Family Business 37 (Patreon)

Family Business
Chapter 37

-VB-

Shyvana groaned as she got up, but stopped as she felt and realized how heavy her limbs felt.

I watched her as she started to realize where she was. She tried to get up, but the chains and cuffs holding her down glowed. She gasped as she lost all strength and collapsed back down onto the tiled floor of her special prison.

“Morning, Shyvana,” I greeted her. She reacted to my voice, pulling her head up to look at me through the pained grimace.

“... You. The Demacian Magician.”

“You are still a subject of the crown, Shyvana. Mind control does not exempt you from disrespecting the nobility,” I chided half-heartedly from the other side of the prison bars. I waited patiently as she looked around.

To my surprise, Senna and Lucian, the two Sentinels, managed to fight off Shyvana on their own without Vayne’s help, who had been under my service unlike in canon. What had happened, though, was that Poppy, the hammer totting Yordle traveling around Demacia to find the suitable hero for her warhammer without realizing she was the one best suited for it, had played the part of the helper that Vayne should have played. Shyvana’s place in this hadn’t changed.

She was still the loser, chained and awaiting trial.

However, my words were not true; I had, in fact, argued otherwise in front of irate nobles, the crown prince, and the concerned king, who knew that Shyvana was his son’s close friend. To hear that she had been mind control and should not be held accountable for her actions soothed the crown prince’s mind, especially as I began to call upon the favors I had garnered.

Of course, I was getting a lot of consessions from the king for my help in keeping the nation stable: increased autonomy, reduced taxes, expanded rights, and more.

It wouldn’t be wrong to consider my duchy a semi-autonomous region now.

“Even disasters are opportunities,” I hummed. “Isn’t that right, King Viego?”

Shyvana shuddered as she tried again to get up.

“Don’t bother,” I told her casually and boredly. “The chains are made with Petricite at its base and siphons designed to pull mana out of the prisoner.”

She collapsed again.

“I know that you’ve done nothing wrong, Shyvana, and I know this hurts,” I spoke with some real sympathy. “So hang in there until Viego is defeated, okay? The crown prince will not be happy with me if you die because of my contraption.”

Then I walked out of the prison.

-VB-

“How is she?”

I met Jarvan IV as soon as I stepped out of the labyrinthian prison of the still operational Mageseekers.

Flanking him on either side were Adept Marsino and Head Adept Eldred Crownguard, my uncle-in-law and husband of my aunt Tianna Crownguard. The sharp and short bearded man looked like he was doing his best to not glare at me.

For obvious reasons, he did not like me. He was an adept of the Mageseekers before he met my aunt, and became the head adept with the political connections such a marriage brought. And then I came along, slowly changing Demacia towards invalidating the Mageseekers’ existence. He might be more loyal to the crown than to the people and doctrines of the Mageseekers, but I basically made him feel less for the work he did.

After all, everyone now whispered beind his back how someone and so so wouldn’t have died from this infection if mage healers were around before, how this and that project would have been cheaper if civil mages were around before, and etc.

Of course, these whispers were small and centered around my Jorasmang City. Such whispers, however, made their way into the city ever since I made magicians appear … like a normal person!

At the same time, I knew that he didn’t “blame” me for the changes.

Just upset.

“She’ll be fine,” I replied. “It’s not exactly comfortable. A bit painful, actually, but nothing a warrior like yourself and her can’t handle.”

Jarvan didn’t like to hear his friend would be in constant pain but nodded in acceptance. “And the source of this … mind control?” he asked with gritting teeth.

“The Mist from the Shadow Isles. I already sent my trusted hunter to work with the Sentinels. All we have to do is support them to the best of our abilities. Fighting this is not something an army can do,” I hummed. “In fact, an army can be the worst thing we can send, even if it was an army of well disciplined and powerful mages.”

He frowned. “Why is that?”

I paused and looked at him.

“The Black Mist only grows stronger the more you feed it,” I replied. “And feeding it an army… that would be a treat for it, no?”

I was not going to advocate giving Thresh souls of an army. I highly doubted real life Thresh “scaled” like he did within the game, but intentionally testing that particular trait was not on my to-do list.

“Well, aren’t cha awfully well informed about the Shadow Isles and its residents, Duke Jorasmang.”

I paused and looked to the side.

A woman stood off to the side of the Mageseeker prison’s entrance. She stood somewhat tall for a woman and had half of her wavy hair swept back while the other half cast over her left eye. With a white cape and black armor, I knew exactly who - or rather what - she was.

“Sentinel.”

She pushed herself off of the wall and grinned cockily at me.

“Ya even recognize our outfit even though ya supposedly never met one of us!” she said. “Sentinel Maeve of Demacia, at your service~!”