Chapter II
Bitter memories and new ways
As Marcus exited the chamber, his attention was awaken by a summoner approaching him. He recognized the old man, sprouting a small white beard, mark of the passage of time.
After double checking to see if they were alone, and confirming it, the man spoke - "So, we finally meet again, old friend. Last time I saw you, you weren't walking around with rags"
"Ironic. Last time I saw you, you were running around in rags, hooded rags at that. You didn't mention in your letters that you were promoted to a senior summoner Ysmir." – Du Couteau wittily replied.
"I see you've done your homework. But enough with the small talk, let's go."
Du Couteau took Ysmir's side, and they started to walk towards the Institute's central halls.
The bleak dark corridors of the Testing Chamber were replaced by a much more cheering color scheme. Banners of Demacia, Noxus, Piltover and Zaun, the affiliated cities of the Institute, hanged proudly in the walls, symbolizing the union and the ever lasting peace, which gave a strong contrast with the reality of the situation.
"Let's cut the formalities and the chit chat" – Now he´s talking my language Du Couteau thought. – "What have you found about Swain?"
A clear twist of disgust dominated Marcus' face, when that name was mentioned – "I infiltrated the Black Rose for a while, just for long enough to raid their files."
"Risky, considering their fame. What did they reveal?"
"Exactly what I suspected. Swain hired the Zaunites in my back for their chemicals, and he ordered the deployment of the long range artillery." He made a pause, lowering his head in suffering "And he ordered the assassination of my wife. He specified the assassination in such a way to make it look like Ionians. In the end, he located the "intel" which revealed that it was the Ionian government that send them."
"Can they be used to incriminate Swain?"
"No. The Black Rose files are magically enchanted to self destruct the moment they are taken away from the archive."
"I see. So what happened next?"
"I confronted him. Had to fight for my life to get out of the Black Rose chambers. Got this as a nice reminder" He pointed to his face, to the gigantic scar in his left cheek .
"But now you are here, and a champion in the League at that. As you requested, no one else knows who you are, besides the Summoner Council. The other champions know a new guy arrived, but that's the last of that."
"So what do I do now?" Du Couteau knew the plan, of course. Be closer to Swain, search for evidences to clear his name, and keep as low profile as he could. And even if Swain knows who Marcus is, he can't do it without revealing his connection to the Black Rose. But now that he was finally here, he was completely and totally lost.
"Well, now I must give you the indications and tell you the Champion's Code. Unfortunate formalities, but necessary."
"Very well. I've learned before that there's no way to escape you when you need to do something."
Although Du Couteau was right next to Ysmir, his mind drifted away with thoughts of the past. Not for disrespect of the summoner next to him, of course. Ysmir was one of Du Couteau's oldest, and probably only, friend. A Noxian just like him, with noble blood, Ysmir always dreamt to be a summoner. He was always talented in the ways of magic, and it was not uncommon for the pair to do shenanigans thanks to it when they were teens. In retrospective, it was very weird for such different people to be best friends. One a military man at heart, the other a neutral magician, not interested in the politics behind Noxus, with different dreams, personalities and ways of being. But maybe that's what made them such a good pair. They were constantly challenging each other, and making their lives more interesting in the process. And in the end, Marcus knew that he was the only one in which he could trust. He was even the best man at his wedding with Lilith. But now what was before a jovial friendship is now a bound of blood, an alliance to face something none of them can face alone. And one thing the men have in common, is that both agree it must be stopped. The rise of the Black Rose.
Du Couteau always knew about this organization. As the Grand General's second in command, he was very well informed. Only in the past years he has realized that they are a powerful force. Not that Ysmir hasn't been telling him that for ages.
"…And no champion is to enter in combat with one another, or pry into the other's privacy…" Ysmir got Marcus' attention with that one. He already had violated that rule when he infiltrated the Black Rose. It was only for a few months, but for Du Couteau, it was like decades.
He remembers the first time he entered the Black Rose chambers. It wasn't exactly easy to find, fame to the organization being true, but it wasn't very difficult to contact once it was found out. A letter to the now League champion LeBlanc was all it took.
He remembers sitting in the hall, eavesdropping the Deciever and Swain talking.
"General Du Couteau is here to see you, Matron." A porter announced to the pair
"Send him up" the porter then called Du Couteau from afar. He continued to hear the conversation. "Du Couteau is that vulgar General's lapdog. He will be of no use to us, Jericho"
"Perhaps you are mistaken, Deciever. He is of noble blood"
"But he is not one of us!" Marcus entered the study, pretending not to have heard anything.
"Ah, General Du Couteau. What a pleasant sight. Or do you no longer possess the title after that ordeal with Ionia?" – Swain spoke in a very sarcastic voice, barely doing an effort to hide it. Yet again, Marcus just pretended not to hear him. – "Colonel Swain. Yes, even after I have stepped away from active duty, I still am a General. But enough about me, I have more serious business to talk."
