Chapter 1 – Noxus

The sinister granite city of Noxus stood hewn into a mountain and sprawling across the view of the window that would resemble an eye in a demonic skull perched at its peak. A man in ornate robes stood admiring the view of the metropolis below. On his shoulder sat a raven with six eyes of burning scarlet. The man tilted his bald head as he sensed someone entering his chambers.

"What news, Katarina?" His voice betrayed nothing of his age and flowed like syrup laced with acid.

The red-haired assassin stepped out of the shadows and lowered herself to one knee.

"Demacian military forces have grown immensely since last year Grand General." She looked up hesitantly but the man had not turned to look at her. Instead the raven stared at her with three of its eyes.

"King Jarvan makes no secret of his plans to invade. He means to raze Noxus to the ground."

Turning at last, the man swivelled with his decorated wooden cane. The jewels embedded in it glistened with infused magic and Katarina felt the power emanating from the innocuous looking object. When he spoke the words were, as always, measured, calculated and deliberately cutting.

"Does their army outmatch ours?"

Swallowing perhaps too audibly before responding, Katarina replied "No, my lord. We have superior numbers and stronger magic."

His eyes forced hers back down. The cold azure burning through the hardened assassin like ice.

"Well done, Katarina."

"Thank you, Grand General." She did not dare look up a second time.

"You may leave."

Not wanting to waste time, she summoned her magic and instantly teleported to the door. Closing it soundlessly behind her, Katarina let out the breath she did not know she was holding.

Jericho Swain turned back to his window.

"It seems the brash young prince has grown no wiser with age." He said to his bird. "A pity his father did not live long enough to see his son fail."

The raven cawed to its master and flapped its wings once; the sense of a cruel joke hung in the air between them.

Deep beneath the winding streets of Noxus in the Undercity where no light could be found and the labyrinthine passages stretched into catacombs riddling the length of the metropolis, the members of the Black Rose gathered. The organisation had existed in Noxus since before the previous age of monarchy in the city-state; dedicated to the pursuit of dark magic and the silent governance of the city above. In an opulent room three figures sat. There they met to discuss the state of their nation and how best to manage it.

The matron, a beautiful and seemingly ageless sorceress named LeBlanc moved around the room with floating grace. Her jet-black hair mirrored the feathers in her revealing attire. Since Swain had taken control of Noxus almost ten years prior, she had opted for her dress to resemble a raven in some respects. She passed by another woman; Elise was both alluring and predatory in her appearance, made no less so by her beauty which rivalled the matron's. Her clothing left equally little to the imagination, showing off curves that clashed with the menacing black spikes flowing from her bodice like spider's legs. Across a lengthy wooden table with his crimson leather boots propped on its surface reclined Vladimir. His fine red clothing belied his lack of noble blood and when he moved, his ashen blonde hair tumbled about his fine-featured face like weightless golden blades. On the cuffs and tails of his coat he wore long and sharp silver knives that further created an image of a dark and foreign danger in the scarlet-robed man.

Resting her staff against the table near Vladimir's boots, LeBlanc regarded him.

"Has the Grand General given word of his plans to deal with the Demacian threat?" Her voice was smooth but cold and decisive.

Not bothering to meet her hypnotic gaze, Vladimir replied "Swain doesn't tell me anything these days." He laced his fingers behind his head, "I think he finds my disinterest frustrating."

A musical laugh from across the table and Elise regarded the man. "Your nonchalance is amusing Vladimir but we must know how this conflict can benefit our organisation."

"Elise is right." LeBlanc began, "We must find…"

"The advantage in the coming bloodshed?" Vladimir interrupted, finally turning to look at her. His eyes shone crimson and his pupils vanished in the glow. "I expect bloodshed is the advantage, dear matron."

"Spoken like a true Noxian." Elise chimed.

Vladimir turned to regard her. "I am no more of this place than you, Elise. When was your last excursion to the Shadow Isles?"

