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"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Academy of War!"
Ezreal's voice rang out at noon, reverberating across the bustling square.
Behind him stood a cluster of spire-topped buildings—the unmistakable architecture of Academy of War.
To his left loomed a four-story Piltover-style building, its intricate craftsmanship evident in every brick.
A polished plaque adorned its entrance, bearing the words "Explorer's Guild" in bold lettering.
Ezreal now stood on a makeshift platform, and the crowd gathering below had swelled considerably due to the day's recruitment events.
"Looks like we came just in time," Seraphine muttered, her voice tinged with mild irritation.
Standing beside her, Annie tilted her head and hugged her beloved teddy bear, Tibbers, close.
Both had found a vantage point in a shadowed corner, Seraphine's floating stage granting them an unobstructed view despite their late arrival.
A sea of people surrounded the platform—students eager to enroll, curious tourists, and even messengers from various kingdoms.
The diversity of skin tones, outfits, and cultural garb on display made for a vibrant tapestry of Piltover's cosmopolitan charm.
Academy of War rarely opened its doors to outsiders; for most spectators, this was the closest they'd ever get to its inner workings.
Ezreal cleared his throat, flashing his signature smile.
Despite addressing the crowd, he couldn't help but feel the weight of Seraphine's gaze from above.
Her presence always seemed to heighten the stakes, though today he felt emboldened.
Standing behind him was a row of imposing figures clad in heavy, crimson armor—a sight that lent him an air of authority.
"Draven and his brothers," Ezreal thought, stifling a grin.
Over drinks the previous evening, Draven had boasted about bringing reinforcements.
'Where did he get those'
Somehow, Draven had acquired authentic Trifarian Legion armor, though he didn't dare ask how.
Regardless of the details, the Draven brothers were nothing if not dependable when it came to spectacle.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Ezreal announced, standing tall with a confidence that bordered on theatrical.
"Today marks the grand opening of Academy of War! And, as an honor bestowed by the Empire itself, I have been invited to host this momentous press conference!"
A deep, booming voice interrupted him.
"Your arms are like twigs, and you stand like a scrawny pup. Are you seriously a teacher at Academy of War?"
The speaker was a burly barbarian warrior, his imposing frame exuding disdain.
He had just enrolled his son into the academy and was clearly unimpressed by what he perceived to be weak leadership.
In Noxus, strength commanded respect—but strength had to be proven.
Ezreal didn't flinch. He stepped forward, clasping his fists together in a precise, practiced motion.
"May Nel Zayag continue the spirit of winter," he declared with gravitas.
"I am Ezreal, president of the Explorer's Guild and a professor of history at the Academy of War."
The barbarian's expression shifted. The skepticism vanished from his face, replaced by respect.
He mirrored Ezreal's gesture, his deep voice ringing out:
"May Nel Zayag continue the spirit of winter! Professor Ezreal, you are welcome among our tribe at any time."
The exchange didn't go unnoticed. Those close enough to hear murmured among themselves, impressed by Ezreal's knowledge of ancient Freljordian customs.
"Learning has its merits," Seraphine murmured softly, her lips curling into a faint smile.
Annie looked up at her, eyes wide with curiosity.
"Sister Seraphine, what does that mean?"
Seraphine turned her gaze toward Annie, her tone warm as she explained:
"The Nel Zayag tribe resides on the border between the Freljord and Noxus. Over the years, harsh winters and ceaseless wars have reduced their numbers and eroded their traditions. Most of them joined Noxus simply to survive. These ancient rituals, passed down by their ancestors, are barely remembered by anyone outside the tribe."
Annie nodded, clutching Tibbers tighter.
Seraphine continued, her voice laced with reverence.
"Knowledge is a strength in its own right, Annie. And in Noxus, it is one of the three laws of power."
She—and the rest of the audience—could tell that, due to the warrior's attire or the distinctive tattoos on his face, Ezreal instantly recognized the barbarian tribe at a glance.
Also, Ezreal had responded with perfect decorum, honoring the Nel Zayag tribe's ancient customs.
"Noxus!"
