A/N: Warning, giant wall of text ahead. This is basically a full chapter of Swain-monologuing – totally necessary nonetheless.

Chapter 2

Contemplations

Into the late hours of the night, Swain sat at the cluttered desk in his study. He felt the exhaustion of a long day's work creeping into his bones, but sleep would not find him. The tactician had been pondering Matron LeBlanc's words for some time now. Since his return to Noxus after forced retirement Swain was beginning to understand the urgency of LeBlanc's subtle prompting.

Years ago, before Boram Darkwill had taken power, it was common knowledge that the Black Rose was the true force that drove the Noxian aristocracy, but under their ruthless warlord's command, the cult had sunk into desolation. Now, only a few vestiges remained.

The remaining Black Rose members lay in hiding, scattered about Noxus' underworld and unable to act without the fear of elimination. Many had thought the Black Rose was completely vanquished and it's had not been until LeBlanc herself had entered the League of Legends that remembrance of the long lost cult was resurfaced.

But the Black Rose was the least of Swain's problems; he had known Evaine for long enough – had been a part of the Black Rose as well – to know she would not double cross him. Or so he counted as much from the ruthless woman know as "the deceiver". Though in the past, he had been he who had done the betraying. The general absently rubbed the bare space where the heavy onyx ring, symbolic of the Black Rose, had once rested.

Swain stood stiffly, taking up his cane, and began to pace to and fro before his desk, "These mines have become troublesome, have they not, right Beatrice?" Swain posed wearily.

The bird squawked in agreement from her wrought iron perch in the corner of the study.

"More trouble than they are worth, eh?" Swain ceased pacing, "but, of course it's only natural with potential Nexuses to be found, Kalamanda inevitably is a magnet for political clashes between the swarming city states – all eager to stake their claim and greedily devour riches. Any fool should know that with Noxian and Demacian troops in such close proximity, it will only a matter of time before the two clash. Not even the iron fist of the League could survive – least of all cull – the force of irascible hatred between the city states."

Beatrice cawed knowingly.

Swain leaned up against a book case and reached a frail arm up to adjust the volume of his hex-tech record player, which thrummed with the flurrying chords of Sona's famed "Aria of Perseverance".

"I fear that in the near future, peace will be impossible. But I suppose one must deal with the tribulations of his own city-state."

Swain took a seat and rested his chin in his hands pensively. "Following the general's disappearance, a new face emerged from the shadows of the du Couteau household: Talon. That man has always been an enigma. The feared street fighter held no allegiances – until the day he came face to face with General du Couteau, who had been sent to dispatch him. Talon finally met his match, and du Couteau spared him in a rare show of mercy. The lad was forever dedicated to the general, and thus became his protégé. The general's disappearance shook Talon. I had caught glimpses of him, pacing about while Katarina organized search parties in the military headquarters all last week following du Couteau's disappearance. With each passing day gaining no leads, Talon appeared increasingly distraught… and obsessed. Natural, I suppose, to feel for a lost mentor.

Katarina and Talon's seeming alliance is a bit perturbing… and sudden. I had not gotten the indication du Couteau's protégé was in any way connected to the rest of the general's household. Though, Talon may see Katarina as one last link to her father, which brings one to wonder what would happen if the General's trail runs out – so too will Talon's alliance?" Swain looked over at Beatrice, who had more or less fallen asleep amidst her master's musings.

"Hmn, I bore even you Beatrice. I only ponder the state of the du Couteau household for they are major advocates of the Noxian military state, and therefore a potential threat to my plans, right girl?" He ruffled the bird's feathers and Beatrice cawed muzzily in agreement, "Which brings me back to the master plan, doesn't it?" The tactician sighed, "LeBlanc was right, this military state – this dying soldier – must be ended, and in its wake the Black Rose shall rise again. With the cult holding a stable government, Noxus could truly be a formidable foe – a deadly political and militaristic force. For true strength lies in the power of knowledge – wars of words are just as potent as those of steel and blood.

Du Couteau's vacant seat is a fortuitous opportunity indeed. Another dispatched worm is another step towards the top. The time has come for carrion crows to tear away at the decaying high command." Swain finished with a deep breath, full of anticipation. "I'm getting rather poetic in my age, eh Beatrice?"

The bird in question fluffed out her feathers and turned her back to Swain, showing her disdain and attempting to rest peacefully. The general chuckled vaguely and spread out a stack of papers on his desk. On top was an envelope from the high command. The General unfolded the invitation from within: it formally invited Swain to a clandestine ceremony in which his promotion would be made official. Though du Couteau's fate was still shrouded in mystery, political pressures coerced High General Boram Darkwill into appointing a man to fill his post. The letter also detailed a celebratory party honoring his promotion, which would occur after the ceremony tomorrow. It denoted along with times, dates, and proper dress attire that he could bring one guest of choice. Swain chortled, Evaine was his obvious choice, but he knew she would be indescribably cross with him for making her go to a military related event. Though, in a way, the celebration was a much hers as his. Swain set the invite aside and panned through the rest of the papers with little interest, until his keen eyes caught a news paper headline: "Jarvan IV Inspects Kalamanda Mines".

"So the prince is personally checking the mines." Swain muttered. A brief image flashed through his mind: his own ravenous form shredding the arrogant "exemplar" in the League's Judgment chamber. It had been pitifully simple to sabotage – and successful, if not for Vessaria Kolminye's interference. Swain looked again at the paper, envisioning a bit more macabre headline for the Demacians.

"This could be quite the opportunity." He whispered viciously, the mere thought of sinking vengeful talons into the arrogant fool once more made Swain clench his fists and shake in anticipation.

"Perhaps these mines are not such a hassle; perhaps they are a chance to kill two nemeses with one bird."

A/N: Quite literally the shortest chapter I've ever written. Don't get used to it.