"You are very direct, General. I like that." She didn't, and Marcus knew it. She was trying to seem friendly to gain some sympathy from the General, to be exploited later. However, he decided to play with it for the time being – "So tell me, why exactly do you wish to join the Black Rose?"
"Why would any man want to join the Black Rose? Power, my dear, I want power."
"One would expect a General of the Noxian army to have all the power he could wish for." – a mocking tone was distinguishable in Swain's voice, maybe even defiance. Again, for the time being, Marcus decided to ignore it. – "I have a lot of influence in Noxus, yes. But that's not power. True power comes with knowledge. And from what I hear, no one can provide more knowledge than the Black Rose."
"You have good contacts, Du Couteau. Just tell me this. Why should we accept you in the Order?" – LeBlanc couldn't help but to smirk at her question.
"First, I managed to not only discover about the existence of your organization as also your hideout. I reckon that can't be an easy task." – This was Marcus' turn to mock the Deceiver a little, and her reaction, even if extremely well hidden, showed that he was successful. – "Second, as you said, I have good contacts. And you need someone with relations with the Noxian High Command, and even Swain doesn't have access to what I know. Third, I know too much for you to simply let me go. So you either kill me and let my influence go to waste, or you use me, as you do so well, LeBlanc."
"You do make a very good point. Your unique perks shouldn't be wasted." – LeBlanc got out of her chair and approached Marcus, circling him like a eagle watches its prey – "What do you think of this, Colonel Swain?" turning to the Master Tactician, who had chosen to remain silent for the time being – "I think General Du Couteau would make a great addition to our Order."
"Then it's settled. Marcus Du Couteau, you are now an active member of the Black Rose." With a hand gesture, LeBlanc launched a magical rune into the general, marking his clothes with the image of a blooming rose "Thank you, Deceiver. I am greatly thankful for your decision" more than you think.
"… the bedrooms of all champions are placed in certain wings. Noxians and Zaunites stay in the East Wing, Demacian, Piltoverians and Bandle Citizens stay in the Western Wing, and neutral champions stay in the South Wing. I got you a room there, to avoid any conflict with Noxian champions. " – Du Couteau's curiosity snapped him out of his thoughts – "What about North Wing?"
Ysmir sighed at the North Wing's reference – "That's when we house the more "special needs" champions. Anivia, Brand, Zyra, the Void Champions, any champion that might need some "extras" that can easily disturb other, more "normal" champions."
"You don't seem very fond of that area." – Marcus remarked
"It's not the area itself, it's just... Almost every day we get some sort of mess. It's either Trundle creating huge piles of snot everywhere, Brand and Anivia arguing because one of them set fire/freezed the other's bedroom, Skarner trying to impale his TV because the power went off… And not to mention when a fight breaks out. They're still rebuilding the corridors since the last time Malphite pissed off Cho'Gath. And in the end of the day, the Senior Summoners, that is, me and a few mates, have to deal with all that mess."
"Then why does the Institute put them all together, knowing this kind of shit happens?"
"Because there's nowhere else to put them, not enough room. But it's not all bad. At least they aren't causing that rattle in other, more peaceful areas."
"Seems life in the Institute is not what you expected." – Ysmir was quick to reply to Marcus' inquiry – "Don't let my rattles fool you, old friend. The work I do here is one of the most fulfilling ones anyone could ask for. I am deeply proud of being a Summoner, and I wouldn't trade this for anything in the world."
"You really haven't changed a thing since we were kids, Ysmir. I wish I could say the same" – the renegade slowed his steps, the image of the dying Ionians filling his mind. Ysmir came to a full stop upon seeing his image, and placed a hand in Marcus' shoulders, forcing him to halt.
"Do not mourn the loss of innocence, Marcus. I know that it can get hard, and I won't pretend to understand to it's full horror the burden you carry. But without it, the events set in motion would never have came to be. Without it, Noxus would forever roll in its own corruption, letting people like Swain and LeBlanc control its destiny. Don't grief for what is past. Use it to create a new future."
"Maybe I was wrong. You probably wouldn't be able to say half of that when we were kids" – the light hearted mood of Marcus' reply was a sign that the renegade had taken his words to heart.
They continued to walk silently, thinking about the words each one had said. Soon, they were at the South Wing. Du Couteau's door was a short distance from the entrance.
"This is were you're going to stay." – Ysmir opened the door to reveal Marcus' room. It was simple, having only one division and a bathroom. "The Institute promotes customization. Tell us what you want, and we can get it here, within reason. Something else you want to talk about?"
"No old friend. This has been a long day, and all I want right now is a good night's rest." – Marcus entered the room as he replied to the Summoner, eyeing the bed.
