Light Upon the Shadows

Kiersta raised an eyebrow. A threat with respect to as unasked favor? Certainly the Widowmaker was creating more than widows. Yet deciphering her plans would have to wait. Kiersta was no fool: she needed the Widowmaker’s information to plan her move. If Evelynn wanted to offer her implicit protection of the league, then so be it. “This ‘Ruined King,’ is he in any war related to the blade of the same name that resides in our vaults? The records of its retrieval are patchy, an apprentice artificer with little skill happening upon such a powerful artifact in a stroke of uncharacteristic genius.” She looked away from the Widowmaker. “It seemed too good to be true… perhaps it was.”

So it was true then. One of the most powerful weapons held in the vault belonged to a king of undeath bent on destruction without a second thought. And should he find out, the institute itself would be the next target of his wrath. It certainly wasn’t the first powerful foe they had made enemies of. Kiersta closed her eyes in thought, considering her next question. “We have shared thought and mind with the champions of the shadow isles, and never heard a hint of this king. The denizens of the isles seem well bound to his will. Were you too called to serve as his thrall?”

Kiersta waved a hand dismissively, “The Institute doesn’t practice necromancy,” she quoted, “that much is certainly true. You won’t find any shambling corpses cleaning our halls or bound souls powering our spells. But do not imagine that we don’t study the art and it’s capabilities. That would be naught but folly.”

They don’t serve because they have to, but because it would be foolish not to. At the very least it meant the champions’ understanding of world was left intact, for better or for worse. “Then do you know his goal in attacking the Demacian lands? To call up an army with no warnings or demands… There must be something he sought to gain, seeks further mastery over.”

Kiersta quirked an eyebrow at the hypotheticals, always sifting through the information she received for the truths it may hold. “A fool does not command respect with wanton abuse of power. You would not ‘serve’ him, so much as follow along to his carnage. Nor do I see much much purpose in testing the institute by attacking the one city state most prepared to defend itself.” She crossed her arms, wondering if the Widowmaker would truly provide information. “I’m certain you have met the entity. Can he be reasoned with? Does he intend to bring the corruption and death of the shadow isles to our living lands?”

Kiersta shook her head against the Widowmaker’s games, doing her best to ignore the jabs to glean what information she could instead. “Yes, fun, it is all about that, isn’t it,” she commented absently as she categorized the information. The historians bickered endlessly of the links between ruins spreading from Urtistan to the Freljord, yet few had paid mind to the frantic claims of a continent-wide civilization. She filed away the information, noting that she would need to be briefed by the League’s historians on the matter before moving to more pressing matters.

For the attack to be a fraction of the Shadow Islands’ power would mean there were great forces on the horizon indeed, but that which must the pinnacle of their strength was conspicuously absent. “You have met him, perhaps, but no mortal has. If he means to reclaim his fallen kingdom, why did he not lead the first strike on his way?”