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Vladimir stood in the center of his rather lavish bed chamber, studying the decor the finest artists in Noxus had carefully pieced together for him. The government of the city state had gifted to him a generous amount of money, expensive possessions, and of course this lovely manor in exchange for his "services" in the League of Legends. He looked around. The walls were covered with antique paintings, historical artifacts, crests belonging to family lines who had long since perished, all trivial material goods meant to appease the Crimson Reaper.
He smiled.
He had the government of Noxus, the aristocrats, and even some independent nobles all throwing themselves at his feet for access to his "tool" as they called it, a pointless euphemism for his hemomancy abilities that struck fear into the hearts of every man, woman and child he came in contact with. As a result of that fear, human contact - outside of the Institute, where he was expressly forbidden to exercise his powers on human beings - was scarce for Vladimir, and despite all their efforts, the Noxian government had been able to find precious little who would work as servants for the hemomancer, even under threat of imprisonment or death. The few who dared to work for him found themselves victim to Vladimir's cruel experiments upon his slightest whim.
He didn't mind the social isolation as much as he did the inconvenience of terrifying everyone nearby with his presence. It was dreadfully tiresome to have to constantly enslave urchins to act as his servants, and even moreso with the summoners of the League, who were constantly either quaking in fear of Vladimir or holding their immunity over his head.
"S-Sir?" came a meek voice from the doorway. Vladimir recognized the voice as Dreux, a servant he had acquired after slaying his former master in a dispute. "Lord Harriman's herald has arrived."
Without turning, Vladimir gave a slight nod. "Very well. Send him in, and be quick about it."
Lord Harriman was a Demacian noble deeply entwined with Jericho Swain's rise to power in Noxus. He sought Vladimir's help in covering up his involvement with the coup, which had led to several matches in which Vladimir faced off against the personal summoners of the Demacian nobles. He cared little for politics, but he respected a man who placed his own goals above those of his city-state.
Vladimir turned just as Harriman's herald briskly walked into the room, wearing the standard Demacian colors of blue and gold. He pulled a small scroll out of the pouch on his belt, handing it over to the hemomancer without making eye contact. Vladimir raised an eyebrow as he unfurled the scroll and began to read aloud.
"From the office of Lord Harriman,
I am sorry it has come to this, Vladimir, but your continued support is no longer needed. Prince Jarvan the Fourth has officially pardoned me from all accusations,
former, current, and future. As part of my deal with the Prince, the Noxian constable has been notified of your illegal activities (namely, the enslavement of the boy Dreux) and a squad of peacekeepers has been tasked with your arrest.
Sincerely yours,
Lord Harriman"
Vladimir, furious, looked up at the wild eyed herald. Before the poor boy could move a muscle, a loud thump signified the explosion of his heart inside his chest. Before the corpse could hit the ground, Vladimir was making preparations, gathering his belongings. They could not arrest him when he was a boy, they would never arrest him now.
Several days later, Vladimir gave a small smile as he heard two Noxian summoners discussing the horrific murder of one young man named Dreux, eight Noxian lawmen, and the Demacian noble Lord Harriman.