Chapter 1
"All hail Grand General Swain."
Sixteen men dressed in the garbs of a Noxian general stood up in respect. The table they sat at was made of ancient acacia trees from the Plague Jungles, the few they had managed to bring to Noxus before the jungle's guardian started to pick them off. The chairs were made of Noxian maple trees, inlaid with ivory and gold. On the south wall, a large slab of transparent crystal rested on a series of bolts and screws. There were fewer occupants of these chairs than people themselves. Depictions of Boram Darkwill's campaigns still hung on cloth and picture frames upon the walls. Such remnants of Darkwill's tastes still littered the room, making his presence palpable. The room, to say the very least, was elegant.
The large mahogany doors were already ajar, and under their frame stood the new Grand General. Swain was dressed in the traditional red robes of Noxus' leader. The dark armor that adorned his body was finely polished to a high shine, and the helmet that rested on his head masked most of his facial features save for his piercing red eyes. On his left shoulder plate his raven, Beatrice, was perched on the modified armor piece. The bird would stare at everyone at least once with her the red-glowing sets of eyes. In his right hand, instead of his cane, he carried a long golden staff that ended in a masterfully crafted raven's skull at the top. Upon closer examination one might notice a green gem placed within the cranium of the skull. Atop its head, multiple prongs helped crown the staff with another emerald-colored crystal.
The Grand General walked toward his chair with long, confident strides, no sign of his characteristic limp at all visible visible. General Darius followed behind Swain, massive axe in hand, his eyes fixed on the Grand General.
Once Swain was arrived at his seat, he looked about at the High Council with slight turns of his head. In a low, commanding tone, he said, "Forever strong."
"Forever strong," they chimed their reply in unison.
Swain nodded in acknowledgement, keeping unnerving eye contact with the person on the opposite of the table while he quietly sat down on his seat. Darius took his seat to the right of the Grand General while the chair to Swain's left remained empty. The Hand of Noxis growled inwardly, fully aware of who would have been seated there, had they been present.
"Grand General," one of the councilmen decided to start the meeting. "What will you address first?"
Swain removed his helmet, revealing the black cloth that covered his lower half of his face. He placed the helmet on the table, leaned forward and tapped on the wood with his gauntleted index finger. "Reorganizing the High Council."
The men murmured to one another and nodded. "You have found worthy replacements that even our esteemed colleague, Darius, will not question?"
"I have."
Beatrice let out a loud caw, making the large doors swing open once more as a train of men quickly filtered into the room and occupied the once empty seats. The original members of the High Council murmured and nodded their approval. One of these seated people was unfortunately tapped on the shoulder by one of the newcomers. He looked up at the man, then at Swain in absolute terror.
The Grand General pointed at the doomed man and stated in his raspy, even tone, "No one takes from Noxus, General Pousse. Embellishing financial records will not be tolerated. Your estate now belongs to Noxus, your family will be evicted from their home, you will be stripped of your rank and you will be executed for your crime."
"B-but Grand General, I d-"
Beatrice pushed off of her perch, her wings unfurling as she soared over to the man, her talons outstretched until they met the flesh on his face. Once she was snugly secured, her beak snapped down when his mouth opened to utter assured screams of pain, allowing her to grab his tongue and stare at the squirming man with her beady, crimson eyes. Swain reached out with his left hand, turned upwards in askance, to his side. He showed no care for the trickles of blood that fell from Pousse's face and was now staining the table. A familiar deceiver stepped into view holding papers, not entering through any discernible door or any visible entrance, as though she had materialized from nothing but air. She handed them to Swain before taking her seat as well.
"Thank you, Advisor LeBlanc."
"You are welcome, Grand General. Forever strong."
Swain passed the papers to Darius, whose lips, upon reading them, cracked and fractured into a hateful scowl. He glared at the accused general. He reached out for his massive axe that, despite leaning against the wall behind him, was within arm's reach. Darius grabbed it slowly and dragged it closer to him with a loud, foreboding screech, setting it upright as he stared at the accused man. The papers were passed around the table in complete silence.
"Does anyone disagree?"
None of the other generals moved or spoke. With a sharp rap of Swain's staff, five Raedsel guards stormed into the room. Beatrice released the man's tongue and fluttered back to her perch.
"Grand General, I swear, those documents are falsified!"
"As the evidence stands, Pousse, you know the law. You will be given a week to compile evidence that says otherwise."
The man nodded, shaking all over. The Raedsel soldiers lifted him out of his chair and escorted him toward the door. As soon as General Pousse was parallel to Swain, he paused for a moment, violently sweating. He had no time to react when the blade of an axe was placed against his throat.
"Grand General Swain," Darius grunted. "Who found that evidence?"
"I did."
"Your word is absolute, Grand General. This man is guilty, yes?"
"Yes, he is. I however, am forced to follow the law."