Leblanc slammed her palm onto the table, earning back the scarlet gaze.

"Your disregard for furthering our ends has been tolerated while Noxus has been at peace, Vladimir. But I will not allow you simply doing as you please while there is something to be won!"

Vladimir took his boots off the table and stood up, nearly a foot taller than LeBlanc he regarded her with a tilted head and seemed to muse for a moment before speaking.

"And just what is it that we might win, mistress?" His words were laced with something between goading and contempt. Leblanc had dealt with his disinterest and subtle mockery for over six years yet still the man found a way to get under her skin.

"We might gain influence in the Demacian courts." Elise was quick to diffuse the tension, familiar with the distaste between Vladimir and the matron.

A playful grin marking his features, Vladimir turned his gaze to Elise; the glow in his eyes fading back to their usual blue. "I'm sure you would love to catch more flies in your web, my dear." He spoke with the charm of a courting noble but the understanding between them was clear. They were dark mages and each respected the other's craft. LeBlanc cast her gaze between the two of them and let out a quiet sigh, silently thankful that Elise was on good terms with the insufferable man.

He turned his attention back to the matron a smirk still playing on his lips. "I will speak to the Grand General and pry what information I can from him." His tone was both mocking and sincere. "Don't expect too much though, He used to be one of us after all." The blades on his coat made an eerily pleasant sound as he turned to leave. LeBlanc stared after him, frustration burning in her violet eyes. The door to the chamber closed behind him as he left and she turned to Elise who smiled at the door; venom in her eyes.

"We'd best keep an on eye on him, matron." She started. "That man has never truly had an allegiance to anyone."

"You're right," LeBlanc replied. "But he will remain as long as he is useful to our ends."

"And when he no longer is?"

The matron turned and regarded the Spider Queen. "He will be removed."

Striding without particular determination, Vladimir walked through the winding tunnels of the Undercity. The blackness clawed at the edges of his vision but any fear of Noxus had long forsaken him. As he walked he remembered what felt like a different lifetime. One of dread, exile and constant uncertainty.

Terror.

The eyes of a young boy were filled with it. His blood was already pooling beneath him as he writhed on his split stomach. Reaching for his attacker with fingers clawing desperately to life he choked on the burbling ichor that flooded his mouth.

A boy of similar age stood over him, a small and crude carving knife held so tightly in his hand that it blanched his entire fist. Splashes of crimson adorned him like a painting. Droplets marred his otherwise pristine face where an expression of awe clung to his eyes. His short, blonde hair was flecked with the blood that had sprayed from the throat of another boy who lay motionless a few feet away.

The dying youth met his gaze and hatred burned in his eyes even as the light in them began to fade. The boy standing over him returned the look; not of hatred but of gleeful fascination. He could feel his heart pounding hard and blood surging to his hands, face and ears. As he admired his work he saw the last stitches of life coming undone and the boy slumping into the ever-expanding pool.

Vladimir had not known either of their names but he knew as he stood over their bodies that he could not return to his old life.

Turning from the corpses, he had already made the decision to leave Noxus. He would live in exile, but he would live. And his growing hunger would carry him to a different place. One where his appetite might be indulged or even appreciated.

It was dark before the boy, a small pack slung over one shoulder, made his way through a muddy tunnel out of Noxus; one of the secret entrances to the dark city he had discovered whilst hunting small animals. Once outside, a grim smile played over the youthful visage. He took a step forward but a voice from the shadows caught him in his tracks.

"You killed them didn't you?" It was a soft, feminine voice. Vladimir estimated it was someone around his age.

From a shadowy corner behind a small rock formation stepped a girl, she seemed possibly a year or two older than him.

Clothed in leather and moving with catlike silence she stepped closer. Her beauty was unmistakeable but there was a fierceness about her that set the boy on edge. As she approached, Vladimir saw countless throwing knives dotting her outfit. Her hair was the colour of the blood still staining his clothes.

