"I believe that if we rush off to investigate the source of the Black Mist, the outcome is guaranteed to be bad."
Luke looked at the room and spoke calmly.
"Based on my experience spending a night inside the Black Mist, there were undead in there unlike anything I'd ever seen before—giants, two-headed sharks, ghost ships, and the sea beast Garen mentioned."
"All of those creatures came from different parts of Runeterra, and now they've all become servants of the Black Mist. That means the Mist's reach extends far beyond Demacia."
As they listened, the ministers sank into thought.
That was true. Some of the undead within the Black Mist were clearly not from Demacia, and those undead obviously came from elsewhere in Runeterra.
"That makes it even more likely that the source of the Black Mist contains undead far stronger than anything we've already seen."
Luke let his gaze sweep across the room and continued, "Even if we want to understand the Black Mist, shouldn't we make proper preparations first? Instead of sending people off to die for nothing?"
At that, Roy, seated nearby, could not help coughing lightly before saying, "Your Highness, 'sending people off to die for nothing' is a little…"
"Blunt, maybe. Wrong, no."
Another voice cut in.
Tianna leaned back in her chair and spoke. "Among everyone here, who understands the Black Mist better than him and Garen? If even they consider it extraordinarily dangerous, then sending people there now would be exactly what he said—sending them to their deaths."
Low murmurs began spreading through the chamber. The hawkish faction calmed down, and after thinking it through carefully, realized that was true.
No one in the room did not want to know where the Black Mist came from or what lay at its source.
The real problem was how to find out.
Who would they send?
Who knew what dangers were waiting there?
And what if the investigation team never came back?
That would be five hundred lives gone.
At that point, Tourt looked at Luke and said, "But if we remain ignorant of the Black Mist, who can guarantee its source does not pose an even greater threat to Demacia? And what if the Black Mist returns?"
"That's exactly why we should start reinforcing our maritime border defenses right now. In my view, the Black Mist will absolutely return."
Luke glanced at him, then looked back to the others.
"Based on what I observed and what I heard, the spread of the Black Mist feels more like a seasonal expansion. When a certain time comes, it appears, the way snow falls in winter. And once that period passes, it retreats to its source."
"In the end, that's still only your speculation, Your Highness."
Tourt waited until Luke finished, then countered, "By your own reasoning, why is there nothing like this recorded in Demacia's history? And if even you believe the Black Mist will come back, then all the more reason we should investigate the source and eliminate the threat to Demacia at its root."
Behind him, the ministers murmured again.
"I already said it earlier. The Black Mist must have passed through other places before, after many turns, it finally reached Demacia."
Luke walked to the table and picked up a pen.
When the council chamber quieted again, he drew a circle on the table map. "Doesn't that suggest the source of the Black Mist is actually very far away from us?"
As he spoke, he drew a long line across the map and circled another point at the far end.
"It took the Black Mist centuries to spread to Demacia's border. At that kind of distance, even if we send people there, after such a long journey, will our soldiers still have the strength left to deal with whatever danger waits at the source? And even if they discover the truth and somehow send the information back, what exactly do we do then?"
Luke looked at Tourt. "Send an even bigger force and fight a horde of ghosts in the farthest military campaign in Demacian history? How much manpower, supplies, energy, and resources would that cost?"
The ministers watched the refined-looking young man speak with steady confidence, and not a single one of them interrupted.
They were all seriously considering his words.
Because that was the real question.
Even if they discovered the source of the Black Mist and confirmed how dangerous it was, what would Demacia do about it?
Send an army to wipe it out?
Setting aside how dangerous the source itself might be, even if they succeeded, what would the cost be?
Would that really be more worthwhile than fortifying their defenses now and waiting, as Luke suggested, to see whether the Black Mist returned in the next seasonal cycle?
Listening to Luke, Tourt fell silent as well.
After a long pause, he spoke again. "That too is only your guess, Your Highness. What if the source of the Black Mist is actually very close to Demacia?"
Luke looked at him, smiled, and used Tourt's own argument against him.
"Then why has no one in Demacia's entire history ever discovered it?"
That same question left Tourt silent.
Because it was true. If the source of the Black Mist were very close to Demacia, why had no one found it in all these centuries?
The argument he had just used to challenge Luke's point now ended up supporting it.
That was—the source of the Black Mist had to be very far from Demacia.
Luke continued, "And the Black Mist has clearly reached other places before. Just take the sea monster Garen described. It obviously isn't a species found in the Conqueror's Sea. If I remember correctly, that thing is a monster from the Guardian's Sea on the far side of Valoran."
On the night of the Harrowing, there had been a sea beast as massive as a great ship, covered in octopus-like tentacles and mottled all over.
According to the records, that creature was most likely a sea monster often found in the Guardian's Sea known as a haikui worm.
A creature from the far side of the Valoran continent had died, and its soul had still ended up in Demacia.
Did that not prove the source of the Black Mist was very far from Demacia?
Even if one departed from the Conqueror's Sea and took a sea route in a wide circle, the journey would still take a very long time.
