Swain stood in what had once been a mundane office for what seemed to be a second hand repair company. In the early hours of the invasion, it had been transformed into a headquarters near the Frontline. On an oil and paint stained table, a map of the city measured their progress. Which, if judged by the amount of territory they held, they hadn’t made much of.
But the truth of it was that on the first day of the invasion, they had made significant strides. The walls had fallen, which had been the largest barrier that kept the bulk of his forces out of the city. They had a foothold in the Undercity, securing key points to limit the enemies ability to reinforce each other as needed, which effectively turned the battle into two smaller battles. It was as much progress as they could have hoped to make.
Even if it came at a high cost.
Swain knew that securing their foothold was going to be a bloody affair, and had adjusted his expectations accordingly. His army was fifty thousand warriors strong, with some of Noxus’ best among them. Yet, the enemy had advanced technology that rendered their armor useless. There was never going to be a bloodless victory and his soldiers paid the price of it willingly. Three thousand of them were confirmed dead, with another two suffering debilitating injuries.
The plasma and laser weapons didn't need to kill outright to end a warrior's life. Any impact saw the area struck flash-cooked, sometimes even through armor. It was survivable, depending on where it struck, but a hit to the shoulder would lead to the loss of the arm. A shot to the thigh would see that the warrior would forever walk with a limp if they were lucky enough to keep the leg. To say nothing of the exceptional pain where flesh blackened, muscle was cooked, and the blood evaporated in their veins.
They were true weapons of war. In Swain's estimation, they were even more valuable than the Hexgate. They would be invaluable when his army turned their gaze to Ionia. But, that was getting ahead of himself.
He had to take the city first. “We have overcome their defenses. Next, we must slowly strangle the city -- starve them of supplies, ammunition, and morale. They are disunified and some are already faltering. They will be the cracks in their foundation.”
Swain still intended to push. For the enemy to break, pressure needed to be applied. But where he applied that pressure would be selective. Careful. They’d paid a heavy price for their footholds, and he desired to minimize any further casualties.
“Amnesty will be granted to those who perform acts of sabotage on our behalf. Rewards will be given to those who destroy caches of microfusion cells. And I will personally see to it that whoever destroys their warship receives a lordship,” he told the commanders gathered around the table. Securing the warship for their own use would be a boon, but not one he was willing to pay for in his men's blood. The airships had retreated deep within Piltover, but even now, he could hear the bombing runs that they ran over their controlled territory. The warship in particular hovered high above in an overwatch position, stalling their advance at a key juncture.
His warlords saluted before they began to file out, all except for a chosen few.
Swain turned his gaze to a woman he knew by reputation but never met in person before. “Camille Ferros,” Swain began, standing taller as the augmented woman stepped forward. There was little overt evidence of her cybernetics. Just a fluidness in her movements that hinted that her legs weren't made of flesh and bone, but steel and silicon. He was unsure how much of the woman was still flesh and blood, but he suspected little. “You failed.”
“Ambessa survived,” Camille agreed, making no excuses. “She received help from an unexpected combatant before retreating. I was able to wound her, and in theory, the poison should have taken her life. Given that she still lives, an antidote must have been administered.” Her tone was clipped and completely devoid of feeling with flat eyes that held a faint glow to them.
Swain was unsurprised with the development, even if he would have preferred removing her from the board early. Ambessa wasn't an exceptional warrior. She was a good one, perhaps even on the cusp of great, but in a fair and direct confrontation there were many who could defeat her.
Which was why Ambessa rarely fought anyone fairly and directly. Intrigue, sabotage, disinformation, and ruthless pragmatism -- those were the secrets to her success. Why she was the best of Noxus.
“This combatant?” Swain prompted, accepting that she had failed her given task. Assassinating Ambessa was always going to be a hit or miss operation, and with a deniable asset in Clan Ferros, it cost him little to approve the attempt.
“Unknown. A sniper from at least a mile out with explosive ammo. Their angle changed multiple times throughout the battle at several elevations -- meaning they possess some form of flight.” Possibly via an airship, though Camille would have mentioned as such if she saw one. A personal form of flight then. Swain was aware of an organization, or more accurately a street gang known as the Firelights that had such technology, which they used in the assassination of Councilor Silco.
