really think of anything that could be said to pick up from where they had left off. Not that he wanted to bring it up anyway. Maybe it was the cool summer weather that had the Exile deep in her own thoughts, and getting involved with the key figures of Noxus was bringing up some musty memories of her past life too. Or maybe it was the fact that Ahri had worked some sort of magic and gotten her dressed in an outfit similar to her dynasty costume, hair pins and all.
More likely the latter, he mused to himself. But before he could think about the subject further, he felt Ahri tug on his arm again.
"Tell me at least," Ahri whispered, in a voice that wasn't nearly quiet enough for Riven not to hear. "Your secret is safe with me."
"There is no secret," Zac responded in his own defense, feeling that Riven's stare was intense enough to burn a hole in the back of his head. "There's nothing underhanded, no sneaky reasons. As far as I know, they're just exercising their judgment. I haven't been promised anything, and I'm not being paid off by them. Why do you keep asking?"
"Don't you get it? That's what the problem is."
Zac and Ahri both looked back over their shoulders at Riven, who had just spoken her first words since they had met up.
"Aren't you concerned at all? Jericho Swain is a man who always picks and chooses his battles. If he chose you, than he has something in mind."
"I know that much, at least. But the way we met was what got me thinking," Zac said back, trying at least to sound a little assuring. The last thing he needed was Riven's doubt hovering over them all when they would soon have masks to wear and roles to play out. "That's why I'm heading over there today. I need to keep looking."
"Looking for what?"
"Looking for what Swain thinks about his closest subordinates."
Riven crossed her arms. "Do you really think they'll reveal themselves to outsiders like us so easily?" she asked, doubtfully frowning as she did.
"I think you'll be surprised at their complacency here at the Institute."
"I'm not sure if you're joking or not."
"Neither am I. So let's just wait," he advised, continuing to walk with a confident stride in his step. "But if it makes you feel any better, I've got a few strings I can pull between them. If we can get them paranoid enough to fight each other, I think we'll be safe."
Ahri watched Riven let out a huff in resignation, before smiling devilishly to herself. Problems with a change in leadership? It would not be the first time.
Somewhere in their world there was waste. Destruction. Garbage. Pesticides. Toxic waste, magic radiation, and free enterprise to take advantage of it all. There were abominations roaming the land, dishing out wanton destruction without rhyme or reason. There was mediocrity in high governments, and self-interest too. There was trouble on the seas. There was trouble on the land. These were not mere delusions, and not something made up by some Institute of War clerk tasked with reinforcing the importance of the League of Legends in settling conflict in their world. The rune wars were over, and there was still no peace on their world. Nothing made sense and neither did everything else. Humans ran about doing things without knowing why and then tried to find out.
That's why she had decided, in secret, to stick with him. For now, at least.
There was something incredibly...odd, about the Secret Weapon known as Zac.
To anyone else who didn't know him as intimately as she had gotten to, Zac was as incredibly unique to Runeterra as his personality was incredibly boring. Aside from the adorable tough-guy attitude he always acted out on the Fields of Justice, outside of them there was no substance to him. No talents, no hobbies, and no particular interests to get a good reading on what he was thinking. He always spoke plainly; respective and diminutive, no matter whom he was talking to. Everyone got the same amount of respect, rationed out in a careful and clerical manner that made it clear that he could only stomach so much face to face interaction in one day. He was a show piece for the League's collection of Champions. An oddity to be gawked at by the faceless masses, constantly fighting against all manner of mages, heroes, assassins, monsters, and more.
But… Ever since she had started attaching herself to him, he had shown hints of a deeper and more cynical outlook on things. Things she did not think about. Which, of course, were things that she did not think he would think about.
That was something that caught her interest. Years of seducing and using people for her own ends had transformed her into a very good judge of character. The first few words out of a person's mouth were usually enough for her to get draw a picture of their character. Their depth and personality. Their potential value to her.
People who played the mysterious intellectual were a dime a dozen, just like those who pretended to be tough when they really weren't. Masks covering more masks. By all accounts there wasn't anything new or amazing about Zac, minus the fact that he was a giant green artificial life form.
That was all before a very peculiar thing had happened. Many peculiar things.
