Arcane: Thicker Than Blood

A room on the second floor of The Last Drop had been specially renovated to host the Chem-Barons' meeting.

"After the Day of Ashes, Vander got scared, became weak and incompetent. It's no surprise he couldn't hold onto the Black Lanes. Even getting robbed by his own son was a blessing in disguise."

"But what I don't get, Silco, is why you just sat there and watched the Black Lanes fall into Cipher's hands. How old is he again? If I remember correctly, he's only 15, right?"

"Even if he's a genius, can you really stand letting a snot-nosed kid boss you around?"

The man sitting across from Silco at the conference table kept provoking him, each word carefully chosen to probe for weakness.

His voice carried the characteristic smoky hoarseness of Zaunites, a lingering effect of the smog's damage to his vocal cords.

This man's appearance was also quite striking, a walking advertisement of power and danger.

He had a golden metallic jaw implant made of Chem-Tech, with exposed skin covered in numerous black tattoos. His hairstyle was equally flashy—shaved clean on the left side, while the right side had long, slanted bangs.

Each detail screamed for attention, marking him as someone who wanted to be noticed, and feared.

In his hands, he kept fiddling with a flick knife. The steady click-click-click of metal against metal set a rhythm to his provocations.

At the table, the other Chem-Barons occasionally glanced at this man, subtly deferring to him as the leader.

"My affairs are none of your concern. Mind your own business, Finn," Silco said, crossing his legs and smoking a cigar with an air of indifference.

"Silco, for so many years, I've always thought of you as someone who does real work. Attitude, intuition, vision—you lack none of these things."

"You've always been able to act faster and better than others. That's why, back then, we risked our lives and followed you to storm the bridge."

"All these years, we've trusted you, believing you'd lead us to better days."

Finn continued playing with the flick knife, casually bringing up past events.

Silco exhaled a smoke ring and said coldly, "If you have something to say, just say it. Don't beat around the bush, Finn—you're not cut out for mind games."

Finn nodded heavily and spread his hands. "Alright, I'll get straight to the point then. Silco, you should take charge of the Black Lanes and become our leader."

"We all came out of the mines together, brothers and sisters in arms. Everyone supports you."

"What does that little brat know about being a leader? About running the business and making money?"

"He called for this meeting at midnight, and we showed up out of respect for you. And what now? It's already half-past twelve, and he's nowhere to be seen!"

Silco took a sip of his drink but kept his eyes fixed on Finn.

Only when sweat began to drip from Finn's forehead did Silco finally speak. "After all these years, you're still just as impatient, Finn."

"And what about the rest of you? Are you impatient too?"

He glanced at the other Chem-Barons, his mechanical eye glowing red.

The Chem-Barons all lowered their heads, not daring to meet his gaze. The room fell silent except for the steady drip of nervous sweat.

These Barons were all old acquaintances he had brought out of the mines, and they were all wary of his ruthless methods.

The scars they bore weren't all visible like Finn's jaw.

Even Finn, the most powerful among them, who controlled the border markets, treaded carefully to avoid becoming Silco's target.

"You talk about power, about leadership. But real power isn't in controlling markets or running businesses."

One of the Barons shifted in his seat. "Then what is it?"

"Understanding timing." Silco's mechanical eye fixed on the speaker. "Knowing when to wait, when to strike. Something our friend Finn here never quite grasped."

Finn's jaw tightened. "We've done enough waiting. The Lanes need—"

"The Lanes need what exactly?" Silco interrupted. "Your protection? Your leadership? Don't make me laugh."

"You've all forgotten where you came from, forgotten who it was that locked us in those mines back then."

"Now the Pilties don't even have to get their hands dirty. They toss you a bone, and you're ready to tear each other apart for it."

"Living off the scraps of your predecessors, spineless, obsessed with business, blinded by money."

Silco swirled his drink and let out a series of cold chuckles.

Despite being mocked so harshly, the Chem-Barons didn't dare utter a word of protest.

