Arcane: Ekko and Powder

The air in the Noxian war camp was thick with tension. Soldiers in crimson armor moved with precision, their movements synchronized as they prepared for what could be their most critical strike. Fires crackled in large braziers, casting flickering shadows across the sprawling encampment. The banners of Noxus fluttered in the wind, emblazoned with their iconic emblem—a symbol of conquest, strength, and unrelenting ambition.

Ambessa Medarda stood at the center of it all, her imposing figure commanding the respect and fear of every soul present. Clad in battle armor that gleamed ominously under the firelight, she surveyed the preparations with an air of quiet intensity. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, moved from soldier to soldier, taking in every detail. No mistake would be tolerated. No weakness allowed.

"Report," she said, her voice cutting through the din like a blade.

A tall, wiry officer approached, saluting crisply. "The battalions are in position, General. The siege engines have been reinforced and are ready to move. Scouts report that Piltover's defenses have been bolstered, but their forces remain scattered due to their efforts to protect the supply lines."

Ambessa's lips curled into a cold, satisfied smile. "Good. Let them spread themselves thin. Their council underestimates the lengths we'll go to secure what's ours."

The officer hesitated, glancing at a rolled-up map in his hand. Ambessa raised an eyebrow. "Speak."

"There is one issue," he said cautiously. "The Firelights. They've been disrupting our supply routes in Zaun. Their leader, Ekko, is proving to be a formidable adversary. His forces have become a significant obstacle."

Ambessa's smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful expression. She turned to a nearby table where a detailed map of Piltover and Zaun was spread out. Markings denoted key positions, supply routes, and areas of recent skirmishes.

"Ekko," she murmured, tracing her finger along the map. "The boy with the strange weapon. And his little rebellion."

Her mind flashed back to the reports of their previous encounter—the way the young leader had fought with unrelenting ferocity, his innovative weapon cutting through her forces like a storm. He was a threat, but he was also a potential asset. Noxus valued strength and innovation, and Ekko possessed both in spades.

"Let them think they've won," she said finally, her voice calm but laced with menace. "Their victories are mere sparks in the wind compared to the fire we'll bring."

Ambessa called for her top commanders to convene in her tent. The interior was stark but functional, dominated by a large table covered in maps, documents, and battle plans. The atmosphere was charged as her most trusted advisors took their places, their faces a mix of anticipation and unease.

"We will strike Piltover where it hurts the most," Ambessa began, her voice commanding. "Their council clings to their illusions of power and stability, but they are fragile. We'll exploit their weaknesses and dismantle their alliances piece by piece."

One of the commanders, a burly man with a scar running down his face, frowned. "What about Zaun? Their alliance with Piltover strengthens their position. If we don't neutralize the Firelights—"

Ambessa raised a hand, silencing him. "Zaun is a problem, yes. But Piltover is the prize. If we crush them, Zaun will crumble under the weight of their failure."

She gestured to the map, pointing to strategic locations. "We'll divide our forces. The main army will advance on Piltover, targeting their central defenses. A smaller, more specialized unit will infiltrate Zaun and deal with the Firelights. Swiftly and decisively."

Another commander, a younger woman with piercing eyes, spoke up. "And what of the Kirammans? Their influence has rallied much of Piltover's council. If we could sow doubt or discord within their ranks—"

Ambessa's eyes gleamed with approval. "Precisely. The Kirammans are a keystone in this fragile alliance. If we can discredit or isolate them, the rest of Piltover's leadership will falter."

She paused, her gaze sweeping across the room. "Make no mistake. This will not be an easy campaign. But we are Noxians. Victory is not a question—it is our destiny."

The commanders saluted, their expressions grim but resolute. They knew the weight of the task ahead, but they also knew the consequences of failure.

Later that evening, Ambessa stood alone at the edge of the camp, her eyes fixed on the distant horizon. The flickering lights of Piltover were just barely visible, a reminder of the city's opulence and arrogance.

For Ambessa, this wasn't just another campaign. It was personal. Her relationship with her daughter, Mel, had been strained for years—fractured by ideological differences and betrayals that cut deep. Mel had chosen Piltover over Noxus, and now she stood in opposition to her mother's ambitions.

"She's soft," Ambessa muttered under her breath. "Too enamored with their weak ideals to see the truth."

And yet, a part of her hesitated. Despite everything, Mel was her daughter. A fierce intellect and a cunning strategist, she had inherited Ambessa's strength in her own way. There was a sliver of regret buried beneath the layers of pride and resentment, but Ambessa refused to let it sway her resolve.

"If she stands in my way," she whispered to the wind, "she will fall like the rest."

As the moon rose high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the camp, Ambessa gave the order to march. The ground trembled under the weight of hundreds of soldiers moving as one, their armor glinting in the pale light. Siege engines rolled forward, their ominous silhouettes a testament to Noxian engineering.

Ambessa rode at the head of the column, her gaze unwavering. This was the beginning of the end for Piltover and Zaun. The Hextech they had fought so hard to protect would soon belong to Noxus, and with it, Ambessa would secure her legacy.

The first siege engine crested a hill, its shadow stretching over the valley below. Ambessa raised her hand, signaling the army to halt. She dismounted, walking to the edge of the ridge to survey the city.

Her commanders gathered behind her, awaiting her next move. The air was electric with anticipation, every soldier poised for action. Ambessa's eyes narrowed as she studied the city's defenses.

"Send the signal," she ordered.

A soldier lit a flare, the crimson light blazing against the night sky. It was a message, a warning, a declaration. The storm was about to begin.

Far below, in the streets of Piltover, the Firelights' scouts spotted the flare. Panic rippled through their ranks as they scrambled to alert Ekko and the others.

The battle for Piltover and Zaun was about to reach a new level of chaos. And Ambessa Medarda stood at the center of it, ready to carve her path to victory—no matter the cost.