It had started with a case of mistaken identity. Really, aiming blindly had never been her strong suit. When she had heard him returning, an hour later in the dead of night, maybe she had let the anticipation of a little revenge dull her focus. Or maybe Zac had done the clever thing, and let Riven enter his apartment ahead of him suspecting a surprise attack. Regardless, the Charm spell cast into her essence orb had hit its mark. Albeit, the wrong mark standing in the doorway where her original target should have been.
Whisking away Riven's delirious body to her own home (with Zac in tow), she had offered him her roof to sleep under for the night in return for his silence over what had happened. She also promised to not use her powers on him to pry secrets in the future, and he promised that he would not say anything to anyone about what had happened.
But then the unexpected had happened.
For the first time in weeks she had slept soundlessly through the entire night. Even though she was sharing a bed with someone who was particularly clingy when they slept, not once was she plagued by the any of the lucid dreams and nightmares that had been haunting her. The strange and deathly realistic visions she had been having over the last weeks, that had slowly been wearing her soul down. They were like clairvoyant glimpses into another world, with how real they seemed, and they always left her in a cold sweat afterward.
There were no answers to them, and there were no signs of their cause. She had spent a week in the Institute of War's finest medical facilities, only for them to tell her that there was nothing wrong with her. She had insisted that they keep looking, but they were just as insistent that she was in perfect health. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her, except her lack of respect for professional esteem when she flirted with every male doctor and male orderly working there.
The Institute did not look kindly upon her salacious frivolity. Having the nerve to even complain that she should feel ashamed for pretended to be sick when she wasn't. Prattling on in moral tirades, even going as far to point out how there were people elsewhere in the world less fortunate than herself. As if her being ejected from their care would change that.
There was no proof that he had helped her in any way with her nightmares. But in her experiences, there were no coincidences in the Institute of War. Things happened for reasons no one understood, and there was no time for indecision or hesitation. She had seen things pass people by so fast, with such blinding pace that it numbed the senses from doing anything about it. If he was the answer to a problem she couldn't solve, then she would have to do took to make sure he stayed that way.
"Halt! State your name and business!"
Zac, Ahri, and Riven stopped themselves as a pair of Summoners approached them well beyond the first set of polished iron gates that lead deeper into the Noxian Quarter. The trio stopped too, and both looked and waited expectantly to see how Zac would respond in turn.
The Noxian Quarter of the Institute of War was, to put it simply, an entire military facility unto itself. Maybe it was to be expected, Ahri mused, since the supreme commander of the Noxian military resided there to both compete in the League of Legends and do...things...away from home.
The different quarters for each city-state had their unique charms pulled from each respective culture, but the Noxian Quarter was practically a military base inside of the Institute's own fortress. Unlike the Twin Dragon Sanctum which had only covered over the existing space with an Ionian flare, the so-called Ivory Barracks was always under construction. It was no surprise that with every addition or change to it, Demacia made one to their own part of the Institute. This cycle had started from the first week of the Institute's founding, and as a result, the two opposite sides of the Institute always seemed to have major and minor construction going on during all hours of the day and night. Just another something that added to the character of the Institute of War in general.
So too, the Summoners that worked in the Noxian Quarter were very different from the ones that staffed the Ionian section of the Institute of War. Ignoring the swords on their backs, sheathed but not with no effort made to conceal their existence, it was clear that they had been trained as soldiers first and mages second. An interesting but not unexpected take on things, Ahri mused.
"Independent Champion Zac, here to follow up on my recruitment for a job," Zac responded with some degree of rehearsed authority. "I'm here to see Jericho Swain."
"Did you schedule a meeting with the Grand General?"
"No, but he should be expecting me."
Keeping on eye on them from where he stood, the Summoner that had stopped them looked back to his partner and nodded. The gesture was returned, and the other Summoner entered the gates of the Noxian Quarter to relay the message.
"He'll return in a little. Until then, we ask that you wait here."
"Understood," Zac answered neutrally, taking a step back and folding his arms around his back carefully. Suddenly, he felt a slight tug on his antenna that ran back down his head as Riven whispered sharply into his ear.
"Do you really have a plan?" Riven asked, with a hint of aggravated embitterment that didn't have to do with how Ahri had dressed her.
"Yes, trust me on this," he whispered back, quietly enough so as to not seem too suspicious to the armed guard only a few steps in front of them.