The crowd erupted in unison, shouting the name of their empire.
This was the Noxian way of applause—loud, unyielding, and unified.
The chants rippled through the crowd, each successive roar swelling with energy. Ezreal, standing at the center of attention, straightened his posture, suppressing the pride swelling within him.
With a practiced humility, he gestured for silence, pressing his hands downward.
"Quiet, everyone," Ezreal began, his voice measured.
"First of all, I must clarify that this event is not solely about me. I am merely one part of today's announcement. The true guest of honor is a figure of unprecedented stature. My discoveries pale in comparison to what is about to unfold."
A mischievous glint danced in Ezreal's eyes, his tone brimming with mystery.
From the start, he knew that his name alone could not carry an event of this magnitude.
However, with this individual, he was certain the press conference would become an unforgettable moment in Noxian history.
Ezreal let the anticipation linger, the tension in the crowd mounting as whispers spread like wildfire.
Finally, when the suspense reached its peak, he raised his voice, declaring with a flourish:
"Now, let me introduce His Excellency, President of the Trifarix—the legendary mage, Ryan Meredith!"
The moment his words fell, a collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
Ryan Meredith.
The name echoed in their minds, disbelief etched onto their faces.
This was no ordinary mage—Ryan was the head of Noxus, one of the three pillars who governed the empire.
Could he truly have come to this gathering?
Yet, when they recalled that Ryan also served as the Dean of Academy of War, the idea no longer seemed impossible.
Excitement flickered to life within them.
This generation of Noxian leadership was nothing like the ones of the past.
Gone were the days of nepotistic rulers clinging to their inherited power.
The current leaders embodied Noxus's ideals: Strength, Knowledge, and unwavering Resolve.
Ryan was the undisputed head of the three who now governed the empire.
Suddenly, the sky above the immortal fortress was alight with a stunning magical vision. Blue light cascaded across the heavens, transforming the white clouds into translucent veils.
The azure glow shimmered as if something immense was growing within it.
Seraphine's eyes sparkled with admiration as she watched from her stage.
"The teacher's entrance is as spectacular as ever," she remarked, lowering her floating platform slightly for a better view.
The breathtaking display stirred a flicker of envy within her.
She'd heard rumors that Syndra herself had contributed her magic for today's event, projecting images and sound across the skies of Noxus.
The sheer amount of power required for such a feat could likely outmatch her in seconds.
"Well, I'm definitely a fake mage compared to them," Seraphine thought with a self-deprecating smile.
"Sister Seraphine, the teacher isn't wearing the same robes as before," Annie whispered, tugging gently at her sleeve.
Seraphine followed Annie's gaze, her curiosity piqued.
At the center of the platform, Ryan had appeared—a towering figure draped in a robe of pure white, adorned with intricate symbols and marks.
His arrival was awe-inspiring and palpable; even Annie could feel the flames within her body quiet down at his presence.
It was as though Ryan's mere aura had quelled the magic within her, leaving her calm and steady.
The pure-white robe Ryan wore bore numerous insignias, but one in particular stood out.
"The coat of arms of Noxus," Annie murmured, recognizing the emblem she had seen countless times before.
It was engraved prominently on the podium before them to reinforce its dominance.
Yet, the other marks embroidered on Ryan's robe were unfamiliar to her. She tilted her head, her young mind struggling to identify them.
But the crowd below began to stir, their murmurs growing into a cacophony of awe and recognition.
"The crest of Demacia…"
"That's the symbol of ancient Shurima—the sun disc from thousands of years ago!"
"Wait, that's our tribe's badge!"
Exclamations broke out as more and more people began to identify the various emblems on Ryan's robes. Each badge seemed to represent a different region or faction, some long-forgotten by most.
As the crowd buzzed with excitement, the blue magic light above them began to shift.
The emblems embroidered on Ryan's robe appeared one by one in the sky, projected onto the ethereal canvas-like constellations.
The crowd watched in stunned silence, the blue-tinted heavens creating an atmosphere of reverence.
It was as though the sky itself was paving the way for something monumental.