The Redemption of Jericho Swain
Chapter 21: No Tears
"No tears, Jericho." As always, his mother's voice held a soft firmness that reminded Swain of a mountain, though today it was tainted by undertones of weariness. "He'd want you to stay true to the Noxian way, like he did, even in death." Jericho Swain, son of the late Joshua Swain, said nothing in response, merely wiping away what little moisture had gathered at the corners of his eyes. He was, like his father, and his grandfather before him, a true Noxian. Noxians would show no pain. Noxians would feel no pain. Strength above all else.
The proceedings were in accordance with a standard Noxian military funeral. Second Lieutenant Swain's body was cremated, and his family was slated to receive a modest pension. Noxian soldiers were celebrated in life, and in death their families were cared for by the government until such a point where it was deemed no longer necessary. Life would be harder for Jericho and his mother, but they'd get by.
- - -
Most who knew of Noxus knew of the giant mountain that it was built into, and the skull-like visage thereof. The truth, however, was that the visible part of Noxus was a relatively small section of the city. Tunnels riddled the mountain, and generations of residents had built atop the ruins of their predecessors, resulting in a layered hive of dark, labyrinthine structures that often expanded more vertically than horizontally. The more well-to-do lived closer to the sun, terminating in the surface-dwelling elite. On the opposite end of the spectrum, the Noxian slums were where those without money or fame lived, and even with the pension Jericho and his mother found themselves forced to move downward into their depths.
Being a mostly lawless area, living in the slums of Noxus came with a certain set of inherent risks. Though it wasn't as toxic as in Zaun, being able to distill water was an essential skill for anyone who lived within those darkened tunnels. Finding food was often the main problem that the residents of Noxus concerned themselves with, since money was often scarce. One of the biggest threats besides that, though, came in the form of the competitive nature of Noxian society. Thieves and scoundrels were often ignored by the limited guard for more pressing matters, and to a degree were actively approved of as a mechanism for natural selection. It was within this mechanism that Jericho now found himself a cogwheel, though, an intelligent, physically fit young man such as himself had little to fear, as he swiftly determined to demonstrate to his attackers.
"Hold still, you little worm!" Jericho wasn't about to comply with the would-be cutpurse, and responded by ducking beneath his attacker's clumsily wielded dagger, and aiming a punch at the thief's stomach. He felt a bit of grim satisfaction as his punch connected, but it soured as he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as a second attacker's blade found its mark. With an enraged cry, he let the familiar rush of magic flow through him. Jericho whirled about, planting his palm on the face of the second thief. Both Jericho and the thief screamed in agony as wisps of black magical energy erupted from the thief and siphoned into Jericho.
It was over in seconds. The first thief stared in horror as the withered husk of his comrade fell to the ground, crumbling into dust as it impacted the worn cobblestones of the Noxian slums. Jericho took advantage of the thief's stunned state to pick up the dagger that was now resting a few inches from his foot, casually working the kinks out of his now-healed shoulder. With a menacing grin, Jericho turned to the surviving thief, relishing the look of terror on his soon-to-be victim.
- - -
Killing thieves had proven quite profitable and guiltless the first time, so Jericho decided to make it a habit to help supplement the pension he and his mother lived off of, and to fuel his ever growing addiction to knowledge, especially of magic. His mother had never approved of Jericho's spells, but the results were too much to argue with, so pragmatism overruled superstitious fear. Despite the petty arguments and being constantly shadowed by the spectre of death, life in Noxus' dark underbelly would be what Jericho would later think of as his happiest days, or at least his simplest.
Jericho prowled quietly through the streets, looking for his prey. The most successful thieves were extremely dangerous, and honestly not worth the effort, but right below that link on the food chain were those thugs who were successful enough to have worthy loot, but not yet experienced enough to know the value of being completely unknown. Their pride would be their undoing, as they walked with confidence through the streets, demanding fear and respect from the denizens of Noxus that quietly skulked and slithered away, desperately hoping to avoid attention while treading in places that no guard ever would.
