The Good Life: Fracturing Foundations (ch. 137) (Patreon)

It wasn't the army Ambessa imagined when she would take the throne of Noxus. For decades, she labored towards that singular goal. She made connections. Allies. Gained favors and leverage to be applied when it came time to oust Darkwill. Her efforts, of course, were hampered by the Black Rose. Steadfast allies vanished. Leverage disappeared. Where promises and a few words would do the job now took threats. 

There were times when it felt like she was no closer to the throne than she was when she started. 

Now was not one of those times as she stood at the forefront of an army thirty thousand strong. Fifteen thousand of them were Noxian troops. Five thousand of them belonged to Clan Medarda, with the remaining ten were what she could salvage from the defeated army in Piltover. Their loyalty was questionable and untested, but in them, Ambessa saw a kernel of what defined Noxus. 

Noxus followed strength. 

And there was none stronger than their new master. 

“Bwahhhh- hic hhahahhhh! Oden! You big dumb idiot! How did you go and die to a dumb trick like that?! You were supposed to kill hic me!” The dragon overhead wept, tears falling from his eyes like rain while an overly large clay pot the size of a house hung from one of his clawed hands. In it was alcohol of such potency that Ambessa found she couldn't stand in the same room as it without getting drunk. “You bastard! How dare you die!” 

Even hundreds of feet overhead, Ambessa felt the heat gathering in Kaido's maw before he spat out a bullet of flame that struck the top of a mountain in the near distance. A flash of light was the only herald of absolute destruction that followed with the mountain top vanishing and rivers of liquefied rock flowing down from the point of impact. 

“Bwahahahhhh!” Kaido wept, his flash of rage vanishing just as quickly, drowned in a gulp of alcohol. “Eh?! Whose been drinkin’ all of my booze?! I'll kill ‘em! Fuckin’ little thieves… oh. I smell more.” 

“General?” Richter questioned, but he already knew the answer. 

“We follow,” Ambessa decided, breaking from their current plans. She knew the south quite well. Clan Medarda was amongst the most powerful clans in the south, and in no small part to her efforts. For all her daughter decried her, Ambessa was no stranger to the power of commerce. Economic leverage was still power, after all. The alcohol Kaido likely smelled belonged to the holdings of Clan Vrend. Once known for their sea raiders, now known for their vineyards.  

The army obeyed her commands, but none did so as perfectly as the machines Law had bestowed her. Truly, the perfect soldiers. It was to her greatest regret she only possessed five thousand of them, with the other portion of her army being men and women from Skitter's territory. While they lacked discipline, all ten thousand were ideal warriors. 

They were stripped of all pretense and fat. They were here carve out new lives for themselves, even if they had to murder every man, women, and child on this planet to do it. Discipline could be taught, but that? That couldn't. 

“All of that power,” Ambessa mused, her eyes fixated on the dragon that rapidly grew smaller with distance. “In the hands of a moody drunk.” 

Kaido was terrifying in a way that a wild animal was. It almost made her appreciate Law. That power- Conqueror’s Haki, as Kaiso described it, was used by Law as… punctuation. Sparingly, but when he did use it, it was to deliver a point. That was not how Kaido used it. It rolled off of him in waves at all times, churning like the sea before a storm. Most couldn't even remain conscious near him. Ambessa was one of the few. 

“What power does Law wield to make him his subordinate?” Ambessa questioned, not expecting an answer. For now, she accepted him as her ruler. She would be a fool not to. He promised much and had the means to deliver. The scope of her ambitions had changed in light of new opportunities: these ‘superpowers’, Haki, immortality… her ambitions could extend over the course of centuries. What was mere decades of service in comparison? 

It was a question Ambessa was eager to answer, but didn't expect she would anytime soon. Law kept the limits of his abilities as a closely guarded secret, but he displayed some facets of them with cunning intent. The only thing for certain Ambessa learned was that Law fought both Sukuna and Kaido, and defeated them both so soundly they bent the knee. An incredible achievement, as both struck Ambessa as the type who would prefer death over defeat. 

