Kaelen's treatment was as violent as I had predicted, a silent war waged in his veins that left him exhausted but… clean. The grey rot gave way to pale scars, and the feverish energy in his aura was replaced by a potent calm. We left him resting, under the watchful eye of the guard from House Vorth. Our part was done. Now, we had to wait.
The wait was not long, only two days. Not a carriage, but an escort of House Vorth guards arrived at our door the following evening. The message was simple and to the point: "Lady Amoline requires your presence. Immediately."
We were led to the conservatory again. The atmosphere was different, charged with the tension of an imperial audience. Lady Vorth was standing, her former fragility replaced by a steel-like authority. The steward Eliam was a statue at her side. But they were not alone.
Standing near the window, bathed in the moonlight, was Kaelen.
He was no longer the trembling ghost we had found in a dark room. The posture of a Noxian Battlemage had returned, his shoulders broad, his spine straight. He was thinner, yes, the ordeal had taken its toll on his flesh, and fine, pale spiderweb-like scars still marked his neck where the grey rot had been. But the sickness, the devouring hunger, was completely gone.
More than that, there was something new. An intensity in his gaze, a controlled power that glowed in the depths of his eyes, like embers in a newly-lit forge. He exuded an aura of potency he had never possessed before, a resonance of clean, sharp magic. The cure had not just restored him to his original state. It had reinforced him. He was no longer just Kaelen. He was the functioning prototype. He was the living proof of our success, displayed there like a trophy of war and the key piece of evidence in the trial that was about to begin.
"Explain," Lady Vorth said, her voice sharp, dispensing with pleasantries. Her eyes moved from Kaelen to me. "What, precisely, have you done to him?"
I walked calmly forward with a relaxed posture, yet my full attention was on her.
"We have done what the best healers and mages in Noxus could not, Lady Vorth," I began, my tone respectful but with an undercurrent of authority. "We discovered the truth about your enemies' 'weapon'. The 'plague'… is not what it appears to be."
I saw her body tense ever so slightly. She had expected me to have cured the symptom, not to have deciphered the secret.
"Your rivals did not create a disease. Their ambition was far, far greater," I continued, choosing each word with care. "From what we could deduce from the agent's structure and Kaelen's accounts, what they were trying to replicate was not a simple curse or sickness. It was an attempt to reverse-engineer the power that created the god-warriors of Shurima."
The air in the conservatory grew heavy. I had named the taboo, the greatest power-dream of every Noxian.
"But herein," I said, now sounding like a scholar debunking a stubborn student's flawed theory, "lies the fundamental mistake they made. They thought they had found a path to Ascension, the key to turning a mortal into a deity."
I saw a flash of recognition and wounded pride on Kaelen's face. It was exactly what they had believed.
"They misread the relic," I continued, my tone calm, yet every word designed to disarm their hubris. "According to ancient scrolls, to create deities one needed to undergo the Rite of the Shuriman Sun Disc. But whatever your 'rival group' found… it was not for that." I tilted my head, looking at Vorth. "The original project was not about creating gods. It was for creating something far more practical for an empire. Something more… 'Noxian'."
"They were trying to create super-mages. Enhanced soldiers, who could channel a power far exceeding their natural limit, but who would remain mortal. Controllable." The word hung in the air. "The 'plague' wasn't just a motor control failure. It was the result of a fundamental misinterpretation. They took the recipe for building a siege engine and tried to use it to build a palace. It's no wonder the whole thing collapsed on top of them."
With that, I had not only corrected their error; I had revealed a truth about the relic itself that they, with all their espionage and resources, had missed. I demonstrated that my knowledge was superior, not just my alchemical skill. The foundation of Lady Vorth's secret organisation was access to secrets that others did not have. And I had just proven that my secrets were older and more accurate.
A tense silence filled the conservatory. Morgana stood motionless beside me, her eyes flitting from me to the noblewoman, sensing the seismic shift in the balance of power. Kaelen looked like a man who had just discovered his 'illness' was down to a mistranslated text. And Lady Vorth… her face was an impassive mask, but I saw the fury in her eyes the fury of being outmanoeuvred, mixed with the unmistakable greed of someone who saw an even greater opportunity. If I could understand the original project, then I could make it work.
With a wave of his hand, Kaelen once again conjured the sphere of fire. Dense, stable, burning with a white intensity. It was the proof.
"You didn't heal him," Vorth said, her voice a thread of steel. "You… completed the work."
