"Greetings, outsider!"
As black feathers drifted endlessly through the void, a voice heavy with sorrow and shadow whispered by Duke's ear. A figure emerged before him from nothingness itself, draped in a long black gown, chained wings unfurling from her back.
Duke raised an eyebrow at her sudden appearance. Then, glancing at the statue he had just restored, his eyes flashed with disbelief.
Seriously? I just restored Morgana's statue out of sentiment, and now the real deal shows up right after?
I didn't think you were this petty!
The moment Morgana's bare, delicate feet touched the ground, the earth was already carpeted in black feathers.
Duke took the opportunity to study her closely, only to find she looked quite different from her in-game depiction.
A black veil hid most of her face, yet from behind the fabric her strange eyes gleamed with violet light. Her gown parted at the side, revealing a leg pale as carved jade. With her hands folded before her stomach, Morgana too was regarding Duke in silence.
"Esteemed one behind the veil, may I ask what brings you here?"
Duke was the first to speak, breaking the silence. He had to, this woman never appeared without reason, and if she did, something had surely drawn her.
Not to mention, outside there was still Kayle, ever watchful, eager to slay her sister to prove her justice.
"I see in you forgiveness and mercy."
Morgana stepped across the feather-strewn ground, slowly approaching. Duke's heart lurched at her words. So, she had witnessed everything just now?
Then… she must have seen him restoring her statue as well!
Damn!
Since when did Morgana become this nosy?
"You retaliated against those who provoked and threatened you, yet you did not take their lives. You sought the truth and displayed compassion. That intrigues me."
Her violet eyes fixed on him from behind the veil.
"To have earned your attention is an honor," Duke replied with a calm bow, neither humble nor arrogant. Best to play it safe for now. Still, this encounter made him reconsider his own magic.
Morgana, a Starborn, hadn't sensed his magical trace.
Did that mean even someone like her could be touched by his power?
The thought tempted him, but this was no place to experiment. If anything went wrong, there'd be only one solution left, burn his Superman experience card and annihilate her on the spot.
Luckily, she didn't seem hostile, just curious. In that case, conversation it would be.
Morgana circled him in measured steps, her eyes never leaving him, until at last she stopped before her restored statue, staring at it in a daze.
"You seem to hold a different view from what you told those children just now," she said, finally turning back to him. "Would you explain?"
"Which part do you mean?"
"The mages of this land have suffered oppression for centuries. From the very founding of this kingdom, those with magical talent have been hunted and reviled. Now at last, they glimpse a ray of hope. Yet your expression just now suggested you disagree. I'd like to hear why. What do you think of those poor souls, betrayed by their own homeland?"
Her voice was soft, almost mist-like, slowly enfolding him.
At her words, Duke's eyelid twitched. He knew full well the reason Morgana and Kayle had parted ways.
It all came down to belief.
Kayle preached ruthless judgment, every sinner must be punished, fire and blade without mercy. Morgana, however, believed guilt always had cause, and punishment must be tempered with reason, allowing space for repentance.
In short: Kayle stood for law without emotion; Morgana stood for mercy within law.
That was the essence of their rift.
And now, Morgana was here, seeking an answer from him, a stranger, an outsider.
"As for those mages who wish to rebel," Duke said at last, "I can understand them… but I cannot accept them."
"Oh?" Morgana's eyes narrowed. "Please, go on."
"Demacia was born from the ruins of the Rune Wars, built by refugees who had lost everything. The forebears suffered deeply at the hands of magic. That much I can understand, their hatred, their rejection.
"But tell me, do you know how long it has been since Demacia was founded?"
Her gaze grew distant. She whispered softly, "Centuries… countless springs and autumns."
"Exactly. Centuries have passed, yet Demacia still clings to the traditions of its ancestors. That is wrong."
"You reject tradition?"
Her brows lifted in surprise. Duke, using the Force, conjured chairs and a table with a casual wave. Setting out tea and light refreshments from his pack, he gestured for her to sit.
Hesitant, she accepted, seating herself opposite him.
Duke trimmed a cigar with practiced ease, speaking as he worked. "Questioning tradition isn't a crime. Time changes all things. The world is never still."
He set aside the cigar for now, instead tending to a kettle over a small flame. "Once, people longed only for safety, for their own plot of land, a home where family could live in peace. That was happiness. But with time, desires shifted. People began to seek more, better lives, greater prosperity.
"That is change."
"Change…" Morgana echoed, mulling his words.
"Yes. Nothing is eternal. Infants grow into children, children into adults, adults into elders. If all things change, what meaning does an unchanging tradition hold?"
He poured steaming tea into her cup. "In my eyes, Demacia now stands at the threshold of transformation. Conflict between nobles and mages can no longer be contained. Nobles brand common-born mages as monsters, condemning them to death, prison, or exile. Yet noble-born mages, those with the same power, are spared.
"That is the true root of this chaos."
Duke's voice grew firm. "Demacia's rejection of magic is not beyond remedy. But clinging to unchanging traditions while the world evolves, that is its greatest mistake."
Morgana's gaze sharpened. "Then how would you resolve this turmoil? Stricter laws, binding all equally? Or mercy, granting even the guilty a chance to repent?"
"Neither," Duke said, shaking his head. He lit his cigar, inhaled deeply, then spoke through a curl of smoke. "I say, leave it to the people.
"What is against the people is wrong. What benefits the people is right. All else lies in their hearts. Rather than preserve the old order, better to shatter it and welcome change. There is no absolute right or wrong, only what serves the good of the realm."
…
"Law and compassion both have their place," Duke continued. "But balance must be found, a balance where one corrects the failings of the other.
"In the end, law should be a standard, not a shackle. And compassion should be a restraint, not a standard."
He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, then set down his cigar and sipped his tea.
"That is my answer."
Morgana closed her eyes, repeating his final words to herself. "Law as standard, not shackle. Compassion as restraint, not standard…"
Her eyes blazed ever brighter, violet light piercing even her veil.
Clink,
The chains binding her wings rattled, then shattered with a sharp crack.
Whoosh!
Dark wings spread wide, and Morgana rose slowly into the air.
"I see now!"
Her gaze pierced the canopy, reaching for the sunlit sky above.
Duke, still seated, rolled his eyes discreetly. This world's people had a way of overthinking everything. Ideological rifts everywhere, Morgana and Kayle, Sejuani and Ashe, Viktor and Jayce, Zed and Shen… always the same pattern.
So it wasn't surprising she'd just broken free of her old beliefs, stepping onto a new path.
No wonder. Compared to this world's narrow ideologies, his vision was far beyond theirs. A few words of guidance were more than enough.
"Outsider, I thank you."
Her wings folded in, and she descended once more. Removing her veil, she handed it to Duke. Beneath it, her face was noble and striking.
"I no longer need this. If ever you face hardship, you may seek me here."
With a faint smile, her form began to fade.
"Sister, we will meet again. And when we do, all will be decided."
The fallen angel's voice lingered in the forest, even as her figure vanished.
End of chapter....
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