This is a rewrite of an older story. Hopefully the writing is more polished.
"Here, Cinder, it's your share," he heard as a small bowl was offered to him. Cinder smiled graciously and nodded at the girl, who was already moving on and distributing the food to the others in the group. Though, calling it food was far too generous. Bland herbs picked from atop of dead stumps, seasoned with salt scraped from rocky crags. But Cinder wasn't one to complain. After all, this food shouldn't be going to him in the first place.
It's been six months since he left Noxus Prime and arrived at the Dalamor Plains, two months since he finally managed to find this ragtag group and join them, and one month since he finally earned their trust. Their leader, a teenager named Rell, had been suspicious of him when he first showed up, though he couldn't blame her. Given her upbringing, the poor girl's probably never seen an Ionian in her life. His black eyes, lean figure, and fair features must've been an oddity for someone who's only used to the hulking brutality of Noxians. Still, Cinder only had to tell the truth to sway her: that his family and entire tribe died during the Noxian invasion of Ionia, and that he was out for revenge, just like she was.
Their little band consisted of around three dozen people. Some, like Rell, were practically children, while others were veterans of war who each had an axe to grind with Swain. Warriors and mages they may be though, hunters they were not. And so, each meal consisted of what little they could forage in these barren plains.
Rising to his feet and brushing the dirt off of his pants, Cinder hauled his trusty spear out of the ground and set off for the camp perimeter, watching the younger kids sit by the fire, warming their hands. Come winter, they'll need more than what they're wearing to survive. It reminded him a little of his memories of home, though he shook the thought away as he took his spot in the dark, behind a small dune.
"Here's to hoping for another peaceful night," the warrior beside him grumbled. What was his name again? Cinder couldn't remember, and so could only offer a small shrug in response. The faces all blended together... Especially the ones who were first to go.
"They've all been peaceful, haven't they? Rell's reputation keeps most of the bounty hunters at bay," the Ionian replied. "Just the other day, I saw her practicing. Was a hell of a sight."
"Yeah, but it wears on her," the man said, scratching his beard. "She ever tell you about those sigils? Those fucks at the- Hurgh!"
The man's words were suddenly cut off as an arrow plants itself firmly in his neck. A spurt of blood sprays out, and Cinder backs up instinctively, looking to the distance for the owner of the arrow. All around him, arrows were whizzing through the arrow, silent and deadly, and the defenders never stood a chance.
"It's the Trifarian!" One of the watch members shouted, sounding the alarm. Panic followed soon after, and Cinder could hear Rell barking orders and summoning her metal mount. She was easily worth a hundred men, but Darius' personal legions were not to be trifled with. Already, the sound of hundreds of hooves was audible, and soon they shook the very earth beneath. An entire legion has been dispatched to handle the problem child, and the conclusion was inevitable. With a sigh, Cinder leaned back into the dune, pushing the corpse aside. Heroes fight, and heroes die. He was no hero, but he was a survivor, and as he listened to the clash of blades, he told himself it was all worth it.
Before the invasion, before the bloodshed, before the wholesale slaughter of innocents, Akali would've considered Ionia one of the safest places on Runeterra. Between the harsh frigid cold of the Frejord and the unforgiving and desolate deserts of Shurima, Ionia could be considered a paradise, a paradise which she and others of her order should've protected. A task that they failed in, as was obvious.
Even now, two years after the victory at the Placidium, not all of Ionia has been wrested away from her captors. While much of the nation was liberated, there were still small swaths of land under Noxian control, but Akali had every intention of changing that. It doesn't matter what the rest of the Kinkou thinks of her conduct, she'll get rid of every damn Noxian even if she has to do it all herself.
Perched atop a tree, her green outfit was perfectly suited to camouflage her presence, though it seems the small Noxian patrol below her were far too distracted to look up. Disorganized and undisciplined, as she'd come to expect. She counted five in total; four walking up front with a single straggler lagging behind. She'll start with that one.
Her kunai found the back of his neck with ease, and by the time that the others turned at the sound of his body falling to the ground, she had already leapt to a different tree. From her vantage point, the four remaining soldiers were nothing short of pathetic, waving their swords around in a desperate attempt at intimidation, despite not even knowing where she was. As soon as the opportunity came, she threw another kunai before leaping into the fray, smoke bomb in hand. Her practiced hand was as true as ever, and the kunai found itself embedded between the ribs of a surprised Noxian, looking almost comically offended as his left hand clutched weakly at the blade before falling face first. In the same instant, the smoke bomb erupted in their midst, right as Akali landed on the ground. The twilight shroud was her absolute domain, and not even the likes of Shen or Kennen could navigate the smoke, much less the common man. Kicking off the ground, she dashed forward, slashing her kama through the neck of the first enemy, before using him as a springboard to flip backwards into the air, using the momentum to launch a downward kick onto the second. The audible sound of his bones breaking was nothing short of music to her ears, and she reached for a shuriken to take out the third before realizing that all was silent. Had he gotten away?
