Chapter 1: A Gathering Storm

In the classified archives buried deep within the archives inside the Immortal Bastion, I'm known by Harcourt: spy-hunter, peacekeeper, and hero of the revolution who saved Noxus from the corrupting influence of the Black Rose during Swain's bloody coup against Emperor Darkwill's tyrannic regime seven years ago.

Allegedly.

In truth, I'm a traitor, illusionist, reluctant revolutionary, and liar.

And now I had to convince the most powerful man in Noxus that all of what I just confessed to was false. The man who I had helped climb to the throne of this empire built on the bloody corpses of the wars it waged. There was gray in his hair that revealed his mortality yet also highlighted wisdom beyond a mortal. His battered armor gave way to a long black coat, and he kept his arms tightly within its folds. Well, one arm. He was a cripple, just like me. He wore no signs of rank beyond the telltale scars of a soldier who had seen his share of bloodshed. There were many Noxians who demanded more fear and respect, swaying their warhosts with powerful displays of strength. Each of them seemed more than capable of breaking the man before me.

But, somehow, this was the man who led us all. The Grand General of Noxus.

No doubt someone who committed his fair share of crimes as well, a monster that had to determine whether to release the monster he had in front of him.

And yet, I was the one in chains, and he was the one with the keys. The chamber was a monument to power and conquest, with walls lined with tapestries depicting battles won and enemies defeated. The three thrones of the Trifarix themselves were massive structures of dark stone and iron, ornately carved and adorned with jewels. As I sat there, a prisoner in this grand hall of might, I couldn't help but feel the weight of centuries of blood and betrayal in every stone and shadow. My betrayal, in specific.

''Harcourt. How the mighty have fallen,'' the Grand General began as he rose up from his throne in between the other two thrones of the Trifarix, and slowly circled around me, his voice dangerously low. A classic intimidation technique for interrogations. A shame it still worked on me. He continued with the simplest of questions, and yet still one to which I had no clear answer, ''Perhaps you can tell me something my birds have not. Why did you betray Noxus?''

He knew the answer. But he wanted to know what was the answer for me. I breathed in. I knew why I did what I did. Question is, could I admit to it out loud?

''Betrayal implies a choice, Grand General Swain,'' I retorted, meeting his piercing gaze with a defiance that belied the wariness in my eyes. ''I did what was necessary for the greater good of Noxus, even if it meant staining my hands with treachery.'' Swain's eyes narrowed slightly at my response, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before his expression settled into a mask of calculated neutrality. Did he know something I didn't?

''The greater good,'' Swain echoed, his tone dripping with skepticism and accusations. ''A noble sentiment, Harcourt, but one that rings hollow when weighed against the lives lost and the trust shattered by your actions.'' He paused, and for a moment, the air between us crackled with unspoken tension. He was right, of course. I made a calculated risk to ensure the success of Swain's coup. But let's just say mathematics has never been my strongest pursuit.

''Do you truly believe redemption is within your grasp? Or are you simply seeking to elude the consequences of your sins?'' He asked as he stopped in front of me. He was not a tall man, and yet he towered over me, whereas I was on my knees and my crippled left leg sent me painful reminders of that fact every passing second. Small men can cast large shadows indeed. Swain continued, ''Was it for personal reasons?''

Yes.

''Not at all, sir,'' I lied through my teeth. Fortunately, I had gotten quite good at that as a spy hunter. I could almost see the gears turning in Swain's mind, weighing my responses against the truths he knew. I had to press on. ''My reasons were entirely selfless, Grand General," I insisted, forcing steel into my tone to match his unwavering scrutiny. "I sought to protect Noxus from threats within that even your ravens could not perceive. The Black Rose and the Crimson Circle lurk in the shadows, poisoning our empire from within. My actions were necessary sacrifices for the greater good, and I went through with it even if it meant tarnishing my own name.''

Strictly speaking, it was the truth. A creative interpretation of it, perhaps, but one of the first things you learn while hunting for the Black Rose is that the truth is far from objective. Especially when hunting a figure as elusive as their matron, rumored to be an immortal manipulator who had controlled Noxus ever since its founding from behind the scenes. A mage capable of warping truth just as easily as General Darius' Trifarian Legion decimates Noxus' enemies. Nothing is as it seems in this game of shadows and deception. And although I couldn't come close to her powers, I had a few tricks up my sleeve as well when it came to illusion magic.

That is, if I could get rid of my chains.

For a moment, Swain raised an eyebrow in response, but the steeliness in his eyes and voice did not waver. ''Your fate hangs in the balance, Harcourt. But redemption is a possibility that still flickers like a dying flame in the shadows of your past deeds,'' Swain mused, his voice low and measured. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his next move. And then, with a swift motion that belied his usual calm demeanor, Swain reached out with his demonic hand crackling with red eldritch energy towards the heavy iron chains that bound me to my past sins. With a surge of power that resonated through the chamber like a thunderclap, the chains shattered into pieces, falling to the ground with a resounding clatter. I stared in disbelief at the broken links that had held me captive for too long, my heart racing with a mixture of gratitude and trepidation. But more specifically, I stared down at my hands. Could these hands be trusted without chains?

I felt the sweet spring breeze moving through the stubbles of my beard and the strands of my hair. The branches of the Ionian cherry blossom trees were in full bloom, covered in beautiful pink, like if a little girl had adorned its hair with flowers. In front of me stood a slender figure, her hair dark purple and her face pale. Her elaborate gold laced cape fluttered in the wind like the array of flowers dancing in a breeze. I pulled out my pistol and pointed it at her head. There was a knowing smile on her purple lips and a resignation in her golden eyes. She had dropped her jeweled arcane staff, which clattered to the floor. My vision blurred, a warm sensation of wetness flowing down my cheeks. Why do my hands always get red?