The Hand of Noxus pulled his axe back and gave a violent kick to the man's chest, shattering his ribcage as well as sending him skidding to the wall. "Then I see no reason in delaying matters for this cowardly pig."
Pousse attempted to speak, but the words came as painful gasps and tears.
"On your whim, General Darius."
"The weak are not needed." With a broad, horizontal sweep, Darius' axe firmly embedded itself into the wall, leaving a sizable hole in the wood and stone frame, and decapitating the councilor.
Darius looked at Swain, who have him a silent nod of approval. The Hand of Noxus made his way back to his seat while the Grand General commanded the Raedsel men, "Take his body to the crematorium."
The soldiers quietly obeyed the command and dragged the corpse away. Swain motioned for the man he had designated in Pousse's spot to have a seat.
"With those dramatics out of the way..." Swain leaned forward, staring at the committee before him. "The Bilgewater match against Ionia. It is within the month, yes?"
"Yes sir, it is. Why?"
"Have the Noxians been chosen to help represent the match?"
"Not as of yet sir. With the delay, we saw no reason to rush the decision, considering the turbulence we were undergoing. The League has a proposed list of champions-"
"We will send them Katarina Du Couteau and Vladimir," Swain firmly stated. "Any opposed?"
The council shook their heads, they could see the reasoning behind such choices. And the efficiency with which he hammered these simple matters out was a breath of fresh air, especially when compared to Darkwill.
"Next issue: the Exile."
Darius' brows knit above his nose, his nostrils flared at the mere mention of her title. The word Exile to him was synonymous with the word "traitor".
"What of her?"
"She will be fighting alongside the Ionians for the Bilgewater match."
The entire council started to murmur with one another. "How should we react? This oversteps far past even her current crimes."
"We cannot, yet," Swain admitted. "I am simply letting you know that she will be in the match, and I want to assure Bilgewater's victory. I want only our most competent Summoners available for that day. Win or lose, I want preparations to be done in order to react then and there."
"Yes, Grand General."
"Now..." Swain leaned forward. He stared everyone in the eye, each for no more than three seconds, as his gaze circled the room. "I wish to speak of Demacia."
"What of Demacia?" One of the councilmen asked. "You nullified our peace treaty with them, Grand General, but the League will prevent war with them. They stopped us at Kalamanda and they will again. What can be done that will not put us into the line of fire for every city state who would stand against us?"
Darius grunted. Back then, that was when he started taking notice of Swain, when the current Grand General was just another general. Swain took the initiative after Darkwill's untimely death. Instead of that cowardly treaty, Swain was willing to fight against the murderers of the Grand General.
Swain tapped the table, his voice firm, "Demacia will fall within due time. Leave it to me and I w-"
Before he could say more, the crash of metal upon wood was heard. The stench of rotting flesh filled their noses. Although some of the men reasonably turned their faces away, most like the Hand of Noxus, the Grand General and the Deceiver seemed unperturbed by such a smell. The doors opened, Raedsel guards peeking in as a fat, gluttonous man lumbered into the room, a loud metallic clang heard with every step he took.
His obese belly was held up by spidery legs, his arms changed into horrific, disgustingly sharp weapons that were mechanical in nature. His bald face was barely held together by metal plates, a ventilation grill acted as his mouth which amplified the sound of his breathing, as well as making it easier for others to hear his constant pain.
"Grand General...Swain..."
"Yes, Urgot?" Swain motioned to him to step forward. "You are among fellow Noxians, Executioner. Speak your mind."
"You...You nullified the treaty...with Demacia. Will we...announce war with them?"
"Not yet, Urgot," Swain leaned towards Urgot. "That will come in due time, as I was saying. Demacia must be deconstructed first."
'Deconstructed...?' Darius did not betray the thought. He was unsure what Swain meant, but he trusted the Grand General without question.
"Will Demacia fall...by our hands...?"
Swain nodded in response.
"Will...Will I..." Urgot's right hand clicked, and shifted and changed appendages into a chainsaw. "Will I be given Garen...?"
Swain nodded once more.
Urgot's wheezing eventually accumulated into cacophonous laughter between coughs and gasps. "Good...Good...I like you more than Darkwill already..."
Urgot's lower half slowly swiveled about, making the process of him turning around look like a daunting task. He eventually was able to turn around and leave the room, his spider legs making a distinct thud sound with every heavy step he took.
Swain watched the undead creature leave, then regarded the council once more. "Back to the topic, then?"
Riven's broken blade impaled a pirate onto his own turret. He grunted, grinned and raised an orange into view. He took a solid bite of the citrus fruit while shooting Riven point blank. Only through a knee jerk reaction did she evade the fatal gunshot wound to her head, instead her armored glove coming up and absorbing the bullet. Blood poured out from the wound, but Gangplank knew when he was sunk. He let out a defeated sigh, quite surprising due to the fact that his diaphragm was pierced, and motioned to the Exile to hurry this up.