"Then I'll let you be. Your first match will be in two days, to give you time to adapt. Goodnight Marcus." – With these words, Ysmir closed the door and took his leave. Finding himself alone, Marcus Du Couteau was finally free to relax. He sat at his bed, removing the hood which served as his mask. Looking at the moon through his window, he had only one thing in his mind. I still have a long way to go –he thought, as he searched through his pocket – but I'm here finally. Finally I have a way to fix what I have done – taking from them a picture. It was old, having a small rip in the right corner, slightly faded. Marcus couldn't stop but to smile at the image of him, standing behind his daughters Katarina, Cassiopeia and Coraline, and at the side of Lilith, his one and only love, the mother of his children, his wife. – they look just like their mother. I hope they can find in their hearts to forgive me, I hope… - His thoughts were brutally interrupted as he felt a syringe piercing his neck. Whatever poison it was, it acted too fast for him to be able to turn back. The last thing Du Couteau saw was the only object he held dear from his hand into the floor. And then it was only darkness.
Whack! The blade carved right into the dummy's chest, hitting square in the center of the target. Whack ! This time it the head, right between where the eyes should be. Shwin! The redhead appeared behind the dummy, slicing his neck with her dagger, the wool used to fill it flowing the floor. One would think all these moves in one target alone, especially when the League's training room was filled with them, were a bit of an overkill. However, considering that in the Fields champions were imbued with magical protection, those moves alone probably wouldn't be enough to kill anyone.
Training alone at night had become a habit of the Noxian Assassin. In fact, it was the only time when she trained, by the Council's orders. Last time she exercised her right to attend the training room with other champions present didn't end particularly well. Let's just say a certain Dauntless Vanguard had to be taken to the medical center after a blade "accidentally" hit his leg. "I don't get what the big deal is" she remembers saying to the (obviously pissed) summoners in the medical room "If we die within the Institute, we get back fine and dandy in the summoning chamber. Killing him now would save you a lot of work." That argument didn't work so well. Unknown to them, the Summoners did Katarina a favor by isolating her from other people. She trained much better when no one else was around, when it was only her and the helpless training dummies.
"I see you are enjoying yourself, Sinister Blade." – She was so lost in her own world that she didn't notice a man entering the room, an impressive feat, considering you could count with one hand the people who could do that and there would still be fingers left. – "I hear the janitors have to spend all night working after you are done with the training dummies." Great, the only time I have to myself, and this jackass just had to appear and interrupt it. How the hell can he be so stealthy with that damned cane, anyway? She pondered, as she stopped her savage attacks long enough to launch a disdained glare at the man in front of her. "What the fuck do you want, Swain?" Caw! The raven in his shoulder cawed aggressively at the assassin, as if it understood what she said.
Katarina couldn't stand nor this man, nor his damned raven. Great part of the why derived from the same reason she couldn't stand politicians either. On the battlefield, we are who we are. The people in there are at its more pure and simple form. An adversary is just that. Someone who opposes you, who's skills must be given the corresponding respect, and the penalty for failing to do this is usually death. And it was no different in an assassination mission. An assassin recognizes his target as a person, someone too important to live any longer. He must be studied, his habits memorized, his secrets known as one would remember the name of their child. And above all, he must be treated as a person. But with politics it was different. There were no people. There were only objects, pawns to be played in the game of chess that are politics. And everytime she was around the Grand General that was exactly what she felt. As a pawn, a disposable asset, one to be sacrificed at the first chance there is.
"Now, now, Katarina" – he said, in an almost mocking tone – "are those proper manners to talk to a superior officer? Besides, I come here with an offer."
This was enough to catch the redhead's attention. Swain was not one to give gifts. Now that she thought about it, she didn't think he HAD anyone to gift.
"Ok, what´s the catch? Everything comes with second intentions with you."
"There's no catch. I just thought Noxus' best assassin deserved some time out. Here, tickets for tomorrow's event." – Swain extended his hand to give the tickets to her. They had a gigantic arena drawn in them, with a bloodlike substance marking its tips with red. Katarina accepted them, more out of curiosity for what prompted their offer than anything.
"So, Draven still does his «great show», hein? One would think that the megalomaniac freak would be happy with the attention he gets from being a Champion."
"Always so mean, aren't you, Du Couteau? Although I admit that his mannerisms are… less than ideal, his service for Noxus has been exemplar."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Why don't you quit faffing around the issue and tell me why are you giving me the tickets?"
"I already told you, Sinister Blade. You deserve some time out. Besides, no Noxian will want to miss this event. There's a surprise planned, one like no other before."
"Like I give a shit."
Swain frowned at her lack of enthusiasm – "You are too rude for your own good, Du Couteau. But that's an issue to discuss some other time. For now, I'll leave you to your trainings." – The man started to turn around to exit the room. At the door, he turned his head and added "Oh, and Katarina? Take those tickets as an order". With these words, the Master Tactician left the assassin alone again.
What the hell did he meant by "there's a surprise planned"? I don't like how this all sounds.
Soon after Swain left, Katarina finished her training and went to her room. After all, she wouldn't want to be late for the event she had been forced to go assisting.