While her exposure to Sukuna was limited, she had seen first hand what Kaido was capable of. She began to see the first traces of it hours later when they entered Clan Vrend's territory, only to find empty outposts. The warriors having either fled in the face of Kaido or their approach. The same for the villages on the outskirts and empty estates. 

The town Clan Vrend called its stronghold was bathed in flames by the time they arrived late at night. There were screams coming from the town, men and women attempting to put out the flames. All the while, they labored under Kaido's shadow, who curled around a couple of buildings in a drunken stupor. 

“Organize fire fighting teams. We'll save the city as we subdue it,” Ambessa decided, her army moving to carry out her will. “Bring me every member of Clan Vrend. I doubt they had a chance to escape, and if they did, then they have not gotten far.” 

Ambessa did not enter the town. She stood outside of its walls, a secured position being erected around her, as she simply watched the town burn despite all the valiant attempts to quell the flames. They were not of magic in origin, but they burned hot. Hit enough that a pale full of water evaporated before it could even reach the flames. The little success came from water mages, but they were few and far in between. 

It was within a few hours that the leaders of Clan Vrend were brought before her. Ados Vrend was an old man. One who should have relinquished his position to his son, who was her age. Yet, he clung to power even when it long should have left his grip. 

He proved that much when the old man made a noise of distress, seeing his beloved town burning late into the night and the dragon who slept off a drunken stupor within them. Like a cat finding a warm spot to nap. He collapsed to his knees, his eyes growing wet alongside his grandchildren. It was pitiful how little control they had over themselves. How they weakened themselves even more than they already were. 

“I am Ambessa Medarda,” Ambessa introduced herself, using the burning town as a backdrop. “It is my intent to claim the throne of Noxus the old way. The true way. I will have your support.” 

“Never!” A boy shouted, wisps on his face. The kind that Ambessa had demanded her own son to shave while he insisted it was a beard. 

“You are brave, child,” Ambessa acknowledged. He alone stood where the others knelt, his face contorted into a snarl while his fists trembled with impotent rage. “Foolish, but brave. However, it is not your decision to make… and that was not a request.” She gave a nod, and the children were taken from their parents, despite their resistance and tears. 

It had taken Mel losing nearly everything for her to open her eyes to several ugly truths. Her daughter believed diplomacy could be the solution to every problem. She was not yet ready for such a sight as the one before her. Mothers wept as their babies were brief from broken fingers, fathers blustered and roared defiance. Children screamed in fear, not fully understanding what was happening, only that they didn't like it and they were afraid with no comfort to be found. 

“You will submit,” Ambessa said, her gazed affixed upon the old man. “Your forces will be rallied in my mind, to be led by me. If your Clan is to have any hope of survival, you will declare in my name and labor in my service.” 

Noxus was built on strength. If you could not take something, it did not belong to you. If you could not defend it, then it was not yours. Clan Vrend was a small clan, overall. Their support minimal even before their town was razed. That mattered little. What she needed was their name. She needed the story to be that Clan Vrend submitted after being destroyed to prevent annihilation. 

Because Clan Vrend would be the first. 

The first of many. 

The old man had tears in his eyes, surrounded by his screaming family, looking out at the burning wreckage of his home. “I… Clan Vrend submits to Clan Medarda,” he found his voice after a moment, lowering his head to hide his shame. 

She spent decades dreaming of this moment. 

It felt even better than she imagined. 

…

There was not a city left in the world which could compare to Noxus Prime, the capital of Noxus. The birthplace of an empire that would one day stretch across the known world… if it did not collapse under its own deadweight.

Swain did not return to the capital in triumph. He came at the head of a scant few hundred of an army once fifty thousand strong. Yet, all the same, he admired the city as he stood on the back of a wagon, his hand bound to the floor alongside his feet. Perhaps Piltover could have compared once, but the once brilliant City of Progress lay in ruins by the time of his arrival.

