The night hung like a curtain over the mighty capital of Demacia. Stars dotted the sky, and the pale moonlight washed the land in silver.
Inside a secluded hall of Dawn Castle
"Forgive me for summoning you at this late hour."
King Jarvan III spoke softly, his expression carrying an apology. Beside him stood Barrett Buvel and Pierre Durand.
Duke waved a hand. "Think nothing of it, Your Majesty. If there's something important, just say it."
"In truth," Jarvan began, his gaze fixed on Duke, "I invited you here tonight because of the Hextech Gate. Recently, opposition against its construction has grown louder. Many people have come to me, insisting that building such a thing will undermine the enforcement of the Mage Ban."
Duke scratched his chin. "On that point… I have some words. I'm not sure whether I should speak them."
"Say them. All of us here support the Gate's construction. Whatever it is, speak freely."
"Then I'll be blunt. Instead of worrying about the objections, why not go straight for the root—take decisive action?"
Duke mimed drawing a blade across with a swift slash. Jarvan and Barrett exchanged uneasy looks. Barrett hesitated. "Wouldn't that be too extreme?"
"Hextech, at its core, is the use of technology to control and regulate magic."
Duke revealed part of Hextech's secret. "When it was first invented, it too faced countless doubts and hardships. It almost died before it had a chance to live. I understand your nation's fear of magic, Your Majesty—but the times have changed."
His voice rose slightly. "The world is moving forward. Everything is changing. Is the Mage Ban truly still good for Demacia?"
"Each year, the number of those born with magical talent increases. Surely, Your Majesty, you've noticed this yourself. More and more people carry the spark of mana within them. And inevitably, they begin to ask questions."
"They wonder: what future does magic have in Demacia? Will it always be forbidden? Or will it one day be allowed to flow freely?"
"These are questions Demacia must confront," Duke spread his hands. "The Hextech Gate merely forces them into the open sooner. If you keep dragging things out, trying to please every side, nothing will change. Better to cut clean, to force transformation at once."
Jarvan gave a bitter smile. "I've thought the same. But traditions carried on for centuries do not bend so easily. You know how people look at mages here—with suspicion, with hostility. Even when a prison cart full of mages passes by, the common folk are unsettled."
"How can I change such a climate overnight?"
The king's words poured out like a bitter flood. He knew the rift between mages and ordinary people was only growing sharper. If it was not addressed soon, riots would break out. Yet reform was no simple matter.
If the Ban were lifted, what then?
How would mages be treated?
How could they live alongside the common folk, alongside nobles?
What path would this kingdom take?
"I think we still need to proceed with caution," Barrett interjected. "Duke, you are from Piltover. Perhaps you don't fully understand Demacia. Many beliefs here are deeply rooted. They cannot be overturned so quickly."
"True," Duke said evenly, "but what if the people discovered that nobles—and even those in power—were themselves mages? Wouldn't that shake things far worse?"
His sudden words silenced the hall. The three men stared at him.
"What do you mean?" Jarvan asked, a bad feeling rising in his chest.
Duke sighed. "Let's not speak of distant examples. Take tonight—High Marshal Tianna Crownguard is a mage."
"What!" Barrett leapt to his feet, staring in disbelief. "Duke, that is not something you can say lightly!"
Pierre's face paled. "If this spreads, chaos will erupt."
Jarvan fixed his eyes on Duke. "Are you certain?"
"Absolutely. I can directly sense magical currents. Tianna carries a deep, hidden mana presence."
Duke himself had found it unbelievable. The wife of the commander of the Mage-Seeker Corps, Demacia's Marshal, the very face of the Crownguard family—a mage. From the very first time he met her, he had felt the powerful magic carefully suppressed beneath her armor.
And if such a truth ever reached the public, all hell would break loose.
Demacia, for all its orderliness, was a mess beneath the surface. The polished marble hid a heap of rotting problems.
Duke had been here long enough to see it clearly. If tensions between mages, commoners, and nobles ever exploded, the result would be civil war. The mages would fight with their lives to overthrow Jarvan III himself.
"This…" Barrett and Pierre looked at one another, shaken. Their own Marshal, a mage—and no one had discovered it all these years.
If the truth came out, the consequences were unimaginable.
"You're certain?" Jarvan pressed.
"I am. And if this truth is revealed, you all know what will follow."
The three Demacians fell into heavy silence. They knew. Such a revelation would shatter everything. A kingdom that prided itself on law and honor would become the laughingstock of the world.
At length, Jarvan sighed deeply. "It seems we were all wrong. We thought we had time, but the crisis is already here. If we mishandle this, Demacia itself will fall."
He lifted his head, his eyes suddenly resolute. "So now, we must act swiftly. Cut clean. Sever the rot before it grows."
"Isn't that too dangerous?" Pierre hesitated. "If it fails, the unrest will only worsen."
Duke shook his head. "I'm just an outsider. What to do is your choice. I've offered my view as one who sees from without. The decision is yours."
With that, he leaned back, struck a match, and lit a cigar, smoke curling lazily in the dim chamber.
Jarvan, Barrett, and Pierre looked at one another, each exhaling a long, weary sigh. Yes—Duke was not one of them. He had already said more than enough. The rest was their burden to bear.
Jarvan drew a deep breath, and in his eyes burned a king's resolve. "Then so be it. The Mage Ban will be abolished."
His words were sharp, clean—Duke glanced over, quietly impressed. This was indeed the father of a crown prince. He had decisiveness, courage—qualities the dithering councilors sorely lacked.
"But how?" Barrett asked, pacing, face tight with worry. "We can't just declare it. There are too many details. The Mage-Seeker Corps alone—how do we disband them? What do we do with so many men?"
"There is someone in Demacia who can solve this for you."
Duke's words drew all their eyes.
"Someone? Who?" Jarvan's tone was doubtful. Such a monumental change could not rest on one person's shoulders.
Duke reached into his coat and produced a black veil. "Morgana."
The others froze.
"What is that?" Barrett squinted. Pierre frowned. "It looks like an old relic. Centuries out of style."
Duke placed the veil before them. "People may doubt a king's decree, but never their own faith. This is the Veil of the Veiled One. With her aid, every problem will unravel."
Barrett's hands shook. "The… the Veiled One?" His voice cracked with awe and fear. Every child in Demacia knew of the Twin Aspects, guardians of the land. And this—this was one of them.
"The Veil of the Veiled One!" Barrett's shout startled the guards outside, who glanced curiously into the hall.
"Yes," Duke said calmly. "Two days ago, while Lux and I attended service at the Illuminator's Church, I wandered into the woods. There, I met her. We spoke. She gifted me this veil and said, should I ever need, I may call upon her."
He said it lightly, but the three before him nearly fainted.
Faith is faith because it rests on legend. Legends begin with myth. And myth is never meant to be touched.
They had lived their whole lives without so much as a glimpse of divine presence. Yet this foreigner from Piltover had conversed with a god, and received both gift and promise.
Was he truly just a man of Piltover?
In the face of his words, they felt like impostors in their own homeland.
End of chapter....
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