"Uncle Silco, what's causing such a big fuss?"

The meeting room door swung open, and Cipher walked in holding a bottle of Vander's prized vintage.

Behind him, Sevika carried a blood-stained sack. Dark droplets marked their path like breadcrumbs.

Uncle?

The five Chem-Barons were stunned—they hadn't known this. Their eyes darted between Silco and Cipher, searching for confirmation.

They only knew Vander had been overthrown by his son, Cipher. That's why they had banded together to try to push Silco to take the lead.

But they ended up doing something foolish.

"Once protégés we mentored have now turned into parasites who know nothing but leeching. And when I think about breathing the same air and sharing a fate with them, I can't help but lose control of my emotions."

Silco smoked his cigar, his tone indifferent.

He glanced at the bag Sevika was holding, a faint smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. He could already guess why Cipher was late.

"No worries. I happen to have a gift that might reignite your fighting spirit. Sevika!"

Cipher sat in the seat reserved for him at the head of the table and gestured toward Sevika.

Sevika nodded, opened the bag, and flung it forward. Four severed heads, fresh and gruesome, rolled onto the table.

The strong stench of blood assaulted their noses, mixing with the cigar smoke to create a uniquely Zaunite potpourri.

"What... what is this?"

Finn and the other four Chem-Barons' eyes widened in disbelief. The knife in Finn's hand finally stilled completely.

The heads belonged to Chem-Barons who hadn't shown up—figures of significant power. And now they were just... dead?

They had thought Cipher was just a naive kid who was good at tinkering with inventions.

But now it was clear—he was even more decisive and ruthless than they were!

"Yesterday, I just took over the Black Lanes from Vander. I had a big deal planned and wanted to bring everyone in to make money together, so I called for a meeting."

"But these four? They didn't show the Black Lanes respect. If you don't play nice, well, I can always help you lose weight." Cipher poured Silco's glass full of wine as he spoke nonchalantly.

"Uh... what kind of big deal are you planning?" Under the sharp gazes of the other four Chem-Barons, Finn had no choice but to muster his courage and ask.

"Chem-Barons, huh? Such a nice sounding title, but we all know the truth. We're just gang leaders. In the eyes of Piltover, we're nothing but filthy sewer rats, things to be hidden in the dark."

"Whenever a few enforcers show up, it's enough to make us scramble."

Cipher added ice to his glass, dodging Finn's question entirely.

But Finn wasn't a fool. After some thought, he vaguely understood what Cipher was implying, and his face darkened.

The Day of Ashes had already cost too many lives. Was he planning to do it again?

But one glance at the four decapitated heads on the floor was enough to make him lower his head and reevaluate. The choice between pride and survival suddenly became very clear.

After deliberating carefully, he finally tried to persuade Cipher, "Are you planning to storm the bridge again? We don't have enough people to match the enforcers, and our weapons and equipment are far inferior. We barely even have a few guns. Storming the bridge will cost many lives, and we still won't make it across."

"Storm the bridge? Who said anything about storming the bridge? After the Day of Ashes, the Piltovans set up so many turrets on the other side. Even with guns, storming the bridge is just suicide."

Cipher rolled his eyes at Finn. He was a pragmatist—without a sure chance of success, he wouldn't recklessly launch a war.

"Then what do you mean?"

For a moment, Finn couldn't figure out Cipher's intentions.

On the one hand, he seemed deeply dissatisfied with Piltover and acted like he wanted to fight them to the death. But on the other hand, he didn't intend to storm the bridge.

It was confusing. If they weren't storming the bridge, did that mean they'd negotiate a deal instead?

But who starts a negotiation by tossing four severed heads on the table?

Negotiation involved mutual discussion, not sending a message with decapitations!

"Tell me—do you want to become someone as powerful as the councilors of Piltover?"

Cipher took a sip of his drink, smiling as he painted an enticing vision for the Chem-Barons.