The Cleanse Begins
-You will start to work after the arrest squad fails. -pointed out Garen.- Your job will be to hunt down and bring back to Demacia those people that haven proven themselves to have parted ways with their humanity in favour of power. Dead or alive, I'll have enough with their heads.
-Why should the arrest squad fail? -arrogantly asked Lucian.
-You have worked with the likes of them, Lucian.-answered Garen, clearly annoyed by the Purifier's behaviour. -The Gem Knight, the Sentinel's sorrow, the Half-Dragon... they should not be underestimated. The rebellion we're facing is serious business. This is not like hunting for silly monsters about Runeterra with your chick; remember that your...
Lucian turned and walked out of the room, closing the door silently, leaving Garen mid-talk. The new king's anger could be felt in the room, but he didn't stop.
-...enemies know you as much as you know them. -he stopped and breath deeply while turning for facing Quinn. -You'll lead the team. Those monsters won't doubt to chop your head off, don't give them the chance to. You may leave now.
...
Quinn couldn't understand what was going on. King Jarvan had died, adn the noxians had been blamed for it at the very beginning. Garen was already preparing an army to march against their eternal nemesis, but something tore those plans down to pieces; a Noxian letter had arrived. It talked about traitors in their own ranks and about Swain escaping with the one in charge of single-handedly causing the death of hundreds of Noxians. As a side note it talked about Xin Zhao, the Seneschal, being kidnapped by the Chain Warden. No more details concerning the letter were made public; the only thing that the Demacian common folk knew was that Noxus was not an enemy anymore.
Officially, the army was going to march against the Shadows Isles in the search of Xin Zhao, while other scout squads were being prepared to look for Xin Zhao around Runeterra; as said by Garen, "they could not be sure what a twisted mind like Thresh's could beplanning". Only a few knew the truth; their new king was lying to the masses.
As far as most people were concerned, they had to find Xin Zhao to uncover the truth of what had happened to Jarvan IV; the truth was that the Noxian-Demacian alliance wanted to change the world how the had once known it by cleaning the human race. Yordles, dragons, mages... if something made it different from the standars they had settled, it had to be erased.
Who were the monsters now?
The drink was way too cold that night. Even for a heart as frozen as his, the drink was way too cold. He looked at the bartender, who immediately took his jar and emptied it, pouring its content into the sink and diving deep into the kitchen.
That was why Yasuo had always preferred that place among the rest. He needn't talk, he need't listen to anything, he didn't even think. If he wanted something to drink he payed, and when he couldn't pay the bartender never complained; he knew that the man he knew as Yone would pay his debts. Yone had always payed his debts, even though he had never given in to drink.
He had never liked to use the name of his dead brother, but when he had to come up with a name that was not his, Yone always came to mind. Ten years had passed, yet ten more wouldn't have been enough for Yasuo to get free of his burden. Unable to prove his innocence, old friends were still hunting him down day and night. Bilgewater had been his personal heaven; you can't draw attention when you're surrounded by freaks even stranger than you. That had given him the chance to be reborn as Yone, the Ionian fisherman. The only one that got to fish now matter how strong the winds were those days, a hero among the common folk. Yone was the one that saved the hungry and the poor. The silent man that had saved countless lives.
Without a word, Yasuo left the bar and walked towards the docks, where home was waiting for him. He was covering himself with the blankets and coats that children from the neighborhood had gifted him when he heard a familiar voice whispering in his ear.
-It's been long since we last met, brother... -said Yasuo, before swiftly unsheathing his blade and cutting twice through the shadow's throat. -And I do not plan on sharing a drink with you soon.
The Black Mist was back. Year after year, always arriving some weeks earlier than it did the last year. Always colder, always stronger. But it is not yet time to die. At least not for the unforgiven.
...
The drink was way too cold that night. Even for a heart as frozen as his, the drink was way too cold. He looked at the bartender, who immediately took his jar and emptied it, pouring its content into the sink and diving deep into the kitchen.
That was why Yasuo had always preferred that place among the rest. He needn't talk, he need't listen to anything, he didn't even think. If he wanted something to drink he payed, and when he couldn't pay the bartender never complained; he knew that the man he knew as Yone would pay his debts. Yone had always payed his debts, even though he had never given in to drink.
He had never liked to use the name of his dead brother, but when he had to come up with a name that was not his, Yone always came to mind. Ten years had passed, yet ten more wouldn't have been enough for Yasuo to get free of his burden. Unable to prove his innocence, old friends were still hunting him down day and night. Bilgewater had been his personal heaven; you can't draw attention when you're surrounded by freaks even stranger than you. That had given him the chance to be reborn as Yone, the Ionian fisherman. The only one that got to fish now matter how strong the winds were those days, a hero among the common folk. Yone was the one that saved the hungry and the poor. The silent man that had saved countless lives.
Without a word, Yasuo left the bar and walked towards the docks, where home was waiting for him. He was covering himself with the blankets and coats that children from the neighborhood had gifted him when he heard a familiar voice whispering in his ear.
-It's been long since we last met, brother... -said Yasuo, before swiftly unsheathing his blade and cutting twice through the shadow's throat. -And I do not plan on sharing a drink with you soon.
The Black Mist was back. Year after year, always arriving some weeks earlier than it did the last year. Always colder, always stronger. But it is not yet time to die. At least not for the unforgiven.
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