An enclosed room housed two individuals sitting across from one another: one was a man with hair that sat in three dark bluish streaks that trailed backwards across his head, a face as stone and focused as a sniper's, and an overall appearance of someone who is worn an old - that was supported by the eerie crow that rested on his shoulder like it was her nest - despite only being in his mid thirties; while the other was a woman of quite the opposite appearance: she was thin and beautiful with long dark hair that held a light purple tint to it, a face that beamed with innocence while simultaneously housing a wicked and deceitful smile, and wore garb that seemed fit for a queen or royalty.
The room was moderately sized and well decorated. The two sat in luxurious chairs and sipped on a fine wine poured out from the bottle that sat on a small table between the two. The room was a common meeting place for them to talk, but it was relatively unknown from most people around. It seemed that not even the owner of the small building in Noxus knew of its existence.
"How close are we?" A thin voice rasped out from the man.
"Very," replied the woman. "All preparation work is done. We just need for the prince to leave. Which, should be done quite soon. He is to take off to the Freljord with Ashe, just as planned."
"What of Garen and Talon?" The man questioned.
"What of them? One is in the Freljord, just as he should be, and the other is long gone, perhaps even dead."
"And that's why I ask," he stated while taking her hand in his. He began to gently pet her fingers as he spoke. "He is never just... Dead."
"You have had experience with him in past?"
"Directly, no. But if he acts anything like Marcus does, he won't just die." The woman frowned and the man could feel her hands grew uneasy.
"Jericho, I... We, took care of Marcus." Jericho grew silent and leaned in closely to the woman across from him. In a quiet, yet strong voice, he spoke to her.
"Then why is he still alive?" he asked. She grew silent and stared at her hands as if they would give her a tangible answer. The motion was good enough for Jericho. He leaned back into his chair in a more relaxed state; allowing the woman's hand to slip out of his on the way back. "They are both strong, whether or not we want them to be. Talon's mysterious disappearance was timely for us, but it certainly was not our doing. This worries me. It could have been a plan of Marcus'."
"Do you think so? Would you care to ask him yourself?" the woman asked teasingly.
"No, no. That won't be necessary. I won't get any information out of him in his current state."
"You say current state as if he could eventually recover," she stated ironically. The two laughed and took a drink from their respective glasses before continuing to talk. "Do we send a scout for Talon?" she continued.
"It won't do any good. If the League can't find him, no one can. If he comes close enough to become a problem, we will hear about it before he can do much. The real problem lies within how we plan to counteract him." The woman thought for a moment.
"What all does he know? How much of a threat to us is he?"
"He isn't so much a threat to us or our plans, as he is threat to me. He knows I am linked to Marcus'... Closure. But he does not know about any of our other plans. Regardless, if he were to assault me prior to the time we are prepared... Things could get... Complicated."
"And the problem lies... ?" she jested. Jericho grinned before he replied.
"You are as black as the rose you grow upon my dear."
"And yet, I seem to be ten shades brighter than you."
"Unless looked upon at the right angle," he pointed out.
"Or perhaps the wrong one?" she retorted.
"If that's the case, then it is always the wrong one." He paused and took a drink. "Am I to assume that you have a plan?" he asked, re-railing the conversation from its non sequitur. She smiled and looked at him from above her tilted glass. The gesture was enough of an answer for him. He knew that he was never actually safe to make an assumption of her. Regardless, he felt a slight sense of safety. Very slight.
"Very well," he stated as he stood up; leaning on his cane for support. Despite his slow and awkward movements, the bird on his shoulder remained fixed in place as if it was not disturbed by the fact that its ground was rapidly shifting beneath it. The woman smiled at him as she got out of her own seat, and walked with him towards the door.
"We start in just a few days," Jericho said. "As soon as the prince and the rest are in Freljord, we order Noxian troops to move. Until then," he paused as he took the woman's hand in his and lifted her black stone ring to his lips. "It was a pleasure, Evaine."
"The pleasure was mine, Jericho," Evaine replied as he kissed her fingers. He gently let go of her hand and turned to leave the room. A sinister smile eroded over her face after the man had left. "But then again," she said quietly to herself, "the pleasure is ALWAYS mine." With those words, she strutted out of the room and tightly locked the door behind her.
Jericho Swain hobbled out of the building where he had just met with Evaine, and down the streets of Noxus. The rising sun began to shine onto his face as he limped his way towards the next meeting he was to attend, and allowed for the slur of thoughts that were housed in his mind to run free. He wondered how long it was going to take Jarvan's company to reach Freljord, and how long it was going to be before Demacia could react. He knew that the League would not try to intervene; their strict code against fighting outside of its walls was going to be upheld.