“I see. Failure to assassinate her aside, the intelligence is useful. Thank you,” Swain said, taking a seat. “However, it does make you and your clan of limited use, as your allegiance has been revealed.” Clan Ferros, in the immediate aftermath of Trafalgar Law's apparent assassination, had reached out to him through messengers in hopes of securing a deal for themselves once he arrived to conquer the city.
A deal that Swain was willing to uphold. Guile and betrayal had its place in warfare, after all. Still, it couldn't be denied he could have gotten a great deal more out of Clan Ferros if she had succeeded in her assassination. Having spies in the Council itself was exceptionally useful and it was in no small part why the initial phase of the invasion had been so smooth.
“We still possess assets within the city. My family owns the shadows in Piltover. What Mel Medarda or Heimerdinger know means nothing. We can still act and uphold our obligations.” Camille assured him. The doubts still lingered, but he had no reason to refuse. Internal strife amongst the enemy would only serve his plans. They would have been more effective as a secret force, but he could just as easily use the knowledge that one of the great clans of Piltover had betrayed them against them.
“See it that you do so, and I shall uphold mine,” Swain replied, earning an inclination of Camille's head. She understood where they stood with each other.
With that, the Piltovan assassin left his headquarters, leaving him to focus on the minute reports that came in. Riven and her team were acting as the tip of the spear. Their failure to apprehend the mage Cinder Fall was unfortunate, but the damage Cinder did to her own forces to escape with her lover, a crackshot sniper, more than made up for it.
His pieces were in position to squeeze Piltover until it broke, but the enemy always had a say in battle, and he had to wait for them to give their response.
…
‘I thought we would do better,’ Mel Medarda thought to herself, standing behind reinforced glass. The Council had been the beating heart of Piltover, and now it lay dreadfully silent.
The sun had set on the first day of the invasion, but the city wasn't quiet. Gunshots pierced the heavy silence of a city that was holding its breath. The day to day busyness of the City of Progress felt like a distant dream. Piltover had shone like a jewel even in the darkness with lights shining at all hours of the day.
Now, Piltover was dark. Completely pitch black, like a brilliant candle that had just been snuffed out.
She wasn't a warrior. Her mother had always harped on that. She was a ‘Fox’ instead of a ‘Wolf.’ Something that had led to her banishment to this city when she failed one of Ambessa's tests for the final time. When she chose diplomacy with a defeated foe rather than needlessly slitting her throat.
Mel had been bitter the first few years. Half of her success was fueled by spite -- determined to prove her mother wrong. To surpass everything that she and Clan Medarda had built over generations in one lifetime. Mel had surpassed even her own lofty goals, and long surpassed the value of her Clan with her last second investment into Hextech.
So it felt like a bitter irony that the one time she chose to fight, the fight was going so poorly.
The walls had fallen.
Noxus was securing the Undercity, likely at this very moment.
Clan Ferros had betrayed Piltover in a deep and profound way.
Street by street, alley by alley, they were losing. Their men were breaking. Their reserves of microfusion cells were sabotaged, destroyed, and depleted faster than their worst case estimations had feared. They weren't even bleeding the enemy enough to bring them to the negotiation table. The one fight that she fought for… and she was losing badly. And she stood to lose it all.
‘He's protecting his investments.’ Mel echoed what her mother said when she returned from the battlefield, wounded and with a confirmation that Clan Ferros had betrayed them. A sniper had reportedly saved her on several occasions throughout the fight. One that was not reported or seen again when Ambessa withdrew.
Mel had gone to her mother, heart in her throat, half looking for guidance and half looking for reassurance that she was fine. That Mel wouldn't be left… alone again.
Ambessa was convinced that Law had the sniper protect her. That it was one of his unlisted and unknowable assets that he kept to himself merely because…
‘The city means nothing to him.’ Why would it? He’d barely spent more than a year and a half in it. It was half a ruin because of the fight he caused. The only value that Piltover and the Undercity had to Law was as a battleground. But it had value to her. It was her home- more than Noxus ever was. Ever could be. It was where she started out almost entirely alone with nothing but her name, and where she managed to build a life for herself.
