At 7:00 AM sharp, Mel Medarda woke up in her two-hundred-square-meter bedroom.
She got out of bed, used the restroom, washed up, and had her servants style her hair into an elegant updo before changing into a well-fitted, dignified aristocratic dress.
At 7:15 AM, she ate breakfast with the representatives of the Shuriman Chamber of Commerce in the banquet hall.
At 7:45 AM, she received a reporter from the Piltover Daily and took promotional photographs.
At 7:55 AM, she closed her eyes and rested for five minutes.
At 8:00 AM sharp, she listened to the daily briefing prepared by her personal maid.
Mel took a large sip of coffee, dispelling the lingering drowsiness.
To outsiders, she was an envied magnate. But sometimes, she felt more like a machine.
Gathering her energy and focusing her attention, she adjusted her posture according to aristocratic etiquette, sat up straight, and picked up the daily briefing presented by her personal maid. She read through it while waiting for the maid to report the key points.
"House Ferros's Synthetic Hextech Crystal factory has been forced to halt production due to a fire. The price of their supplies to us may increase."
"Another fire? Heh, a monopoly really is a lucrative business," Mel frowned, then instructed without hesitation. "Tell them we accept the price increase. But this time, we must sign a long-term supply agreement guaranteeing that the price remains unchanged for at least two years. That is our bottom line."
"Understood." The maid nodded and continued her report. "Mr. Jayce has requested a meeting with you. He—"
"That 'golden boy'?" Mel did not even ask what it was about, simply replying with a smile. "No problem. Schedule a time for me."
"Also..." The maid carefully stepped to the side.
She was a personal maid who had watched Mel grow up since childhood; their relationship was almost like that of sisters, transcending the boundaries of master and servant.
Therefore, she knew exactly what Mel liked and disliked.
Mel was absolutely not going to like this next piece of news.
"The family has shipped another batch of slaves from the Ionian frontlines. They said it's to support our operations."
As expected, Mel furrowed her brows the moment she heard the news. "Didn't I already say I don't need this kind of 'support' from them?"
"But your mother insists," the maid said, looking troubled. "She stated in her letter that you must accept this batch of slaves. That this is what a Noxian should do."
"..." Mel felt a sudden tightness in her chest.
When she was a child, she had witnessed the Noxian army hunting and killing slaves.
It was a trauma that cast a shadow over her entire life.
"Furthermore, your mother also said..." the maid added cautiously. "As the empire's wars expand, even more slaves will be sent over in the future. As a member of the Noxian nobility, you must help absorb this surplus resource."
Because they were fighting so many wars, they had actually captured a surplus of slaves.
"Barbarians!" Mel could not help but scoff in a low voice. "I think His Majesty has completely lost his mind!"
"My lady, please watch your words!" the maid hurriedly warned.
The empire's secret intelligence organization, the Noxian "Warmasons," were as pervasive and omnipresent as the night itself.
Thus, for the ministers and nobles of Noxus, speaking ill of the emperor—even within the confines of their own homes—was an incredibly dangerous act.
But Mel was not wrong.
Most people of insight within the empire currently felt that Emperor Darkwill might have gone mad.
It was true that Noxus was a warmongering nation, but it had always been a sustainable kind of warmongering.
Yet, in recent years, Emperor Darkwill had been acting as if he had rabies—biting anyone in sight and refusing to let go once his jaws clamped down.
Under his command, Noxus was now simultaneously at war with the Freljordian tribes to the north, the Ionian factions to the east, the Demacian alliance to the west, and the Shuriman natives to the south.
He had essentially declared war on every nation on the map that could be declared war upon.
And there was no primary front; every single front was treated as the main offensive.
As a result, the empire suffered a head-on blow from Freljord's "General Winter" in the north, crashed into Demacia's iron-clad defenses in the west, and simultaneously sank into the vast ocean of people's wars in Ionia to the east and Shurima to the south.
Fighting a four-front war and mobilizing the entire nation's strength, the conflicts dragged on endlessly, becoming a tangled quagmire.
With such endless attrition, even Noxus would not be able to hold out.
"The emperor's decisions have clearly resulted in fatal blunders, yet the nobles still sing his praises in unison." The maid dared not say more, but Mel continued to mutter indignantly under her breath.
"Heh, that book 'Janna Thought' is right. The economic base determines the superstructure."
"Noxus's economy has been completely hijacked by the military industry. These great nobles, who gorge themselves on the military-industrial complex and amass massive fortunes through colonial aggression and the slave trade, probably don't care about the fate of the nation and its people at all."
"They only complain that His Majesty isn't crazy enough, that he hasn't started enough wars!"
"How can the empire be governed well when surrounded by such parasites?"
Mel displayed a rare cynical side, even unconsciously employing the ideological theories derived from Janna.
"My lady..." The maid waited patiently for her to vent this nameless frustration.
Only then did she ask carefully, "What about this batch of slaves?"
Mel remained silent for a long time before wearing a helpless expression. "Accept them, as per the family's wishes."
"Where should we send them?" the maid asked. "The family's factories in Piltover are already fully staffed."
"Contact the Iron Fist Gang—" Oh, the Iron Fist Gang was no longer around.
Mel had originally intended to sell all these slaves off as contract laborers, out of sight and out of mind.
"Should we contact other gangs?" the maid suggested. "Or sell them to the Chem-Barons in Zaun?"
Zaun's living conditions were so abysmal, yet its population kept growing, and the price of labor kept dropping.
The Noxian Empire and House Medarda could certainly take a lot of the credit for that.
"Then sell them to Zaun..." Mel actually knew that if the slaves were sold to Zaun, it was no different from sending them straight to the crematorium. The only difference was that the process would be much longer and far more agonizing.
But Noxus kept sending an endless stream of slaves over here; what else could she do?
She wasn't a philanthropist. It was impossible for her to feed a group of slave laborers for free. Other than Zaun, she had nowhere else to send them.
"Wait." Mel suddenly thought of something. "Today's itinerary should include a tour of the Windguides' factory, right?"
"Yes," the maid replied. "You have an appointment to meet Mr. Levi at 10:00 AM. From 10:00 to 12:00, you will tour the Windguides' factory and the South City Zaunite Community under their jurisdiction. At 12:30 PM, you are scheduled to dine with the representatives of the North City Community Council, and at 1:00 PM—"
"Cancel the noon and afternoon itineraries," Mel interrupted. "I want to spend more time looking around the Windguides' territory."
"Understood." The maid nodded.
Then, she could not help but ask, "My lady, aren't you paying a bit too much attention to this Windguide Association?"
"If it's just an investment inspection, there's no need for you to be there in person. Not to mention, you're setting aside this entire day just for them."
Mel fell silent. She really was paying an excessive amount of attention to this Windguide Association.
The relationship between the Windguides and Janna had not even been confirmed yet. There was no need for her to invest so much effort into this organization.
Perhaps...
Had the contents of that pamphlet unknowingly influenced her?
'Haha.' The moment this thought popped into her head, Mel let out a helpless smile.
She was no naive child.
How could she be so easily swayed by a few lines of text?
"Anyway, just arrange it for me."
Mel thought about it seriously and finally figured out why she valued the Windguides so highly:
"I'm just very curious—"
"What these idealists, who use theories to dictate the ways of the world, can actually achieve in reality."