Arcane: Red Sands

----------The present---------

The barracks of Bel'zhun were quiet.

Not the quiet of rest.

Not the quiet of peace.

But the quiet of warriors who knew the battle had already begun—long before the first sword was drawn.

The air was thick with the mingling scents of oiled steel, burning torches, and the distant salt of the sea. The black-stone walls loomed like the ribs of some ancient beast, holding the weight of past wars and future ambitions.

Su'Rhaal moved through the halls without sound.

Zanaiya walked at his side, her presence a shadow, her silence a blade yet to be drawn. Even without looking at her, Su could feel the tension in her stance. She had sensed it too.

The shift.

The war that was not yet spoken, but had already begun.

And ahead of them, leading the way, was Rictus.

A Warrior Walks With Purpose

They walked together like soldiers in formation, but there was no formality in their steps.

Su was no longer under Rictus's command. But he was still the man from before.

A warrior without a home.

A blade without a sheath.

Sang'Kalla. But only in name.

The thought settled heavy in his mind, though his face betrayed nothing.

They moved into the common hall, a place that had once been alive with the energy of Bel'zhun's garrison, but now stood empty. Cleared for Ambessa Medarda's forces.

For now, only shadows remained.

And the three of them.

Su exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.

"It is good to see you well, Sir."

The words felt natural. But beneath them, there was something else. A test.

A measure of whether the man standing before him was still Rictus, the warrior Su had followed into war.

Or whether time had changed him too.

Rictus did not smile.

Instead, he stopped and looked at Su.

And Su felt the weight of the stare like a blade pressed against his chest.

"My words to you on Kimir." Rictus's voice was a low growl, honed by years of war. "Do you remember them?"

Su's fingers twitched. He had not expected that.

His instinct was to deflect. To say something light. To push the moment aside.

But Rictus did not move.

Did not blink.

"Speak them." The words were not a request. "So I may know they still hold value to you."

The Sang'Kalla did not waste words.

And they never wasted oaths.

Su inhaled slowly. Then, with the weight of memory pressing against his chest, he spoke.

Not as a recitation.

But as a truth.

"To always remember why I am here."

A pause.

"For the people under my command."

And then—the final words.

The ones that had been carved into him like the edge of a blade.

"For Loyalty is the one thing that cannot be bought and will always go both ways."

The room felt smaller. Heavier.

Rictus nodded. Slowly. Deliberately.

But his eyes did not leave Su's face.

"Good."

One word. One judgment.

And yet, it did not feel like relief.

It felt like a test that was still unfinished.

The Choice That Had Already Been Made

Rictus exhaled, his fingers pressing against the stone table at the center of the room.

"You remember them," he said, "but do you still live by them?"

Su's brow furrowed slightly. "Sir?"

Rictus turned to face him fully now.

And when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of something far greater than a lesson.

"Noxus is changing. The Capital is still in turmoil. The great houses fight in the shadows for control. The war in Ionia still bleeds us."

A pause.

"The Empire stands on the edge of something, and those who are not ready will be swept aside."

Su remained silent.

Because he already knew.

Rictus took a step closer.

"I need to know, Captain."

The air felt heavier.

"When the time comes… will you stand still? Or will you rise?"

Su exhaled through his nose.

His answer was already in his bones, in his blood.

There was no stillness in him.

Not anymore.

But before he could speak—

The doors to the hall groaned open.

And the air shifted.

Not with expectation.

But with power.

A presence that did not demand attention—but claimed it effortlessly.

General Ambessa Medarda had arrived.

-----------------------------------

A warrior knows when he stands before something greater than himself.

Su knew it the moment Ambessa Medarda entered the hall.

She did not stride. She did not rush. She simply arrived.

And the world adjusted around her.

Her presence was like the slow march of an advancing army, each footstep measured, each movement deliberate—not demanding authority, but assuming it.

Su had fought alongside Noxian generals before, but none quite like her.

Ambessa was a relic of an era where strength was unquestioned, where victories were carved into the bones of cities and written in the blood of men who had dared to stand in her way.

She moved past them, toward the stone table at the center of the room, the deep red of her officer's coat trailing behind her like the banners of a conquered nation.

She did not sit immediately.

Instead, she studied them.

Not glanced at them. Studied.

And Su felt the pressure of it.

Not because he feared her. But because he recognized her.

This was a woman who had already decided the fates of greater men than him.

A silence stretched through the hall.

Then—she finally spoke.

"Captain Su'Rhaal."

His name landed in the air like a decree.

