Quarterly High Command Meeting

Girard nodded to Swain, acknowledging his request for any further information. He stood and slid a file across the table, towards the Grand General. "Speaking of the Zaunite campaign, everything is flowing ahead of schedule. The Event was a total success, drawing in and spreading the word exactly as you had expected. Draven's performance went as would be expected, and the Blood Bride Gladiatrices performed just as admirably. Draven's inspirational piece, following soon after his overwhelming victory against several of Zaun's own augmented gladiators, drove the point home and cemented the viewpoint of our campaign to many of the lower- to middle-class Zaunite citizens.

"From there, voluntary recruitment rose by 107% in the hours that followed, dropping off to an 80% average increase in voluntary sign-ups as the day went on. All-in-all, we hold a relatively good standing with the greater populous of Zaun; however, there were some....Unfortunate incidents. 13 separate gang raids were made to pilfer training equipment, all were repelled, no casualties on our end. 3 separate gang raids on recruitment boxes, as well as another 5 mercenary raids from....less-than-supportive corporations. All repelled successfully, but two of our men were wounded by alchemical means; total recovery expected in 3-5 weeks.

"I think it is safe to assume that the larger corporations see us as taking the rug from under their feet. This is nowhere near our goal; 'tis a good thing that such matters will be addressed in the meeting. The businessmen are cunning - with the exception of a Dr. Mundo, who can somehow be both genius and childishly absent-minded at the same time - but they all respond to the suggestion of potential profit. Were there any angle I would suggest, it would be to appeal to their business sense."

Girard sat, resting his case.

A gnarled hand came to rest upon the folder, halting its forward advance at the edge of the table, just before its shrunken recipient. Swain flicked open the folder, crimson eyes darting over each page in time with his general's oral report. Favorable, detailed, precise. His eyes briefly flicked to Theun, then to Bleakwood as though to emphasize his approval of Laurentine's conduct over theirs.

The Grand General gave a grunt of acknowledgement to the account of corporate aggression. "Of course they do," he half-grumbled, shaking his head. "Zaunites speak in the language of losses and returns: a tongue in which, thankfully, I am fluent, so," His crimson eyes flashed over the cryomancer in calculating purpose. "Tomorrow we embark for our little corporate conference. I trust the good doctor will be in attendance." His brows raised in punctuation of his gruff question.

"Good." The Grand General finished his perusal of Laurentine's documents and flipped the folder closed, adding it to the growing pile of paperwork to his right. From that same pile, he withdrew two smaller folders and set them before him. "Now." He cleared his throat with a bronchial cough. "On to the business of pending assignments."

He slid one folder to Theun and handed the other off to be passed down to Zorn, casting a purposeful glance in the decorated general's direction. "Theun, your men will escort a caravan of laborers and cargo transport units south, to the Shurima, and return to Noxus with precisely three thousand metric tonnes of sand. If the Institute attempts to interfere at the Mogron Pass, we wi--" Suddenly, the door burst open, interrupting the Master Tactician's address. He turned in his chair, brows raised questioningly, as a Raedsel stepped over the threshold.

"Grand General," said the guard. The hulking praetorian's hands trembled, clenching tight the report he bore. He bowed low, as though in desperate apology for the interruption. For one to barge into a High Command meeting, news must be dire indeed. "Forgive me, sir. This just arrived." He extended the folder.

Crimson eyes blazing in calculating assessment of the situation, Swain took the report and unfurled it before him. As he read, his brows rose ever higher, his eyes shone brighter. Only a few moments passed in silence, but beneath the tension in the room, these seemed to drag on. Finally, the Grand General issued a sharp, one-note laugh of disbelief--barely more than an exhalation of breath. He shook his head, sliding the folder to Darius for review.

A boggled half-smirk slowly spread across his face as he leaned back in his chair, fingers pressed together in a tent before him and said, "Demacia has been devastated. By the Shadow Isles."