Riven twisted her blade, and with this twist both the turret and the pirate were cut in half.
"BLUE TEAM MEMBER HAS BEEN SLAIN!" A loud voice announced.
She looked over at the other Nexus turret still standing, aiming at the toy minions that surrounded them. A gentle, blue skinned hand reached over and rested itself on Riven's arm. A surge of magic issued forth and the gunshot wound disappeared.
"Riven, we will take care of this tower," Soraka said. "Do you wish to make your address?"
Riven nodded. She looked up and around, as if she was gauging where she would be most visible. She took a step forward, rested the tip of her blade on the ground in front of her and started to speak. "Demacia. Noxus. Piltover. Zaun. The Freljords. Bilgewater. Ionia. Everyone, everywhere, hearing me, from the Howling Marsh to the Voodoo lands, from East to West, South to North, I want you to listen to my words."
The Exile spun around, blade in hand, staring at the face of a familiar Noxian assassin, Katarina Du Couteau. The red haired woman, instead of lunging forward for an attack, motioned to Riven to keep talking. This was followed by a strange change in her facial expression, one of bored tedium to forced aggression as she jerked forward. Riven raised her blade, ready to attack her countryman when a minotaur stepped in the path of the assassin. Alistar pinned Katarina's face into the ground, cracking the stone she struck. The stoic minotaur gave a silent nod to Riven as he kept the assassin in place, despite the lacerations he was suffering from her attempts at breaking free.
"As most of you know, I am Riven the Exile. I exiled myself from Noxus during the Ionian war for the Zaunite chemical attack done on my own squadron, commanded by the Noxian generals in charge at the time. I committed many crimes, but the only one that Noxus will charge me for is desertion. How horrid, for all the people I killed, my crime in Noxus' eyes is that I deserted them. I deserted Noxus because I thought Noxus deserted me. For using such a disgusting tactic, for not letting the Ionians win the fight that they deserved to win, I deserted Noxus. Doing some of my own research, which I will compile, some interesting information came to light."
In Noxus, in the council room, the High Council watched and listened to the speech via the crystal slab. They looked at one another, knowing what she said was true, but this was meant to be one of Noxus' secrets. There were efforts to keep her from talking put forth by Swain, especially after her first speech, it was successful. They were at ease. Now? Now they would have to do a lot of damage control, but at least they had anticipated this. They had propaganda ready to combat this. Swain watched quietly and with some disinterest.
Darius frowned. He hated to admit it, but he did agree with Riven's point about the cowardly tactic the Noxian Generals used. They went against High Command's direct orders, and they thought to sacrifice good men and women in such an abhorrent manner. His axe shone, as though reminding him of what happened to those generals that did come back from the war, and how he dismissed them.
The fact of the matter remained: She deserted Noxus. It was not High Command's fault, but that of a few men. If she had come back, then he would have gladly joined her in the execution of those at fault.
"It was under High Command, under Darkwill's orders, that these self attacks were conducted."
Darius slammed the arms of his chair. She was lying. He knew that. Darkwill was many things, but he was not a traitor, he was not a spineless coward, and yet...he was willing to make peace with Demacia. Could it be that she was right? Her speech started to grate on his ears, her voice unbearably annoying despite the strangely warm, firm tone it carried.
"I have received letters. People ask me why have I not come back to Noxus." Riven let that hang in the air for a bit before clarifying herself. "Why have I not rejoined? Because I want Noxus, and Zaun, to answer questions. I want them to answer questions such as this: Was the Ionian war wrong?"
Darius' eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared. He was personally responsible for the final push for the Navori province, good Noxians died that day but they had won. They were victorious. His legion never failed.
"I think, and I believe the war was wrong. Not just the conduct of it, the actual war itself," Riven stated. The cries of battle and clash of weapons were audible in the background as she continued talking.
"We should never have attacked Ionia, and why? Because we gained only one thing: Enemies. What is the point of having strength? Is it to rule over all? Is it to become the indomitable champion, the slayer of the weak, the butcher of voices? Is that what Noxus is? How many allies does Noxus have? Zaun is a mercenary city-state, Bilgewater are allies by convenience, and now what enemies does Noxus have? Demacia, of course. Tch." The Exile shook her head, "How sad is that? I have to say that it is common knowledge. How wrong is that? Do we have more enemies? Ionia now, the Freljords, Mount Targon, and Piltover. We have enemies West, East, South and North of us, What is our response? To crush them? How successful has that been? How stupid."
Darius rose from his seat, he reached over and gripped his axe firmly. He was being insulted, Noxus was being insulted. By her, the poster child. How dare she!
"Let me ask this of Noxus," Riven said while moving her hand, pointing at the field. One could hear the arrival of a bounty hungter, followed by thundering gunshots.