A pause.

"We finally meet."

Su inclined his head slightly.

"General."

Ambessa tilted her head just slightly, as if weighing the single word for hidden flaws.

"I have always found it… intriguing."

She let the words linger.

Not because she needed time to think, but because she knew that silence was as much a weapon as words.

Su did not speak.

Not yet.

Ambessa exhaled, her fingers idly tracing the worn surface of the table.

"That a man like Rictus would take such an interest in a single soldier."

A pause.

"One that he personally requested my recommendation for."

Su did not move, but his mind sharpened.

This was a test.

She was not here to praise him.

She was here to see what he truly was.

"One that he deemed worthy of something most would never even have the privilege of seeing, let alone carrying."

Her gaze flickered downward.

To his blades.

And there it was.

The moment he had been waiting for.

A Sang'Kalla warrior does not draw his weapon without purpose.

But Su let his fingers brush against the hilt of his blade.

Not in defense. Not in arrogance.

But in acknowledgment.

Ambessa smirked.

"You wear them well," she said. "But I wonder—do you understand what their meaning?"

Su inhaled slowly.

"I do."

Ambessa's lips curled slightly—not in a smile, but in something more dangerous.

"Do you?"

She leaned forward slightly.

"Tell me, Captain, what do you know of the weapons you carry?"

Su's fingers tightened around the hilt—not in tension, but in certainty.

"They were forged in Noxus, but their design is not our own. They are an attempt to replicate something older. Something taken from Ionia."

Ambessa's golden eyes flashed slightly, but she said nothing.

So he continued.

"The Rageblade. A weapon wielded by a warrior whose name was lost to time. He cut through entire Noxian battalions, battle after battle, until finally, he fell. His blade was taken, and our forges sought to understand what made it so… different."

A pause.

"What made it dangerous."

Ambessa exhaled, amused.

"Not different, Captain."

She leaned back.

"Superior."

Su nodded.

"The result was these—Noxian Rageblades. A miracle of Noxian craftsmanship, designed to match the originals."

Ambessa tilted her head slightly.

"Almost."

Su narrowed his eyes slightly. "Almost?"

Ambessa's fingers tapped once against the table.

"The originals are gone, Captain. But do you think the forges of Ionia have forgotten how to make them?"

Su stilled.

Because he knew what she was saying.

And so did she.

"No weapon stays unique forever."

She let that sink in before shifting gears.

"Tell me, Captain."

Su straightened slightly.

"Yes, General?"

"What should a Noxian always strive for?"

A test. Another one.

But Su did not hesitate.

"To be able to embody all the core principles that make our empire."

Ambessa nodded.

"And do you believe in them?"

Again, Su did not hesitate.

"Yes."

Ambessa tilted her head slightly. "Then explain them to me."

Su inhaled slowly, but not out of frustration.

This was a battlefield.

And Ambessa Medarda did not waste time on small battles.

"Might." His voice was steady. "The will to bend those to the will of Noxus. To bring them home, make them family—by force if necessary."

Ambessa's expression did not change.

"Vision." Su continued. "The will to see above and beyond what lies ahead. To understand that conquest is not just about war, but about shaping what comes after."

A pause.

"Guile." He finished. "The will to rise above. To find paths where others see walls. To play the game even when others do not know they are playing."

Silence.

Then—Ambessa smirked slightly.

"Good. You understand them well."

A pause.

Then—she leaned forward slightly.

"And yet… there is something else, Captain."

Su felt it then.

The shift. The unspoken fourth piece.

But before he could speak, before he could even form the question—Ambessa looked at Zanaiya again.

A calculated glance. A deliberate gamble.

"You are not ready to hear it yet," she said smoothly. "Not yet. But you will be."

Su felt the weight of those words.

She did not tell him. She let him anticipate it.

And then, as if she had said nothing at all—she changed the subject.

"Let us speak of Bel'zhun."

And with that—the true game began.

A warrior does not step onto a battlefield unless he understands the stakes.

Su knew what this was now.

Ambessa Medarda was not here to evaluate him.

She was here to shape him.

From the moment she had entered the room, the battle had already begun—not with swords, but with words, with glances, with the unspoken weight of expectation.

Su had been tested before. In war. In command. In the moments between life and death.

But this was something else.

This was a forging.

And he had already stepped into the fire.

Ambessa studied him, her golden eyes unreadable. Then—she leaned forward.

"Bel'zhun is not enough for you, is it?"

Su did not react. Not outwardly.

But in his mind, he knew she had already struck true.