"Are you telling me the truth?"
"To the best of my ability."
"You're not hiding anything?"
"Not as far as I can tell."
"...Would you even tell me if you were?"
"I would tell you if I could. It would depend."
"On what?"
"If I could tell you the truth or not," Zac said, noting how the other Summoner stationed at the gate was already returning. He was not coming alone.
"Would you tell us the truth?" Ahri cut in, giving him an unnecessarily pouty face as she did.
"You're both assuming I know what it is."
"Would you lie to us?"
"I would have to know the truth first."
"So you're being honest with us?" Ahri beamed happily. Riven shot her a dirty look, probably for indulging Zac and stealing her interrogation away from her.
"That would probably be a good idea right now," Zac confessed, recognizing the large walking hulk of spiked steel armor lumbering at them. He could hear him coming from a mile away, with his steel boots clanking against the stone floor along with the rest of his armor that fit together ergonomically despite its intimidating bulk.
Darius, the Hand of Noxus, pushed aside the heavy iron gates effortlessly, continuing his loud march toward them. The blood red cape that contrasted his armor trailed behind him, blowing on its own somehow and making him seem even more intimidating. The other Summoner at the gate took a step back and snapped off a salute, and Darius returned it quickly before waving him off and back to his post.
"You took your time, didn't you?" Darius muttered, scowling in a reproachful way that reminded Zac a little too much of the battle bunny behind him. "Was your tardiness from your cowardice to come here?"
"That's none of your business. I came in the end, like he predicted," Zac answered, crossing his arms in front of himself and trying to match Darius' own frown with his own. "Are you here to escort me to him?"
"You're rather talkative knowing that you won't be killed." He watched Darius glance and Ahri and Riven briefly, moving his lips as if he had just gotten a disgusting taste in his mouth. "I've been ordered to escort you to the Grand General's office. Come with me."
"Hold it, I'm coming with him," Riven demanded suddenly. Zac felt himself shooting her a glare for her unneeded interference. He watched Darius' scowl only deepen.
"You?" Darius looked as if he getting sick at the sight of her. "You have no place here, deserter. The only place cowards like you deserve to be is on an executioner's chopping block."
"Cowardice!?" Riven hissed the word as she said it. The shock and dismay at the accusation was masked by her complete contempt and disgust for the word. Zac knew the situation was going to slip out of his control, unless he did something soon to stop the two from coming to blows.
"You would dare use that word with me!? I did not abandon those men! My men died because of our military's reliance on Zaunite lunatics and their toys!"
"The excuses of a beaten dog. You take what Noxus gave you, and use your talents like a whore to fight for the highest bidder," Darius said back, his voice cold and riddled with disgust that came from the core of his being. "Fighting here as an independent Champion! If you had any love for Noxus left in your heart, you would kill yourself to help us erase the shame of your failures."
"Enough!" Zac interrupted, before Riven could escalate things further. He could only imagine Darius' head being split open like an egg if Riven could not think of a proper answer that satisfied her as well. Someday he wouldn't mind seeing it, but this was not the time.
"I don't give a damn about either of your histories, or what you think about each other. Darius, you will take me to Swain. Now!"
At first he wasn't sure whether or not giving a direct command to Darius would backfire and make the Noxian standoff worse. Worse, in that he would be on the receiving end of a steel fist or blade of a large war axe. Mercifully, whatever training his former superiors had instilled into the Hand of Noxus during his earlier years kicked into gear, breaking the mood of Darius and reminding him of his discipline and orders.
"Hmph," Darius grunted, turning his back to them and marching back into the Noxian Quarter on his own.
"Riven… Just trust me. Trust me on this one thing." Zac did not turn to face her when he spoke. He did not bother to look at how mad she was, either at him or Darius. He knew that Ahri would take care of her, help her calm down, without him having to ask.
"I'll be back in a little."
Not bothering to wait for an answer, Zac left to trail behind Darius to go deeper into the Noxian Quarter of the Institute of War.
It was an odd time to think about it, but it was almost fascinating how the man in front of him was capable of moving freely in steel armor that could measure to be several inches thick in certain places. All over his entire body, no less. On the Fields of Justice, there were many different Champions who fought and died from magic powers granted to them that they did not possess off of it. Zac had to wonder whether or not Darius was actually more threatening off of the Fields than he was on it.
