Malphegor
patreon
Arcane: TTB: Ch. 149
🕑 Added 2026-01-08 01:49:53 +0000 UTC"Get them to the underground medical facility," Cipher said, barely glancing at the unconscious forms of the Crimson Elite as the drones deposited them on the floor of The Last Drop. "Once they're patched up, hand them over to Blitzcrank."
He was already pulling up training protocols on his datapad, scrolling through combat doctrine files. "But the program needs modifications. We're not running a Noxian war camp here. Let Blitzcrank calculate the optimal training regimen based on our operational needs."
The Crimson Elite were elite soldiers, no question. But they'd been trained for conventional Noxian military operations, like formation fighting, siege warfare, the kind of grinding attrition battles that Noxus specialized in.
But he needed urban combat specialists. Close protection details who could operate in politically sensitive environments. Guards who understood that sometimes the best solution wasn't kicking down doors and painting the walls red.
Blitzcrank's computational capabilities made him perfect for redesigning the training program. The automaton could analyze thousands of combat scenarios, identify skill gaps, and create a customized curriculum that would turn these four into exactly what Cipher needed.
Compared to all that practical planning, the other matter on his mind was far more complicated.
Camille had reached out requesting a meeting.
Powder, sitting next to Cipher at the bar, had relaxed once she realized he wasn't particularly interested in his new "acquisitions" beyond their tactical value. The tension in her shoulders had eased, and she'd stopped gripping her drink like she wanted to strangle it.
"So," Quiletta said from her usual corner table. "What do you think Camille wants?"
The woman had been enjoying the chaos immensely. This whole situation with Emystan's assault had been aimed at replacing her as governor. The Noxian appointment letter had already been drafted, sealed, and delivered into Emystan's hands. But she wasn't the same ruthless general she'd been before having a kid. Motherhood had softened her edges. These days, if it wasn't for Darius needing someone to watch his back in the Trifarix Council, she'd have retired already. She would've gone back to Basilich, taken up a quiet governorship position, and raised her child in peace. Let someone else deal with the backstabbing and military posturing.
So she didn't particularly care who held the governorship, as long as they were part of the Council's internal structure.
"Good question," Silco said, setting down his wine glass.
That faint, unreadable smile was playing at his lips again. Combined with the red glow of his mechanical eye, he looked like some kind of calculating demon working through a particularly entertaining puzzle. He uncrossed his legs, straightened his jacket, and held up one hand. "When was the last time the Clan Ferros' most distinguished operative 'visited' Zaun? I haven't forgotten what she brought us. And I haven't forgotten how close Zaun came to being wiped off the map by that woman."
He had every reason to hate Camille. They all did. If Janna hadn't intervened, Zaun's rise would've been crushed before it even began. The Last Drop's family would've been scattered, dead or crippled or broken.
And he was a man who'd clawed his way out of the deepest darkness imaginable. Someone like that, who'd finally glimpsed hope and then had it nearly stolen away? That kind of person didn't forgive easily. It had taken a personal, handwritten letter of apology from Vander to calm Silco down last time. And even then, it had been a near thing.
"But," he continued, leaning back in his chair and regaining his composure, "the desire for revenge faded as I studied her more carefully."
He paused to light a cigar. "Eventually, I realized something. The things we humans call cruelty, the things that would break most people... they mean nothing to her. She's not human anymore, not really."
Taking a slow drag, he exhaled smoke toward the ceiling. "No pain receptors to speak of. Emotions suppressed or removed entirely. The only thing left is a fragment of her original self, buried under layers of augmentation and conditioning."
"Camille isn't a person," he said flatly. "She's a very deadly tool."
He shifted in his seat, getting comfortable. "Torturing her would be pointless. She wouldn't feel it. Killing her would be meaningless. She wouldn't fear it. And revenge without any emotional payoff isn't really revenge at all. It's just maintenance."
His gaze settled on Cipher. "The only form of revenge that might've mattered... you wouldn't allow. So I let it go."
"Clan Ferros," Cipher said quietly, understanding immediately.
That was the unspoken option. Not targeting Camille herself, but going after the family she'd sacrificed her humanity to protect. Burning down the Clan Ferros, root and branch, making Camille watch as everything she'd given up her soul for turned to ash.
But he would never sanction that. Not the murder of an entire bloodline because one of their members had committed crimes.
Zaun had legitimate grievances against the Clan Ferros. Centuries of exploitation, oppression, and environmental destruction. The Chem-Barons had bled Zaun dry for generations, and the Clan Ferros had been at the top of that pyramid. But justice required due process. It required evidence, trials, proportional punishment. And it required distinguishing between the guilty and the innocent, even within a corrupt institution.