I shook my head, there was no point dwelling in the past. I had done that enough the past seven years. As I rose unsteadily to my feet, my legs thanking me, my gaze locked with Swain's, searching for any hint of what was to come next. Nothing was free in Noxus. The nation where your strength determined everything. I knew there was more to this than just a chance at redemption. There is only one reason as to why Swain would release me. The Grand General seemed to peer into my soul and as if satisfied with what he saw, the edge of his lips curved into a cryptic and icy smile.

''Tell me, Harcourt,'' he began as he gestured for me to follow him to the balcony, ''after so many years in chains and darkness, what do you see in the light?'' I followed him, the sunlight briefly blinding me. But as I stood on the same balcony Swain had stood when he first addressed the people after his coup, the sight of the Noxian capital was breathtaking. In the seven years I had spent in capture, the city had not been in stasis. It had grown and evolved, expanding its reach and influence beyond what I remembered. The streets teemed with life and energy, a stark contrast to the dark and somber atmosphere of what it was under Darkwill's - and by extension the Black Rose's - rule. Merchants peddled their wares while children ran about playing games, laughter filling the air. Even from where we stood on the balcony, I could hear the distant sounds of metal clashing in the foundries and officers barking orders at neatly formed ranks of soldiers. I looked back to the Grand General, but I didn't see a tyrant overlooking his subjects. No, there was a simple smile on his face free from cold calculations. A face that belonged more to a kindly grandfather proud of his grandchildren. As if noticing my gaze, he spoke to me without moving his gaze away from the bustling streets of his capital city.

''Harcourt,' he said while he nodded towards one particular spot in Noxus Prime. I followed his gaze and I immediately spotted what he gestured at. The gibbets and guillotines. Revolution is a bloody business, after all. Even now, seven years after the revolution, there was still a line of people waiting for their turn on the chopping block. The last thing they would ever wait for. Even without my assistance, it seemed Swain's purges had no shortage of targets. Swain continued. ''All of them are marked for death, none of them guilty.''

I raised a brow as I took in the news. The line I could see from so high up the Immortal Bastion had to contain at the very least two dozen men and women. They looked like ants, scurrying about and waiting for Swain's boot to fall. But before I could form the question, Swain held up his hand.

His voice was steely, but betrayed a hint of sorrow. "They're hunting us down like animals," he states, his eyes burning with cold anger. "Last night, Warmason Galbraith was discovered dead in the streets. His once impenetrable armor, now a crushed heap of metal, still containing his lifeless body. It was a brutal assassination, crushing his lungs and leaving him no chance to call for help. His whole body was crumpled like paper with a new form of magic. The night before that, it was General Wolfram And no more than a week ago, it was Steward Monteferro. All three powerful and loyal individuals to the Trifarix. Their assassinations have hindered our plans. And I have reason to suspect the assassinations won't end with them." He turned to me, his expression steely and determined, but something else flickered behind his eyes. He knew more than he was telling me. Far more.

"Panic and confusion was about to consume the Empire. Even among our inner circle, fears and doubt have arisen. Even my information quarantine was broken through, courtesy of LeBlanc-"

"And scapegoats had to be executed to quell the unrest," I said. Swain only gave a curt nod, a chilling finality in his expression. I had always known the whispered rumors about Swain's reputation as a reformer and visionary were true, but having worked closely with him before, I was privy to his darker and more sinister side. He was a master tactician, willing to sacrifice anything or anyone for what he deemed the greater good. Sometimes I did wonder whether Swain's machinations were truly better than the schemes of the Black Rose and their matron.

Sometimes. All I had to do was think back to the Academy to quell any doubts I had.

Swain's voice was firm and his eyes glinted with determination as he spoke. "The Black Rose has bloomed once again," he said, "Matron LeBlanc is no longer in hiding and her schemes are coming to fruition." My suspicions were confirmed. Noxus had dirty business that required equally ruthless individuals like myself to handle. Individuals that were willing to achieve victory. At any cost. Swain's expression told me that I was spot on. He simply gave me a knowing look before continuing.

"The garden needs tending, Harcourt. The weeds that call themselves roses need to be uprooted. I'm forming a covert unit under my command and the Faceless. You were once hailed as a hero of the revolution," he took a step closer to me, his presence looming over me even though we were around the same height. Sensing my apprehension, he stepped even closer, his cold gaze piercing into me. There was something more behind his eyes...

"And you can be one again," he declared, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. "The unit will go by the codename 'Gardeners'."

For the first time in seven years, a smirk formed on my lips. Swain returned it, pleased by my reaction. Soldiers like us recognize bloodlust from a mile away. And Noxian soldiers? We relished and respected it.

"Take care of your garden, Harcourt. Dismissed."

Out of habit, my back straightened, and my arm flew to my head in the Noxian salute.

''Forever strong!''

I had roses to weed and conspiracies to unravel. But first, I had pawns and allies to recruit. I like my hands more when they're stained, anyway.

Author's Notes

Welcome, dear reader! And for those who followed my works from earlier, welcome back! I know it has been years since my last upload, and as I'm sure has been the case for all of you, a lot has happened in life since then. But my love for writing and reading have never faded away, and here I find myself again. I hope you'll stick around and enjoy the rest of the story as it will progress! I'd like to say that the story is designed to be as canon-compliant as possible. (Un)fortunately, the established canon has a lot of gaps and space open for interpretation. Which is where this story comes in.

I'd also like to give a special shout-out to Lady Spindle, the author of the story 'Vici'. Her story was written many years ago and took place in the old canon, but it definitely helped inspire this one. So do check that one out as well. Lady Spindle, if you're reading this, thanks for writing such a wonderful story!

Please let me know in the comments or DMs if you have any feedback, suggestions or otherwise. Enjoy your stay!