Arcane: TTB: Ch. 162

The Clan Ferros estate at night was quiet. Inside the main building, Camille waited in one of the smaller reception rooms.

Water trickled from a decorative fountain in the corner. She found it useful for masking the sound of her systems running diagnostic scans.

She was preparing tea when her guest arrived.

"Amara," she said without looking up from the tea service. "What's so urgent that it couldn't wait until morning?"

It was strange that the woman had come at all. The Merchant's Guild had standard protocols for communication with Clan Ferros, none of which involved the guild representative personally visiting Camille. She didn't handle the family's business operations directly, there were entire departments for that.

But Amara had specifically requested this meeting.

The Merchant's Guild had maintained productive relations with Clan Ferros for decades. They played an important role in Piltover's commercial ecosystem. So despite her suspicions, Camille had agreed to the meeting.

"Speak," she said, settling into her chair with one leg crossed over the other. She handed Amara a cup of tea.

The woman accepted it and took a small sip. "I'm not here on guild business."

"Oh?"

"I'm here on behalf of a certain lady to ask you something."

Amara lowered her head slightly. When she looked back up, there was something in her smile that made Camille's threat assessment systems spike into the yellow.

"This lady," Camille said. "What does she want to know?"

Something was wrong. Her optics were running full-spectrum analysis now, scanning Amara for any sign of augmentation, magical contamination, chemical weapons that might explain the sudden shift in atmosphere.

Nothing.

"The Pale Lady," Amara said, and her voice changed. It was still her voice, but underneath it were others, layered and echoing. "Camille Ferros. Don't you have anything you'd like to say to me?"

"I should be asking you the same question. Don't you have anything you'd like to say to me?"

Now that Camille knew this was the Black Rose, she felt more relaxed. She'd been half-expecting an assassination attempt, some desperate play by one of Piltover's defeated noble houses. The Black Rose was dangerous, certainly, but at least she understood their methods. And more importantly, she had backup. Her current patron wasn't some mortal power broker who could be outmaneuvered by political intrigue. Janna was a god, the real deal, and this was her city.

The Pale Lady might have influence that reached across continents, but Zaun's territory was beyond her grasp.

"So she was right about you," Amara said, and now there was no pretense of pleasantry in her voice. "You really did betray the Black Rose."

The lights in the reception room flickered and dimmed. Shadows pooled in the corners, thickening into something more substantial than absence of light. Then the attack came.

Dark red tendrils erupted from the floor around Camille's chair, wrapping around her arms and torso. They felt organic, almost alive, and where they touched her skin she could feel something trying to drain her energy. Rose thorns as long as her fingers pressed against her throat.

"Did you really think allying with Zaun would let you escape us?" Amara stood now, walking slowly around Camille's restrained form. "Should I call you naive?"

She reached out and touched Camille's face. "Tell me why you betrayed the Black Rose. Maybe, for old time's sake, I'll make your death quick."

There was envy in Amara's eyes as she studied Camille's features. Even after decades, the hextech augmentation had preserved her appearance almost perfectly. Eternal youth, functional immortality, and combat capabilities that could rival trained soldiers, all gifts from the procedure her former lover had performed.

According to Black Rose intelligence, only that one man had mastered the specific augmentation techniques used on Camille. And after completing her surgery, he had vanished without a trace. The official story was that Camille had killed him herself to prevent the technology from spreading. Whether that was true or merely convenient propaganda, no one could say for certain.

But the result was clear: eternal youth was a prize even the far-reaching Black Rose could only grant to a select few. Only members who had rendered extraordinary service were permitted to undergo the Pale Lady's ritual, gaining the gift of extended life through magic.

"You think I betrayed the Black Rose?" Camille's voice was calm. "Are you certain it wasn't the other way around? That the Black Rose betrayed me? Betrayed Clan Ferros?"

She met Amara's eyes directly, and there was something almost pitying in her expression.

Amara's face twisted. "Still defiant."

An enchanted dagger appeared in her hand. She grabbed Camille's hair, yanking her head back to expose more of her throat. "Don't play games with me. We both know what you want, and I'm here to tell you it will never happen. Not now that you've turned against us."

Dark energy surged around her body.

"You and your entire clan will pay for this stupidity. Death is the only ending waiting for traitors."

"Death?" Camille smiled. It wasn't a pleasant expression. "No need to trouble yourself. Your appearance here has already proven what I needed to know. Our plan worked."