Jericho hoped to take down the king of Demacia and make claims on the City-State for himself. While he did not plan to hold onto the throne for long, the act alone would crumple Demacia's willpower and false sense of security; which was about all that he needed to achieve. His goal was not to allow Noxus to destroy Demacia, but for him to rule Noxus. Crippling Demacia was an extremely convenient side effect, while the act was enough to prove his strength: and strength alone was plenty to prove ones worth in Noxus. The civilians would line the streets and bow down as he marched along, simply honored to see the man who defeated Demacia.
Jericho reached the military camp where his next ally stood. His name was Darius: the brother of Draven, a famed executioner of Noxus who fought in the League of Legends. There was hardly a thing Jericho liked about Darius. He opposed the methods he had used to acquire his military rank: primarily being execution of those above him, the man had no personality coupled with an unquenchable thirst for blood, and he spent more time honing his axe than he did breathing. However, the man possessed two things Jericho needed: strength, and the minimal willpower that permitted easy manipulability. Both of which lead to the meeting they were about to have.
Upon approach of the camp, Jericho noted that not a single soldier rested inside his tent. Every man was out doing something to train. Jericho grinned. He remembered enduring those days. Training was no longer a necessary part of his routine; not that he was the best fighter in the world, but he had all the skills that he needed, and all that was left for him to obtain rule over Noxus was to put those skills in line, and execute them.
Standing against his cane with his bird, whom he had affectionately named Beatrice, Jericho was quite out of place. He got many glaring looks as he stood waiting for Darius. After a few moments, the man emerged from one of the tents in full armor. He yawned and stretched out his arms before rubbing his eyes and approaching Jericho. Swain found it odd that he was sleeping while his soldiers were training, but he found it even more peculiar that the man seemed to have been sleeping in full body armor. His shoulder pads were spiked as if he intended to skewer his opponents while charging at them, he bore no helmet but still had a metallic piece jutting upwards from his back to protect his head from behind, and possessed an overall bulky figure. He stood slightly under six feet tall, and had jet black hair that sat fairly short, but completely unkempt on top of his head. He gripped his axe firmly by the neck and let its long handle rest against his back, behind his shoulder. He wore no shield, but judging by the amount of body armor he wore, it really was not necessary.
"I hope you are ready for mobilization," Jericho barked. He was responded to with a sinister smile.
"My men would move now if I told them to," Darius replied. His voice was gravelly, yet strong and commanding; as if testosterone was produced in his throat itself.
"I'll hold you to that. We should be able to move by sunset. Maybe later, depending on how fast things get moving. Are your men prepared to fight in the dark?" he asked. The man smirked.
"They have not sat down since yesterday morning," he stated while motioning towards the army still outside training as the sun was just beginning to take its place in the height of the sky.
"Excellent. You know what to look for then." Jericho nodded as a semi-formal goodbye and turned to take his leave. Behind him, he heard the man yawn and shift back into the tent he had come out of. Perhaps a simple messenger or a letter would have been a more efficient way to tell Darius that it was almost time for the invasion, but Jericho had anticipated being questioned for more information. The man truly was what Jericho was looking for: blind loyalty so long as there is blood to be spilled.
The man waddled his way through the streets of Noxus until he came across his home. He was currently enlisted in the League of Legends as a champion, but rarely did he decide to rest at the room they had given him; one of the few champions who chose to do so. Jericho enjoyed his privacy and kept to himself for the most part. Plus, he had a lot of plans for the next few days and wanted to keep himself rested.
He laid down on his bed and after a short while he had fallen asleep. He stayed there until his bird, Beatrice, cawed repeatedly in the room. The noise woke Jericho up and he made his way to the window. It looked as if dawn was approaching. He smiled widely and pet Beatrice on her head before making his way to his personal armory and equipping himself in his battle gear. It had been quite some time since he had borne that armor; inside of the League he chose to keep himself lightly protected seeing as death was only a temporary setback on the Fields of Justice.
Awhile later, he stepped outside of his home in full battle armor and lifted Beatrice to the sky. He whispered the word "go" and she flew off towards Darius' camp. Jericho smiled widely in excitement for the first time since he was a boy. He was about to accomplish something that he had been waiting a very, very long time for.
He walked around to the side of his house and hobbled over to the horse waiting in his stable. He fed it a sugar cube and pet the long hairs draping from its head. The horse seemed flattered and Jericho moved around to mount the stead. He clasped the reins and gave it a soft swat on the rear to get it moving. He galloped through the roads that lined Noxus and made his way towards the edge of the city, where it was just a quarter of a day's travel by horse to reach Demacia. Jericho did not have to wait more than thirty minutes until Darius and his army had arrived. It consisted of no more than a hundred men, but he was convinced it was more than enough. Without Demacia's strongest warriors among their forces, breaching their defenses would be easy. And besides, the main target was the king, Jarvan III; once he was dead, the rest of the resistance would be trivial.
Jericho nodded at Darius and he nodded back. They were ready. A soft curr from Jericho's shoulder reassured him that Beatrice had found her way back home, and the army set off westbound.