"Mother, what's so urgent that we need to rush to Zaun in the middle of the night?"
In the House Medarda manor, inside Mel's private bedroom, she rubbed her bloodshot eyes, exhausted from sleepless hours, and asked Ambessa sleepily.
"This is our family's opportunity to ascend from the ashes. The grudge of your brother's attempted assassination can finally be avenged."
"Don't ask too many questions now, you'll understand everything when we get there. Jayce and Rictus are already preparing the carriage in the courtyard."
Ambessa's face was beaming. Knowing part of the inside story, she felt endlessly grateful for having forged such a strong alliance with Zaun years ago. Otherwise, how could the struggling House Medarda ever hope to benefit from a complete reshuffling of power?
Some time had already passed since Caitlyn had successfully assumed control of the indentured labor system. Ambessa had fled from Noxus to Piltover, bringing the family's remaining private military forces with her.
She had initially thought they would need to maintain a low profile for several more years before revenge against their enemies could be taken. But unexpectedly, the chance had come so quickly, and fortunately, she was well prepared.
"Then we should bring Jayce."
Hearing Ambessa's confident tone, Mel immediately sensed huge opportunities approaching ahead. As a couple sharing the same fate, she instinctively wanted to pull Jayce along to enjoy them together.
"You foolish romantic... already taking his side before you're even married."
"Don't concern yourself with that. I've long reserved a place for him. But he cannot participate tonight. You know perfectly well your lover lacks the necessary maturity for such work. He simply cannot be involved in matters this critical and secretive."
Ambessa scolded her jokingly, but she was in an exceptional mood, rarely taking time to explain details to Mel with such patience.
"All right. But could you step outside? I need to change clothes."
Mel rubbed her temples helplessly.
"Oh, what's there to be shy about in front of me? When you were just a tiny infant, I changed your swaddling clothes with these same hands, and you—"
Ambessa was still laughing and teasing, but Mel pushed her out of the room directly.
A similar scene was unfolding at the House Kiramman estate across the city.
When the two prominent houses met on the cobblestone road and arrived together at The Last Drop, they discovered that even General Quiletta was present and waiting.
"What exactly has happened?"
Seeing the assembled figures, Quiletta, who had been waiting for over an hour without explanation, asked. Although she held the official title of Noxus' military governor stationed in Piltover and Zaun, she actually possessed very limited knowledge of the broader situation.
Darius didn't want the mother of his children dragged into the Empire's political struggles. But circumstances often left no attractive alternatives, sometimes there were no choices at all.
She was now occupying a seat at The Last Drop, and in the position of honor no less, solely because she needed to serve as Darius' official representative in his absence.
"We'll wait until the Commander arrives in person. He's the one who requested this emergency meeting."
Cipher, calmly sipping his tea, responded to Quiletta's inquiry. But his experienced eyes remained fixed on Vi, feeling a persistent, nagging sense of unease.
Ever since Caitlyn had entered the establishment, the young woman had been restless and distracted, her attention wandering and eyes darting around the room, clearly lost in her own private thoughts.
He still didn't realize the little tricks Vi was up to. He was too busy, the matters demanding his attention were too many and too complex.
Since that late-night conversation with Swain weeks ago, his focus had largely shifted away from Piltover and Zaun.
Childish romantic squabbles and petty personal rivalries weren't worth too effort or attention.
The recent operation involving the indentured labor crisis had merely served as a secondary objective. The primary goal wasn't really about elevating the House Kiramman at all, it was designed to steadily accelerate Jayce's growth.
Even the fact that Zaun's military strength vastly exceeded Piltover's, yet had deliberately refrained from "liberating" the upper city sooner, wasn't purely about noble ideals. Jayce himself represented a major factor.
The man was entangled with far too many influential people. He wasn't merely a brilliant scientist with immense value to technological advancement, he was also Heimerdinger's student, Viktor's close friend, Mel's lover, Ambessa's future son-in-law, and Caitlyn's childhood friend.
How to place Jayce was, in truth, a great headache.
Additionally, Swain was approaching a turning point in his fate, the catastrophic defeat at Placidium, the desperate seizure of demonic power, the launching of his inevitable coup against the Noxian establishment, and the open warfare with the Black Rose...
One earth-shaking event after another demanded Cipher's attention, leaving him with absolutely no time to monitor Vi's unstable emotional condition or romantic plotting.
"Commander?" Quiletta asked with confusion. "Isn't he supposed to be overseeing the eastern campaign in Ionia? How could he possibly have the time to travel to The Last Drop for a meeting?"
"He'll come. By my count, it won't be much longer now."
Cipher took another sip of his tea and offered no additional explanation. As one of the key participants and planners of the top-secret operation, he naturally understood the reasons, but they weren't information he could reveal to unauthorized personnel.
To prevent catastrophic failure during his most dangerous missions, Swain carried not only advanced Hextech equipment capable of projecting defensive energy fields, but also a compact dimensional transport device. Two coordinates had been permanently programmed into the system: The Last Drop, and Immortal Bastion.
This meeting had been initiated at Swain's request to Cipher. The reason he hadn't arrived yet was simply because the scheduled time hadn't come.
The atmosphere in the bar grew heavy and tense. With the central figure still absent, no one chatted idly in such a solemn setting.
So they occupied themselves, some drinking tea, others consuming wine to calm their nerves, several smoking to pass the minutes.
Minute by minute passed. Suddenly, the air began to ripple with visible spatial distortion. Four metallic devices appeared from nowhere, tearing open a doorway in midair.
A thick, nauseating stench of spilled blood and burning flesh drifted through the dimensional rift, forcing those unaccustomed to the brutal realities of warfare to cover their noses and mouths.
Swain stepped through the tear, using a blood-stained tree branch as an improvised crutch, limping heavily.
After decades of relentless military campaigns, he appeared even more weathered and battle-scarred, far removed from the confident figure who had first visited Piltover and Zaun years ago. His temples were streaked with premature gray, his forehead deeply lined with wrinkles.
The black military cloak draped across his shoulders was torn and tattered, riddled with burn holes and sword cuts. His face was covered with blackened scabs of dried blood. His left arm was severed at the shoulder, the wound still reeking of charred flesh, as though cauterized by fire.
His right leg dragged uselessly behind him, barely held upright by the walking stick. Fresh blood continued seeping from his shattered knee, where splintered bone fragments pierced through torn skin.
And yet, as he entered The Last Drop, he displayed absolutely no sign of pain. No groan of discomfort, no complaint about his injuries, his face remained perfectly calm.
"Commander, what happened to you? Quick, fetch a doctor!"
Quiletta sprang to her feet, attempting to provide support, but Swain waved her away with his remaining hand.
"No need for medical attention. Time is extremely limited. Let's begin the meeting without delay. There are still many matters requiring attention."
Swain lowered himself heavily into the main seat that Cipher had reserved for him.
"But... your injuries," Quiletta pressed with concern.
"They don't matter. I will not die from these wounds today. Sit."
Swain accepted the cup of tea Cipher had poured for him, using it to soothe his throat, his expression remaining absolutely unchanged.
His composure never wavered. Not even for a single moment.
"Our ranks has expanded since our last gathering. Welcome to our cause, Councilor Kiramman."
He nodded toward the councilor, recognizing the newest member.
"Before this meeting officially begins, I must ask everyone present to sign this magical contract."
"It concerns core secrets. If you do not wish to bind yourself to secrecy, you may leave now. Those who remain must provide their signature."
From beneath his bloodied cloak, he pulled out a crimson contract. His own name was already inscribed at the top.
Seated at Swain's right hand, Cipher took the document without hesitation and signed his name.