With a single wave of her hand, the shroud dissipates, and she sees the corpse of her fifth and final query, dead on the ground, impaled by three ornate, intricately designed blades. Akali was a little too far to get a good look, but she already knew who the blades belonged to. There was no Ionian who didn't.
"Akali Jhomen Tethi, the legendary Fist of Shadows, it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance," said Irelia Xan as she walked up to a stunned Akali. She offered a hand and a smile, neither of which was returned.
"Don't call me that," Akali said dispassionately, staring at Irelia's outstretched hand, feeling no desire to shake it. "I've left the Kinkou and that title behind."
"My apologies, I did not mean to offend. However, to my knowledge, master Shen and master Kennen have yet to select a new Fist, so I had assumed the title would have remained with you," Irelia explained, her hand still extended.
That gave Akali a start. "Still? It's been two years and they still expect me to return? Well, you can go back and tell-."
"Ah, you misunderstand," Irelia quickly shook her head to drive the point home, and amusingly her blades seemed to move with her, side to side. "The matters of your order are yours to sort out, and I do not come as an emissary for them. I sought you because I thought you could be of help to me, with your skills."
My skills? Unless Akali had recently developed a knack for basket weaving, that could only mean one thing. "Look, I'm sorry you had to make this trip, but I work alone. Besides, my duty here isn't finished yet," she says, point at the dead Noxians with her chin.
"Believe me when I say that I understand how you feel, and if I had less obligations back in Navori I would gladly join you in your endeavors, but…" the smile faded from her face for the first time, and she seemed to have difficulty finding the right words to say. "But there are…problems…back in Navori. Have you returned recently? The spirit of resistance is strong as ever, which is a good thing, but it's tinged by an unhealthy hatred. The Navori Brotherhood are becoming more and more aggressive, to the point where some in their numbers think to overthrow Karma."
"The matters of Ionian politics are irrelevant to me, just as they are to the rest of the Kinkou," Akali says bluntly as she plucks her kunai out of the corpses, and she meant every word. She never had a talent for diplomacy anyways, and she often substituted her words for actions.
"What we need more than every is unity. Now that Jericho Swain rules Noxus, he'll almost certainly return for revenge, and he's ten times the leader Darkwill ever was. We staved off the first invasion by the skin of our teeth, do you honestly think we have a chance if they returned?" Irelia's blue eyes bore into Akali as she spoke, her conviction evident in each syllable she uttered. "Do you think that these casualties are enough to deter them," she asks, gesturing to the prone bodies.
The most annoying part to Akali was that she was right on all accounts. She was deluding herself if she thought she was making a difference killing off dispirited Noxian grunts. Sighing, she turned and finally grabbed Irelia's hand for a firm shake. "Fine, let's go home."
The cell wasn't actually that cold, but the fact that Cinder was naked made things a bit more uncomfortable. The manacles fastening him to the chair beneath him were tight and itchy, and the collar around his neck barely allowed for any movement at all. He was forced to resort to wiggling his fingers and toes to keep his blood circulation going. Any longer, and he might freeze to death before they get to him.
Right on cue, the aged cell door creaked open, and suddenly, the room's temperature drops by a few more degrees, if such a thing was even possible. Standing before Cinder was the Noxian Grand General himself, his long coat fluttering as he entered the cell. Beside him was a member of his personal guard, though the concept had always made Cinder laugh. What the fuck was a common soldier going to protect Jericho Swain from?
"Apologies for the delay," Swain said, his words steely and commanding even when issuing an apology. "There was another matter I had to attend to. Hopefully they didn't treat you too roughly."
The guard steps forward, calmly unshackling the manacles and chains, allowing Cinder to finally stand up straight once more, though he sat back down immediately, He was then given his clothing, which he dutifully put on. Presumably, his spear will be returned as well, once he was no longer in the presence of the Grand General.
"Of course sir," Cinder replied calmly. "Given you're here personally, I assume I won't be getting any time off.
"You assume correctly," Swain replied, gesturing for the guard to leave the room. Now, they were alone, an unenviable position for most, but Cinder didn't mind. Swain was a dangerous man to be sure, but he was rational and objective, and as long as his pawns still held value, he wouldn't sacrifice them. "But first, allow me to congratulate you on your success. You've done what most have failed, and now I have yet another bargaining chip over the Black Rose. I'm curious, how did you manage to get her to take you in?
"I merely told her the truth," Cinder replied with a slight smile, and he could see that smile be mirrored in Swain's face as well. The truth was the most potent tool of them all. Many could detect lies, but truths are just as subtle and deceiving, because people are always fond of drawing their own conclusions from the truth. After all, if his family was all slain that fateful day, then why would he serve as the lapdog of the empire that caused it? They were too young to understand. To understand that revenge was meaningless when compared to survival. His parents were the greatest fighters he'd ever known, and they'd stood no chance against the Noxian war machine. That day, Cinder had forsaken his name and his people, because he knew he wanted to side with the winners.
Always.