Zorn's expression grew grim, his eyes flicked to Swain once he had told them the news. Zorn listened to Decavian's near ecstatic tone of voice, "How badly were the Demacian's devastated? Is it known why they attacked Demacia out of the blue like this? What would stop them from coming to Noxus?"

Zorn sat back in his seat, it was hardly a time to celebrate. If the isles were strong enough to attack Demacia, then they may be stronger than many thought.

Girard blinked in disbeief. Once. Twice. Three times. How... "Calm yourself, Decavian!" he chided. "This is no game. As Zorn has said, what is to stop the Islanders form turning upon our conquering armies, should we march upon Demacia? And, as the General has said, our own forces would need to pass through the League's territory to reach Demacia, and that would be less than optimal. No, we must hold our ground and think this over...." He turned back towards the other generals. "How is that even possible, that Demacia has been laid low by an unruly and disorderly band of zombies?? Clearly, our intelligence on them has been lacking....We need to gather more intelligence on their forces immediately. If they are one to contend with Demacia, then they are more than an able threat to any and all who still draw breath...Save, perhaps for Noxus herself. We need to assess this new power in order to combat it when the time comes...Should such a need arise."

Girard stroked his goattee. "On the other hand, this still goes to show the League's incompetence. Were not the greater majority of the Isles' notable denizens members of the League? How did they manage to escape, I wonder..." His last phrase was dripping with pointed sarcasm. "It has likely become blatantly obvious to the rest of the world that the League is failing, a fact we have already taken to heart. Demacia is weakened....But I do not trust them to remain so for long. If the League is good at anything, it is damage control."

Girard nodded to Swain's final statement. "Yes, this requires a great deal of consideration. I would recommend that we keep a few ears to the ground regarding the Islanders, and keep several eyes set upon the horizon. We must be prepared for anything. In the meantime, we can perhaps find potential allies and tools to serve in our defenses when the meeting in Zaun concludes."

Girard stood, placing his hands upon the table and leaning over it slightly. "We need more information...We cannot easily best an unknown opponent. We must know their weaknesses, their strengths, their strategies. We must do everything we can to understand this new enemy...Not that I believe this has not already been considered. I simply feel that these Islanders must not be taken lightly, even to the slightest extent. Think of how many times Darkwill has tried to best the armies of Demacia and failed, time and time again. Now, the undead of the Isles have done God-knows-what to Demacia. I trust that you all understand the gravity of this situation, and I hope that none of you will take this lightly."

Girard sat back into his seat, resuming his thoughtful posture...His visage, while generally calm and collected, was set to turmoil and inner thought. It was clear that he was more than slightly concerned by these recent happenings.

The Grand General listened impassively as Laurentine and Theun gave their speeches, interrupting only out of necessity with a rumbling cough. To the flattery he paid no mind, but as the words 'eternal servitude' rang on the air, he moved to address his commanders' points. "We cannot send men to the Shadow Isles to gather further information--onto the shores of the unknown. But," cracked lips pursed behind his shroud. "I may have a few contacts upon whom to call. And more detailed official reports should arrive from Demacia before long."

After a solemn pause and an incredulous shake of his head, Swain continued, "Until information indicates the necessity of a shifted focus, we will proceed with current plans to bolster our national defenses, preparing our lands and forces for whatever may come. We are well ahead of other states in terms of preparation, but that does not mean we will let down our guard. Contrariwise: constant vigilance."

Crimson eyes darted back and forth over the assemblage, noting the contrasting responses of each general. "In light of the Shared Burden Policy," the Grand General rasped, addressing Laurentine in particular, "some revisions on the Zaunite campaign are in order: a plan for heightened state security, which I will draft tonight." He then briefly glanced over Theun, adding, "The insight of practiced necromancers would be valuable. If you wish to be of service, you will go today to arrange contacts for me within both academies: Bleak and Witherwood. The more we know, as has been said, the better."