It took a few hours before opportunity presented itself. Organized crime wasn't uncommon in Noxus by any stretch, and it was generally pretty easy to prey upon the low ranking thugs who didn't realize how replaceable they were within their organizations. Jericho had been sniping at them for a while, and this one looked to be relatively well off. With an arrogant smirk, he followed silently until his target finally stopped in an alleyway, seemingly waiting for someone. Jericho decided to be that person. It was over in an instant, and a veritable treasure trove was his reward. This man had apparently been a courier for one of the various crime bosses. Confident that he had gotten away with his deed unnoticed, he allowed himself a moment of whispered triumph. "Take the name of Jericho Swain to your grave, simpleton. At this rate, I'll easily be able to leave this hellhole."
He didn't notice a shadow retreating into the darkness as he headed home.
- - -
Fire swirled around him as he searched desperately for his mother, wincing slightly as his treasured collection of books were set ablaze. "Mother! Where are you?"
The sound of pained coughing guided him to his mother's room, which had been barricaded from the outside, an obstacle that cost him several precious minutes. As he finally burst through the door, crying out in pain as the rush of hot air inside scorched the cloth protecting his face. The too-familiar scent of blood greeted him as he rushed to his mother, inspecting the red stain at her chest. She gave him a pained grin and a hollow laugh. "Jericho, my son, my stupid, loving son," she said, stopping a moment to cough the blood out of her lungs. "You need to leave. Don't let your emotions overtake you while you aren't safe."
"No," Jericho replied, confidently striding to his mother to lift her up. "We'll get out of here, and we'll make them pay. We'll show-" He was cut short as the roof finally began to give way, and a burning timber came crashing down on the both of them. By now, the smoke had started to fill his lungs, and he was beginning to get dizzy. With a detached realization, he looked to his pinned right leg, and saw with a sickening fascination that it had snapped completely in half, the jagged bone protruding from his skin.
He jerked his head back up towards his mother as he felt a hand on his. Jericho's mother, her strength ebbing, had grabbed hold of his hand and was slowly guiding it upward until it rested firmly on her forehead. Smiling sadly as she saw the horrified look of realization on her son's face, she whispered, "No tears, Jericho."
Anger, hatred, sadness, and regret bubbled up within him alongside the dark magic, and Jericho let out one final, feral scream as his mother's life force was sucked into his body.
- - -
Jericho finally collapsed in an alley as the last of his borrowed strength left him. He began to close his eyes, only to jerk them back open as he felt a light weight on his chest. Sitting atop his chest was a raven unlike any he had seen, with six glowing red eyes narrowed at him. Like a ton of bricks slammed into his head, he heard a voice within his mind. 'Potential noticed. Offer to be made. Your life. Your revenge. Your success. Collateral? Your soul, until our business is through.'
Jericho smiled weakly. "I'm listening."
A day later, a young adult named Jericho Swain baffled doctors at a Noxian clinic when, after showing up with a snapped leg, he refused all magical treatment. On his new friends' advice, he chose to avoid the kind of crippling medical debt that would entail, as well as have a new keepsake of what happens when arrogance and emotion overcomes cold reason. Equally baffling was the complete lack of any records on the youth, as if they had all mysteriously vanished. Still, his money was good, so Jericho departed shortly afterward sporting a splint and a crutch.
A month later, one of Noxus' most successful crime syndicates had collapsed as an unknown assailant left a trail of blood through their ranks, causing months of economic instability as the power vacuum caused a crime war. Of course, amidst the bloodshed, nobody noticed a few extra people disappearing for Jericho's 'lessons'.
A year later, the start of Noxus' most celebrated general's rise to power occurred as First Lieutenant Swain was inducted into the Noxian army.
