Arcane: Red Sands

-----A few Hours Ago, Bel'Zhun.-------

The meeting chamber deep within the  garrison was quieter now, but the tension in the air remained thick. The room bore the marks of Noxian practicality: stone walls, sturdy wooden furniture, and banners bearing the empire's sigil. Yet today, the room was crowded with the refined presence of Piltover's representatives.

General Dorrik leaned back in his chair, his face a mask of strained diplomacy as he addressed the two key figures seated opposite him.

At the center was Elora, her burgundy coat immaculate, her poise unshaken. House Medarda representative had spent the last hour meticulously reviewing the terms of the arrangement, her calm voice outlining the finer points with precision.

Beside her sat Renan Ferros, a sharp-featured man in his early Thirties with calculating eyes and a faint air of impatience. Unlike Elora, who exuded charm and politeness, Renan was all business, his words clipped and direct.

"So, to summarize," Elora said, glancing at the parchment before her, "House Medarda will oversee the logistical aspects of transporting the mined crystals. In exchange, Noxus guarantees security in the designated mining zones, as well as access to Shuriman territories required for extraction."

Dorrik gave a curt nod. "The empire will uphold its end. Piltover will find no safer place for its operations than under Noxian protection."

Renan's lips twitched in a faint smile. "I trust you'll forgive my skepticism, General. Our experience in Shurima suggests that safety is… relative."

Dorrik's expression darkened slightly, but Elora interjected smoothly. "Let's not dwell on hypotheticals. General Acheran's Forces have taken control of the region sorrounding the Mining areas, Have no doubt, your men will be safe ."

Renan raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his gaze flicking briefly to the sealed crates of supplies in the corner of the room.

The contract itself was an intricate web of terms and conditions, outlining everything from resource allocation to the rights of the parties involved. At its heart was a single goal: securing Piltover's access to the crystals buried beneath Shurima's sands.

"For clarity," Renan said, his tone measured but firm, "all mining rights will remain under the authority of House Ferros, as previously agreed. House Medarda will facilitate the logistics, but extraction and processing fall to us."

"Agreed," Elora replied, her expression unchanging.

Dorrik, who had been silent for most of this exchange, finally spoke. "You're both confident this operation will not disrupt Noxian interests in the region?"

Renan smirked faintly. "General, it's in our best interest to avoid stepping on your toes. But let's not forget—Noxus stands to gain from this as well. The supplies we've just delivered are a testament to what your forces stand to gain from our Partnership."

Dorrik's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "See that it stays that way."

----------Timeskip-----------

The Sandworm tavern, usually alive with the raucous laughter of off-duty soldiers, was unusually subdued. The clinking of mugs and boisterous cheers were absent, replaced by a hollow stillness. Most of the Noxian troops were busy securing Bel'zhun, leaving the establishment nearly empty, save for the tavern keeper wiping down glasses behind the bar.

Su'Rhaal stepped inside, his crimson eyes scanning the room. His imposing frame filled the doorway briefly before he moved to a table near the corner, his usual spot of choice where his back could rest against the wall.

Behind him, Samira strolled in, her movements casual and fluid. Her mismatched eyes danced as they took in the quiet atmosphere, her smirk growing wider as she sauntered to Su's table and slid into the seat across from him.

"Well, this is cozy," she said, leaning her elbows on the table.

Su glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "You wanted to talk."

"Yeah, but I didn't say it had to be all business," she replied, waving to the tavern keeper. "Two drinks!"

Su frowned slightly. "I'll take water."

Samira gave him an exaggerated look of disappointment. "Water? Really? We're in a tavern, Captain. Live a little."

"Water," Su repeated, his tone firm but even.

The tavern keeper nodded, disappearing into the back. Samira shook her head, leaning back in her chair with a playful grin.

"You know," she said, her voice lilting with amusement, "for a man they call the Demon of the Desert, you're surprisingly boring."

Su raised an eyebrow, his eyes meeting hers. "Water is survival out here. You should know that better than most."

Samira's smirk faded slightly, her gaze dropping to the table. "Fair point," she muttered.

The tavern keeper returned, setting a mug of water in front of Su and a stronger amber liquid in front of Samira. She picked up her drink, taking a long sip and letting out a satisfied sigh.

"So," she said, her voice carrying a playful edge once more, "what's the deal with you? Always so serious. You ever take a day off?"

Su's eyes flicked to hers, his tone calm but firm. "Enough with the theatrics. You didn't ask me here to talk about my habits."

Samira chuckled, shaking her head. "Fair enough. Straight to business, then." She set her glass down, her playful demeanor fading as her expression grew more serious.

"What do you think of this city?" Samira asked, her voice quieter now, almost contemplative.

Su frowned slightly, caught off guard by the question. "Bel'zhun?"

She nodded. "Yeah. The people, the streets, the way they look at us. What do you see?"

Su leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady. "I see a city held together by discipline. A place that endures because it understands the cost of rebellion."

Samira exhaled slowly, her mismatched eyes watching him closely. "You've been here long enough, Captain. You must know that's not the whole story."

Su's expression didn't change. "What are you getting at?"

Samira leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering. "The Suns of Bel'zhun don't fight because they hate Noxus. They fight because they've got nothing left to lose. You know why that is?"

He didn't answer, his silence urging her to continue.

"Because Dorrik made sure of it," she said, her tone bitter. "Burned homes, families starved, water and food cut off—all to 'maintain order.' And the people who turned in rebels? They got scraps, just enough to survive another day. The ones who didn't…" She trailed off, her jaw tightening. "Well, you've seen what's left of those neighborhoods."

Su's hand tightened around his mug, his crimson eyes narrowing. "I knew Dorrik was incompetent, but this—"

"It's more than incompetence," Samira interrupted. "It's cruelty. And it's why these people keep fighting. You think you can beat the Sons of Bel'zhun, but what then? What happens when another Kahlira rises up? And another after that? You can kill as many rebels as you want, but until something changes, this city will keep bleeding."

Su didn't respond immediately. His gaze dropped to the water in his mug, the faint ripples reflecting the dim light of the tavern. He'd spent his life as a soldier, fighting for the empire without question. The thought of questioning the mission was foreign to him—almost dangerous.

"I'm not here to fix Bel'zhun," he said finally, his tone measured. "I'm here to bring order."

Samira leaned back, her smirk returning faintly. "Order, huh? And what happens when there's no one left to order around?"

Su's gaze lifted to meet hers, his expression unreadable. For the first time in their conversation, he seemed… unsure.

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint creak of the tavern's wooden beams. Samira drained the last of her drink, setting the glass down with a dull thud.

Su stood, his movements deliberate as he adjusted the runic blades strapped to his back. His crimson eyes lingered on hers for a moment.

"You've given me something to think about," he said finally, his voice quiet but firm.

Samira tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. "That's all I wanted, Captain."

As Su moved toward the door, she watched him go, her eye thoughtful. Before he stepped outside, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Thank you," he said simply.

Samira raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For reminding me to see things clearly."

The light from the oil lamps cast faint shadows across his broad frame, his movements deliberate, each step confident but heavy with thought.

For a brief moment, the sharp edges of her smirk fading into something quieter.

"You're a hard man to read, Su'Rhaal," she murmured under her breath, too softly for anyone but herself to hear.