Execution Day

Read up to 30 chapters ahead on Patreon - patreon.com/Light_lord

-----

A large crowd of citizens gathered in South District Square.

"It's been years since we've had an execution," someone murmured.

"The last one was over a decade ago, back when Zaunists crossed the bridge and paid the price. And now look—Zaun's independent."

"Good riddance. They were a burden. Piltover can thrive without Zaun dragging us down."

"Who's on trial today?"

"Jinx, the bomb-crazed maniac. I heard she even had a falling-out with Zaun. Silco, one of Zaun's leaders, apparently clashed with her over it."

"Silco's gone, isn't he? Viktor's the one steering Zaun now—though he's just a tinkerer turned madman. All Zaun knows is chaos and terror."

"True. Once this one's gone, Piltover will finally have peace for a long time."

The square buzzed with chatter, the discussions blending into a symphony of judgment. The people were impeccably dressed, their appearances refined, but their words dripped with condescension.

High above, perched on the rooftop of a building with a perfect vantage point, Ryan observed the execution platform below.

On his shoulder rested a six-eyed, scarlet-feathered crow, its gaze fixed coldly on the square.

The crow's voice cut through the air, calm and detached:

"I think I understand your experiment. The future of an empire shouldn't look like this—maggots thriving on rotting ideals."

"Ease makes people decadent," Ryan replied flatly, his tone void of emotion.

"But relentless hardship only turns them numb."

"A fair observation," the crow mused, its tone carrying more emotion than before.

"You once said the empire belongs to all Noxians. That it's an empire for its people, not just its rulers."

Ryan's eyes lingered on the growing crowd below. A glimmer of something unreadable flickered within them.

"The Empire is ours, yes. It belongs to every Noxian. Those of us in Trifarix must always remember that. If we succeed, it's only because the Empire needs us—for now."

The six-eyed crow let out a low caw, then spoke again, its words heavy with observation:

"A kingdom's people reflect its policies. Piltover prides itself on peace, yet look how they sneer and celebrate death. They hide behind their civility, even in their methods—executing with firearms rather than bloodletting. It's a facade of progress and decorum."

Ryan's lips curved into a faint smile. "A wolf without fangs is still a wolf. But a sheep with fangs? It's still just a sheep."

From afar, he watched as Jinx was led toward the platform. Her blue hair swayed with every step, her face devoid of emotion, her spirit seemingly crushed.

Behind her walked Vi, her expression torn with conflicting emotions, and Caitlyn, her face a stoic mask of duty.

"Indeed," Ryan muttered.

"Piltover is nothing more than a sheep armed with fangs."

The crow's gaze shifted, its scarlet eyes locking onto Jinx. There was a hint of amusement in its tone as it spoke again:

"Speaking of executions, I met someone recently—an odd fellow in a tavern who dreams of becoming the Imperial Executioner. His personality is... eccentric, but I find his loyalty intriguing. He even dared to support me—a so-called 'fallen general.' Perhaps he could join Trifarix."

Ryan chuckled lightly. "There aren't many who could catch the eye of the Immortal Bastion's commander. I'll draft a contract for him."

"His name is Draven," the crow added, its voice tinged with sly humor.

"You might've heard of him. His only condition for joining us is claiming the title of the Empire's Executioner. But that role is already taken."

"Urgot still holds that position," Ryan noted, his tone casual.

"He's a relic of Darkwill's reign but formidable. Perhaps Camille could deal with him, or he could be sent to guard the mines with Rek'Sai's brood."

Ryan's tone shifted slightly, tinged with memory.

"Draven, though... the name reminds me of his brother. A curious man—the only one who ever dared to drink with me back in the day."

The crow let out a sound that could almost be mistaken for laughter.

"It's been years since your campaigns in the Freljord, and yet you remember that detail so vividly."

Ryan shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Hard to forget when someone's swinging an axe at your head in the middle of a snowstorm. Back then, he wasn't mad at me—he was furious with Darkwill. Ironic, considering I was once branded Darkwill's most loyal general."

The Ryan's tone softened, carrying an air of nostalgia.

"You reported the rebellion of your kin and rose to power because of it. Everyone called you a servant of Darkwill. But they never understood—your loyalty was never to him. It was always to Noxus."

Swain said nothing, his eyes fixed on the scene below. The air grew heavy as the crowd cheered for the execution, and Jinx was forced to her knees.