"I had to." Was his ambiguous reply. His voice was like silk that only served to indicate the growing strength of the monster within him.

"Then why run?" Her eyes were narrow and accusing.

"There's nothing left here."

"Where will you go?"

Vladimir was not of noble birth, his education was limited and the city-states were all foreign to him. He raised a hand that pointed south. "That way."

A knife embedded itself in the ground less than an inch from his foot. He jumped slightly before looking at her, perplexed. The girl was already turning to leave, her crimson hair swaying lazily. She called over her shoulder "You'll need that."

Dislodging the finely crafted blade Vladimir gripped it tightly, a smile working its way onto his face. He spared one last look at the girl as she vanished into the shadow of Noxus, then turned around and disappeared into the stretching darkness of the night.

"Vladimir, how long has it been?" Swain's voice conveyed no tone but Vladimir knew it was not truly a question. He was certain that the Master Tactician knew when last they had spoken down to the minute.

"I've come on behalf of our mutual friends in the garden." He bowed ostentatiously as he spoke.

Swain turned from his window and appraised the man. "I've not heard of you listening to LeBlanc's instructions for some time." His expression remained mask-like.

Straightening up, Vladimir cast a glance at the six-eyed raven on the Grand General's shoulder before responding. "She hopes you might enlighten us with news of your plans to deal with the Demacian threat."

If Swain was surprised by the Black Rose's knowledge of Jarvan IV's movements, he didn't show it.

"You may inform LeBlanc that military matters are not the purview of the Black Rose but she will be informed should an opportunity arise for her organisation." He turned to his desk where stacks of documents lay, perfectly organised. His attention fixed on a roll of paper on which Vladimir spotted a familiar crest; that of the now defunct Institute of War. Feeling Swain's eyes on him Vladimir returned his gaze with an easy smile.

"I will inform the matron of your decision, Grand General." He said with another flourishing bow. Swain tossing the Black Rose aside was not Vladimir's concern but he knew LeBlanc's anger would make waves in the city sooner or later.

"I would inquire if you have anything for me to do?" A dark smile flitted across his features, sure that Swain had caught his true meaning.

The Grand General appraised him for a moment, calculating eyes scanning his face. Vladimir's mask was not as blank as Swain's but both men hid their true selves expertly. Swain had made use of Vladimir's bloodlust many times and he had been grateful for the opportunity to kill. But it had been nearly five years since he had last seen the blood of another and the restless pressure was beginning to build behind his eyes. The tactician and the murderer locked eyes and the electricity in the room was palpable. Swain spoke.

"Get yourself fitted for armour, Vladimir. You will fight in our vanguard."

The veneer slipped and Vladimir felt his brow furrow in confusion. His response was measured but his bafflement was clear. "In the vanguard?" He had hoped some loud noble might need silencing. To hear he was being drafted left Vladimir near speechless.

Swain turned away. "Yes, speak to Darius. I have arranged for him to take you to an armourer."

Feeling his heart-rate climbing and blood heating in his veins, Vladimir turned towards the door; his rage building as he opened it and spoke. "As you wish, Grand General."

Closing the door behind him Vladimir's eyes flashed a bright, burning crimson for a moment before he took control again. He set off down the stone passage towards the spiralling staircase that would lead out of the Grand General's wing. As he walked, his anger grew.

"Master Tactician indeed." He said under his breath. He knew why Swain had made this move. On the one hand it would placate LeBlanc who would see it as the Black Rose making headway into the Noxian military command with him moving like a pawn between her and Swain. On the other hand it was a test of loyalty and both his superiors and Vladimir himself knew that he was not, in fact, loyal. Disregarding a direct order from the leader of Noxus would put him in an unsavoury position but Vladimir found his thoughts settling on the coming Demacian battle. It was not the threat of death that made him unwilling, nor was it the widespread carnage that would likely ensue. The man that the League of Legends had called the Crimson Reaper was no stranger to carnage; he revelled in the bloodshed. But to fight in an army meant more than just shedding the blood of his foes. The thought of being commanded by a man he disliked to fight alongside people who hated him turned his stomach.

