Arcane: Twin Cities Mechanic

At the same time, in the Immortal Bastion of Noxus' capital, on the eastern side of Valoran.

A dim candle on the table flickered, casting an eerie, seductive red glow across the room.

A middle-aged man sat there, dressed in a simple black trench coat over a Noxian standard-issue breastplate, its worn marks telling the story of countless battles.

He sat at the round table where the candle was placed, his right hand resting on its surface while his left was tucked tightly beneath his coat, hidden from view.

His graying hair was slicked back, reaching his shoulders. Sharp eyebrows arched slightly above his cold, expressionless face, which was taut as he silently flipped through an ancient, thick tome, radiating the demeanor of a noble with gentlemanly grace.

After a while, the window, seemingly undisturbed by the wind, creaked open. The man turned his head to see a raven with crimson eyes perched on the windowsill, tilting its head to meet his gaze.

He frowned and flicked his coat aside, revealing an arm bathed entirely in red light.

As for that arm…

It was less like a human hand and more like a twisted claw resembling that of a bird—more specifically, a raven's talon.

With a slight clench of his fist, the crimson magic covering the perched raven swelled instantly, enveloping its entire body.

But before he could act further, the door to the room was met with a series of heavy knocks.

The man turned his gaze away from the window, narrowing his eyes, a fleeting red gleam flashing within them.

"Commander, General Darius requests an audience."

"I see. Let him in."

He withdrew his left arm beneath his coat again, leaving no trace of its presence.

After a brief pause, the man stood, moving past the now-closed window, his gaze fixed straight ahead as he strode towards the roaring fireplace across the room.

Not long after, the door was knocked again, this time more forcefully.

The man reached for a fine bottle of Ionian wine, pouring a glass while responding, "The door isn't locked, come in."

The door swung open, revealing another middle-aged man with jet-black hair streaked with gray at the sides, exuding a palpable air of iron discipline as he entered.

He wore custom-fitted heavy armor, also etched with battle scars and bloodstains that could never be washed away. A brand-new red cloak trailed behind him.

The faint scent of rusted iron wafted from his armor, though he seemed unfazed by it.

"Would you like some wine, Darius?" the man offered.

Darius stopped just behind him. "No, now's not the time for drinking. I need to stay sharp."

His voice was deep and resolute, each word carrying an undeniable authority.

"A pity. This is top-tier Ionian wine, imported at a high price from Piltover by the Lancester family. If it were Draven, he'd be drunk by now," the man mused.

At the mention of that name, a sharp glint flashed through Darius' eyes.

The Lancester family had conspired with foreign rebels in a failed attempt to overthrow the new Grand General. They had been assassinated and their estates seized by agents of House Du Couteau.

Darius had no tolerance for traitors to the empire, but the man before him, who had toppled the former Emperor Boram Darkwill, was different.

The duty of Hand of Noxus was loyalty to the empire, not its ruler.

Under Darkwill, Noxus had been on the verge of collapse, especially with the protracted stalemate of the Ionian war. The empire had nearly fractured.

It was Jericho Swain who, overnight, had overthrown the emperor and established the Trifarix, issuing proclamations to crush the decaying nobility and realign the empire's path.

Without Swain, there would no longer be a Noxian Empire.

"Darius," Swain's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I received word that the 37th Legion, under Prescott's command, ventured into Demacia. Was that your order?"

"No."

Swain turned, locking eyes with Darius, his crimson gaze unwavering. He spoke just one word.

Under the weight of Swain's gaze, Darius felt a fleeting sense of suffocation, as though his every secret had been laid bare.

Swain had grown stronger…

Darius could sense the change in him.

There was something indescribable about him, a kind of distortion beneath the surface.

Yet, no matter how closely he observed, there was no clue to what it was.

Thank the gods, we're on the same side.

A whirlwind of thoughts swirled in Darius' mind, giving him a sense of relief.

"I thought you'd sent Prescott to Demacia to take care of him," Darius forced a wry smile. "Darkwill's remnants are like ticking time bombs. You never know when they'll explode."

"I wouldn't send soldiers to their deaths for no reason. Prescott commands a legion… There are other ways to deal with those remnants."

In Swain's mind, the image of a former executioner from the empire surfaced. "It was the Pale Lady who sent him."

"The Black Rose again?" Darius' expression darkened. "Because of them, we've lost another legion. Things are already tough enough as it is…"

"Don't worry, everything is under control."

Swain beckoned Darius to follow him back to the study, where a bookcase stood.

He set down his wine glass, opened a drawer in the desk where he had been reading earlier, and pulled out a rolled-up scroll of parchment, handing it to Darius.

"And this is?"

"An Ionia native?" Darius looked up at Swain, puzzled. "Who is he?"

"You've been back in the Immortal Bastion for months now; surely, you've seen the changes around the city?" Swain didn't answer him directly.

"Changes..." Darius pondered briefly. "You mean the Hex Gates, bicycles, and those expensive power generators that don't seem quite like Hextech?"

For decades, Piltover had tightly held onto the secrets of Hextech, never willing to share their power-generating facilities with Noxus. 

Yet, in the past two years, the Kiramman family from Piltover, for reasons unknown, had broken tradition and sold various power-generating equipment to Noxus—at a steep price.

Of course, from what Darius understood about Hextech, these generators didn't rely on Hex Crystals. They simply used coal or wood to produce electricity. 

Some even worked by harnessing solar energy or being submerged in water. 

This new technology had caught the attention of many families within the Immortal Bastion. However, the exorbitant price had driven most away. 