Then again, the fact that he was wearing at least two hundred pounds of steel armor, but no helmet, would come to bite him harder in the real world too.
Together they passed through decorative gardens, monumental statues, and the like. Scenery that seemed less hardened than what he would have expected from some place for high ranking Noxian military members. Finally, after passing through several checkpoints, Darius stopped in front of a large set of double doors. The two Noxian soldiers posted gave a salute, before swiftly opening the door to them.
A large space in the form of a staff room, far bigger than he had imagined possible appeared, causing Zac to gape silently. The ceiling inside could measure two levels tall, and were being held up by four separate round pillars spiral shaped carvings in them. There was an oil painting hanging above a wall mounted fireplace, and the curtains draped on both left and right windows at the opposite end of the room gave a solemn feeling that was hard to tell if they were antiques. Even the ceiling lights (and their covers) had similar carvings that showed the delicate skill of the craftsman. All the furniture showed some form of balance, and yet, a luxury that one might mistake to be nobility in a palace.
Despite looking antique, it had no resemblance to any designs he had seen in his life. Zac was overwhelmed by this scene that could only be described as Noxian as he remained stunned. Certain parts of the Institute had an antique feel, but it was different. If the Institute of War could be described as being based on luxury, this would give goose bumps while looking like it was meant to intimidate others. An expression of culture and class strictly unique to the upper crust of Noxus. It did not make Zac feel fear or uneasy, just weird as he stared at the anomaly sitting right in front of him.
"I was told that this room is a replica of the first command center put together by the high command. Sometimes you have to accept other people's kind intentions, regardless of your own preferences."
From the distance it was hard to tell who exactly was behind the desk stationed all the way across the room. Was it the armored robes, or the roughly aged man wrapped in them speaking? Swain continued as he stared at the silent Zac, who continued to walk toward his desk with Darius now at his side behind him.
"Although it doesn't actually fit my tastes, I think adaptation is one of the required qualities of a leader."
Before Zac could respond, he could feel Swain's stare go past him and right at Darius'. "I know these last weeks have been tough on you, my old friend. You do not have to accompany us here."
On hearing this, Darius answered, "Yes, Grand General." His heavy voice echoed through the room. Without another word spoken, and without even a parting glance, Darius walked out of the room leaving Zac and Swain alone.
Jericho Swain. The Grand General of Noxus, and leader of the Noxian High Command. Although he had orchestrated the meeting, it felt surreal having a private audience with one of the most respected and feared men on the entire Valoran continent. How suddenly things could change, when only hours ago someone he had been verbally abused and tasted like he was some sort of dessert gelatin. Maybe it was the nature of the Institute of War itself that caused such things to happen. Some sort of power to make the big world a little bit smaller.
"What is it? Please take a seat."
The unexpectedly earnest voice came from behind the mask, causing Zac's mind to rid itself of its arranged thoughts. There wasn't anything else he could say or do, so walked over and sat on the sofa beside a brick fireplace mounted into the wall. A soldier wearing a white servant uniform immediately closed in and poured red tea into the teacup on the table. As the servant left without looking at him, Zac sensed that there was another stare looking at him.
Evaine LeBlanc, Matron of the Black Rose Society, stood behind Swain shaded by the lack of sun coming from the large windows behind her. Despite her wild and flashy fashion sense, her presence was covered by Swain in front of her. So much so that Zac had not noticed her until then. Perhaps she was deliberately trying to keep a low profile as she stood behind him. Either way, the stare LeBlanc was giving him was exceptionally tight when compared to Swain's, intimidating Zac a little. The servant walked out of the room, and the ones left to talk to were him and Swain.
Still sitting at his desk in front of him, Swain did not say anything. He put his arms on the table, locking his fists and using them to support his chin, giving a machine-like stare at Zac. He could not tell what either stares were looking for, and instead of being fearful, he found himself wanting to know what kind of people they were, and how they intended to deal with him.
"Did you know I was coming?" Zac asked.
"What will you say if I did? Is it strange to have tea with people who have killed you, and you have killed in turn? Young Zac."