He wouldn't become the monster that Piltover had always accused Zaun of being.
"So," Silco said, his smile returning, "I can guess at her reasoning and motivations now. As long as it serves the preservation of the Clan Ferros, she is capable of anything."
He left something unsaid, something Cipher didn't quite catch. But there was amusement in his tone, like he was enjoying a private joke.
"Her betrayal doesn't surprise me in the slightest. In fact, I'm rather looking forward to it."
Quiletta frowned. "You think this could be a setup?"
"Possibly," Silco said. He turned to look at her. "Tell me something. This warband commander who came to attack us, how does she compare to other Noxian military leaders? In terms of capability and reputation?"
Quiletta took a long moment before answering. "Strength-wise? Moderate. Emystan's family has resources. They maintain their own mage battalion, which is significant. As for her reputation among the troops..."
She looked deeply uncomfortable. "Her casualty rates are notable."
Silco's smile widened. "A disposable asset the Black Rose sent to die."
From Quiletta's conflicted expression, he'd gotten the confirmation he needed. Emystan was despised within Noxus military circles. Her "good" casualty rates came from using her soldiers as disposable fodder while she preserved her own skin.
The perfect kind of expendable commander. Useful for testing dangerous, high-value targets. Someone the Black Rose could afford to lose.
"The timeline tells the whole story," Silco said, swirling the wine in his glass. "Zaun issues its formal declaration of war. Jayce is still en route from Piltover by airship. And somehow Emystan and her Crimson Elite are already at the Hexgate?"
He shook his head. "Everything about this operation screams 'sacrificial pawn.' They wanted to see what we were capable of. Now they know. Which means that the Clan Ferros has been abandoned by their Noxian patrons."
He downed the rest of his wine. "In that case, we might as well meet with Camille and hear what she has to say. After all, Zaun isn't the Zaun of five years ago."
---
The clicking of Camille's legs echoed through the sewer tunnels as she made her way through Piltover's underground. The chaos of the failed assault had provided cover for her escape. She navigated through the filth and darkness until she reached a section of wall that looked no different from any other. But she knew better.
The entrance to the Clan Ferros emergency safehouse was expertly camouflaged. The thick coating of grime and the overwhelming stench of sewage did most of the work. Nobody would think to look here. She knocked on a particular section of wall in a specific rhythm. Three quick taps, pause, two slow taps, pause, three quick taps again.
The stone cracked apart, revealing a biometric scanner.
Sgw leaned forward, letting the blue light wash over her eyes.
"Identity confirmed," a cold, synthetic voice announced. "Camille Ferros. Access granted."
The wall section swung inward with a grinding of concealed gears, revealing a reinforced door. She stepped through quickly, and the entrance sealed behind her immediately. Within seconds, the wall had reformed, looking like just another piece of deteriorating sewer infrastructure.
Despite everything she'd lost, Camille still maintained certain standards. The first thing she did was head for the bathing facilities. She would be damned if she met with anyone, even a desperate Noxian commander, while smelling like sewer water.
Twenty minutes later, she emerged to find Emystan in the safehouse's main room, calmly brewing tea.
The woman was even humming something under her breath, appearing perfectly relaxed. Remarkable, considering she'd just lost an entire elite unit.
Camille raised an eyebrow. "You're taking this rather well."
"What's there to brood over?" Emystan replied with a cold smile. She poured hot water over the tea leaves, watching them unfurl. "Noxus never lacks opportunities for those strong enough to seize them. As long as I'm breathing, I have a future. Dead people have nothing."
She took a sip of her tea, testing the temperature. "So yes, I'm pleased. I escaped. I'm alive. Which means I'll have my revenge eventually. It's only a matter of time."
She didn't even mention the Crimson Elite. They might as well have never existed.
Instead, she gestured to the chair across from her. "Join me."
Camille saw no reason to refuse. Despite being called a "safehouse," the Clan Ferros' resources had turned this place into something closer to a luxury apartment. Spacious rooms, proper furniture, full amenities.
"Don't worry," Emystan said as Camille sat down. "I may have walked into an ambush, but I'm still a warband commander. I have resources."
The tea leaves were high quality. Of course they were. The safehouse was stocked with the kind of supplies befitting Clan Ferros standards. They might be in hiding, but they certainly weren't slumming it.
Camille accepted the cup Emystan offered, taking a small sip. Not bad. But not as good as what she could prepare herself, still adequate.