As if summoned by the thought, Vladimir turned to enter the narrow staircase and was greeted by the hulking, armoured figure of Darius going the other way.

"Haemomancer." The High Command General inclined his head only slightly.

"General." Vladimir replied. The distaste they had for one another was well-documented. Darius resented Vladimir for being one of the few Noxians to evade mandatory military service and he, like most, thought Vladimir's Haemomantic magic an abomination.

Vladimir, in turn, disliked Darius for simpler reasons. The man was a brute and while his cunning rise through Noxian ranks was as admirable as it was meteoric, the haemomancer remembered how he had nearly lost his head during a League battle. Despite both of them representing Noxus, Vladimir had a strong suspicion that Darius had meant to kill him. A notion which made military service under his command all the more unlikeable.

They locked eyes for a moment and Vladimir cracked a false smile while Darius merely scowled. Not one for subtlety, the general looked him up and down. "We're to see the armourer. You might be of some use to Noxus at last."

Vladimir didn't let his smile slip but his thoughts had turned to the joy he would feel from draining every last drop from the large man and leaving the exsanguinated corpse in a high place for Swain to look at.

He turned his head to look down the passage to Swain's door. "I expect you will have to meet with the Grand General first?" His tone was almost hopeful.

Darius did not notice and nodded. "Lord Swain has requested my presence. I will take you to the armoury after. Wait here."

Stepping out of Darius' way. Vladimir smiled his empty smile again. "As you say, general. I will await your return." The words were filled with contempt.

The High Command General stepped past him, his footfalls echoing metallically through the tight corridor. Vladimir watched him enter Swain's chambers and waited for a few moments before swiftly descending the stairs and making his exit.

Darius stepped into the Grand General's chambers and knelt, awaiting his master's instruction. Swain had taken a seat behind his desk and looked at him over his neat stack of papers.

"Rise, General." The man's voice was as flat as ever but the bird on his shoulder seemed excited on his behalf; changing balance from foot to foot every few seconds.

Darius stood and regarded the Grand General. In Jericho Swain he had seen the potential for Noxus to grow stronger than ever and he served his master unquestioningly. Swain, in turn, recognised the man's blind loyalty and comfortably shared a slightly larger portion of his schemes with him. With this in mind but indicated nowhere on his face, he continued.

"Vladimir will never reach the frontlines."

Darius nodded immediately but his right hand quivered visibly in anticipation. For less than an instant, Swain's eyes darted to the motion before meeting Darius' again. The High Command General took this as leave to speak.

"The soldiers will take his presence in their ranks as an insult to Noxian strength. He will be dead inside a week."

A flutter of irritation swept across Swain's eyes but his face remained unchanged.

"See to it that it appears genuine, Darius. I will not have the Black Rose accusing me of thinning their ranks."

"Surely two mages are no threat, my lord?" Darius' usual scowl was replaced with a perplexed expression.

Swain leaned forward and steepled his fingers, obscuring his mouth. His eyes burned into his subordinate.

"Just be discreet, Darius. Do not kill him yourself."

The High Command General bowed his head before replying.

"It will be done, Grand General."

Vladimir appeared a young man but in truth he did not know his age. If pressed he would estimate himself being in his early thirties. His knack for staying alive over the years when so many wanted him dead had given him a gift. A kind of instinct that screamed in his blood when it was time to fight or flee.

That instinct now roared in his ears with his suddenly pounding heart. The exchanges with LeBlanc, Swain and Darius had left a growing sense of dread in the haemomancer's stomach. He could feel that the time had come for his second flight from Noxus.