Her energy shield activated in a flash of blue light. The core in her chest ramped to maximum output, flooding her circulatory system with power. Energy surged through every system in her body, and the dark magic binding her began to crack and dissolve under the assault.

Amara's expression shifted. The Black Rose's magic had been her trump card, the reason she'd felt safe confronting Camille directly. Without it, this was just a fragile old woman facing one of Piltover's most dangerous operatives.

Black light flared around her body.

But the moment Camille broke free of the magical restraints, she triggered her Hextech Ultimatum.

Six walls of blue energy erupted from the floor, forming a cage. Amara's spell activated, carrying her halfway through the dimensional barrier before energy filaments lashed out and dragged her back like a fish on a hook.

"I'm not going to kill you," Camille said, settling back into her chair as if nothing had happened. She picked up her teacup and took a sip. "I'm going to let you live so you can deliver a message to the Pale Lady."

She studied the tea for a moment. "For the sake of everything Clan Ferros has done to protect Piltover over the years, I'll offer her some advice. If she doesn't want to be torn apart by the coming storm, she should surrender early."

Throughout the entire confrontation, she had never even stood up.

Knowing some Black Rose magic tricks didn't make you qualified to challenge her. If it were that simple, she never could have protected Piltover's interests for nearly a century.

"You arrogant—" Amara started, but her words cut off abruptly.

Black roses bloomed from her eyes, bursting through the sockets in an explosion of petals and blood. More flowers erupted from her mouth and ears. Within seconds, her body was completely consumed, transformed into nothing but a writhing mass of thorny stems and dark blossoms.

A massive black rose bloomed on the floor where she had been standing. Darkness spread outward from it, and more roses sprouted across every surface.

At the center of the giant flower, seated with perfect poise, was the Pale Lady herself.

She wasn't wearing her usual shadow-form. Tonight she'd chosen to appear as a Noxian aristocrat, dressed in an elegant gown. A glass of red wine sat balanced on one knee.

Camille hadn't expected the woman to manifest personally. The distance from Noxus to Piltover should have made that impossible, or at least prohibitively expensive in terms of magical energy. But her shock lasted only a moment. Then her expression returned to neutral.

The light in the room returned to normal. The black roses began to fade, dissolving into wisps of shadow.

"You say I abandoned you?" The Pale Lady's voice was warm. "That seems unfair. I've always thought of you as a dear friend, Camille."

She stood, setting down her wine glass. The glass didn't fall, it simply faded from existence as if being carried away by an invisible servant.

She crossed the room and seated herself across from Camille.

Within the Black Rose, there were few people she considered worth her personal attention. Camille had always been one of them.

They were both intelligent women. They both knew exactly who had betrayed whom, and when, and why.

But this was how adults handled these situations. As long as certain things remained unspoken, the bridge wasn't completely burned. There was still room for negotiation.

"Aren't you going to offer me tea?" the Pale Lady asked.

Her face held a gentle smile.

"This tea isn't suitable," Camille said, pouring out the current pot and beginning to prepare a fresh one.

Whatever their political differences, when entertaining someone of the Pale Lady's caliber, basic hospitality demanded better than her everyday drinking tea.

"Ah, leaves from the Dreaming Pool," the Pale Lady said, watching Camille measure out the new tea. Her smile deepened. "I'm truly fortunate tonight. That unique flavor of concentrated magic is unforgettable."

She leaned back slightly. "Also, you can call me LeBlanc from now on. A new name for a new era."

"Understood," Camille replied.

The leader of the Black Rose had operated under countless identities over the centuries. This appearance and name were undoubtedly just another mask.

But the fact that LeBlanc had revealed herself at all, had come here personally instead of sending more proxies, that suggested this wasn't a hostile visit. At least, not immediately hostile.

Camille didn't try to contact Zaun for backup. Such obvious tactics would never fool LeBlanc and might provoke her into action. So she treated her like a guest.

The atmosphere grew heavy. Neither woman spoke as Camille completed the tea preparation. The rich aroma of the rare leaves gradually filled the reception room.

They sat in silence, drinking tea like old friends catching up, until the pot was empty.

Camille tilted the empty teapot slightly, showing it to LeBlanc. A clear signal: the tea is finished. If you have business, conduct it now. Leaves from the Dreaming Pool couldn't be steeped twice.

