Revolutionary (Part 1/5)
With the escape of Demacia's most dangerous magically-inclined prisoner, the leadership of the great nation is in a panic. For such a dangerous threat, this may require an...outside source...
(Note: Contains Grand Heist of Zaun spoilers. If you don't care too much about that? Read on! If you're not worried about such things, enjoy!)
“Sylas escaped.”
Jarvan IV ran a hand along his forehead, grimacing at the news. Only the most trusted of Demacia’s inner circle were here: Garen, Luxanna, Shyvana, himself, Xin Zhao and his father. They were a small, essential task force to deal with Demacia’s looming threats.
“How many know?” Jarvan III questioned with a somber tone, his aged features turning to Garen. Jarvan knew the dire nature of Sylas escaping but now was not the time for fury. Luxanna shied away from his gaze, only here because of what she knew of Sylas and nothing more.
Garen straightened his posture, back firm with one hand on his heart. “My king, only those in the immediate area. They know a mage broke free. They know nothing more than that.”
A low, languid sigh escaped Jarvan III’s lips. “To think that he found a way to free himself of his shackles…to manipulate petricite.” As he spoke, Luxanna sank backwards, seeming to try and shrink herself the more they spoke. “Be at ease, young one. We all make mistakes,” the king spoke, noting her indecision.
“I…I’m sorry…” she muttered, clutching her staff. “Please, let me…let me make this right.”
Xin Zhao tapped his spear to the ground. “Permission to speak?”
“Granted,” Jarvan III replied.
“With all due respect, I feel that we’re at an impasse. Whoever we send among us, be they alone or as an army, will draw attention. The last thing we want is giving him more eyes to his rebellion. In the books of strategy, you do not want to put your enemy on the center stage to draw more to his cause.”
“…Yet if we send one or two, Sylas could easily steal our strength and fire back with just as much force if not more.” Jarvan IV finished for Xin Zhao, sighing to himself. “He’s a dangerous man and brimming with magical power. Garen, Xin or myself would struggle. Shyvana, your draconic might would be stolen as would Lux’s magical prowess. What of Quinn?”
Garen shook his head. “Out scouting the Freljord border. It’d be weeks before she returned.”
Jarvan IV looked to the table, his golden helmet resting beside his hand. “We need someone who can match Sylas blow-for-blow as one person. Someone who doesn’t have magic. Someone who holds value in secrecy and silence.”
The thought came to Shyvana before the shining prince, though she noted the expression change. “My prince, you cannot POSSIBLY be thinking-“
Jarvan III’s eyebrow lifted. “Hm? Do you know of someone?”
Jarvan IV turned to his father, sighing. It was a heavy, pained breath. “I do, father, but you’re not going to like his, well, unique disposition.”
A mere three days after the meeting, there was a commotion outside the palace. While the guards were up in arms, Jarvan IV knew the commotion had to be from the individual called for in the letter. He was just surprised he had arrived in such a speedy manner. Especially compared to last time.
Walking down the steps alongside Garen and Xin Zhao, Jarvan found a massive spear blockade had surrounded one man, every steel tip ready to gut him if he moved an inch. The closest guard turned his head just enough to make eye contact with Jarvan. “My prince, we found this foreigner approaching the castle with shameless abandon! Should we imprison him or take him to the stockades?”
Jarvan peered over the crowd to look at the person in the center. A red, shredded coat with a massive rip in the back. Tattoos snaking up and down his arms. Shaggy black hair, unkempt and wild. Dangerous gauntlets on his hands and feet. He didn’t make contact with Jarvan IV, his eyes tilted upwards as he finished chugging what remained of a bottle of beer. After finishing, he wiped his mouth on the metal gauntlet, throwing it on the ground with a loud crack as it shattered. Every guard flinched, spears at the ready.
“Alright, I’m here and awake. Hell do you want?” C asked, dragged his fingers across his face.
While he wanted to chastise the man, any argument would only exacerbate the situation. “Weapons down,” Jarvan commanded.
“But my king-“
“Weapons. Down.” At Jarvan’s command the spears lowered, C giving a grunt as he moved past the group. “My personal guard shall escort this man. He’s something of a diplomat to us.”
The quartet of three Demacian soldiers and one Zaunite thug moved past the entrance. Once they were safe and out of sight, Jarvan glared over his shoulder. “You couldn’t wait to meet us on the outskirts?” He asked, voice brimming with venom.
C shrugged, not at all bothered by the harsh tone. “Felt like having some fun in the capital. Last I check, you owe me too for screwing me over.” C looked to Xin Zhao, whistling. “Huh, another Ionian. Guess I’d look like you if I grew up here, eh?”
“Indeed, you might have discipline.” Xin spoke, his gaze focused ahead.
“Touchy touchy. No dragon-girl today either?” C questioned, looking around the opulent palace. “Bah, oh well. You have anything to drink?”
Ignoring his question, Jarvan opened the door to a lavish but small room, a petricite table sitting in the center. Light streamed from a stained-glass window overhead. King Jarvan III rose, bowing his head to the newcomers. On each side were Shyvana and Lux.
The three Demacians bowed their heads, placing a hand over their hearts. C looked left and right, scratching his chin. Xin Zhao grit his teeth. “Bow, you imbecile, lest you shame every Ionian who calls Demacia their home.”
“Hm? Oh. Right. King.” C bowed his head, a fist over his heart. “Forgive me. I’m buzzed at the moment.”
Jarvan III looked to his son, eyes wide. “And…this is the man you think can deal with Sylas?”