Her fate was sealed, but Ryan's mind was elsewhere—focused on empires, wolves, and the essence of loyalty.

"But he said something, and I couldn't back down at that moment," Ryan laughed a rare flicker of nostalgia in his voice.

"Noxians never back down," the crow replied knowingly.

"That day, you trapped him in a water orb, letting the chill of the night freeze it solid. He stayed frozen all night long. Even now, rumors of your feud echo through the halls of the Immortal Bastion."

"He's a good man," Ryan said, his tone almost fond.

"Strong enough to earn my respect. He rose from nothing, yet his love for the Empire rivals our own. That's why, at my invitation, he became one of us."

As Ryan spoke, Jinx was pushed onto the execution platform below. Ropes were tightly secured around her wrists as the gathered crowd roared with approval.

The councilman began his customary speech, voice booming through Piltover's speaker system. Despite their distance, Ryan could hear every word clearly.

From the platform, Jayce's voice rang out, authoritative and steady:

"In these trying times, we've endured much together. Some of the things we once took pride in have faltered for various reasons. But Piltover has always been a city of progress, and we will never stop identifying problems and solving them."

Jayce paused, his tone growing heavier.

"In one such operation, we captured the prime suspect behind the recent bombings in Piltover—Jinx."

He recounted Jinx's crimes with fiery rhetoric, a stark improvement from the hesitant young man who had given speeches months earlier.

His words stirred the crowd, directing all their scorn and hatred toward Jinx.

This was all part of the plan. Silco, Zaun's de facto leader, was expected to attack soon.

However, Piltover's forces were confident in their ability to repel him and secure a glorious victory before the eyes of their citizens.

The staged success would bolster faith in Piltover's strength, proving they could handle any crisis.

Vi, Jinx's elder sister, was also part of the plan. She had begged the council to spare Jinx from execution, convincing them to change the punishment from death to life imprisonment.

With Mel's influence, the council passed Vi's request, framing the change as an act of mercy.

Unbeknownst to most of the council, this shift in punishment was a calculated move.

Piltover intended to keep Jinx alive, using her as leverage against Silco.

They would manipulate him into becoming their agent in Zaun, a double-edged tool to keep tabs on the growing threat beneath the bridge.

Initially, Jayce had opposed the scheme. The underhanded nature of the plan seemed more fitting for someone like Silco than for a noble city like Piltover.

But Mel's words had struck a chord:

"Someone must bear the darkness for Piltover's light to shine."

Now, Jayce understood. Progress was rarely smooth, and sometimes sacrifices had to be made in the shadows. If Piltover was to thrive, he would have to shoulder that burden.

But not everything was proceeding as expected.

The Kiramman family had taken Vi to Stillwater Prison the previous day, an unexpected move that left both Jayce and Mel uneasy.

Yet, they continued to trust that the plan's key details remained intact.

Jayce stood tall on the platform, his voice steady and solemn:

"By unanimous vote of the council, Jinx will face her punishment today—execution by firing. Executioner: Caitlyn Kiramman."

The moment his announcement concluded, a deafening noise erupted from the direction of the sea.

Crash!

The unmistakable sound of ships slamming into Piltover's dam roared through the square.

Waves surged violently as a massive merchant ship rammed ashore, grinding to a halt not far from the execution platform.

The crowd descended into chaos. Citizens screamed and scattered as law enforcement officers rushed in to secure the area. The alarm blared through the city, echoing in every direction.

Jayce's face darkened as he observed the pandemonium, but he quickly began organizing the defense forces according to the prearranged plan.

On the execution platform, Jinx barely moved, her head hanging low. But when the explosive crash tore through the air, her eyes flickered open.

Her gaze locked on the ship that had appeared before her. It loomed over the square like a ghostly omen, its cargo deck towering ominously.

Her breath hitched as she spotted a figure at the bow—a small, wiry silhouette draped in a black trench coat.

Even through the commotion, she recognized him instantly.

Silco.

Jinx's vision blurred as her mind spiraled. No one should come for me. No one should risk their lives for someone as broken as me.

But there he stood, extending his hand toward her.

Her chest tightened, a sharp pang of emotion cutting through her apathy. Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at the man who had shaped her life in so many ways.

Despite everything, he had come.

When no one else would, Silco had reached out to her—again.

For the first time in a long time, Jinx's hardened exterior cracked.

In her tear-streaked haze, one thought resounded clearly:

Someone still needs me.