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The Next Morning
Documents titled "Trifarix Decree" were affixed to every corner of the Immortal Bastion, spreading from the capital throughout Noxus.
"In the name of Council President Ryan Meredith, Darius, the Hand of Noxus, and Swain, the Vision of Noxus, we jointly declare that the glorious empire has entered a new era," the decree proclaimed.
In the southern district of the Immortal Bastion, a female soldier with a single eyepatch, wavy brown hair cascading in curls, and tattoos etched across her bare arms stood reading the proclamation. Her voice rang clear as she read aloud.
"Samira, the war is about to stop," said Indali, a fellow soldier standing beside her in a sharp Noxian officer's uniform.
Indali gestured to the lines beneath the announcement, her voice taking on a solemn tone as she read:
"To the people: As of today, from the distant sands of Shurima to the shores of Ionia, the countless wars waged under the reign of Boram Darkwill have come to an end. The empire will no longer squander its treasury on fruitless victories. Unpredictable battles fought without purpose have drained us for too long. Our warriors will no longer sacrifice themselves needlessly for fleeting glory."
Samira scoffed, her sharp grin betraying her disbelief.
"The next war is just a matter of time. War runs through the veins of every Noxian," she said.
"Knowledge, strength, and vision are what true Noxians revere above all else. And war... war refines all three."
Indali studied her friend's face, her expression softening.
"What are your plans?" she asked.
The two had fought together for years. Indali knew Samira well enough to understand that while she was born in Shurima, her heart and spirit were entirely Noxian.
Samira smirked, brushing a lock of hair from her face.
"Me? Maybe I'll join the Trifarix warband. Or become a mercenary. I'll wait for the empire's next conquest."
She shrugged nonchalantly but with a glint of thrill in her eyes.
Indali, however, remained quiet. War had worn her down in ways Samira didn't yet feel.
Coincidentally, the announcement also mentioned the establishment of a new War Academy in the Immortal Bastion.
It would be led by none other than Ryan Meredith himself, serving as its inaugural dean.
Perhaps, Indali thought, she could find a new purpose there.
Samira seemed to notice her friend's hesitation.
"I get it," she said, her voice softening slightly.
"Maybe after today, we'll part ways. But hey, wherever we go, we'll still serve the empire. And the next time I'm back here after a mission, we'll share a drink like old times."
Indali smiled faintly, appreciating the sentiment.
Scenes like this played out across the Immortal Bastion that morning. Every Noxian knew that the war, which had raged for nearly a decade, was finally coming to an end.
There might still be skirmishes on the outskirts, but the grand, costly campaigns that had drained the empire's coffers and its people would become a thing of the past.
The Trifarix Council announced a series of reforms aimed at improving livelihoods.
Soldiers were reassigned to infrastructure projects, scholars prepared to contribute to the empire's vast knowledge, and merchants looked forward to stability that might foster trade.
Yet, despite the optimism, the establishment of the War Academy—was the hottest topic of all.
Hearing its name, every Noxian understood that war was never truly gone; it was merely waiting. Waiting for a better time.
Aspirants had already begun inquiring about admission, and parents were eager to send their children to the academy, hoping they might become the next great leaders of Noxus.
The streets buzzed with excitement as the empire seemed poised for a new chapter.
Elsewhere, within the chambers of the Trifarix Council, the air was tense.
In the seat once reserved for the Emperor, now claimed by the Council, LeBlanc lounged comfortably.
The faintest trace of a smirk tugged at her lips as she toyed with a quill.
"Many have come to me, asking for favors. Hoping I will raise my hand on their behalf," she murmured, her tone both amused and dismissive.
The shadows of the Immortal Bastion seemed to dance around her as she leaned back, her smirk widening.
"Fools," she whispered, her voice laced with malice.
The council hall was eerily quiet today. Only LeBlanc and Swain occupied the grand chamber, the once-crowded space now desolate.