"I need you to deliver a message to Zaun's mayor," LeBlanc said, setting down her empty cup. "Tell him I want to speak with him."

"I can do that," Camille replied. "I'll inform him personally."

"If he agrees, you know how to contact me." LeBlanc stood, and the moment she rose to her feet, her entire form exploded into a storm of black rose petals that swirled through the air before vanishing completely.

Camille finished her own tea, then stood and left the reception room. She headed to one of the estate's secure vaults and retrieved an item she hadn't touched in years: a black magic amulet the Black Rose had given her decades ago, during her time as one of their operatives.

Then she headed straight for Zaun.

A meeting request from LeBlanc to see Cipher personally... this was far too important to relay over a communicator. It had to be delivered face to face.

---

"So LeBlanc wants to meet with me?" Cipher said, leaning back in his chair at The Last Drop's office. It was well past midnight, but he'd been reviewing logistical reports when Camille had arrived.

"Yes," Camille confirmed. "She came to the estate personally and made the request."

Her role was strictly as messenger. She relayed events exactly as they occurred, without inserting her own opinions or analysis. All decisions would be made by Cipher himself. She wouldn't interfere.

On Cipher's shoulder, a small blue bird suddenly pecked at his ear.

"Why are you so excited about this?" Janna's voice came from the bird's beak. Ever since she'd started spending so much time around Cipher, she had developed this habit of pecking him a few times before saying what she meant. It was supposed to be disciplinary. Mostly it just annoyed him.

Behind Cipher's desk, Riven and Marit stood at attention in their roles as personal security. They'd long since gotten past the initial shock of learning that the bird was Janna in a convenient travel form. It had also raised some questions about their jobs. As guards who followed Cipher almost everywhere, they'd seen firsthand that Janna basically never left his side. The bird was always perched on his shoulder or flying nearby.

With a literal god providing personal protection at all times, why exactly did he need an elite guard unit rotating shifts? It seemed redundant at best.

Marit, however, had developed her own theory about that. She came from a Noxian noble family, and she'd seen enough of high society to recognize certain patterns.

She was increasingly convinced that Cipher's insistence on keeping the Crimson Elite as guards had nothing to do with security needs. There was some other motive, something he hadn't revealed yet.

Her eyes drifted to Riven, who stood at rigid attention with her massive runic blade strapped across her back. Outside of combat situations, she had a certain... quality. Not quite naive, but definitely not worldly. There was something almost innocent about the way she approached non-military problems.

If you ignored the door-sized sword and her height of 180 centimeters, you could almost call her cute in a completely non-threatening way.

Marit had originally led the Crimson Elite into surrendering primarily to protect her family's interests. She'd recognized that the situation in Noxus was deteriorating, and aligning with Zaun seemed like the smart play. After joining Zaun and gaining access to more intelligence, she'd become certain that Swain was preparing a coup. And she was equally certain that when he succeeded, there would be purges. The old noble families would be prime targets.

So looking at Riven now, standing there all duty and honor and complete obliviousness to politics, a certain idea had begun taking root in her mind.

"You just need to know she's someone who tends to make beneficial arrangements," Cipher said, completely unaware of the scheming happening literally behind his back. He was in a good mood.

Based on everything he knew about LeBlanc's methods and goals, her specifically requesting a meeting meant she was coming to negotiate, not threaten. She was here to offer something.

"A beneficial arrangement?" the bird muttered.

Janna knew exactly what Cipher meant by that phrase, and she didn't like it. Whenever things were going well, his thoughts tended to wander in directions she found objectionable. She'd been monitoring his surface thoughts, something he'd given her permission to do for security reasons, and she'd caught fragments of his speculation about what LeBlanc might look like.

He'd imagined several different appearances, all of them beautiful in various ways. And there had been some distinctly inappropriate thoughts connected to the phrase "beneficial arrangement," faint but definitely present.

Worse, she had realized that by Cipher's internal classification system, she herself apparently qualified as someone who made "beneficial arrangements."

"Your ideological awareness is severely lacking," the bird announced, and began pecking at his face. "You need serious reeducation. This is completely unacceptable behavior."

Cipher endured the assault with the expression of someone who'd been through this many times before and knew resistance was futile.

Behind him, Riven and Marit maintained perfect professional composure, their faces showing nothing.

But if anyone had been watching closely, they might have noticed Marit's eyes narrow slightly as she studied the interaction between Cipher and the goddess-turned-bird.