I'm Alyssa Roshka Gronyana Valrokan. For 2,000 years, my ancestors reigned in Fort Delvo.

Warlords, nations, and infant empires, coveting the riches of the Iron Thorn Mountains, have all tried to subvert us. But no one can break through our walls. They are like a rushing wave, smashing at the foot of our walls, and stumbling before our swords.

From then on, my family was no longer king.

With her head held high, she climbed the triumphal staircase with them. Every twelve steps on the stairs, guards in straight uniforms stood on either side of the stairs, but she was unmoved, her eyes did not squint.

Although it was the first time for Alyssa to visit the capital, she didn't want to show the slightest shock; Only inferior people who have never seen the world will be stunned. She is a native of Fort Digvo, and she has the blood of a king for generations.

The guards on either side of the staircase were dressed in black steel armor. The ore used to forge the armor came from her hometown, the beneath the Iron Thorn Mountains. All of Noxus' best plate armor originates from the depths of this mountain range.

Her native country was conquered and incorporated into the empire by the Noxians long before five generations of kings, and has remained so ever since.

The red banner curled in the dry evening breeze as they continued their climb. The hot air was mixed with soot and the smell of the workshop. None of the forges in Noxus were cold. The Immortal Fortress appeared before their eyes, dark and aggressive.

Oram Akhan Valrokan. With a tiger's back and a bear's waist, thick arms, he is a good hand at dancing knives and swords, and at the same time arrogant and short-sighted.

In Alyssa's opinion, but she always hides her disdain in her heart with a mask of indifference and indifference. Oram was born only a few minutes before Alyssa, but he was two steps closer to the throne of Fort Digwo. Alyssa knew her place perfectly.

Outwardly, the two are clearly twins. The same tall figure and strong posture, as well as the same cold eyes given by the blood of the family, coupled with the proud demeanor of a nobleman.

The siblings had long black hair braided in delicate braids, angular tattoos on their faces, and slate-gray cloaks over their armor.

They made it to the top of the stairs. With a flapping of wings, a raven swept over their heads. Alyssa almost cowered her head, but she kept herself in check. "Is this a bad omen, brother?"

She saw Oram's hands clenched into fists.

"For so many years, we've been making armor for Noxus Nagon and their soldiers," he said angrily, barely trying to hide his voice in front of the guards. "In exchange for what?"

In exchange for life, Alyssa thought to herself, but she didn't say it.

Two soldiers in full plate armor were already waiting outside the metal gates of the palace. They clenched their axes and halberds and stood in place. Alyssa saw three notches in their breastplates, covered with dark red cloaks—these two were no ordinary guards.

"Trefarly's." Oram exhaled softly, his usual momentum and arrogance swept away.

In a land full of murderers, the Trifali Legion is the most revered name for all—friend or foe. It is said that as long as they appear, city-states and nations would rather surrender on their knees than confront them on the battlefield.

"It's their etiquette." Alyssa said. "Come on, brother. It's time to see for yourself this so-called 'Council of Two'. ”

Everyone entering the Audience Hall will be the first to see the thrones of the Noxian Emperors. It is a huge object, hewn from a single block of obsidian, rough and angular.

Countless flags hung beside them, tall columns formed sharp angles, candles burned on the menorah, and everything led the eyes of the guests to the throne. It is the only master of the entire space. But the throne was empty. This has been the case since the death of the last Noxian Commander.

Not dead, Alyssa introspectively thought to herself, it was executed.

There is no emperor in Noxus, and there is no tyrant on the throne. There won't be any more. Before Elisa left Fort Delvo, someone had explained to her about the new system of the Empire.

"Council Trefali," her father's chief staff officer told her by name. It means three people together, each representing a kind of strength—cunning, force, and cunning.

The implication of this scenario is that a single person could bring down Noxus through incompetence, madness, or corruption, while three people would always have two people who could suppress an out-of-control individual. ”

Alyssa found the concept interesting, but it wasn't tested in any practice.

The hall felt spacious enough to accommodate a thousand people, but now it was empty, except for the three figures seated on a high platform at the foot of the throne, gathered around a simple marble table.

Two eerie and silent Trefalis legionnaires accompanied Alyssa and her brother to the trio. Their footsteps reverberated sharply on the icy ground.

The trio, who were discussing in a low voice, stopped talking as the heir of Fort Digging approached. They sat in a line, like three judges, facing the messenger who came forward.

Two of them were famous, and she recognized them. Third ...... Nobody really knows.

Sitting in the middle, with eagle-eyed eyes on him, Jericho Svein, the famous man of vision, the new Grand Commander.

Some nobles still called him a usurper, because he was the one who dragged the crazy Brondwell off the throne, but no nobleman dared to say it to his face.

His gaze was meaningful, first toward Oram and then on Alyssa. She couldn't resist looking at his left arm under his coat. It is said that his hand was cut off by a sword-wielding demon girl in the Faerie Islands when the Ionian invasion was defeated.

To his right sits Darius, the legendary Hand of Noxus, leader of the elite Trefali Legion, commanding the armies of the entire Empire.

He is the physical embodiment of force; In contrast to Svein's upright sitting, Darius leaned back in his chair, his armoured hands beating the drum on the wooden armrests of the chair. His arms were thick and his expression was serious.

The third person, known as the "Faceless One", is a complete mystery. The man sat motionless, wrapped from head to toe in a wide robe cascaded. The person also wears a black mask with an expressionless, cold gaze, and smooth texture, and even the small holes that expose the eyes are covered by black wire mesh, completely obscuring the person's identity.

The man's hands were not exposed, but were hidden in the sleeves of heavy fabric. Alyssa felt that she saw a faint shadow of feminine features on the mask, but it could also just be a matter of light.

Darius lifted his chin imperceptibly, and the two legionnaires who were escorting them saluted the breastplate with their iron fists and stepped back six steps, leaving Alyssa and her brother alone before the Trifali Council.