"And what exactly are these resources? The Clan Ferros no longer has the strength to provide military support. You saw it yourself, even Piltover's greatest scientific mind now works for Zaun. We're surrounded, outgunned, and isolated."
"I don't need your military support," Emystan replied evenly. She kept her gaze on her teacup, but her eyes never left Camille. Quietly, her left hand had drifted toward the runed blade at her waist.
If Camille showed any sign of betrayal, she would have to fight her way out. It was a desperate thought, borderline suicidal. But she wasn't insane.
She was perfectly clear-headed. And right now, this moment, might be her only chance to strike if it came to that. At least none of Camille's operatives were in the room.
The truth was, the people Swain and his reformist faction dismissed as incompetent nobility? They weren't weak. Corrupt, yes. Self-serving, absolutely. But not weak.
You didn't hold power in Noxus without being formidable in your own right.
Emystan had figured it out by now. She'd been too eager to claim governorship, and someone had taken advantage of that ambition. They'd pushed her toward Piltover as a probe, a way to test the cities' real capabilities without risking valuable assets.
Her family had always known Noxus politics ran deep. She was expendable. Just like Emperor Darkwill himself had been expendable when the real power players decided his usefulness had ended. The same way she'd thrown the Crimson Elite away as a rearguard, someone stronger had thrown her entire warband away as a test.
In front of Riven and her squad, she had been the strong one. She could kill or spare them on a whim, and nobody could stop her.
But in front of someone stronger? She became the weak one. And if they wanted her dead, she would die. Simple as that.
That was Noxus. The weak had no rights. The strong could crush them at will.
Darius had become a national icon not just because of his rise from nothing, but because of the legendary moment that made his name.
When his commanding officer had betrayed the troops, attempting to flee and abandon them to die, Darius hadn't hesitated. He'd executed the man on the spot with his own axe, then rallied the demoralized soldiers and led them to victory in a battle everyone thought was lost.
A common soldier killing a noble commander. Weakness defeating strength through sheer will and courage. That single act had made him famous across the empire.
It was the essence of what Noxus claimed to value. Strength, ruthlessness, and results over bloodline.
She knew all this. She'd grown up in that system. But she kept her expression neutral, showing no anger at being discarded by the empire. After all, complaining wouldn't help. Everyone understood how the game worked. Anyone stupid enough to whine about it would just get put down for showing weakness.
So yes, she was a disposable pawn. But what role did the Clan Ferros play in all this?
Were they fellow pawns like her? Informants for the Black Rose? Or perhaps the ones assigned to finish her off?
She had to know. Otherwise, she'd spend every night waiting for a knife in the dark.
"All I need is for you to keep me safe while I regroup. I trust you can manage that much."
She watched Camille closely.
Camille met her gaze steadily.
From the start, this had been a losing position for Emystan. If she wanted to survive, she needed to rely on Camille and the Clan Ferros' resources. She wouldn't sabotage her own chances of survival.
Not unless she had no other choice.
The fundamental difference between them lay in character and motivation. Emystan was pure self-interest, willing to betray anyone and anything if it kept her alive another day.
Camille, on the other hand, existed solely to preserve the Clan Ferros. Even if it meant her own death.
"You can't stay in this safehouse indefinitely. It may seem secure, but Zaun's technological development has exceeded all projections. They're out of control."
She set down her teacup. "Jayce's defection wasn't a solo decision. He had approval from the highest levels. And now Zaun has surveillance drones covering both cities. I've tested their capabilities. They're designed for area monitoring and target tracking."
Emystan searched Camille's face for any sign of deception but found nothing. The woman's modifications made her impossible to read. Maybe she was overthinking this. Camille was the last person who would side with Zaun. Years ago, she'd burned that bridge thoroughly. There was blood between them, one side had to fall eventually.
"My main warband and mage battalion are en route by sea," she said, revealing part of her hand. She needed to prove she was still a valuable ally worth protecting. "They'll arrive within the week. I've also reached out to General Du Couteau. I've convinced him to send a detachment of his family's assassins to support my operation."
The House Du Couteau was legend in Noxus. Their assassins were ghosts. If they were involved, the situation had just gotten significantly more complicated.
"With their support we'll eliminate the key leadership figures in Zaun and Piltover who refuse to cooperate. Once the heads are cut off, taking control of the cities becomes trivial."
She leaned back slightly. "General Du Couteau and I have no interest in the commercial side of things. We'll take a fixed tax, but the day-to-day management, the real economic control... that stays with the Clan Ferros. It's a profitable arrangement. For everyone involved."
She watched Camille carefully, trying to gauge whether the woman would accept the deal or if this entire meeting had been a mistake.