It was more of a fortress than a city. Hexagonal in shape with multi layered walls that stood more than a hundred feet high. The poor built their homes outside of its gates, and in another few decades, it would become necessary to build a third wall. More than five million people called it home, making it the largest city in the world, if nothing else.

It certainly felt like all five million of them were ready to greet him with rotten fruit. It fell upon him in a wave -- tomatoes smashing on his chest and face, spoiled cabbage smearing with impact, and a number of other things Swain found he would rather not think about. It mattered little to him, though he couldn't deny some level of annoyance.

His condemnation was expected. He failed to capture what should have been a pitstop on the way to Ionia. He lost two field armies he was trusted with. Even setting aside the circumstances of his defeat, his failures merited execution. And if he had any faith his failures would be learned from, Swain would not hesitate to offer his neck to the axeman's blade. 

But they would not. They couldn't because Noxus did not understand the scope of the enemy it had roused. Darkwill did not understand. 

So, he bore the indignity with a steady heart. Raum was nowhere to be seen, of course. Swain had him scattered to glean what information he might need long before his arrival. The Demon of Secrets was an elusive beast. He obeyed Swain well, even as the creature attempted to wrestle its freedom from his iron will. To all that saw him, he was an injured general. His arm missing, stripped bare, and covered in filth while he ignored the obscenities hurled his way. 

The only time his heart wavered when he saw the wife of a soldier Swain knew. One of his officers. She looked up at him with too many emotions to identify. He could do nothing for her, or their child, beyond inclining his head to her and mouthing the word, ‘I'm sorry.’ It was too little, and he couldn't say that she forgave him. However, she didn't throw a rotten tomato at him. 

His shame took him through the streets of Noxus Prime so all could have their go at him. By the time he arrived at the Immortal Bastion itself, the palace and seat of power for the Grand General, he was covered in filth and bleeding from multiple cuts. Should he live to see the end of the day, he would need to clean his wounds to prevent infection. 

He was taken off of the wagon, further bound in chains to prevent escape, before he was escorted to the throne room. When he last walked these halls, he was being honored with the task of reinforcing Ionia and finishing the conquest. The time before, he was being elevated for leading an inquisition against the Black Rose. Now, he was carried, filthy, covered in cuts and bruises when the large stone doors creaked open to reveal the great hall. 

A red carpet led the way to an elevated throne more than a dozen steps overhead. On a plateau six steps below, there were the Grand General's advisors. Ministers of Trade, Logistics, and War. The only one among them Swain was familiar with was Draven, the Minister of Games and Executions. As both were the same thing in Noxus. 

Above them, however, sat Grand General Boram Darkwill. A large and powerfully built man, but not one who aged with grace. Where he once filled out his armor, it now seemed to hang off of him with his black hair and beard long since going white. His dark eyes seemed to sink into their sockets with a liver spot appearing near his temple. He did not seem like the conquering king of his youth. 

Yet, his gaze was as sharp as any blade. His expression betrayed nothing when Swain was presented to him, forced to kneel with his head and hand locked in a stock. The other nobles and people of import watched on from above, amused by his disgrace. 

There was a very loud silence following a gesture from the Grand General. As if none dared to breathe after it. A silence that was only broken by Darkwill himself. “I sent you with fifty thousand men. Two hundred mages. A dozen war engineers. Five teams of specialists ranging from assassination to alchemy.” His voice rang out in the hall, his voice carrying a roughness to it from a lifetime of shouting. 

He waited for Swain to protest. He did not. Darkwill's assessment was accurate.

“You have returned with three hundred. One elite assassin. One team of specialists. No war engineers. Eight mages. And- ah… a disgraced member of the Piltovian council.” Again, his assessment was accurate. “I expected much from you, Swain. In you, I saw the strength of Noxus. Firm. Unyielding. Cunning and pragmatic in equal measure. Now, you kneel before me broken, maimed, and disgraced with defeat.” 