A pause.

Then, she continued.

"You are Sang'Kalla."

The words should have felt like an affirmation. They should have felt like a tether to something unshakable.

Instead, they felt like a reminder of something he had not yet reclaimed.

Ambessa's voice was smooth, practiced, knowing.

"When you close your eyes, do you still see your Tribe?"

Su inhaled slowly. His grip tightened against the hilt of his blade.

She knew.

She knew exactly where to press.

And she did not stop.

"The Sang'Kalla are warriors," she continued. "Fierce. Proud. Bound by blood and honor. And yet, what do they call you now?"

His jaw tensed.

She wanted him to say it.

She wanted him to feel it.

Exile.

Outcast.

A warrior without a home.

Ambessa let the silence stretch, then spoke again, her voice like a dagger sliding beneath armor.

"I imagine you have thought of what it would take to return."

Su said nothing.

But his silence was an answer.

Ambessa smirked.

And then, she struck the final blow.

"Not as you are now. No, no. That would not be enough, would it?"

She let her words settle.

"You must return as something greater. As something undeniable."

A pause.

Then—the words he had never spoken aloud, but had felt pressing against his chest for years.

"As their leader."

Su's breath left him slowly.

Not because he was surprised.

But because she had spoken the thought he had never dared to voice.

The Path to Greatness

Ambessa let the weight of her words settle before she continued.

"You know, I was not born into my position either."

Su's eyes flickered toward her, a hint of something almost like curiosity.

Zanaiya, who had remained quiet but vigilant, tilted her head slightly, listening.

Ambessa exhaled, as if remembering something distant but unimpeachable.

"I had to carve my place in blood and war. Had to shape myself into something more. And in doing so, I realized something most never do."

She leaned back slightly, folding her arms.

"Power is not given. It is not inherited. It is not granted through loyalty or good service."

She held his gaze.

"It is taken. It is earned. And it is kept only by those who understand its price."

Su knew this.

Had always known this.

But to hear it from her? To hear it from someone who had lived it?

It was not just validation.

It was proof.

Ambessa saw the shift in his posture.

The slight tension in his hands. The way he no longer simply stood in the room—but commanded his own space within it.

She had him.

But she did not move too quickly.

This was a delicate process.

So instead, she made her move carefully.

"You are not meant to serve forever, Captain."

The words landed like a hammer against stone.

"You are meant to lead."

A pause.

Then—she sat back, as if giving him space to let the words take root.

"I will be leaving for Piltover soon. There are matters that require my attention. But I will not leave Bel'zhun undefended."

A beat.

"I need someone I can trust to ensure this city is in… capable hands."

Su exhaled slowly.

"You do not mean Dorrik."

Ambessa smirked. "No."

The silence that followed was not hesitation.

It was calculation.

Su was no fool. He saw it clearly now.

She was not offering him a promotion.

She was forging him into her weapon.

One that would, in time, cut through everything that stood between her and the future she desired.

Ambessa studied him for a long moment before continuing.

"I will be sending reinforcements in the coming days. More of my Forces. They will help… strengthen your position."

She let that linger before offering the final piece.

"And I am willing to write a letter to the Grand General himself."

Su stilled.

"A promotion to Major would make things smoother. Should something… unexpected happen to Dorrik."

The words were soft.

A whisper of steel hidden within velvet.

And that was when Su knew.

He had already made his decision.

A Sang'Kalla warrior does not hesitate when the path is clear.

Su inhaled slowly, as if steadying himself before stepping over a threshold.

Ambessa had given him nothing but truth.

Dorrik was weak.

Bel'zhun deserved better.

And he—he—was meant for more.

He had known it since the moment he had stepped onto Noxian soil.

Since the moment he had first picked up his blades.

Since the moment he had realized that the name Sang'Kalla meant nothing unless he made it mean something.

And now, the path was before him.

He had only to walk it.

Ambessa tilted her head slightly, waiting. Watching.

Then, finally, she smirked.

Because she knew.

She had him.

And when Su finally nodded, it was not in submission.

It was in understanding.

Ambessa pushed herself to her feet, adjusting her gauntlets.

"Think on it, Captain."

But they both knew there was no need.

She turned toward the door, her cloak shifting behind her, her boots striking against the stone with the certainty of a woman who had just shaped something into her design.

Just before she reached the exit, she paused.

And, without looking back, she spoke one final time.

"We will speak again soon."

Then, she was gone.

And in the quiet left behind, Su realized something.

He was no longer the same man who had entered this room.