"We've only eliminated five families, and yet they can't keep still?" Swain remarked flatly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"They were hailed as heroes of the empire, yet they were slaughtered by Draven. A true disgrace to Noxus."
LeBlanc leaned back in her chair, an amused expression playing across her face.
"They enjoyed the blessings of their lineage," she replied.
"Darkwill demanded loyalty, while the Trifarix demands talent."
She tapped her fingers idly against the armrest, her tone analytical.
"The children of nobles vary in quality, but their rights originate from imperial decree. They're easier to control. Talented individuals, however—like Ryan, Darius, and yourself—are far more dangerous. They are the very forces that can topple empires."
Swain raised his gaze to the obsidian throne at the center of the room, an unflinching indifference in his expression.
Hewn from a single block of dark stone, the throne stood as a stark, angular symbol of Noxian rule.
Imperial banners hung alongside it, their crimson and black colors illuminated by the flicker of candlelight on towering candelabras.
Compared to yesterday, one fewer seat was occupied.
And in the future, no one would sit there again.
"Power stems from ability," Swain said, his deep voice resonating through the chamber.
"Fools only rot the empire from within. It is the glory of every Noxian son and daughter to inherit wealth and status, but power must be earned. It is forged through their struggle."
He gestured to the proclamation. "That message, prominently displayed in the announcement, will resonate with the people. Noxians will understand."
LeBlanc's demeanor today was one of calculated compliance, her posture resembling that of a loyal assistant to Swain.
She seemed a far cry from the enigmatic and manipulative Pale Lady. Yet Swain knew better—she was still playing her own game, her motives as opaque as ever.
It didn't matter to him. As long as the great fortress of the Trifarix loomed above the Immortal Bastion, Noxus belonged to the council.
And even if that fortress fell, Swain's crows would ensure the empire endured.
"Darkwill clung to stagnant traditions," Swain mused.
"But the Trifarix will ensure Noxus's steps never falter. The war may end, but our march will not. How are the preparations for the War Academy?"
LeBlanc's crimson lips twisted slightly, her voice betraying a hint of bitterness.
"By the Council's decree, it will be constructed twenty miles west of the Immortal Bastion, on the ruins of the Black Rose Academy."
Her words carried an undercurrent of resentment. That site had once been her domain—a proving ground for her experiments, housing secrets vital to her plans.
But now, thanks to Ryan's meddling, the academy had been seized by the council, its purpose repurposed for the empire.
"You're wasting that girl's talent," Swain said, his scarlet eyes narrowing.
"She belongs on the battlefield."
LeBlanc arched an eyebrow. "I, too, am eager to see her potential unfold. But with the arrival of the President's new protégé, she's no longer as important."
"Councillor Syndra," Swain intoned, his tone measured.
"Her current power is approaching that of a demigod."
Swain's scarlet gaze was unwavering.
"She represents the pinnacle of Noxian strength—the only one among us who has reached such heights."
Heroes are forged through mastery of body, mind, and skill. But beyond these masters lies another realm, a rarefied echelon of power.
To stand alongside gods, ordinary beings must transcend their limits.
These extraordinary entities, revered and feared, are called by a single name:
Ascended.
"The world is fickle," LeBlanc murmured, her voice carrying a touch of irony.
"I encountered her in Ionia once. Back then, she was little more than a brute consumed by raw force. Her mastery was limited, her potential unrealized."
She sighed, shaking her head. "Now, she wields her power with precision and control, like a true sorceress of unparalleled skill."
It was Syndra's rise that unnerved LeBlanc more than anything else, driving her to submit—at least for now.
If it were just Syndra or Ryan individually, she could manage them. But together, they presented an insurmountable threat.
For now, her best course was to outmaneuver them in the long term.
Through the towering windows of the parliamentary hall, LeBlanc gazed at the fortress that loomed high above the Immortal Bastion.
Her crimson eyes narrowed as her lips curled into a smile, sharp and dangerous like the thorns of a rose.
Patience, she reminded herself. Time was on her side.