As Camille departed, Faen fell into a brief contemplation.
Noxus revered strength, and it revered strength in all its forms. Whether it was the broadly praised and condemned traits of violence, wisdom, conspiracy, and cunning, or the more unorthodox methods of theft, infiltration, and plundering.
In Noxus, all of these were considered forms of power. Precisely because of this, the countless legions of Noxus also represented countless methods of warfare. Various unorthodox prodigies could find a place within them; people who were not understood or accepted by the secular world often took to the Noxian environment like fish to water.
One could even say that Noxus inherently possessed "special talents" from all over the world, eager to make a name for themselves and shine within the empire.
As for the Noxian provincial system, the right of nobles to maintain private armies, the provincial governor system, and the like... Faen didn't think there was much to evaluate.
If this were an ordinary world, the collapse of such a system would only be a matter of time. Even if they could suppress all internal conflicts and dissatisfaction in the short term through continuous military victories, once their expansion met a roadblock, even a seemingly insignificant war could serve as the spark that triggered the collapse of the entire empire.
The power of the royal family could not reach the regional nobles, and the loyalty of the provincial governors could not be effectively guaranteed. Examples of similar empires, regimes, and city-states collapsing were innumerable. Even in the later technological eras, corporations suffered from "big company disease," let alone classical empires.
But this was a magical world... Every region had, more or less, a few enigmatic figures operating either openly or from the shadows. Under these circumstances, even a supremely convoluted, hyper-classical militaristic state like Noxus managed to survive to this day, and thrive while doing so.
From another perspective, the Noxian style itself actually matched Zaun quite well. After all, before Faen arrived, Zaun had also emphasized pragmatism.
On the side, seeing Faen finish his conversation with Camille and confirming that he wasn't busy with other matters, Zeri carefully said, "Um... are you busy right now?"
"Me? No, what's wrong?" Faen looked at Zeri with some curiosity.
Having confirmed Faen wasn't busy, Zeri immediately pouted. Looking at Faen with a face full of grumbling, she then pointed at LeBlanc—who was kneeling beside Faen like a personal attendant or a bed-warming maid—and said: "What's going on with this woman? Wasn't she an enemy just a little while ago? Did you fight her and end up taking the battle straight to bed?"
"Hey, I didn't have much to do with this."
Hearing this, Faen hurriedly waved his hands to signify his spotless innocence.
"Actually, the attitude this gal is showing right now is entirely her own idea. You know me; after granting the blessing, although I can hear the voices of the heart, I cannot twist someone's mind. And crude interference is useless against someone with a firm will."
Pointing at the still-smiling LeBlanc beside him, Faen said: "The fact that she's acting like this now is entirely her own decision. From the first time we fought and I left the mark on her until now, this is actually the first time I've officially spoken to her."
Saying this, Faen looked at LeBlanc, a trace of playfulness appearing in his gaze.
"So, LeBlanc... or rather, the illusion of LeBlanc? Why did you make such a decision?"
Hearing Faen's words, the smile on LeBlanc's face remained.
"Revenge. I want revenge." Glancing at Faen, LeBlanc knew very well that her Master was aware of her true motives. The fact that he was asking her to explain now wasn't to clarify things for him, but to allow her to gain the trust of the people around him...
Thinking this, LeBlanc felt no resistance in her heart. Because this meant her Master still cared about the feelings of those around him... Nostalgia? Or simply a strong sense of possessiveness? Regardless, these were ancient concepts. Even knowing she was fake, LeBlanc couldn't help but feel a sense of emotion.
Because similar emotions, in the past, were often considered mental weaknesses and flaws. But now... undoubtedly, if she could gain their trust and reliance, it meant she could be of greater use by her Master's side.
Thinking this, LeBlanc tapped into her talent as an illusionist and deceiver, forcibly acting out a state of utter heartbreak and grief.
Of course, pure acting could hardly convey true resentment. And LeBlanc's true purpose didn't need lies to conceal it, so she straightforwardly voiced her pain, anger, and unwillingness—
"The reason I am able to continue existing now, everything I have at this moment, stems from the mark Master carved into me." She lifted half of the skirt at her waist, revealing the mark on her lower abdomen to the group. Upon seeing the design of that mark, a subconscious look of resistance surfaced in the depths of Caitlyn's eyes.
LeBlanc seemed entirely unbothered by Caitlyn's resistance. In fact, to prove her "loyalty," she completely pulled aside the skirt that she had only half-lifted. That flimsy excuse for underwear concealed absolutely nothing. Under the continuous activation of the "Mark of Pleasure," her fully ripened secret garden was already a muddy mess.
"As long as Master desires, this shell abandoned by the original body can serve as a vessel to receive ultimate bliss at any time." LeBlanc's eyes were sultry as silk. Right in front of the other women, she proactively parted her long, shapely legs. She extended two pale fingers and, without the slightest hesitation, reached toward her own petals, which were already red, engorged, and continuously weeping transparent love juices.
As her fingers slowly played and prodded, the lewd, wet "squelching" sounds were exceptionally jarring in the quiet meeting room. LeBlanc tilted her slender neck back slightly, a sweet, breathy moan escaping her throat. Her plump breasts, barely contained by her top, heaved violently with her rapid breathing. Under Faen's aggressive gaze, she deliberately pried open the tight entrance to her tunnel, displaying to her new Master the soft flesh within that was constantly writhing, yearning to be roughly filled.
Crystal-clear slutty juices slid down her inner thighs, soaking a dark, wet patch into the carpet. This Noxian witch, who had once stood high above, treating the Twin Cities as her chessboard, was now acting like a female dog in heat, desperate for her Master's masculine essence to relieve her itch. Using the most degrading and straightforward physical posture, she declared her total spiritual and physiological submission to Faen.
But LeBlanc didn't care—among Faen's many women, the one LeBlanc cared about most was Zeri, followed by Seraphine.
Because LeBlanc could more or less sense that her Master held genuine feelings for them—even if that included a degree of possessiveness. Even if she was more useful than them, their connection with the Master was far more intimate than hers. Although each had their strengths, as long as the other party held even a slight advantage over her, LeBlanc would not offend them; instead, she would do her utmost to cultivate a friendship with them.
As for Caitlyn...
Her emotional bond was inferior to girls like Zeri, her strength was inferior to LeBlanc's own, and her capabilities weren't even worth mentioning—just a petty noble from a small place like Piltover.
However, even so, LeBlanc did not show any contempt. She simply said with a calm face: "This mark seeped in from my lower abdomen. First the womb, then the internal organs, and finally anchoring itself within my brain and spirit, allowing me to continue existing. Therefore, even if it is just to stay alive, I will harbor no treacherous thoughts toward my Master. Similarly, I crave revenge."
LeBlanc's calm words were filled with a chilling implication.
"I want my original body to feel my pain, my despair. I want her to taste what it means to be dead in both body and mind, with all hope reduced to ashes. As for everything else..."
Meeting the gazes of Zeri and the others, a self-deprecating, cold sneer appeared at the corner of LeBlanc's mouth.
"I don't know what else I have left to please my Master, other than this skin, and my so-called wisdom and chastity."