Tourt finally fell silent. He gave Luke a serious look and said nothing more.
"So, to sum it all up, what we should be doing right now is not investigating the source. We should be fortifying the maritime border defenses and observing whether the Black Mist truly behaves in a seasonal pattern."
Luke looked around the room once more, restating his view. Then he added, "Actually, in my opinion, it's not as though we have no way of dealing with the Black Mist."
Everyone's attention immediately centered on him again, waiting for him to continue.
"Based on what the soldiers who once fought the Black Mist on that island for four days told me, and based on my own experience…"
Luke set the pen down and continued, "The Black Mist corrodes a person's soul, then enslaves it, turning that soul against its own people."
"The first critical point in that corruption process is death. If someone dies within the Black Mist, their soul does not pass on to the spirit realm. It becomes trapped inside the Mist and falls under its control."
"The Black Mist itself also has a degree of direct lethality. Ordinary people have virtually no ability to resist it. But our armor performed extremely well as protection."
As he spoke, Luke walked over to Garen.
Garen was still wearing his armor, marked with the scrapes and damage of battle, yet there was no visible sign of Black Mist corrosion on it.
Demacian armor, forged from Demacian steel through special methods, was made with petricite limewater poured into the process as one of its materials.
Once finished, that gave it excellent magic resistance.
And now it seemed that the armor did more than resist sorcery. It could resist the Black Mist as well.
Garen remembered that clearly.
When the exposed skin on his body had brushed against the Black Mist, he had immediately felt an icy, stabbing pain. But the parts covered by armor had felt nothing at all.
Meanwhile, the ships and ordinary equipment that had passed through the Mist had all shown obvious signs of corrosion.
Of course, that did not mean Demacian armor was one hundred percent immune to the Black Mist.
It simply meant it could hold out much longer.
When they had first gone to the island, even the armor of Kavin and the other three Dauntless soldiers had shown traces of Black Mist erosion.
But they had endured inside the Black Mist for a full six days.
Everyone present was intelligent enough.
The moment they heard Luke's explanation, they understood his meaning immediately.
In other words, petricite worked against the Black Mist too.
That gave people a little more confidence when it came to the dangerous unknown of the Mist.
Petricite had always been one of Demacia's greatest assets. Now that they knew it was still effective against spirits, quite a few people felt more at ease.
Luke watched them murmur quietly among themselves, watched several of them sink into thought, and said nothing, simply waiting.
He was the one with the full-map cheat, after all. He knew perfectly well that going to investigate the Shadow Isles right now was a guaranteed death sentence.
As for anything else about the Black Mist, that was next year's problem.
Besides, for an ordinary Harrowing, Demacia was fully capable of handling it.
And as for the extraordinary kind—well, when that came, it would affect all of Runeterra. At that point, what good would an ordinary border defense line really do?
Jarvan III looked at Luke, a trace of a smile in his eyes, then withdrew his gaze and said, "Does anyone else have anything to add on this matter?"
The moment the words fell, the chamber went completely silent.
Luke had already said everything that needed to be said, and he had said it clearly.
Anything else at that point would just be nitpicking.
Even Tourt and Eldred, who had initially supported investigating the source, sat quietly in their seats now.
After waiting a few seconds, Jarvan III spoke again.
"Since no one has anything further to add, then on the matter of the Black Mist, our primary course of action will be reinforcing the border defenses along the western sea. As for investigating the source, that will wait until we have made sufficient preparations and gathered a deeper understanding."
For Demacia, the source of the Black Mist could not simply be ignored forever.
No matter how one looked at it, it remained a threat to the kingdom.
It was just that, for now, they needed far better preparation and understanding before acting.
Once Jarvan III finished summarizing the discussion, the matter of the Black Mist was concluded.
After that came the rewards.
Luke's role in the Black Mist incident went without saying. Whether it was the preparations he made in advance or his resistance against the Mist at sea, his merit was beyond question.
The problem was that he was already a major general at such a young age. The next promotion would make him a lieutenant general, equal in rank to Jarvan IV.
Many people felt that would be far too soon.
As for other rewards, they were mostly money and the like.
After all, as a prince, Luke had no need of a noble title.
Of course, to Luke, those things barely mattered either way.
Garen had also rendered tremendous service in the incident and was granted a higher title.
He himself did not care much about that either.
Rank and noble status had never held any especially great appeal for him.
As for the merits of the other soldiers, those would not be discussed one by one in a place like the council chamber. That would be left to the proper departments to handle.
For someone like Cithria, who had distinguished herself so clearly, promotion was a certainty.
One more step after that and she would likely be ennobled.
This time, she would probably also leave behind her status as a Dauntless Vanguard recruit and officially advance into the Dauntless Vanguard proper.
The personal guards who had followed Luke, along with Quinn, would naturally share in the credit as well.
And then there was Sona.
In the Harrowing, her contribution had absolutely been on par with Garen's. She could have been counted among those with the greatest merit.
But because of her special circumstances, Luke had deliberately not emphasized her role while giving his report. In fact, he had not even gone out of his way to mention it.