"If you are so strong, if Noxus is so strong, then why does it have the weak under its rule? Under its care? Why does it care about its soldiers in the slightest? If you are so strong, Noxus, if Grand General Swain is meant to be the ruler of a nation, why does he need soldiers, generals? Why must those we apparently dominate become enslaved? Why are they not Noxians, and instead are considered animate tools? Is that what being a Noxian is? Am I right for drawing such a comparison, that slaves are slaves and soldiers are soldiers? You may say no, but I think that is the common conception. I was an animate tool once, and I was called the poster child of Noxus. For me to have things like 'emotion', was to admit weakness, yet there they are!" Riven let out a sorrowful laugh. "Every single sentient being, they have emotions. Whether it is anger, love, sorrow, anything, they have emotions. Was I strong back then? No. I was strong in a different way, but not truly strong. Yet all the generals, the leader of Noxus himself told me, told us, otherwise. How awful."
Soraka backed away from Miss Fortune, who was advancing on the healer. A gunshot wound on her thigh made the Starchild limp while she focused on healing the more grievous hole in her stomach, the flesh quickly knitting together thanks to her magic. The bounty hunter cocked her guns, widened her stance, and started to laugh maniacally. Soraka winced, this was going to hurt. A gloved hand grabbed the Starchild's shoulder and flung her backwards, albeit harshly. The ensuing bullet hell that erupted from the pistols flew every which way, though Soraka herself did not suffer any wounds. Any bullet, stray or aimed, that should have hit her did not. Riven stood in front of the healer, her broken sword held out in front of her, attempting to use the flat side of the blade as best of a shield as she could to minimize the damage. The Exile panted heavily, her arms and legs missing bullet sized chunks of flesh that were cauterized from whatever magic coated the projectiles.
Before Miss Fortune could move, a kama flicked out and pierced her thigh. The woman could only let out a gasp of pain before Akali silently appeared behind her.
"BLUE TEAM MEMBER HAS BEEN SLAIN!"
Riven took a breath in and pulled her blade free from the ground. She continued to speak while Soraka made her way towards the Exile, preparatory healing magic seeping from her hands.
"How does this hypocrisy work? How is Noxus able to stand, to fight, to breath, when its very foundations are laughable? When the people in rule don't care for the people who helped create Noxus and that it drives people away? The Grey Order was driven away by Darkwill, and I have no doubt that Swain will not welcome them back into the fold because they are 'traitors', like me. I am not a traitor of Noxus!"
Darius emitted a low snarl. A traitor and a liar. Soon it would not matter, he could see the positioning of the demonic jester that was quickly advancing towards her undetected. He would put an end to her nonsensical drivel.
"What is the meaning of strength?" Riven allowed this question to hang in the air for a bit before clarifying her question. "I love Noxus. I love its ideal, the strong deserve to rule, but what then do you do with that strength? Strength, in the face of adversity. Courage in place of what should make the strongest being cower in fear. Who deserves this strength? Only the select, worthy few? I am here, and I am saying that the Ionian war was wrong. I am saying that how Noxus was ruled, is currently ruled-"
A jack in the box appeared in front of Riven without warning. She took a step back, feeling the healing magic from Soraka wash over her but knowing what would come next. Riven would not turn around in time, she knew that, Darius could see she knew that, but she tried to retaliate anyways.
A cackle of laughter. The whistle of wind. The thud of a body.
The crackle of hungering frost.
Shaco fell face forward, completely encased in ice as his characteristic smile stayed plastered on his face. The clown was unable to move, but Riven could see the quick salute that Ashe gave her. She nodded to the archer and drove her blade down into Shaco's chest.
"BLUE TEAM MEMBER HAS BEEN SLAIN!"
Fizz, a short fish-like creature, hopped towards Riven with a smile on his tricky face. He held his hand out where a fish materialized. He chucked the smelly fish directly at Riven, only to be intercepted by the Minotaur. Alistar took the fish to his face while dragging Katarina with him, who was still attempting to break free of his grip.
Riven glanced at Alistar, who returned her look with a thumb's up. He had this under control. Katarina finally one of her hands broke free of his grip and started to enthusiastically stab into her captor, but his thumb did not waver.
Riven took the opportunity to continue talking, watching Ashe advance towards Alistar while Gangplank fended off Akali near the Nexus. "-is wrong. That they are not representing what Noxus is supposed to be. What will the people think of me then for saying such things? One person, fighting, struggling, against all who say I am wrong, not backing down, not surrendering, and stating the truth of the matter for once?"
A gigantic shark appeared, seemingly out of nothing, and swallowed Alistar whole. The bull responded by uppercutting his way to freedom, showing how unbreakable his will truly was and shattering several of the megashark's teeth. Katarina, unfortunately, was flung off of Alistar and was catapulted towards the platform past the Nexus, often dubbed by Summoners as the "spawn point" for their champions.