Jarvan IV returned the look, suppressing the urge to groan. “Unfortunately for us, yes. Despite his appearance, C is a capable man from Zaun. He’s helped me with a Noxian problem before.” Jarvan III”s expression became one of suspicion, having never heard of this “problem”. Still, he trusted his son’s judgement.
“Please, sit.” Jarvan III gestured to the chair across from him, C looking left and right before moving to sit.
On his way to the official royal audience, C noticed there was a bottle on the table, some form of wine. “Oh, uh, may I? Not every day I get to try some Demacian wine. Hear it’s some of the best shi-…STUFF in the world.” C might have been rude but he knew that overstepping too much would lead to imprisonment.
“By all means, my friend.” With Jarvan III’s blessing, C grabbed the bottle, uncorking it with one clawed finger. He offered a little to the king, who waved a hand. Shrugging, C began to drink right from the bottle. “I trust my son has informed you why you were called here.”
Wiping his mouth again on his forearm, C nodded. “Yeah some uh…guy. Anti-magic and all that. Real bad news. Total bastard.”
Jarvan III once again looked to his son, who had an expression of mingled fury and embarrassment. “Yes, very much that. You see, he’s a dangerous revolutionary who seeks to shake up the foundation of our kingdom. A just and peaceful land, as you know.”
At this, C paused. He set the bottle down, looking quite a bit more interested. His fingers scratched at his scruffy face. “Huh. No kidding. Sounds familiar.”
“I’m certain you’ve encountered monsters in human guise who seek to destroy your homeland of Zaun as well.” The king was polite enough to avoid talking about the questionable quality of air and living in the city. “Regardless, I’ve been told you’re something of a capable individual who can handle a powerful, magically empowered individual.”
C looked at the wine, shifting to lean in the chair. It took his entire willpower not to kick his feet up onto the table. “So long as he’s not too fast yeah. Fast types and I don’t mix.”
“In exchange for your help and provided you can bring him to us, I’m prepared to offer you a massive reward-“
“Up-front?” C asked, interrupting.
Almost every eye in the room fell on C, daggers pointing with murderous intent. The singular person who didn’t look at C in such a way was Lux. Her gaze mingled between surprise, confusion and a growing sense of familiarity.
“Yes, up-front. My son was very insistent. His recommendation is not lightly given out.” Jarvan III didn’t seem bothered by his interruption. If anything, C at least had an excuse for his personality. He’d expect this of a young man raised in Zaunite muck. A Demacian noble? That was a far greater slight.
“….Hm….Well, if the gold is good, why not?” First, C polished off the bottle, placing it on the table empty. He reached over, leaning out of his chair to offer one armored hand.
In an instant, the tip of a spear slammed down on his wrist as C’s arm hit the table. He turned, seeing Xin Zhao’s furious eyes locked with his. “What do you think you’re doing!? Uneducated or not, you must know a commoner doesn’t grab for the king! You look like a child reaching across a table.”
C seemed more annoyed than anything, the alcohol doing a wonderful job of mellowing his temper. “Y’know, you ass, spear users and I don’t get along too well.”
“Enough.” Jarvan III’s words were relaxed yet carried weight, knowing full and well the extent of his power. “There’s no need to shake my hand. That said, your kindness is appreciated. Forgive my seneschal, he’s rather protective.” Xin Zhao’s spear lifted, although his expression never lightened.
Peeved but not enough to fight over it, C sank back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. “S’whatever. Sorry about that, your kingship.”
A hand rose from Jarvan III’s lap, motioning to Lux. “This is Luxanna Crownguard, a brilliant strategist. She’ll be accompanying you on your mission.”
Lux nodded before blinking, leaving her stupor. “Wait, my king, do you think such a thing is wise!?”
A low grunt came from the other side of the room, Garen’s arms crossed. “I must agree with my sibling. Luxanna’s the cause of this whole debacle.”
“Indeed she is.” Jarvan III looked to Lux, giving her a small nod. “She’s also the one who seeks redemption, as well as the one who knows the convict better than anyone. If this man is as good a fighter as you say he is, Luxanna’s presence shouldn’t be any sort of problem.”
Lux stammered, looking for some sort of way to get out of this predicament. It became clear in no time at all that she was trapped in this mission. Lux’s head bowed in recognition, her voice low and defeated. “…Yes, my king,”
“Meh, whatever. Let’s get right to it then.” C stood up, cracking his neck with a growing smirk on his face. “If you all needs ME to fight this guy, maybe this’ll be more fun than I expected.”
Jarvan III nodded, motioning to the door. “A carriage will be called as we leave. May light illuminate your path.”
Garen watched as the noble carriage, indistinguishable from any other, left the palace gates. “As detestable as that man is, it's for the best.” He said, turning to Jarvan IV. The two stood on a balcony, watching Garen’s sister leave the capital with the brutish Zaunite.
“Agreed. The sooner he finishes this, the better.” Jarvan was plain with his friend, refusing to hide his mistrust. “Your sister is capable but I’m not sure C will be a useful partner. Who's to say he won’t betray us?”
Garen scoffed, arms crossed as the sun set in the distance. “Unless Sylas can offer a king’s ransom as we can, I doubt he’d change his morals on a dime.” There was a slight pause, Garen’s expression turning cold. “Besides, my sister should spend time around C.”
Jarvan blinked in surprise. “Hm? And why is that?”
“Because she needs to learn that not every “downtrodden” person she’s met is innocent and just.”