The only way that Law would save the city… was if she gave him reason to.
“Counciler Medarda?” Heimerdinger spoke up from behind, a quiet exhaustion in his voice followed by the soft pitter patter of his shoes. “I'm sorry to say it, but standing by the window is far too dangerous. I love Piltover's skyline more than most, but even I'd hardly call it worth dying for.”
Mel allowed herself a small smile before she turned around, seeing the Yordle approach. There was a weight on his shoulders that he had carried well until now. They had prepared themselves for war, but once the war came, their preparations felt… inadequate. “Councilor Heimerdinger,” she returned. “Have you been informed?”
“I have,” Heimerdinger said, taking his seat at the head of the gear shaped table. “It is regrettable. Stephen Ferros was a dear friend of mine some centuries ago. His heart would break at seeing how far his family has fallen.” She doubted that. Stephen Ferros, the founder of Clan Ferros, was known to be every bit as ruthlessly pragmatic as his descendants were. He was a man that did the math and acted on it.
She respected it, honestly. This whole affair revealed she was far more sentimental than she had ever expected of herself.
“I meant dear Caitlyn,” Mel said, striding forward to take a place near Heimerdinger. The Yordle closed his eyes for a long moment before opening.
“Ah… yes. I'm afraid that today has been… quite trying. There has been simply too much bad news all around,” he said with a hollow chuckle. “Among them, dear Viktor has confirmed that several designs for his new… body have been stolen. It would seem that Clan Ferros took them and has likely passed that knowledge on to Noxus.”
“How is he?” She couldn't claim to know Viktor well. Jayce thought highly of him, but he was sickly and avoided the public eye. When his health took a turn for the worst following the Progress Day disaster, she had so many other things that demanded her attention that she barely spared him a thought beyond accepting that Piltover would lose a bright mind.
Then she heard about the insane surgery that he would be performing on himself. Though calling it a mere surgery was a vast understatement as Viktor would be almost entirely rebuilding his body from steel and silicon. A surgery that he rushed for the sake of participating in the war that demanded every available set of hands.
“Well. Quite well,” Heimerdinger replied with evident relief. “There will be a few days of recovery, but he survived and is eager to recover.”
Then his shoulders dropped in an open display of vulnerability, “It's perhaps the first and only bit of good news I expect to receive in some time.”
Mel's lips thinned, “Do you think we made a mistake?” She almost didn't want an answer. Already, too many people had died for the whole thing to be brushed off as a simple mistake. If she heard him say that they should have just surrendered and swallowed whatever terms General Swain forced down their throats…
“I don't know,” Heimerdinger replied, and somehow that was worse. “War isn't something I'm unfamiliar with. I've seen what it can bring. What it does to people.”
The Rune Wars. They’d happened centuries ago, and were the source of Heimerdinger's distrust of magic. They were the reason why magic was reviled by so many. But as Yordle's were both immortal and deathless, Heimerdinger was one of the few who could claim to have seen the devastation they wrought first hand.
“I never wanted to see this again. Truly. But… there are things in this world worth fighting for!” Heimerdinger uttered, his hands curling around the armrests of his chair. “Progress! Freedom of innovation, speech, and thought! Piltover and its citizens deserve more than to be reduced to fuel in Noxus’ war machine!”
There was passion there. Earnestness.
Heimerdinger was a wide-eyed idealist. There wasn't a single political bone in his body. More than once, she thought he would be happier simply stepping away from the Council and the politics that came with it, but he was bound by a sense of duty. A duty that he chose to uphold for centuries to ensure that Piltover remained at heart what he and a few others founded it to be.
He’d failed at that duty hundreds of times. Thousands. Mel couldn't even begin to guess how many times she alone had fooled him, much less how many times he had been deceived in the centuries before her. Heimerdinger was a man blinded by his own faith in people. A man kept ignorant because of his conviction that he never noticed what people like her had done to his pure-hearted dream of what Piltover should be.