"We fixed the flaw," I corrected. "And created something that is far beyond the original ambition of your agents." I slid the single, rolled-up scroll I had brought across the polished table. The physical negotiation, the exchange of favours I had established on our first visit, now seemed like child's play. The stakes were so much higher.
"The pill we created was a single dose. A proof of concept. But the knowledge…" I tapped a finger on the scroll. "…that remains. On it is the reverse-engineering you desired. And my improved design. A stable version of the Ash Seed that, instead of consuming the mage, amplifies their power tenfold for a short period. A simulated 'ascension'."
I smiled, a cold smile that did not reach my eyes. "I call it Project Chimera. And the only copy of the recipe, the only mind in this world that knows how to stabilise the process… is in this room. Right in front of you."
"And you intend to use this knowledge as a threat?" Her voice was pure ice.
"Threat is such a… primitive word," I replied. "And inefficient. Threats create resistance. I prefer 'leverage'. Think of me not as a threat, Lady Vorth, but as the most valuable asset you will ever have. The recipe for the original plague…" I let the implication hang in the air, "…and the recipe for the next step in the evolution of Noxus's battlemages. It all depends on the nature of our partnership, going forward."
"Enough." Morgana's voice was low, but it cut through the air with the authority of a silent avalanche. Her hand rested on my arm. There was no force, but there was a weight no magic could replicate. The weight of disappointment. I looked at her. Her expression wasn't angry. It was sad. And the most irritating part of all? I discovered I did not want to disappoint her.
In that instant, my entire brilliant strategy, my perfectly formulated blackmail, felt… small. Petty. The goal was to gain power to protect us, to protect 'her'. And here I was, becoming the very sort of person she would need protection from. The weight of her silent disappointment was an anchor that halted my tide of ambition.
[Analysis: anomaly detected. Strategic logic compromised by an unforeseen emotional variable. Recommend reassessing…]
I sighed, the sound of a general retreating from a victory that had proved too bitter. I turned back to Lady Vorth, my tone now devoid of its former aggression, more pragmatic, less cruel.
"My master reminds me of an important point," I said, choosing my words carefully. "We are not arms dealers. Our business is healing and… enhancement. The knowledge of the original plague will remain with us, as a guarantee of our mutual safety. It is not for sale."
I saw a flash of relief in Morgana's eyes, so subtle that only I could have noticed it.
"However," I continued, "Project Chimera is another matter. It is an advancement, and advancements in Noxus are opportunities. We offer your organisation the right to sponsor and benefit from its continued development. A partnership."
"And what would this 'partnership' cost my house?" Vorth asked, playing along.
"Our previous terms contacts, access, eventual passage to the capital are no longer sufficient, given the scope of this project," I explained. "To develop something so potent and volatile, we need the right environment. We need resources and autonomy. Specifically, we want a secure, well-located property in the Immortal Bastion. Not a residence, but a fully-equipped alchemical laboratory, funded by your house, but operated exclusively by us."
I paused, preparing the final demand, making it as pragmatic and undeniable as possible. "Furthermore, the development of a project of this magnitude requires research. We will need access to information not found in public markets. Information on Shuriman relics, arcane biology, and revisionist history. We want mediated access to your private collection of knowledge. We are not asking for a free pass to your deepest secrets," I assured her, seeing a glimmer of relief in her eyes, "but when we require a specific text or information on a certain subject, we expect your house to provide it without delay and without question. You will be our archive, our library on demand."
The terms were perfect. I wasn't asking for the keys to the vault; I was asking for her to bring us the coins we needed, one at a time. It gave her a measure of control, while giving us precisely what we needed: a steady flow of rare information that, piece by piece, would allow us to assemble the puzzle of Noxus on our own. We were asking to be treated not as members of her organisation, but as elite arcane consultants, with privileged access to confidential information relevant to our work.
Lady Vorth considered, her thin fingers drumming on the arm of her chair. The offer was far less threatening than unrestricted access, but the precedent it set was equally powerful. She would be nurturing us with the very secrets that kept her in power.
"A property in the capital, a laboratory, and a flow of knowledge… for a project still in its theoretical phase," she summarised, testing the strength of my position.
"For a project whose functioning prototype is standing in your garden at this very moment," I corrected with a thin smile.
She looked at Kaelen, and the war in her mind ended. Greed won out over caution. "You have your partnership, little dragoness…"