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The first thing that caught Ezreal's eyes as the grand doors swung open was the throne, seated at the deepest and highest point of the chamber.
The throne was draped in banners, each bearing the insignias of supremacy. Yet, it stood vacant, abandoned, as if no one would ever claim it.
His gaze then shifted to the towering white stone pillars, their sheer enormity dominating the council hall. These pillars, carved with meticulous precision, served as the backbone of the structure, drawing the attention of all who entered.
The emptiness of the hall, accentuated by the solemn grandeur of the pillars, created an air of reverence and silence.
At the heart of the chamber was a colossal black round table. Surrounding it were three prominent seats, each adorned with distinct emblems: a book, a crow, and a battle axe.
Two of these seats stood empty. The third, marked by the symbol of the crow, was occupied.
The three main seats faced outward, their craftsmanship flawless, each flanked by rows of smaller, equally intricate chairs. Some were plain, while others bore engraved patterns or family crests. Most of these seats remained vacant, save for one.
Camille, who had shared the airship with Ezreal and his companions, sat in one of the smaller seats.
The crest of the Ferros family gleamed on the back of her chair.
She had disappeared shortly after the airship landed, and Ezreal hadn't expected to see her here.
Ezreal's breathing quickened as he took in the weighty atmosphere of the hall.
It was suffocating—far more so than the council chambers of Piltover.
His eyes darted back to the occupied main seat. There sat a dignified, white-haired man—a noble of unmistakable stature.
He held a dossier in his hands, his expression calm but commanding.
Perched on the back of his chair were crows, their crimson eyes glinting like rubies as they stared unblinkingly at the newcomers.
Ezreal felt as though the very act of looking at the man stole the air from his lungs. He had never encountered someone of such immense presence before.
This was no ordinary noble. This was a man who wielded true power—an empire's worth of it.
Compared to this, Piltover's councillors were little more than village elders squabbling over petty disputes.
Ezreal forced a stiff smile, his mind racing. His hands and feet felt disconnected, his movements clumsy.
What was he supposed to do in such a situation?
Should he kneel and proclaim, "Long live the commander!"?
No, that was far too sycophantic.
Perhaps a casual wave and a chipper, "Good afternoon!" in the Piltover fashion?
Absolutely not—that would be embarrassingly frivolous.
Damn it, what do I do?!
As Ezreal wrestled with his internal debate, Xin Zhao stepped forward, having just finished delivering his report.
The white-haired man—Swain—finally set the dossier aside. His piercing gaze shifted to the newcomers.
"Viktor, the pioneer of mechanical ascension. Ezreal, the explorer blessed by fortune," Swain said, his voice steady and devoid of emotion.
With just one sentence, he revealed their identities, each word imbued with a subtle weight that made Ezreal's knees threaten to buckle.
Swain was not a man to offer warmth or friendliness. There were few in the world who could claim to have ever seen that side of him.
Even now, his ordinary glance carried a force that made Ezreal feel as though he were being crushed under an unseen weight.
In Swain's crimson eyes, Ezreal thought he glimpsed something more—a swirling abyss of crows and darkness, an endless feast of chaos that loomed far beyond mortal comprehension.
"Commander Swain," Viktor spoke, his voice calm and even, as though the oppressive atmosphere had no effect on him.
"Your reputation precedes you."
The faint glow of Hextech in Viktor's augmented eyes remained steady, unshaken.
Swain's expression didn't change, but his words carried an almost imperceptible note of approval.
"You are remarkable. If you were Noxian, you would already have a place here."
The meaning in his words was clear, and Ezreal felt a flicker of hope spark within him.
If Viktor could earn Swain's favor, then maybe... just maybe... so could he.
The chamber was vast, filled with possibilities, and it wasn't entirely unpleasant.
Ezreal didn't have any intentions of serving Noxus, but he had heard enough to know this was one of the most powerful places on the continent.
If he could leave his mark here, even for a fleeting moment, it would cement his name in history.
Apart from the three supreme seats, only a handful of others bore unique symbols: the Black Rose, the spinning axe, the deep black orb, the intricate spider silk...
Perhaps, Ezreal mused, his explorer's emblem should be among them someday.
"Thank you, Your Excellency Swain for your recognition. However, I must decline. I am still inexperienced. Only when I complete the Great Evolution will I be truly qualified to claim my own position," Viktor said, bowing slightly in polite refusal.
Viktor was a man driven by perfection. Orianna's success was a source of inspiration for him.
Though his body had yet to entirely transform into a machine, Viktor was no longer bound by it.
Even now, while his presence was here in the Noxian Council Chamber, another of his mechanical forms was holding discussions with Sevika in Zaun, shaping the city's future.
To Viktor, the day he fully abandoned his physical body would be the day his evolution reached its zenith.
"That day is not far away," Swain said with calm certainty, his tone suggesting he had already foreseen the future.
Swain, the man who had gained his power by devouring a demon, knew more than most.
In Runeterra, every demon embodied a concept or domain, and the one within Swain was the avatar of secrets.
He knew all there was to know about mortals.
After this brief exchange, Viktor and Swain began discussing the empire's technological land transformation plans.
Swain listened intently as Viktor explained the use of Hextech to improve the empire's infrastructure and address the challenges of harsh landscapes.
"When Ryan traveled to Piltover, the ideal technological model was already in development," Viktor explained.
"Even the friction between Piltover and Noxus hasn't slowed this project's progress."
"If it's only about reversing the desertification around the Immortal Bastion, the process should take roughly three months—assuming no external assistance," Viktor concluded with precision.
Swain frowned slightly. "Three months for just the surroundings of the Immortal Bastion? That would mean it could take a decade to address the entire empire."
Noxus prided itself on efficiency. A timeline that long was unacceptable.
"What do you need from the empire? Items imbued with the power of nature?" Swain asked.
"Yes. According to our experiments, spiritual plants rich in natural energy can accelerate the greening process significantly," Viktor explained.
Swain's lips curled into a calculating smile.
"Ionia is brimming with such plants. We already control 100,000 hectares of their land, and tens of thousands of troops stand ready to secure more. The plants are free for us to harvest, but we require a flawless transplantation method."
His words sparked a flash of excitement in Ezreal.
Though he harbored a degree of sympathy for Ionia, the idea of being part of the Trifarix Council was intoxicating.
A mighty empire such as Noxus offered security and strength—both of which would make him an unparalleled explorer.
If the empire promised him a seat, Ezreal wouldn't hesitate to accept it, unlike Viktor.
While Ezreal daydreamed of his future, Viktor and Swain finalized the details of the transplantation project.
"The empire will claim more land in Ionia over time, ensuring a steady supply of spiritual plants," Swain promised.
The conquest of Ionia was a cornerstone of Noxus' ambitions.
Reclaiming the glory they had once lost there was not just a matter of strategy—it was a matter of pride.
"Every plant harvested weakens Ionia's spiritual strength. Should they retaliate, I will personally lead the front line," Swain declared, his tone resolute.
At that moment, a cold female voice echoed through the chamber, cutting through the air like a blade.
"If they make any move, I will ensure they regret it," said the voice.
Swain remained unfazed, nodding slightly in acknowledgment.
"As you wish, Syndra."
Though it seemed as though only Swain, Viktor, and Camille were present, the events in this chamber were far from secret.
Whether it was the two mages aboard the floating fortress or the Black Rose operating from the shadows, nothing that transpired here would remain unseen.