“It-”
It was why he never saw it coming when a knife slid down her sleeve into her palm before she plunged it directly into his neck. His eyes widened, his elbow rising and his head curling around the blade that she ripped out. Mel flinched at the arc of blood, especially when it spattered across her white dress. Her breathing hitched when it soaked through as Heimerdinger scrambled away from her, falling out of his chair onto the floor.
His fur was soaked with blood with crimson flowing between his fingers. His eyes were the worst. There wasn't anger. Or even betrayal. There was just pure confusion like he just couldn't figure out what happened.
“R-Run…!” He rasped, and a sob nearly tore itself from Mel's throat and she found herself trembling. He didn't realize that she was the one who stabbed him. He thought that she was in danger. Heimerdinger kept believing it even as the light in his eyes faded away…
And with a blink of her eyes, Heimerdinger vanished entirely. As Yordles couldn't truly die. They simply rebounded to Bandle City in the Spirit Realm to either be reborn or respawn.
There was a crunch that echoed out through the dreadfully silent room, making Mel flinch before she turned around, excuses on her lips but they died in her throat when she saw the source. Law seemed to appear from thin air, the door closed behind him, with a box of candied popcorn in one hand and one flicked high in the air before landing in his mouth.
She composed herself in an instant, even if her heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest. Mel kept her eyes on Law as he rounded the table, idly eating his snack before he came to a stop in the small puddle of blood that was all that was left of Heimerdinger. Piltover’s founder. The Yordle who had guided it for three hundred years and had so much faith in his people- in her that he didn’t believe she betrayed him even as his blood was drying on her hands and dress.
“Huh,” Law gave his verdict, his gaze rising to Mel’s. “Why’d ya’ go and do something like that?”
Mel kept her hands steady while she set the bloody knife on the table, smearing red on the pristine surface. “The blame will fall on Clan Ferros.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, a speech that she had prepared. “Their parting gift. Meaning that the Council has shrunk even further -- to you, Cassandra, Salo, and myself.”
She took a step forward, her stomach attempting to rebel when her high heels stepped into the blood of the man she had murdered. Even if Yordles couldn’t truly die, not as others did, it could be centuries before he found himself on Runeterra again. Everyone he would have known, everything he would have worked for… All of it would be long gone. Time simply moved too fast for anything else. “Salo can be removed at any time. Cassandra… an obstacle, admittedly. One with her guard up, especially after this. You clearly don’t care about the city, so I’m two steps removed from total control.”
A dark glimmer of amusement danced in Law’s eyes. “A powerplay, hm?” He saw through her, but he was playing along. For her sake, she suspected and that was something Mel really didn’t know what to feel about. “Timing could be better, but fair enough, I suppose.”
“When I rule this city,” Mel continued, taking another step forward, “I shall prove… capable. Reliable. I would promise my loyalty, but I understand such a thing would be suspect at best.” She came to a stop before Law. Mel wasn’t a short woman, but she felt small before him. “And I will be more useful to you if Piltover is more than a ruin. You have assets you are withholding. I would like access to them.”
For Piltover. She doubted Heimerdinger would forgive her for what she did, but she hoped it would mean something to him if he could return to the city he invested three centuries into and could still recognize it.
“... Hm,” Law hummed, tossing another caramel-dripped popcorn in his mouth before everything around them changed. There was no sign of it. No warning. One moment she stood in the Council chambers and the next she was in a sterile room that was so bright that she winced. “Assets, I have,” he acknowledged, stepping away from her with the expectation that she would follow.
‘Magic?’ Was he a mage? Or was this something else entirely? She swallowed her questions, following in step behind him as if it were natural, and clenching her hands together to hide the slight trembling in them.
“I appreciate the initiative,” Law started before a large door slid open with the sound of a hydraulic press. “I was curious what move you were going to make. Your mother? She was obvious enough. She has one trick, and while it’s a damn good trick, it does make her a little predictable.”
Mel barely listened as she was greeted with the sight of monsters. Directly before her was a wolf, or something like it, crossed with a man with the result larger and more… bestial than any Vastaya she had ever seen. If anything, it was closer to a minotaur. Nine feet tall, covered in thick dark fur with an almost human-like face, and claws as long as her hand. It was hooked up to some kind of machine, seemingly sedated with a dozen tubes hooked into it.
