Ferros family

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At Sunset, the Ferros Estate

Stevan sat hunched over in the head seat of the Ferros family's ancient hall, his gnarled hands stroking the carved wooden armrests that had been passed down for nearly a century.

Nostalgia softened his face.

"Sister," he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion, "this seat should have been yours. Now that you've returned, it's only right that it be yours again."

Camille, ever stern, sat by the window, her sharp silhouette framed by the amber hues of the setting sun.

"Put those thoughts away, Stevan. Decades have passed, yet you're still so spineless. If the Ferros family is to remain strong, it must be tempered with iron and blood."

Stevan sighed, his frail figure leaning deeper into the chair.

"Time has left no mark on your face, yet I've grown old. My children, my grandchildren—they are not what they should be. Perhaps it was a mistake to have Hakim perform that procedure on you all those years ago. If I hadn't…"

He trailed off, his gaze far away. "Your grandchildren would be as old as Caitlyn now."

Camille turned from the window, her steel-blue gaze fixed sharply on her brother. She felt no emotion at the mention of Hakim's name; that chapter of her life had been closed long ago.

Her frown deepened, not because of the past, but because she saw the truth in front of her: Stevan, with his frailty and weariness, was no longer fit to lead the family.

Stevan noticed the flicker of judgment in her eyes. His expression darkened.

Though they hadn't seen each other in years, no one understood Camille better than her brother. Decades of shared history had made her an open book to him, even now.

Since Hakim had completed her hextech augmentations, Camille had been stripped of human emotion.

She was no longer a person but an unyielding machine—a precision instrument with one purpose: to execute her programming.

And that programming consisted of two unwavering directives: to protect Piltover and to ensure the Ferros family's eternal prosperity.

"Stevan," Camille began, her voice measured but firm, "you should let the children born in comfort see the world. This situation presents an excellent opportunity for them to grow."

Stevan shook his head vehemently.

"Evan and the others are barely fifteen! At their age, their fathers were already clerks in Piltover, not facing danger!"

His tone betrayed a hint of defiance, rare in their interactions.

Camille's brows knitted together in disapproval.

"Indulgence will only lead the Ferros family to decay."

Stevan's voice rose, steady despite his frailty.

"Everything we've done—the sacrifices, the hardships—was for the sake of our children and grandchildren. If they're forced to endure the same dangers we did, then what is the point of a strong family?"

For the first time, Stevan met his sister's gaze directly. He had always been overshadowed by Camille, who had led the family to glory for half a century.

Yet, during her absence, it was he who had shouldered the burden.

Under his leadership, the Ferros name remained prominent; at least two Piltover council members followed his guidance.

But Stevan was tired. He could not let go of the position of head of the family, but neither could he place that weight on the shoulders of his children and grandchildren.

Camille's lips tightened into a thin line. "I appreciate your sentiment, but I will still enforce my will. Reality will remind you, Stevan, that without strength, you will be slaughtered. Just as you are now—old and weak."

Her words cut deeply, but Camille had no patience for arguments. Actions spoke louder, and she intended to prove her point through results.

"Sister," Stevan said suddenly, his voice quieter but tinged with curiosity, "I heard you visited Lord. Meredith not long ago."

Camille's expression did not change. She had made a promise in the council yesterday, and her brother knew her well enough to know that meant action was imminent.

"I suspect Zaun has his support," she replied plainly.

Stevan's face betrayed a flicker of shock. "But… Noxus once promised that as long as you served them, they would leave Piltover alone."

"His allegiance is not with the Noxian Emperor," Camille said coolly.

"Since joining their ranks, he has been Swain's adjutant."

Stevan's confusion only deepened. Camille sighed and continued, her tone edged with exasperation.

"Stevan, you cannot confine your perspective to Piltover alone. Runeterra is vast. Only after leaving did I understand how small our advancements and progress truly are. We've always measured ourselves against our past, never the rest of the world."

Stevan shook his head, his disbelief evident.

"Is Noxus truly as powerful as the rumors say? It sits at the heart of the continent, yet it fights the Freljord in the north, Demacia in the west, Shurima in the south, and Ionia in the east. How can one nation withstand so much?"

Camille's gaze hardened. To her, the question was not one of belief, but of preparation.

Piltover's safety and the Ferros family's survival depended not on questioning the strength of others, but on ensuring their own.