There was a hint of ridicule in his voice, and both of their stares continued to cling onto him. Zac understood that his body and mind were being probed, and reacted simply by reaching for the tea in front of him and putting it to his lips. The flavor and aroma tasted familiar, and even the heat as well. "Hmm. Good response." Swain's voice could be heard clearly.
Swain casually got up, making his way around his own desk slowly and got closer to where Zac was sitting. Zac's eye was caught by the black rose in a vase, the only decoration on the desk of the Grand General. Up till now, the black rose had been swallowed by the presence of the master tactician and deceiver behind him. In this room that was covered with artificial things, this was an unnatural colored flower that asserted itself in his mind more than anything else.
"It is good that we can finally meet in a more formal setting. Although I did not extend an invitation, I had hoped you would make the effort to come here."
Swain stood in front of Zac and reached his right hand out, while Zac hurriedly look back at him. He was about to inadvertently respond to Swain, only to clench his hand that was about to reach out. No, don't fall into his pace.
Zac felt a pulsating pain from his temples as he said cautiously, "It might be rude to ask, but is that mask really used for hiding a wound?"
Swain showed an unexpected expression on his face as he put his hand away. LeBlanc over his shoulder gave a more menacing glare, and Zac stared straight at the eyes of the master tactician.
"If that's not the case, I would like to see your face."
"You dare…!" LeBlanc muttered as she stepped forward, but Swain raised his free hand to stop her.
"It's alright, Matron. I know this young man is just talking about basic etiquette."
LeBlanc stopped in her tracks, her resentful and testing stare unrelenting despite Swain's words.
"I suppose everything I wear is part of a fashion statement. I might say it can be considered a method of propaganda, since I have an image to maintain. Sometimes I wonder if I'm scrutinized more at the Institute of War than in my own homeland."
Reaching up with the same hands he had used to stop LeBlanc, he pulled at the fabric covering his face firmly. Dragging it simply and cleanly down to his neck, he revealed a nose bridge that formed with nice lines and not as worn and aged as the rest of his body. What seemed the most outstanding, was that everything below his cheekbones reflected nothing similar to the rest of his body. The body of a man who had crossed countless battlefields, and subjected himself to different arcane magics of all types. The rumor about Noxian officers dabbling in necromancy to extend their natural lives crossed Zac's mind, but he decided to shelve it for another day.
"I forgot to take it off because no one would honestly ask like you have. My apologies."
Swain reached his hand out again. This time, there was no reason to refuse as Zac extending his own to shake firmly. The hand under the glove felt rather hard, causing Zac to remember the first impression of a wooden doll or puppet, Or maybe it was simply that he was still worried about getting up caught in the other party's pace. Zac decided to control himself, again, as he held back from letting his thoughts drift further.
Swain stepped back towards his table, and spoke, "There's still a lot about you I do not understand. I was not expecting you to be so comfortable accepting my offer, when we spoke earlier. Maybe I've underestimated your strength of character, but I find it very strange how quick you were to accept."
"I see where you're coming from, so please let me make it clear. I have no stance on anything we talked about." Zac sat back down slowly, making sure to gingerly pick up the small tea cup from its saucer without spilling its contents. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm just filling my obligations as an independent Champion in the League."
Swain stared at Zac curiously, scratching his chin as he did. "Is that so?"
He did not let go of the moment, narrowing his eyes and continuing, "But what if you were already planning on accepting my offer because someone had put you up to it. That would fit your view of things, but could mean a lot of problems for me. How about that?"
"Do I have a duty to answer that?"
Zac's heart had raced for a second when Swain had revealed what he already knew, and he mentally kicked himself for his clumsiness. Less than stellar response aside, it shouldn't have been a surprise that the master tactician probably had people shadowing him throughout the Institute. Ironically, Swain had probably pieced together the truth accidentally when he had been with Luxanna briefly yesterday afternoon. A classic mistake of wrong evidence leading to the correct conclusion.
Sharp footsteps could be heard as LeBlanc started walking towards him. Her hand was gripped on her staff, with the multi-faceted crystals dimly glowing. Her expression wore her old poker face, but behind it he could sense her killing intent. On and off the Fields of Justice, Zac often saw monsters and people alike showing such an expression with the powers to commit to it. As he felt this icy feeling from the bottom of his gut, Swain interjected, "That's enough, Evaine."