Next to it was a man, or something that had once been one. His flesh was a dark purple, and he was of comparable size to the wolf creature with muscles swelling to the point it was as if they were attempting to rip free of his flesh. The pair dominated the room to the point Mel almost didn’t notice the three women.
They were in medical beds. One of them was a dark skinned Vastaya with a pair of white rabbit ears jutting from her ivory hair. Another was covered in severe burn scars. The third was pretty, young but pretty. There didn’t seem to be anything of note about her beyond signs that she dyed her hair with her real hair color beginning to reveal itself at the roots.
“So, in recognition of that, and of your first kill, I’ll let you pick one of these to bolster up the frontlines,” Law said with an easy smile. A smile that grew when something must have hinted at the dark and ugly feeling that rose in the back of her throat, but she swallowed it down. “Not enough for you?”
“... I cannot say that it is,” Mel admitted with a beat of hesitation. “I don’t know who or… what any of these people are, but I will accept at face value that they could tip the scales in our favor. I don’t see why we should be limited to deploying only one however.” If he had such monsters available, then they should be on the battlefield. Maybe then, the wall wouldn’t have fallen. Noxus wouldn’t be crawling through the Undercity.
Maybe she wouldn’t have had to murder Heimerdinger.
“Because,” Law started, stepping forward. With the hand that wasn’t holding his snack, he waved it before her and the blood that stained her hand and her dress began to flow towards him, collecting in a ball that he made disappear with a flick of his fingers. “I want more from you, Mel. And I want you to want more.”
Her gaze sharpened at the display of power, but she focused on his words. “I’m moving to secure the city,” she retorted. Ambessa seemed correct in her thinking that Law would protect his investments, to a degree at least. He used that sniper to save her mother’s life, then he took her here -- and now there was nothing connecting Mel to Heimerdinger’s murder.
Law chuckled, “And is that it?” He asked, tossing another piece of popcorn in his mouth before he started to walk around her, like a shark that smelled blood. “Is that the limit of your ambition, Mel Medarda? A single city? Sure, Piltover’s nice… but it’s one city, in one world. Is that really enough for you?”
He was scouting her for something. Something in particular. And it was then that she realized what this was -- a job interview.
“And if it is?” Mel questioned sharply, her heart going still in her chest when Law leaned in close from behind.
“Then you are a lot less interesting than I hoped you would be,” he uttered, the words feeling like a death sentence in that moment. “Your mother? She wants Noxus. She wants the throne, but it’s just a means to an end, really. She wants Noxus in its purest form -- a hyper-aggressive warmongering empire that, once it conquers every inch of dirt on this planet, will just look to the stars above.”
Law stepped into view once more, wearing an easy smile on his face. “That’s what I like about her. Everything this world has to offer isn’t enough for her. It’s barely enough to whet her appetite.” He came to a stop before her once more and leaned in close. Close enough that she thought he was going to kiss her, “You’re cut from a different cloth, but you’re a lot more like her than you think.”
Mel took a breath, “I recall you being more charming, Law. What woman wants to be compared to her mother?” She questioned sharply, earning a laugh from him as he pulled back.
“Fair. That was rude,” he admitted, but remained unapologetic. “But was I wrong about you? Or is Piltover truly enough for you?”
It wasn’t. She didn’t care about borders or armies -- not like her mother did. To Ambessa and Noxus, they were the currencies of power. What she craved was influence. Political power. The ability to make her rivals fall with a few words over dinner and raise assets to further her own rise with the same syllables. Law was quite rude about it, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. Mel resembled her mother more than she cared for.
“I don’t know what you have in mind for me,” Mel admitted, meeting the eyes of a man who could make demons seem kind. “However, as Councilor of Piltover, I have responsibilities. And among them is the safeguarding of my people. So long as I am a Councilor, it is a duty that I intend to uphold.”
It wasn’t a yes.
But it wasn’t a no either.
Law smiled and it reached his eyes, telling her that that was exactly what he wanted to hear. More than a yes or a no.
“I require all of them,” Mel continued, holding his gaze.
Law bowed his head, “Then all of them you shall have.”