This did not deter Fizz as he jumped on top of his trident and propelled himself into the air, expected to meet with the minotaur midair. Instead a shadow of death crashed down on him. The monolithic blade of Riven blotted the sun out as it met flesh and slammed him down onto the ground, cracking the stone bricks that composed it. Fizz groggily got to his feet and stabbed forward, piercing her abdomen.
When he attempted to pull away, Fizz quickly realized he could not. Riven grabbed onto his trident and yanked it towards her. This not only pulled the Tidal Trickster off his feet, but made a spurt of blood jet out from her stomach. He could see her sword now clearly brandished. The broken blade had changed, transformed. It wouldn't be right to call her sword such a term, for it would insinuate that it was meant to be handled by man. It was more of an obelisk of darkest obsidian firmly gripped by the Exile. As the blade came down onto him, Fizz could feel a harsh wind slice into his skin, through flesh and bone far before the slash itself actually touched him.
"BLUE TEAM MEMBER HAS BEEN SLAIN!"
Riven stepped around the corpse of the fallen Trickster, and slowly pulled out the trident that was still embedded in her. A jet of blood, a flinch of pain on her face as hook on the trident's prong ripped through vital organs and flesh, followed by the sound of the weapon clattering to the ground was all that was heard while she made her way towards the Nexus.
Darius took broad strides towards the crystal screen, gripping his axe in his beefy hand. He almost mimicked the stride Riven stepped with.
"I love Noxus. I love its people. I have never stopped loving Noxus, for it was not She who deserted me, it was those in charge. To show my sincerity..." Riven stopped in front of the Nexus. She looked to her right and saw the other tower still standing. Alistar rumbled over and swung his fist back. With one mighty punch, he sent the defensive tower crumbling to the ground, an explosion of magical energy signaling its fall. The minotaur then made his way towards Soraka, who winced at the sight of the various wounds that decorated his body.
"I wish to remind you all of my first speech. About Ionia, and my views on that. To show my earnest, my honesty, my conviction, I will be going to Ionia. I am going to help with its rebuilding efforts. That is one of the many wrongs I will try and make right, as much as I can. I am going to help Ionia rebuild, I am going to help the Freljords as well, and in both places, I am going to speak with the Noxians left behind, discarded by Noxus, and I promise you all here and now..."
Cracks in the crystal screen could be seen forming from Darius' titanic grip alone, yet the broadcast still played.
Riven made it to the Nexus, only scant feet away from it. When she spoke once more. "I am going to rebuild Noxus. I asked you all what the point of strength is. The point of strength, for me? Let me answer that. Look at this field, look at what has been done." The sound of a deep bellow filled the air, followed by the whistle of artillery fire. Cannon balls dropped from the sky all about Riven. She would have to retreat away from the Nexus if she wished to minimize the damage, the advance of Gangplank and Katarina towards her evident.
Instead, she raised her sword above her head, and stabbed it into and through the wall of the Nexus. She used it as a makeshift cover for any of the metal spheres that wished to crush her, but offered no protection from the shrapnel that exploded about her, ripping and tearing into the sections of clothing and flesh that her armor did not protect. Riven kept her large, gauntleted right hand resting behind her head to ensure that no stray shrapnel would instantly kill her as she spoke, "Was I alone in achieving victory? No. Without these people, without comrades, without the weak, without the strong, without people, you are worth nothing. Without Soraka, Alistar, Akali, Ashe, I could not have achieved this victory. It was not my strength alone, it was and always will be the strength of the many that anything in life will be achieved. Noxus as it stands, should be the ruler of nothing. It should have no citizens, it should have no people following Her leaders because they do not deserve Noxus. They wish to embody personal strength? Let them fight by themselves in the League, what use are teammates if you are so strong? What use is an army when you can wipe out city-states with your power alone? I am strong enough to admit that I do not know everything, that I do need others to speak to, to converse with, to fight alongside with in order to attain victory in battle and in life."
Riven staggered, the damage now palpable from the amount of blood that flowed from her wounds. By the time Gangplank rounded the corner, he met the skull of a minotaur charging at his stomach. He sighed once more and braced for impact, which made the salty pirate sail through the air. Katarina flitted behind Alistar, sticking her tongue out at him when Akali stepped in her path and glared at her, effectively stopping her advance.
Riven turned away from the Nexus, facing apparently nothing but the Fields of Justice that sprawled out before her. Soraka made her way over to the Exile, healing magic seeping from the Starchild's fingertips once more. Riven gave Soraka a silent nod of thanks before focusing her gaze at the fields once more.
Whatever magic that was used for recording the match zoomed in for a portrait shot of Riven as she spoke once more. "I was a part of the Noxian-Ionian war, which served no gains and only losses for both sides. I chose to fight with the Ionians in this match because I am no longer a tool, no longer a weapon unable to think. I am stronger now than I have ever been because I fight for my beliefs. Tell me if I am wrong, in assuming this, but..."
Darius let out an angry roar. Her words. Her words were so irritating, so grating, so stupid. How dare she?