Her tense-looking brows forced out wrinkles as she stopped herself grudgingly. She then turned her back to both of them, a prideful display that was meant to doubly show her disdain for him. The first impression Zac had of LeBlanc seemed relatively spot on, as did the choice words Ahri had used earlier.
Swain waited to make sure LeBlanc's temper had been satiated, and continued, "You don't have a duty to answer."
"However, we still want information on your goals. It's because you are willing to babysit two of my subordinates that we're speaking in this gentle manner. I hope you remember this."
It was an obviously threatening line, but it seemed more insulting than anything else. A personal joke between the two of them, symbolic of the fact that they were using each other to their own ends. Remembering his original goal in this meeting, Zac clenched his sweaty hands and answered, "Someone once told me that the Institute of War would never last. That humans from different cultures are incapable of cooperation, even for their own survival. I want to prove her wrong."
Zac watched Swain glance back at LeBlanc momentarily, perhaps wondering if Swain thought he was referring to her. Frowning doubtfully, he scratched his chin in thought once more.
"The League of Legends is the most cooperative initiative humanity has made in our history," Swain merely continued without wavering. "For someone to not believe in it, they are either cynical or distrust humans themselves."
"I wish it were that simple," Zac sighed, unwilling to say any more on the subject. Having had more time to think about it in hindsight, everything that had happened in Sinful Succulence a day ago had been strangely surreal. The fact that Morgana had opened up to him so suddenly for their first real meeting stood out as the most peculiar fact. Maybe there was something about immortal angels that caused them to spill their guts out to mortals who were willing to sit silently and listen.
"Then, do you believe what the angels say?"
Again, Swain already knew exactly what he had been referring to without Zac having said anything more incriminating. Swain stared at the speechless Zac as he gradually continued.
"It's no secret that the power the Institute of War wields is in part from knowledge brought by those two angels. Do you believe that, perhaps in secret, we owe the stability of our world to them, and we should take their word on such matters?"
"Well… I don't know," Zac was forced to admit. "I wouldn't be surprised if both of them have knowledge or information that could cause our world to collapse. Since they are immortal, their kind could have destroyed this world a long time ago."
"You would think so, wouldn't you? I'm sure the angels have had their fair share of conquests over lesser creatures in their own world. I find it hard to believe that humans, who have such short life spans, are responsible for mediating peace between their kind."
That was something he had never considered. The stories about all of the different Champions that took part in the League ranged from dreadful horrors to feats of fantasy. Most of the stories he knew had to be taken with a grain of salt, considering the Institute of War constantly worked to build up the reputation of its Champions to legendary levels of fame and notoriety. But thinking about it now, assuming Morgana had been telling the truth, how had the Institute of War crossed between dimensions and stopped a civil war between beings who were superior to humans in almost every way?
"I understand that everything that goes on in the Institute of War shouldn't be taken for face value. I also know that the collective powers investing in Institute all have something they want to gain in return for their time and money. I just feel that, while it's not perfect, the Institute of War and the League can last to uphold the ideals that caused its founding."
Zac would never have thought of saying such things when he was with Ahri or Riven before, and he was shocked that he was expressing himself so fluidly like this.
"Hmm. You see the Institute of War as a vessel then? Something that carries with it the thoughts of intellectuals who were trying to prevent the destruction of this world." Swain began to walk back with a stroll-like pace to his desk. "Such a wish is more than possible, I would say. Although discerning the intentions of others isn't as simple as memorizing a timeline of past events. In the future, I'd advise you to remember that Noxians were not always a people who worshipped the military lifestyle. As I said before, I think adaptation is one of the required qualities of a leader."
That unexpected line was tossed at Zac so casually that it caused him to answer back with only silence. Seating himself at his desk slowly, LeBlanc had followed him back to stand a step behind him in the shadows.
"You still have a lot to learn, young man. I hope you'll be open to understand more about us. After that, I'll be grateful if you can be of outstanding assistance to us."
As soon as Swain had finished, the doors behind them opened up with Darius entering the room once more. Seeing that his time was up, Zac made an effort to finish the last of the tea served to him before getting up to leave. Before walking out he glanced one more time at the black rose, the lone flower sitting idle behind the two humans responsible for its symbolic might.
