Arcane: Red Sands

---

The garrison at the heart of Bel'zhun loomed over the city, a fortress of cold stone and steel that seemed alien amidst the warm sandstone of Shuriman architecture. Originally a grand temple dedicated to the sun-disk, it had been repurposed by Noxus into a bastion of control. Its towering spires, once symbols of divinity, now bristled with Noxian banners and the dark glint of steel-tipped ballistae.

As Su'Rhaal and Zanaiya approached, the heavy iron gates creaked open, revealing a courtyard filled with soldiers. Blacksmiths hammered steel into weapons, their rhythmic clangs echoing across the stone walls. Quartermasters barked orders at supply lines, their sharp voices cutting through the air. The organized chaos was a stark contrast to the tension of the streets outside.

"They're stretched thin," Zanaiya observed, her eyes scanning the activity. "Too many tasks, not enough hands."

"Then we'll show them how to work smarter," Su replied, his tone clipped.

A young lieutenant approached, his polished armor reflecting the faint glow of the evening sun. He saluted sharply. "Captain Su'Rhaal. I'm lieutenant Gadriel, General Dorrik is expecting you in the war room."

"Lead the way," Su said.

---

The War Room

The interior of the garrison was dark and oppressive, its narrow corridors lit only by flickering torches. The air carried the faint scent of oil and steel, a reminder that this was no temple anymore—it was a machine of war.

The war room itself was dominated by a massive stone table, its surface carved with a detailed map of Bel'zhun and its surrounding areas. Wooden markers denoted troop positions, supply routes, and areas of known rebel activity. General Dorrik stood at the far end, flanked by two officers.

Dorrik cut an imposing figure. He was broad-shouldered, with sharp features and graying hair that gave him an air of seasoned authority. His armor, polished to a mirror shine, bore gold accents that marked his rank, and a crimson cape draped over one shoulder completed the image of a man who valued appearances as much as power.

" 'Captain' Su'Rhaal," Dorrik said as the Desert Hunter entered, his tone measured but with an undercurrent of disdain. "Demon of the Desert."

Su met his gaze without flinching. "General."

Dorrik's lips twitched into something resembling a smile, though it carried no warmth. "I've heard a great deal about you. A rising star in the Noxian ranks. Ruthless. Efficient. Perhaps even... unstoppable."

"Reputation is earned," Su replied evenly.

"Indeed." Dorrik stepped closer, his boots clicking against the stone floor. "But Bel'zhun is not the great Sai. It is a city of shadows and secrets, where brute strength alone won't suffice. I trust you understand the difference."

"I adapt," Su said simply.

Dorrik's smile faded. He gestured to the map on the table. "The situation here is... delicate. The resistance has grown bolder in recent weeks. Sabotage, assassinations, theft of supplies—every act of defiance emboldens the civilians and weakens our control. The most recent insult? A Noxian caravan carrying weapons from the Medarda Clan was ambushed just outside the city. The rebels made off with every last crate."

Zanaiya's brow furrowed. "Medarda weapons? That's no small loss."

"No, it's not," Dorrik said, his voice tight. "Those weapons were meant to arm an entire campaign. Now they're in the hands of criminals. And to make matters worse, we have little intelligence on their whereabouts. The rebels vanish into their tunnels like rats."

He turned back to Su, his eyes narrowing. "This is where you come in. Your Desert Raiders are to locate the stolen weapons, eliminate the resistance, and restore order to Bel'zhun. Quickly. Cleanly. I trust that won't be a problem?"

Su stepped forward, his hands resting on the edge of the table as he studied the map. "We'll get it done," he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

"Good," Dorrik said, though his expression remained skeptical. "I'll be watching your progress closely, Captain. Bel'zhun is my city, and I won't have it slipping through my fingers."

---

As they left the war room, Zanaiya's expression was as sharp as the blade of her spear. "He doesn't trust you," she said bluntly.

"I don't need his trust," Su replied, his voice low. "I need results."

"You've earned a reputation for getting results, my Lord, but that makes you a threat to men like Dorrik. If he sees an opportunity to undermine you, he'll take it."

Su's gaze was steady as they descended the stairs of the garrison. "Then we won't give him the chance."

---

That evening, the streets of Bel'zhun were cloaked in shadows. The warm glow of lanterns lit the main thoroughfares, but the side streets and alleyways remained dark and silent. The city felt like a coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment.

From the balcony of their assigned quarters, Su and Zanaiya watched the city below.

"Do you think he's right?" Su asked after a long silence.

"About what?"

"Bel'zhun. That it's different. More dangerous."

Zanaiya crossed her arms, her brown eyes scanning the distant lights of the city. "Every battlefield is dangerous. This one's just... louder."

Su stayed silent for a moment, then spoke. "I don't think that's what he meant."

"He's a politician," Su said, his tone dismissive. "He talks to hear himself think."

Zanaiya leaned against the railing, her gaze distant. "Maybe. But even politicians have teeth when it suits them. Don't underestimate him."

"I don't," Su said. "But he's not the one we're hunting."