Swain, however, if one could see underneath his mask, smiled at the Hand of Noxus' display.
"I believe that Noxus is meant to be a name that is not feared for its strength, but respected. Not to trample its people underneath, but to help bring them up to your own strength, because without them, Swain? You can sit in your chair, strong, powerful, intelligent, and reign over your kingdom of dirt. I know this to be true. I will bring Noxus back to life, I will make it a name respected, not feared." Riven reached up above her, grabbed her sword's hilt and started to run alongside the Nexus, shearing through stone and steel.
Her voice carried a strong ring of confidence, of conviction, of strength as she spoke. "Let me assure you of one thing, Noxus is broken. I can see the signs, and I know this to be true because I was broken once. Hate me, love me, worship me, threaten me, I do not care. I do not want your sympathy, I want you to understand why." Riven tore her sword out, the Nexus started to shudder, and let out the telling sign that victory was achieved. "My name is Riven. I am the first Exile of Noxus, a broken city state. I know this to be true because I was broken once. I know what it is like to be broken. And because I know that, I can know this..."
Riven's voice boomed, easily heard across all of Summoner's Rift, "What is broken can be reforged!"
"VICTORY FOR THE PURPLE TEAM!"
Darius slammed the crystal screen onto the wall, shattering it completely. He stormed towards the door before stopping himself. He looked over at Swain and growled, "May I be excused, Grand General?"
"You may, General Darius. We shall convene tomorrow. Now, I will personally address this criticism she launched. Tonight, we think, we plan. Tomorrow, we talk."
Darius nodded and left the room, each step he took sounding like the final scream of a man.
That evening, Darius made his way towards a familiar tavern, "The Sweaty Apple". A fairly silly name, but it had good drinks and was his preferred watering hole. Darius shoved the entrance door open, his face illuminated by the electrical lights which showed his blood of others caked on his sharp facial features. He made his way towards a table, his table, with his axe dragging behind him. Everyone knew Darius' table, and everyone knew better than to get in his way when he wanted a drink.
The ogre of a man sat down on an almost comically small chair, leaned on the table and grumbled to himself. He placed his axe on the wall near him, the notches in the wood showing how often he rested it there.
"Hey, looks like we got ourselves a grumpy asshole." The hand of the offending voice slapped the back of Darius' head. "Izzat what you are, asshole? An asshole?"
Darius got up from his seat, grabbed the table instead of his axe, and smacked the insulter before placing it back down on the floor.
The zombified brute reeled back from the force, but not from pain. He was as big as Darius, as meaty as him but the immediate difference between the two was that Darius was alive, and this man was not. This was made evident by the stench of rotted flesh, the zombified man's green skin showing clear signs of necrosis and the skeletal hand that he had struck the Hand of Noxus with. A large, double headed axe was strapped to double barrel wide back while in his other hand a large frosty mug of ale was held.
With an overly toothy grin, the zombie replied by head butting Darius, making him sit down from the impact. Sion sat down next to him and let out a deep throated laugh, which almost sounded like his lungs were being played by an epileptic tuba player.
"Sion. Where is Draven?"
"Aw, you know he'll be here soon. He had a busy schedule t'day." The zombie slammed the ale in front of Darius. "Also, here. Saw the idiot's speech. Drink's on me."
Darius grunted, grabbed the mug and downed half of its frosty contents in a single gulp. Sion sat down across from the Hand of Noxus, the zombie's soulless, red eyes scanning the man. "Got to you that bad, huh?"
"A traitor dares spout such nonsense," Darius growled. "And broadcasted across Valoran? Noxus is finally unified after all this time. And what will she bring? Civil war, if her words hold any sort of sway with the common person."
"Yeah...if," Sion let out a deep sigh. It was strange that a zombie such as him could still breath, and if it were not for all the decayed flesh, one could mistake him as still living rather than undead. "Noxians, they're different today. Y'prolly missed th'stuff afterwards, huh?"
"I did."
Sion shook his head, a stray piece of hair that perilously clung to his skull peeled off and floated onto the table. "After y'left, Swain addressed the little shit, and he wasn't happy, oh no. He was reaming into her, and she wasn't havin' none of that. Then, in the middle of their argument Steed, th'bitch Morgana and even lil'Annie came up. I was there 'cuz hell, if I had the chance, I'd tear th' traitor's pompous head off and bring her polished skull for us to drink out of, but, y'know...stupid League."
Darius could tell, despite the pupiless eyes of Sion, that his friend was quite upset with the fact that he could no longer kill who he wanted when he wanted. It was something that the zombified soldier lived with on a day to day basis. A relic of a bygone time.
"Anyhoo!" Sion slammed the table. He had sidetracked himself and tried to go back to what he was talking about. "That's when the little brat made her teddy kick the Grand General."
"...She did what."