Not to mention the heavily-guarded Hex Gates of Piltover, which became the focus of many families capable of affording the generators. 

They bought the devices, hoping to have their own craftsmen reverse-engineer the new technology. 

If successful, they would stand to make a fortune. 

However, for various unknown reasons, the generators often broke when dismantled. This deterred the nobles from further investing in researching this new technology. 

Apart from that, the most critical factor for Noxus was the ability to travel across the world in mere seconds using the Hex Gates.

Though the cost of using the gates was high, compared to the expensive and dangerous sea routes, the Hex Gates held a clear advantage in every aspect.

In just the few months since the construction of the Hex Gates, the Immortal Bastion's trade volume had more than doubled, greatly increasing the Empire's tax revenue.

Swain nodded slightly. "You must have heard of their inventor."

"Li Lin of the Kiramman family, hailed as Piltover's genius craftsman and a pioneer of the future..."

Just as he spoke, Darius seemed to realize something. His gaze returned to the parchment.

"Could it be him?"

"This young man truly exceeded my expectations."

For a brief moment, a rare, playful smile appeared on Swain's usually stern face, much to Darius' surprise.

The next moment, Swain pulled a document filled with writing from his drawer, placing it on the table and sliding it toward Darius.

"Take a look."

Still confused and not fully understanding what was going on, Darius picked up the document. 

It wasn't until he had finished reading that his eyes widened in shock, speechless. "He actually..."

The document detailed everything about Li Lin, along with hand-drawn blueprints of the Airborne Machinery and Storm Combat Engineers.

It included how he grew up in Ionia, his parents killed by a Noxian army raid, and how he fled alone to Piltover, where he aimlessly drifted for four years before suddenly being taken in by the Kiramman family as a craftsman, skyrocketing in reputation.

In less than two years, he had become one of the most influential figures in Piltover.

"Don't you think his rise seems a bit unusual?" Swain asked in an enigmatic tone.

"It is rather odd..."

Darius placed the document back on the table, his expression solemn.

Despite his high rank as the Hand of Noxus and his role in the Trifarix Council representing "Strength," allowing him to stand equal with Swain in politics, his strategic acumen was limited to the battlefield. 

When it came to political matters like this, Darius neither understood nor cared to understand.

Still, even without Swain's suggestion, Darius could sense something strange about the young man.

These inventions—things that even the most talented craftsmen of Piltover's great families couldn't create—had come from an Ionian who had only been studying mechanics for four years.

Everything had gone far too smoothly.

"We sent several warmasons to infiltrate Piltover, but they were all caught by these so-called 'Combat Engineers.' 

"Not only that, but according to reports from my informants, it wasn't just Prescott's 37th Battalion heading for the Demacian border; the undead Corps of the Black Rose also deployed forces.

"They've all gone missing... seems like they were wiped out. But on the battlefield, my informants noticed the presence of Piltover's mechanical forces."

Swain dropped another bombshell.

Darius clenched his fists. "Mechanical forces... and the Black Rose. What are they after?"

Swain shook his head, his face returning to its usual expressionless state.

In truth, he hadn't shared all the intelligence he had on Piltover with Darius.

Much of this information couldn't have been gathered by the warmasons alone.

With only the crackling of the fire in the hearth, the room fell into a brief silence.

"With someone like him around, Piltover's a tough nut to crack. Just like Shurima." Darius paused for a moment.

A strange glint flickered in Swain's eyes. "Fitting, as we're in need of some peace and quiet for now."

"By the way, there's another reason I called you here at this time." Darius straightened his tone, setting aside his earlier concerns. "It's also about the Black Rose."

"You mean the Faceless One?"

"You already know about that?"

The Trifarix Council adhered to the principle of a tripartite division of power: Swain represented "Vision," Darius represented "Strength," and the Faceless One represented "Cunning."

But recently, the Faceless One had been behaving strangely, almost as if they'd been replaced by someone else.

"He's already been replaced by the Pale Lady."

Darius' expression shifted rapidly. "What... should we do next?"

"How's the progress on building your Trifarian Legion?" Swain asked an unrelated question.

"I'm selecting the finest warriors from each battalion. The plan is to have it fully established by early next year."

"Good. Then we have nothing to worry about for now."

Swain fell silent for a moment.

Darius couldn't quite grasp what he was implying, but since Swain said so, there was no need to dwell on it further.

"Inform Du Couteau to send someone to Piltover and secretly investigate the Kiramman family and Li Lin."

"Du Couteau?" Darius looked confused. "But if the warmasons couldn't handle the Combat Engineers, sending assassins—"

"I have my plans. Just do as I say." Swain waved dismissively. "Remember, go to the Du Couteau family personally. As for the timing... as soon as possible."

"Alright, I understand." Darius sighed. "If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave."

"Have a good night."

"These days, I'm just grateful to avoid nightmares."

"Sometimes, a bit of hope in your heart isn't such a bad thing."

Darius said nothing more. He nodded to Swain, turned, and left the room, carefully closing the door behind him.

Swain watched him leave, then extended his demon-imbued left hand. Mysterious whispers, inaudible to others, echoed in his ears as rapid images flashed through his mind.

His usually composed expression flickered.

"War machines, the Primordial Fear demon, the Star Spirits..."

Swain took a deep breath, his gaze deep and focused on the southwest.

"Seems I underestimated you, Li Lin." 

(End of chapter)

=========================================================

DROP THEM POWER STONES PLEASE

SUPPORT ME ON P@TREON IF YOU'D LIKE ACCESS ON ADVANCED CHAPTERS

PAT REON . COM / TurdTranslations (Just remove the space).