"I wish you luck on your journey, young man," was the last thing Swain said to Zac before he left the room. He was unable to tell if those words were meant to be sincere, when LeBlanc just behind Swain was still staring at him with a cold and heinous look in her eyes.
As the door closed behind him, LeBlanc inadvertently sighed. She checked herself for giving into the strange pressure she had felt. Still feeling a little enraged at the lack of respect that had been done right in front of her, she asked Swain, "Was that alright?"
"This is a test for him as well. Let us see if he passes or fails it on his own."
Swain answered with an emotionless expression. Despite everything that had happened, including the changes to their lives from living in the Institute as Champions, their thoughts could still connect. LeBlanc felt relieved by how she could feel what Swain was thinking, and recalled that it was not the same when Zac had been around. Maybe that was what she had felt antagonized by. Incensed by having something she liked taken away from her without warning or knowing why. He never bothered to even introduce me when that thing was around…
"I'm more concerned about Demacia's movements compared to this. According to how the situation goes, we may have to open negotiations with Zaun again."
LeBlanc did not know if her feelings had reached Swain who stated some pragmatic things. "You mean about investing in hextech?" she asked.
"Our demand for innovative weapons will be reduced in the future. Once we stop showing favoritism to Zaun, they might begin to get desperate. Then it's only a matter of time before the political partnership they offer us disappears in turn."
"You mean that Demacia will ask Piltover to do something?"
"That is a very high possibility. I don't trust Zaun to have enough foresight to plan out their future. That city-state and all of its inhabitants could become cancerous for Noxus in the future."
If we're renegotiating our contracts with Zaun, then it must mean he's going to go through with the changes we went over. Less funding for mindless projects of empty headed scholars, and the delusions of mad scientists. A revival of the magical arts and sciences in Noxus, and a blow to the order of red-blooded fools. The time to shed the sheepskin of the stale and rotting nobility is here. The time for the Black Rose to revive has arrived! LeBlanc secretly held back the rising sensation in her heart as she stared at this man who was the king of their world. The boy who she had known and been forced to part with so many years ago. Now she was a woman, and he was a man. Together, it seemed like they were finally ready to begin shaping the world together.
Swain took the black rose and put it near his lips, lowering his head as he continued, "How is the investigation of the Order of the Shadows going?"
"We're using the information the Institute of War provided. We've made some interesting discoveries."
"The Master of Shadows and the Dark Sovereign, you mean? It's strange, isn't it?"
LeBlanc though she could smell of the rose from where she was standing. "Hmm?"
At that moment, Swain stood up and said, "The Institute said that those two have begun working together recently. There's nothing in their common history that implies that either Zed or Syndra would put aside their pride to work together. I want our intelligence group to hurry up with their analysis. I have a hunch about something else I'll need them to investigate."
Swain slowly handed over the black rose in his hands over to LeBlanc, who began following behind him as he went to leave. She could see his shoulders were showing fatigue, even underneath the fabric and armor of his robes. "I'll be sure to tell them for you." LeBlanc straightened her back out of respect as she watched Swain leave from his office.
Once his back disappeared from the closing doors and out of sight, LeBlanc finally looked back at the rose she received.
The black roses her order had named itself after were an unnatural phenomenon in the world. The result of the ancient arcane magic the land around Noxus had been tainted with, in the days before the city-state had formed an identity. They were hard to obtain from so far way, even a single stalk of rose. This one had been ordered from a florist in the surrounding city, one of many brought in from Noxus to be seen if they could be cultivated near to the Institute of War. She had begun making an effort to put a new rose on Swain's table at least twice a week. I wonder if Swain noticed that I'm the one who chose the vase too? LeBlanc suddenly thought as she turned her stare back to the vase that was standing there in a lonely manner.
"He's so tired, and yet wants to bear so much responsibility…"
Again, LeBlanc looked back at the rose in her hands. The deep black pedals that represented the endless potential of magic cultivated by humans. Our color… The color of the abyss that burns in our bodies. This is the color of people who have seen the potential of magic, and live in this world with destiny on their backs.
LeBlanc could not control her impulse, as she crushed the stem of the rose.
"He actually let that...thing...see his real face!"
The blood dripped from her fist, flowing down the stem and staining the floor.