"Y'heard me," Sion grunted. He drummed the table with his fingers, growling aloud, "If Steed didn't interrupt with his crap, book deal this, interview that, then it woulda been a bloodbath, I swear. But nooo..."
Darius' attention wavered as the subject of three men gossiping nearby became prevalent. They were barely audible to most, but Darius could hear them as clear as day..
"It was...nice, to see a Noxian capable of...of that, of that kinda warmth, y'know?"
"Did you see the look in her eyes? It's...It's so different. Kinda weird, I haven't even seen that look in my wife's eyes."
"It was a bit weird, I gotta admit. They looked...They looked like she understood, y'know?"
"If you think about it, Riven made some pretty valid points: why are we like this? How did Noxus get to be like this?"
"Why...oh...oh shit."
The man that realized Darius glaring at them slapped his friends, and pointed at the Hand of Noxus with a nudge of his head. The other two fell instantly quiet.
Too little, too late.
"No dissent," Darius growled. He got up, finished his drink off and stormed over to the men. He glowered at the trembling trio. "Continue your conversation. Which of you think that woman is anything else but a traitor?"
The men looked at Darius, clearly terrified of him. None of them replied.
"I ask once more, which of you is being a dissident? Which of you dares speak against Noxus?" Darius reached over and grabbed one of their heads, his hand surprisingly able to encapsulate the top of the poor man's skull. "This safety is what Noxus ensures, what strength brings us. Unity through strength, and you dare question it? If you do, then that same strength can be and will be used to crush the weak that dare oppose it. She is weak. Noxus is not."
None of the men replied. Darius considered leaving them alone, evident by his release of the man's head and him turning around. He took two steps towards his table when one of them opened their foolish mouths. "Wh-what...what is the point of strength?"
Darius' eyes flashed red. That question grated his ears, it sounded like knives across a chalkboard. He reached over, grabbed the offending man's throat and heaved him towards Sion. "Dinner's on me."
Sion grinned, caught the man and promptly scalped him with the sharp edges of his bony hand.
The other two men looked up at Darius, quivering. He stared at them, they were talking with the dissenter. No mercy. The Hand of Noxus reached out towards another one of them, the man screamed in fear. He was weak. He had no backbone. How was he alive this long? No point for such a worm to exist in Noxus. Darius' hand wrapped around his neck, the man struggled, oh he did, but he was too weak. Darius slammed him onto the top of the bar, wood creaking from the impact.
The bartender looked over and shrugged. Nothing surprising to him, not in Noxus.
The man in Darius' grip squirmed, and gasped, "Y-you...you d-d-didn't *GASP* answer..."
"The point of strength is to rule over others. You deserve to rule over all if you are the strongest, that is the point of strength. If they refuse to subjugate to you, then you must reign them in."
"Th-then...*HURK* W-why is Swain ruling?"
Darius' eyes went wide with rage. He literally picked the man off the bar table, then pushed him downwards, snapping him backwards and forcing his spine to snap in half. Blood seeped out from the man's slowly tearing stomach, Darius almost did not notice the other one trying to escape through the window. The Hand of Noxus reached out for his axe, grabbed its shaft and was about to apprehend him when a buzzsaw was heard. The last man was one foot over the windowsill when he gurgled, teetered a bit, then half of him flopped back into the tavern while the other half flopped outside.
The doors burst open, a finely mustachioed man stepped in with his brightly colored clothing, his gelled up hair and his huge chin that would make most men envious. "Draven's in the house!"
He strutted over to Darius, grinning like a complete goofball as he bowed towards his brother. "Why hello there tall, dark and handsome, what're you doin' round these parts? Don't tell Draven, he already knows. It looks like he's havin' a drink with a friend. Draven's hurt! You didn't wait for him!"
The man laughed and held a hand out towards the windowsill. "You tried to execute some schlubs, and you were gonna take the last one! I'm hurt, really I am, which is why I decided to take initiative."
The sound of a buzzsaw was heard once more, roaring towards the window. Draven whistled while he patiently waited, Darius discarded the corpse into a corner while Sion watched the ensuing spectacle with a freshly skinned, cracked open skull in hand. A thump on the wood, and a pair of strange axes whizzed through the window towards Draven, who caught them by the center rings and flicked them back into a single unit. "And that, boys, and hopefully some fine ladies, is how Draven does what he does best..." He struck a quick pose, his muscles bulging in emphasis. "He does it all: With style."
Draven let out a laugh, sauntered over to the table and sat in his seat. He snapped his fingers which made a buxom bar wench walk over with his drink. "Thanks babycakes. Yer always on time, Draven time."
"Will you cut that out?" Darius growled.
"What? Bro, come on, relax a bit. It's just the Axecutioners now! Get a drink, sit on yer ass and let's cheers."
Sion agreed with Draven's sentiments with a nudge of his head, which made Darius groan in annoyance. "We are not, the Axecutioners. We go over this every time you say it: That is a stupid name."
