[Story] Sigismund, the First Judicator

_"I am Sigismund, chosen of King Jarvan, first of the Judicators. I am the fist of the law here, and I decide who dies!" _

If Demacian's justice and law have been described as a shinning light, then Sigismund is the brightest light of them all, burning with the intensity of a thousand suns and searing all those who come before him. A Judicator, Sigismund is judge, jury and executioner, the first to accuse and the last to show mercy. In the eye of the law, there is no innocence, only varying degrees of guilt

Growing up as a childhood friend of King Jarvan I, Sigismund have stayed at Jarvan's right hand for most of his climb to kingship. Where Jarvan possess the charisma and the mind of a king, Sigismund possess the unbound fury and unbreakable discipline of a warrior. Where the King uses words and handshake to cement the hold of Demacia, Sigismund brings forth his blade to bear against all those who dare oppose the King's word. When he was finnally crowned King of a newly formed Demacia, one of the first thing Jarvan did was to grant Sigismund the title of First Judicator, the enforcer of law and the herald of order, the right hand of the King and the bane of his foe. Given power second to few within the kingdom, Sigismund lead Demacian soldiers in a march of unfathomable scale outward, intending to spread the light of Demacia to all. The militarization of the country was drastic, but effective as the disciplined soldiers of Demacia, under the peerless tactical mind and unwavering spirit of the First Judicator, crush all other small nations and states underneath their synchronized march. Those who fought back were judged guilty of rebellion and executed without mercy. Those who surrendered themselves to the incoming Demacian army were judged guilty of cowardice and executed without a second thought. The March of Light, the name Sigismund called the army, smashed all resistance and expanded Demacia at a rate never before seen, leaving behind a trail of corpse of the guilty.

As the March of Light rages on, Sigismund become further submerged in his ideals, burning with disgust for the guilty. He could not, or perhaps simply refuse to, understand why any would reject the light of Demacia, and came to the conclusion that those who reject the law of Demacia are guilty of running away from justice, and against which death was the punishment. As the March of Light marched ever onward, the brutality of the soldier as well as their zeal grown ever more intense. Under the overwhelming presence and will of Sigismund, the soldiers were motivated to purge all before them for any and all crime. They believe themselves champion of justice, their purge to be righteous retribution, and as such charged into battle with fearless zeal and all-encompassing hatred for the guilty as they devote themselves single-mindedly to Order Back inside the nation, King Jarvan grow ever cynical with the action of Sigismund, watching with a heavy heart as his closest and only friend stray further from the idealistic dream that he had, watching even the purest of heart walk the path toward corruption. A dream for a world of little suffering and chaos, the same dream that has motivated both of them to reach for the top, the same dream that was made reality, if only for a fleeting moment, when he was crowned King and Sigismund was crowned First Judicator. Now, it is the same dream that have driven Sigismund further into extremism, planted the seed of cynicism with the old king heart and driven a wedge in a companionship thought to be stronger than the earth itself. But a part of the King heart believed that his friend was still in there, the old honorable Sigismund who defended the weak and made laws to serve mankind, not the other way around. But, as months pass by and the March of Light shows no sign of stopping, King Jarvan's faith wavered bit by bits until one day, just before the March of Light declare a campaign upon Noxus, he personally came to deliver an ultimatum to Sigismund

What transpired that night has been immortalized in countless paintings and history books as the Night of Strife. They told of how King Jarvan came to the commanding camp, ordered his personal guard to stand outside as he entered the tent alone to speak with Sigismund, man to man just like old time. The tale sang of the King and the First Judicator sitting on plain wooden chair talking to each other like a friend to another. How they shared drinks and talked of old times, of the passion-filled debate that followed. It painted the scene of Sigismund, presented with the hand-written ultimatum from the king himself, fell silent for a second before accepting with a nod and a handshake. It screamed with vivid detail of how the King's First Judicator, in his moment of redemption and reconciliation, was struck down in his prime by a Noxian assassin. The sagas despaired the gradual decline and disbandment of the March of Light as the command structure fell into chaos with the First Judicator murdered, and the King deciding that their time of weakness is ill-suited for a military campaign and withdraw the troops, not before swearing justice upon the treacherous Noxian. The body of Sigismund was carried back to the capital atop gold-clad Honor Guard, where the entire nation shed righteous tears for the death of the First Judicator and every houses in the nation flew a black flag for a month straight in honor of his death. Declared a nation hero and saint, Sigismund body was entombed within the Judgement Altar, a massive building that became the center of Demacian legislative body. Inside the Altar was a 50ft tall golden statue of Sigismund in his bright moment of glory, before which every judge was made to kneel and swear his oath to uphold justice and the law.

It was a lie. During the Night of Strife, the King entered the command tent to find Sigismund a bright shadow of his former self. Clad head to toe in shining armor that he no longer take off, Sigismund was seething with hatred behind his mask of iron stoicism. The King, with the last shred of hope he had, approached Sigismund to deliver the ultimatum, hoping that, maybe, just maybe, he would return to his old self. With a forceful swing, Sigismund cut the ultimatum in half. Pointing his finger at the king, he declared with utmost prejudice:

"You are my brother no longer. You have committed the gravest crime of forsaking the light of the law, of treason against the ideal of Demacia. I judge thee guilty!"

Sigismund then turned away, intending to walk out of the tent to rally his troop. To him, the King has been corrupted and turned away from the light. To him, it is his and his soldier's duty to purge Deamcia of this corruption and ensure its purity. To him, he has lost a friend to the dark

"I'm sorry, friend."

With his last moment of compassion, Sigismund whispered before he turned his back fully away.

"I'm sorry, brother."

The tearful word of King Jarvan was the last thing Sigismund heard before falling to the ground, the Golden Blade of Demacia piercing his heart. The King knew that the March of Light loyalty lies with Sigismund and their ideal of order first, and with the nation second. He knew that Sigismund would succeed in rallying the troops against him. He knew that Demacia could not withstand the assault of the March of Light, that their beloved kingdom would collapse, if not from the civil war itself, then from the combined rebellion of all those who have been forcefully integrated into Demacia capitalizing on its moment of chaos and weakness. He could not accept it. With a heavy heart he plunged his blade into the heart of his best friend, feeling the same sharp pain in his heart as sadness and bitterness overtook him. Committing the gravest of all crime, the King wept. He wept for his friend, he wept for his conscience, he wept for his nation and his ideals. But Sigismund death will not be in vain. He died for the sake of the nation, and King Jarvan refuse to let the nation collapse. Even if he possess no will of his own to lead, he will lead for the sake of his friend. He will make Sigismund a martyr, a champion for the ideals that he used to preach, of justice, righteousness and unwavering spirit. He will make him a saint, he will make Sigismund become the very definition of the Order he so much craved for. But the sadness has entrenched itself deeply within the King heart, and he died a mere five years after the incident, his only solace in the face of oblivion was that he and Sigismund ideal would live on in Demacia, carried by the immortal symbol of Sigismund, the First Judicator and Saint of Order