"No rest for the wicked." He muttered near-silently to himself as he walked with deliberate haste through the snaking streets of Noxus proper. Around him were mostly taverns and inside each one he spotted at least one group of Noxian soldiers. He thought to himself that the city-state's military legacy and value for strength might one day be its undoing.

At that moment though he was faced with his own untimely death and he did not know which faction would deliver it. LeBlanc, he knew, had no need of him if he fell from Swain's favour and would kill him without a second thought. The thought caused the familiar crimson flash in his eyes. "She could certainly try."

But even if he disposed of the matron, he would be left exposed to Swain's whims and the Grand General did not like loose ends. No doubt he knew that the five years of peace in Noxus had left LeBlanc restless while her ambition for power grew. With her considerable strength removed, Swain would simply crush what was left of the Black Rose. Elise would retreat to the Shadow Isles with her spider-cultists, leaving Vladimir as the final target for the Grand General to deal with before his power was absolute.

His footfalls were heavier than usual as he ran over the facts in his mind. The more he pondered them the more his self-preservation instinct seemed to ring true. He faced imminent death from one or both of the groups of power in Noxus. But he would not allow them to claim his life so easily.

His mind made up, Vladimir turned his attention west where the sun was beginning to dip behind the mountain that made up the foundation of Noxus. As darkness began to fall, the Crimson Reaper allowed himself a brief smirk. He would leave immediately.

Darius seemed to explode into Swain's chambers almost immediately after he had left.

"Grand General!" he began, breathless. "The haemomancer has disappeared! I ordered him to wait for me but he has gone. He must have heard us!"

Swain did not so much as twitch at Darius' sudden re-entry. He still sat at his desk, appearing to have been waiting for the general's revelation. "I have a contingency plan in place for this event Darius." His words were quiet but the menace in them was clear.

The High Command General straightened up. "Sir?"

Swain met the soldier's eyes and Darius felt the tactician's cunning and strength in that gaze.

"Consider Vladimir dealt with. He is officially an enemy of Noxus. I have already issued word to Shauna Vayne that he is hers to do with as she pleases."

"The Night Hunter?" Darius was incredulous. "She is Demacian, my lord. Our enemy."

"She is a means to an end Darius." Swain's tone was stern and demanded obedience. "Her hatred for Vladimir will see her chase him to the ends of Valoran and beyond."

Darius found he did not know how to respond. Swain's methods were not always the way of Noxian might, but the general could not help but respect his achievements. The very fact that he had sent word to Vayne in anticipation of Vladimir's flight from the city was proof of his brilliance. Bowing his head and taking some solace in the haemomancer's imminent demise. Darius turned to take his leave.

"Darius."

Somewhat startled, the general turned to face Swain once more. "Yes, Grand General?"

"Have Talon Du Couteau sent up." Turning his attention back to the papers in front of him, Swain continued. "I still need a killer in my vanguard."

The sky was black. Chemical runoff from the industrial city of Zaun had blotted out all starlight in neighbouring Noxus and Piltover. The families unlucky enough to live outside the city gates of Noxus were exposed to the harsh winds that ran off the high peaks of the Ironspike mountain range in the north. Howling through the northern passage to Zaun, the wind barrelled through the small settlement and kept all but the bravest and most desperate indoors. On the southernmost side of mountain was a small, muddy tunnel; too small to accommodate a full-grown man and therefore unguarded. A perceptive passer-by would have noticed a thick, red liquid pouring from the mouth of the tunnel onto the stone beneath it.

Vladimir tapped into his life-force; the same energy that fuelled his magic and from the pool of blood he had melted into, called forth his shape and reconstituted himself. In an instant he stood, fully formed, in front of the small tunnel he had crawled through as a boy; a look of grim nostalgia on his face. "Some things never change."

His clothes were unsullied, the crimson attire jingled slightly with the heft of the blades attached onto it. Turning his collar up to shield his face from the howling wind, the haemomancer headed south once again. This time not the aimless wandering child, but a man with a dark and determined purpose.