The air in the alley was cold and stagnant, smelling of damp stone and forgotten rubbish. The soft *shing* of Talon's blade sliding from its bracer was the only sound that broke the heavy silence. The point of polished steel stopped a finger's breadth from my neck, vibrating with a contained energy, cold and promising as a winter grave. His reaction had been pure instinct, the move of a startled animal that strikes before it thinks. A move that, paradoxically, revealed his surprise more than any shout could have.
Katarina was frozen a few paces away. I watched the whirlwind of emotions pass across her green eyes, a silent storm in rapid succession. First, pure shock. Then, disbelief, as her mind desperately tried to reconcile my presence with reality. Next, a wave of humiliation that flushed her cheeks red. And finally, landing on the standard emotion of her house: a cold, defensive fury, a wounded pride that manifested as an aura of killing intent. The cornered predator was the most dangerous creature of all.
I remained motionless on my crate. My pulse did not quicken. The only move I made was to slowly lift the apple to my lips and take the last bite. The crunching sound was thunder in the alley's silence. It was a sound of normality, of disregard. A sound that said the deadly blade of one of Noxus's most promising assassins was less interesting to me than an afternoon snack.
I saw Katarina's jaw clench. The calculated insult had hit its mark with the precision of one of her throws.
"You…" she began, her voice a low, dangerous hiss, "have a dreadful habit of showing up where you're not wanted."
"A habit I've developed over… a very long time," I retorted, tossing the apple core aside in a lazy arc. "But what surprises me is that someone so well-trained in the art of not being seen is so very loud."
Talon's blade pressed a little closer, the cold tip grazing my skin. I ignored it.
"My brother," Katarina said, her voice sharp, revealing her hand, "is very good at finding people. After the festival, he looked into 'House Kilam'. Found no noble lineage. No military record. Just a small, newly-arrived apothecary on Ash Street, run by a mysterious healer… and her young, foreign apprentice." Her eyes narrowed. "He told me the 'prodigy' who humiliated me was just an apothecary. A girl who grinds herbs for coughs." She took a step forward, her anger now tempered by a genuine perplexity. "So tell me, apothecary. How does a foreign herb-grinder learn to fight like that? And more importantly, how in the hell did you find us?"
The question hung in the air, the real challenge. I leaned back against the crate, the picture of relaxation in the face of a mortal threat.
"Your research is impressive, though incomplete," I said. "But let's stick to the topic at hand. Your… operation today." I gestured with my hand in the general direction of the square. "The concept was good," I admitted, with the gravity of a mentor reviewing a student's work. "The execution, amateurish. If the objective was maximum public humiliation with minimum traceability, you made rookie mistakes. Do you want to know how it's really done?"
The question caught them completely off guard. The fury on Katarina's face was replaced by a confusion so profound it was almost comical. Talon, for the first time, tilted his head, his blade still in position, but his posture had shifted from threat to… curiosity.
"You attacked the wrong target in the wrong way," I continued, warming to my topic. "The target is not the man, the Trifarian Instructor. That is infantry thinking. The true target is the symbol. His dignity. And your tactics were far too… noisy."
I stood and began to pace the alley, like a professor in a classroom. Talon followed me with his blade, but his movements were now more for tracking than threatening.
"Let's start with you, shadow," I said, looking at Talon. "The rope. Efficient for a hunting trap, but obvious for urban surveillance. A true master of discretion wouldn't use a rope. They would have noticed the loose sewer grate three paces from where he was standing. A small metal pry bar, well-placed, would have done the same job without leaving a thread to be found. Or, for a more subtle touch, they would have swapped the boot-polishing oil of the recruit he was humiliating for a slow-acting adhesive dye."
I saw Katarina's eyes widen at the idea.
"Picture the scene," I went on, painting the picture. "The humiliation wouldn't be immediate and forgettable. It would happen later, in the middle of his next lecture to two hundred elite soldiers, when his perfectly polished boots began to glow with a vibrant Piltover-pink. A humiliation that develops, that blooms at the moment of his greatest pride. That is art."
Talon said nothing, but I saw a new kind of respect, that of a craftsman acknowledging a master, in his stance. His blade retreated completely.
I turned to Katarina. "As for you… flour? Please. So… common. It leaves a trail, it's easy to clean up. And the pie, while a classic touch, relied too heavily on luck. The delivery was random." I clicked my tongue in disapproval. "You were on the roof. The high ground. You had a dozen better options."
"Such as?" she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop herself. She was no longer angry. She was… learning.
"Such as, for example, the pigeon nest ten metres to your left," I explained patiently, nodding my chin. "Observe your target's behaviour. While he was berating that poor recruit, a pigeon landed near him. His reaction was subtle, but telling: a flinch, a nearly imperceptible recoil. And I've seen him several times order recruits to clean the gutters and shoo the birds from the square. The man cannot stand them. He has an aversion, likely a phobia."
I saw a glimmer of recognition in Katarina's eyes. She was used to observing for weaknesses in combat, but not in mundane habits.
"A well-thrown dagger not at the pie, but at the handle of a basket of seed a vendor was carrying below the nest," I continued, setting the scene for her. "That would result in a shower of seeds, followed by a frenzy of hungry, panicking pigeons directly onto him. Chaos, confusion, bird droppings all over his polished uniform and, most importantly, a personal phobia triggered in public. It's a multi-layered attack. Physical, aesthetic, and psychological."
I paused, letting the lesson sink in. The alley was deathly silent. I had taken their greatest pride—their skill in tactics and stealth—and shown them they were playing in the nursery while I had already graduated with honours from the university of chaos.
Katarina stared at me, her brain clearly reprocessing her entire approach to life. Talon remained motionless in the shadows, but I could feel the intensity of his focus. He was cataloguing every word.
"You are… completely insane," Katarina finally said, but there was no heat in her voice anymore. There was a tone of bewildered admiration. "You think of this sort of thing… for fun?"
"Boredom is a cruel teacher," I replied with a shrug. "And I have had many, many teachers." I turned to leave the alley, considering the lesson concluded. "Consider this a free consultation. Next time, the price will be higher."
"Wait," she said. I stopped, but didn't turn around. "This… what happened at the festival, and now this. Doesn't it make us enemies?"
"Only if you're a fool," I retorted. "Enemies try to kill each other. That's inefficient. Rivals strive to outperform one another. That promotes growth. You decide which one you want to be."
I heard her take a step back. "You're right," she said, and the simple act of admitting it seemed to cost her immense effort. "Today, you controlled the battlefield. But the only thing you have taught me, apothecary, is that I underestimated my opponent. It is a mistake House Du Couteau does not make twice. This isn't over." Her voice grew stronger, filled with a new purpose. "It's just begun."
"I'll be waiting," I said, without looking back.
I left the alley and returned to the opulent streets of Noxus, leaving them behind to ponder the lesson they had just received. I hadn't won a fight. I had gained something far more dangerous and infinitely more amusing: the full attention, reluctant respect, and confused rivalry of the two youngest members of the empire's deadliest family. And the best part? I had a feeling that the next time they wanted to cause trouble, they might just call me to help plan it.
Boredom, for now at least, had been officially banished from my kingdom.