"Don't be blinded by narrow vision," Camille said sharply.

"Take Meredith as an example. Surely, you've heard his nickname."

Her tone was firm, and Stevan could sense the weight of the lesson she was about to deliver.

"Adjutant Bloodmist?" Stevan replied hesitantly.

"The title includes 'adjutant,' so… he can't be that powerful, right?"

Camille's brow arched, a trace of mockery flickering in her half-smile.

"Adjutant? Do you know how many elite Noxian lieutenants he commands? Meredith oversees an army of 100,000 soldiers—soldiers who answer only to him and Swain."

"One hundred thousand?" Stevan's eyes widened in disbelief.

"That's… as many people as live in Piltover and Zaun combined."

The thought of such an army, clad in iron and advancing like an unstoppable tide, sent a chill through him. Even Piltover's advanced weapons, its cutting-edge fortifications, could not stand against such overwhelming numbers.

Camille let out a dry chuckle. "Swain, the tactician-commander of Noxus, leads their Eastern Front. Meredith serves as his adjutant, and together, they've masterminded nearly every Noxian campaign against Ionia over the past decade."

Stevan's disbelief lingered. "But Ionia… they've managed to hold their ground despite such relentless assaults. That must mean they're not weak."

Camille's expression turned colder. "Ionia is strong—far stronger than you realize. There are warriors there who could shatter Piltover with ease."

Stevan fell silent, suppressing the unease rising in his chest. His narrow perspective was beginning to crack under the weight of the knowledge Camille shared.

Slowly, he began to reassess the world he thought he knew.

After a long pause, a thought struck him, and he frowned.

"What about Medarda's position in Noxus?"

Camille glanced at him, easily discerning the intent behind his question.

"Noxus is not without internal strife," she began.

"Swain and Meredith once suffered a betrayal within the Empire itself. During the war in Ionia, their elite forces were ambushed and destroyed by their own allies in Presidian. That was the reason for their defeat in that campaign. For months, they were left isolated and without reinforcements. Everyone believed they had perished."

"But they didn't," Stevan said quietly, recalling the story that had even reached Piltover.

"They survived… and became legends."

Camille nodded. "Yes. Swain and Meredith fought their way out of Presidian, through the heart of Ionia, and returned to Noxus as living legends. After their return, they voluntarily relinquished command of the Eastern Front. Medarda was appointed as their successor."

Stevan frowned, mulling over this information.

"But remember, those warriors still wait there true leaders commands."

"It sounds like Medarda is weaker—both in influence and strength—compared to Swain and Meredith."

Camille allowed a faint smirk to cross her face. "Medarda commands forces second only to the fourth-line generals of Noxus. But don't forget: even the so-called 'abandoned daughter' of the Medarda family—a mere child—has managed to toy with Piltover. It only highlights how small-minded this city truly is."

Her words carried an air of disdain, not only for Medarda but for Piltover's complacency as a whole.

To Camille, the idea that her city could be manipulated by a child was unforgivable.

Stevan sighed, resignation etched into his features.

"I understand now. Even if there are internal divisions in Noxus, someone as powerful as Meredith is beyond anything we could resist…"

The honorific he unconsciously added to Meredith's name did not escape Camille's notice.

Ignorance had once given Stevan a sense of fearlessness, but as he learned more about the broader world, his confidence began to erode.

"Noxus does not need us to kneel," Camille said, her tone sharp and final.

"But there are duties that we, as Piltover's elite, must fulfill."

She stood abruptly, the last rays of the sunset casting long shadows across the room.

"Stevan, you've done well in your years as head of the family. Do not falter now. My support for you has not wavered—but see to it that you don't give me a reason to reconsider."

With that, she turned toward the window. The hook-blades on her feet shot outward, anchoring to a nearby tree. In one fluid motion, Camille vanished into the twilight, her silhouette rippling through the air before disappearing into the growing darkness.

Left alone in the room, Stevan sat silently in the chair of the Ferros patriarch, staring out the window.

The fading figure of his sister lingered in his thoughts, a mixture of admiration, bitterness, and sorrow weighing heavily on his heart.

In a voice barely above a whisper, he murmured, "Camille, ever since you replaced your heart with that damned crystal, you've seen me, our family, and this world through the lens of a machine. But this world… it is never black and white. It is a delicate shade of gray."