"Then why was our squad called tha', eh?"
"Because you put the paperwork in to call it that."
Draven laughed, "And who's fault is that, Mister I-Hate-Triplicate?"
"You could have chosen a better name."
"You didn't like Draven and the Dravenaughts, what choice did I have?!"
Sion grunted, "And besides, you said it once."
Darius let out another sigh. He sat at the table and pointed at Draven, "You, never say that name again." He pointed at Sion, "And you. I was drunk."
"Uh huh. Sure y'were. Draven, remind me, was it after the first or tenth shot that-"
"You will not speak of that incident," Darius snapped at Sion, who guffawed in response.
Draven started chuckling uncontrollably, "Nah nah, it was more like-"
"I will gut you if you finish that sentence."
The men fell silent. Then Darius burst out in a fit of deep-throated laughter, despite the corpses and bloodshed about them. He motioned to the bartender to come over. The bartender walked over with several mugs of ale on a tray and placed it on the table. Darius eased into his chair, and tried to relax.
Yet, he could not get Riven's words out of his head. Every time he thought of them, the grating annoying feeling came back. Those words, those ideas, those concepts that...that philosophy, was stupid. The problem he was having, was that he could not refute them properly. Noxus was still standing, set in its history, in its tradition, yet...The attack done by the Zaunites, commanded by the Noxian generals at the time, he could not dismiss that. Did Darkwill make the command? The records say otherwise, he would not disbelieve them but what she said about that attack was true, how cowardly, how stupid it was. Yet how could the image of Noxus, the poster child, associate with those...those...Ionians? And live with them?
What a sickening thought. She might as well live in a mud hut and live with the pigs, with how backwards those people were. He put such thoughts out of his mind, he was right. Noxus was still standing, and she was an eye and ear sore.
She would pay the price for her betrayal. That would be Noxian justice, and she would pay for it as she should. Riven was a traitor, she was weak, she would die, but by whose hand? It mattered not, but he had to admit, he would prefer if it was by his hand that her life was taken. He wanted to be rid of her annoying voice, of her annoying face, of her annoying eyes. Her eyes, damn those eyes.
They were full of sorrow.
Swain walked into his bedroom, still adorned in his armor. He slipped off the breastplate, hung it on a coat rack, made his way over into a velvet seat and sat down on it with an audible thump. The Grand General waited quietly in the dark for quite some time until a purple light filled the room. LeBlanc stepped into view, smiling at Swain.
"Today could have gone better," she cooed.
Swain nodded in response. "It is no matter. She will be dealt with in time. Tomorrow, however..." His eyes narrowed. "Will you begin tomorrow?"
"With Jarvan? The seeds will start to sprout tomorrow, Jericho, darling. And while those sprout..." LeBlanc walked over to Swain and sat on his lap. His hands came up and held her in place. "We will figure out what to do with the rest. We must make plans for Annie, figure out what can be done with the Fallen One, perhaps set some things into motion in Ionia, gain the allegiance of some sooner rather than later, and be ready to crush her. Besides, dear, did you see how Darius reacted? Oh, give him the time, give him the space, and he will be ready to crush Riven under his boot."
Beatrice hopped over to Swain's cheek and nuzzled him, as though she were echoing LeBlanc's words.
"But!" The Deceiver caressed his chin soothingly. "That can wait till tomorrow, my Grand General. For now, rest. All is taken care of."
Swain nodded and pressed his forehead against LeBlanc's. "Tomorrow it is."
The Deceiver removed herself from his lap, took a few steps away then disappeared into the wall. Swain shuffled over to his bed, his red eyes not showing fatigue. Instead, he looked over at his desk, walked towards it with broad strides and sat down on the chair there.
There was no sign of a limp in his walk, and as his eyes glowed a sickly green, he started to write. Tonight, he could skip sleep. He had plans to come up with. Swain reached around his desk, pulled open a drawer and flipped through some folders. He pulled one out saying, 'Voodoo Lands', and set it on the table. He had found the Grey Order once, and kept their coordinates recorded for just such an occasion. He was hoping they would rejoin Noxus once he was in power, but after her display? No reason in keeping them.
A thin smile curled on his lips. All this time, all this planning, it will be worth it in just scant hours. Everyone would be dealt with in time. Riven, Annie, even Morgana, but first?
Demacia, and Jarvan came first.
Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long, I had to organize a lot on this chapter alone, the flow and what I wanted to say. Thanks to KuzAnn for editing this as usual, I think you should all thank her for helping me out as well! Also, not only thank you to all my readers, but a shout out to Trolososaurus for his portrayal of Sion! Hopefully my new interpretation of Sion is a bit more spiffed up, and once more, thank you all, for reading!
Oh! And I haven't forgotten about your reviews! Any of them! I will get to them! Thank you all for all reviews, the good the bad and everything in between, and I promise I will reply to you!