Garen had done the same while speaking, intentionally and unintentionally glossing over Sona as well.
After the meeting adjourned, Luke chatted for a bit with Jarvan III, Tianna, Jarvan IV, and the others.
Then he took his leave and left the palace.
By now, all he wanted was to go home.
He could hardly wait to stretch out in the chair in the courtyard and soak up some sunlight.
For some reason, every time he came back from a long trip, he felt especially wiped out.
Mentally tired. Physically tired too.
Outside the palace, Yurna had already prepared a carriage and was waiting for him.
Luke climbed in, sat down, and let his whole body relax as he said, "Home."
Very soon, the carriage started rolling.
Luke leaned back against the wall of the carriage and closed his eyes for a while to rest. After a bit, he felt much more at peace.
After some time, he opened his eyes, casually lifted the carriage curtain, and looked outside.
The street was bustling with people as usual.
Seeing those familiar roads, Luke thought for a moment, then said, "Take the next left. We're going to the prison."
It was on the way anyway, and he suddenly remembered Sylas. It had been a while since he had gone to see him.
"Yes, sir."
Yurna responded and guided the carriage in a new direction.
Ten minutes later, the carriage came to a stop outside the royal capital prison.
The guards at the entrance recognized the Lightshield family carriage immediately, and some of them were already thinking that it really had been a while since His Highness had last visited.
"Greetings, Your Highness."
"At ease."
After stepping out of the carriage, Luke went in unimpeded as always, headed to the right, and arrived at the underground cells.
There he saw a face smiling so broadly it looked practically painted on.
Dierde hurried over with a thoroughly flattering grin. "I was just wondering why the sun looked so bright and the air smelled so sweet today. Turns out it's because Your Highness has graced us with your presence."
Luke merely shot him a casual glance and kept walking into the dungeon.
As usual, Dierde followed right behind him.
Before long, the two reached the familiar cell door.
Just as it had been the first time Luke ever came, the heavy cell door was shut tight, with two guards posted outside.
"Open it."
Dierde naturally knew exactly why Luke had come. He took a torch from the wall and glanced at the guards.
The two guards pulled out their keys and slowly unlocked the cell door.
There was some light inside. It was dim, but enough to make things out.
At a glance, Luke saw Sylas sitting beyond the bars, copying from a book stroke by stroke.
As they went farther in, the torchlight brightened the place a little more.
"Hey, little Sylas. Long time no see. Miss me?"
Luke cheerfully called out in greeting.
Sylas's response was cold. He only lifted his head to look at Luke once, then lowered it again and continued with what he was doing.
Luke did not get mad. He simply studied the Sylas he had not seen in quite a while.
Compared to two months ago, Sylas's whole air had changed a little.
Maybe it was all the copying.
The change in him was obvious.
The eyes that had been full of hatred and violent resentment the first time Luke met him had become much calmer now.
Sylas really did not have much to say to Luke.
But if someone asked whether he had thought about him at all… honestly, he had.
After all, the person who had left the strongest impression on him during this stretch of time was Luke, the prince who kept dropping by every so often just to be annoying.
But this time, Luke had gone so long without showing up that Sylas had started to think he had been forgotten.
And yet today, he had come again.
He seemed no different from the first time they met.
But he somehow gave Sylas the sense that he was even more dangerous now.
The only question was what sort of nonsense he had come to pull this time.
After looking at Sylas for a couple of moments, Luke said, "I'm out there working myself half to death every day, and meanwhile he's in here reading books and writing away. Seems like he's living pretty comfortably."
Dierde stood off to the side with a sycophantic smile, saying nothing.
Though inwardly he muttered, Wasn't that your arrangement in the first place?
Then Luke said, "Starting today, give him something else to do. Don't you think life gets a little too cushy when someone has it this easy?"
"Absolutely, absolutely."
Dierde nodded at once and asked, "May I ask, Your Highness, how you'd like us to… arrange him?"
Luke said, "Bring him outside. I noticed the prison yard looks pretty big. Starting every morning, have him run a few dozen laps. After that, I think the yard could use an expanded library, so give that job to him too."
Dierde froze for a second. "You want to bring him outside? But he's a—"
"What's the problem? What exactly are you afraid of?"
Luke cut him off and looked at him.
Dierde hurriedly shook his head. "That's not what I meant. I mean… isn't that a little too harsh?"
As a prisoner serving a life sentence, Sylas theoretically should never have any chance to leave this cell for the rest of his life.
But in reality, even doing what Luke suggested—dragging him outside to work—would not be a big issue.
If anything happened, Luke would be the one taking the blame anyway. Besides, this was the capital prison. What could possibly happen?
From Dierde's perspective, though, this new idea from His Highness was brutal.
Running dozens of laps every morning, then taking on the construction of a whole library afterward…
That was treating a man like a beast of burden.
"Good."
Luke smiled. "That's the point."
Then he looked at Dierde and added, "Every night, if he doesn't collapse from exhaustion, then you will."
Dierde jolted upright on the spot and immediately promised, "This subordinate guarantees Your Highness's orders will be carried out!"
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