Only then did Swain stir, lifting his bow to meet Drawkill's eyes. “Forgive me, Grand General, but I am not broken. Not yet.” 

The correction felt like someone had sucked all the air from the throneroom. Darkwill held his gaze for a long moment before nodding once. “I see. I was mistaken. You are only maimed and defeated,” he amended, and Swain once more lowered his head in a bow. “How?” 

“My defeat did not come at the hands of Piltover, but another. An entity calling himself Heartless who comes from another world entirely,” Swain answered. The nobles around him stirred, thinking them to be mere excuses, but Swain pressed on regardless. They were not the ones he had to convince. 

Raum was divided in two. Half of his arm went to Noxus Prime. The other half remained in Piltover, gleaming what he could from their enemy before they met on the battlefield. Both halves of his arm had… interesting revelations. 

“He has arrived with armies fueled by the production of entire planets. Technologies he granted to Piltover to test how we would fare against them. He possesses champions equal to our mightiest armies. Now, Ambessa Medarda marches to conquer this world in his name.” Swain continued, his voice clear despite the outcry. “Already, Ambessa sets the south aflame alongside one such champion: Kaido, the King of Beasts. It is my suspicion she will cut a path straight to the Immortal Bastion to claim the throne, then all of Noxus.” 

The Grand General leaned into his throne, silencing the couriers with another gesture. “Ambessa… I always liked her. Too ambitious to be trusted, but I still liked her. This Heartless must be quite a character if she would submit to him so readily.” 

To that, Swain could only dip his head. Heartless himself remained elusive. Enough so that Swain was convinced he had the ability to detect Raum. As such, Swain was forced to accept second or third-hand accounts. The raven he had watching Ambessa was far more informative. 

“It matters not,” Grand General Darkwill said, his voice rising as he stood. “Noxus has stood for a thousand years. We are no petty kingdom to be toppled by some upstart with delusions of power.” As he descended each step, he spoke loudly and clearly. “We shall meet this invasion as we have all others -- with overwhelming might! New armies shall be rallied. One a hundred thousand strong- the mightiest army Noxus has ever produced. And I say now, I shall lead it myself.”

The Grand General was not the warrior he had been in his youth, but he didn’t need to be. He had long since mastered the art of oration. What he said was no small task. The invasion of Ionia took a fifty thousand men, and they had been mauled by the hostile land. Another fifty thousand were lost against Piltover. 

To muster such a force, not only was a draft necessary, but it would mean pulling from various armies across their other fronts. Demacia and Frejord both. Possibly abandoning the Ionian campaign entirely. Even setting aside that, the cost would be enormous when the nobility were already feeling the strain. 

Yet, they cheered because they were expected to cheer and one did not survive long in the capital without doing what was expected of them. 

“With this army, I will crush this upstart Ambessa. I will finish the Ionian campaign. Then I will see what this Heartless has to offer. What worlds he has for me to conquer.” Darkwill continued, walking down the steps, past his advisors, and eventually coming to a stop before Swain. “You are a capable general, Swain. If what you say is true- and I have no cause to doubt it, then your defeat was not due to your inability. Take that to heart. However, defeat is the one thing Noxus cannot forgive.”

“I understand, Grand General,” Swain replied, not lifting his gaze. 

“You are sentenced to death in the arena. There, you will fight man and beast until your sentence is carried out.” Such was the way of Noxus. “Die well, Swain.”

With the sentence rendered before the court, Swain was carried away before he could overhear the plans that would be made without his input. He was brought to the depths of the dungeons, the Black Cells, where there was no light. Only damp air and rats. There, he was chained to the floor, but even in the absent light of the dungeons, he saw more than most. 

Through the darkness, raven after raven reached him. They merged into his arm, carrying information and secrets from every corner of Noxus Prime. 

Darkwill didn’t know it yet, but he placed Swain exactly where he needed to be if he was to save Noxus from itself.