[Fan Fiction] The Game
Night was falling over Noxus.
Despite the continuing ring and spark of forges and iron machinery, the evening chill nevertheless brought a temporary calm as the carrion birds flew to roost, the execution rings now dark and the crowds dispersed.
Leblanc emerged slowly from the shadows and stepped without hesitation into the fortress.
Days earlier, she had tasked her underlings with conducting a magical probe of Runeterra, to spy out yet-unclaimed artifacts to bring more power to the Black Rose. It was reported that several runestones of vast arcane potential lay within the protection of none other than Jericho Swain, Grand General of Noxus himself.
It was nothing personal, of course. Swain was one of the only men she admired in this world, albeit grudgingly. In such a crude nation steeped to the roots in a history of warfare, she had once thought there was no one who could hold her interest. Compared to the brutish commandants of the Noxian army, Swain’s sharp cunning was refreshing, to say the least.
“Enter.”
The guards swung open the heavy iron doors, allowing Leblanc entry. Swain was seated at a finely furnished desk, calmly surveying her with dark eyes as cold and piercing as those of the brooding raven perched on his shoulder. Immaculate stacks of maps and documents surrounded him. On one of these stacks was placed a chess set, untouched except for the absence of a white pawn, which Swain twirled lightly in his left hand.
Leblanc wondered wryly why Swain was not playing the black; there were many who might agree that his heart was likely shaded the same color. As she approached, she swallowed her signature contemptuous smirk, reminding herself that Swain was not a man she could afford to snub, ally or no.
“What brings you here tonight, E?” rasped the general. Their little joke.
“Subversion.” Leblanc said clearly. She had rehearsed her little spiel for hours now. Not that she usually deigned to invest special effort into her schemes, but here was a respectable opponent for once, and she could not allow herself complacency.
“You surely realize the situation of those Demacian rabble. They intend to draw out the stalemate until the end of time, stubborn as they are,” she continued. “These feeble treaties bind you more than you may care to think. Your forces are scattered across Runeterra, forced to sit and observe more armistices than one can count.”
Swain shrugged, turning his attention to the chessboard. “These treaties bind me no more than they bind Demacia. We suffer not from this problem.”
“You suffer from a lack of action, Jericho. I believe it is time we made a direct assault on Demacia itself.”
Swain’s eyes snapped back to hers, as she knew they would. However disinterested he had acted before, he was listening now.
“We do not need to wage a full-scale war, only threaten one.” Explained Leblanc, now confident that her ploy might succeed. “We can pretend to recall our scattered troops to muster an invading force, so that the Demacians stationed at the treaty zones let down their guards, while we instead place these troops at strategic points to deny and intercept messengers between the camps. When their capital is threatened, and they are left without communications, those commanders may panic and withdraw to defend their lands, and leave valuable assets like Kalamandra ours for the taking. Once we secure these points, we only have to set up another truce. Those Demacian dogs may be stalwart, but it’s to a fault.”
Swain’s shrewd gaze bored into her. “Ruse or not, we would have to maintain a semblance of authenticity that our attack was imminent. And that calls for myself and the generals to be present on the field of battle. Why do you wish to lure me away?”
Leblanc blinked a few times, dismayed. “Lure you away?”
“On the surface, your plot seems credible. But you have never approached me with such schemes before, which is a cause of suspicion in itself. I first deduced your true intention might be to acquire the treaty lands you mentioned. My research tells me that the vast majority of these lands encompass simple villages with no special traits, where treaties were simply made to protect the commoners. The only land you might find interest in is Kalamandra, the Crystal Scar. However, you would not deliberately mention its name if you wished to draw attention away from it as your goal, and you would not make such a simple a mistake to do so. I have also considered the possibility that you anticipated my prediction, and are attempting to feign that your interest in Kalamandra is low. Thus, I have also factored in your possible motives. True, Kalamandra is a source of great riches, but the Black Rose has money enough already, and there are little raw artifacts of magic that may be harnessed for your purposes within the area. Even with the chance that you were attempting to secure the resources as a bribe, the probability of this scenario is low, because of your multiple military connections to Noxus. Therefore, I can conclude that you have no need of mercenaries, and that your true goal lies within the Noxian capital, which would be clear of prying eyes once the generals have departed.”
Swain’s expression was inscrutable behind the cloth covering, and his eyes gave nothing away. Leblanc, feeling a little outmatched, gave a small sigh.
“I don’t suppose you can just give me what I want?”
Leblanc’s eyes might have deceived her, but Swain appeared to give the barest hint of a smile. “You may return to negotiate another time. Dismissed.”
In truth, they both enjoyed these little games. Leblanc allowed herself a laugh as she swept back through the iron gates into the bloodred Noxian twilight. Of course it was only right for Swain to command the white chess pieces.
White was always a step ahead.