- - -
Swain, despite his erudite tendencies, had never been much to sit in contemplation. After Riven had departed, he had spent more time than he had in years reminiscing about the past, and how he got to where he was. Now, having broken free of his debt to the Void, and ascended to the head of Noxian power, and in position to attain immortality itself, he was facing more success than ever. Yet, something was missing, and that frustrated him. He was still missing that final key that would make Noxus, and his rule over it, indefinite. It was something that he could only understand as an outside observer, something that he had forsaken in his bargain to become the man he was at that moment. Sifting through his memories like a drill sergeant sifting through recruits to see which ones were worth keeping, he felt like he might finally have some sort of vague perception of the things he had left behind though. It was worth meditating on further.
Much to his chagrin, though, his contemplations were interrupted with a loud pop. Twilight Sparkle stood before him, looking more than a little unhinged. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her expression consisted of an odd juxtaposition of fresh tears and a manic grin. "This your fault! I figured it out. You did this to me. Your corrupting influence, your scheming. Everything was fine before you came. Now I've tried to kill someone, and I can't tap into my Element, and my friends are probably sitting outside my door thinking I've lost it! Well, I have! Only someone who's turned to evil would try to kill someone else in cold blood. It's okay though, I can deal with this. I'll start my new life as being evil by killing you, Jericho Swain!"
Swain stared flatly at Twilight for a moment, not sure if he should burst into laughter or get up and walk out of the room. In the end though, he decided on neither. "Sit down, Twilight," he said in a completely deadpan voice, startling Twilight into submission.
"But aren't you going to fight back? Or run away? Or something?"
Swain sighed as he got up. "No, stupid little girl. I'm going to get some tea, and then I'm going to lecture one of the supposed moral icons of her world on motivation, intent, and how they factor into her own system of morality."
Twilight simply sat there for several seconds, unsure of what to do, before responding. "But I had this all planned out. It made perfect sense when I thought about it, and despite what my friends think I've gotten a lot better at thinking while under stress. I was supposed to teleport in, we would have a climactic battle, and while I was distracted all of my friends would subdue me, keep me sedated until we find a way home, and then Princess Celestia would banish me to the moon for being evil."
Swain rang a small bell by the doorway before sitting back down. "I admit it. You Equestrians are completely beyond my understanding. How a race like yours ever survived is beyond astonishing. You're all completely mentally unstable, prone to emotional extremes that would get you killed here. You were captured, tortured, forced into battle, and you feel... guilty? Just because some of that pent up trauma found its way out? I am a man of logic above all else, and this confounds me. Do your people really think that morality is that simple? You commit an action, and that action is good or evil independent of its circumstances?"
"...I guess you have a point, a little, but-," started Twilight, only to be interrupted by Swain.
"But nothing. Your ignorance is infuriating. No complete moral system is binary." Swain paused for a moment, catching himself as his emotions began to get the better of him, a problem that had been occurring more and more since he had been subjected to that strange world. It would be too easy to let his emotions get out of hand. Showing Twilight his confusion and frustration could lead to repercussions in the future by...
A wave of realization hit Swain. Humanizing himself could serve to endear himself to the aliens, and although he didn't trust Nightmare in the least, he wasn't about to risk missing out on Nightmare's promise of immortality when this one action had no foreseeable negative consequences, especially when he wasn't sure if Nightmare's motives were necessarily harmful to him. Adding to that, helping Twilight would only further his cause. "Okay, Twilight. Consider the circumstance from a little further back. I realize that you have probably thoroughly demonized my stance on anything concerning the issue, but cold logic has its place in life. You probably came here hoping that someone who has killed in cold blood could show you how to deal with your actions. Perhaps you thought fighting me might redeem you in some aspect, or give you a method of living without remorse.
"Understand that despite what you might think, I do live by a code of morality that I consider to be just as binding as you consider yours. I may always work for my own benefit, but I have also chosen to, whenever possible, work towards the benefit of my country, not simply for what it gives me as its head, but out of genuine loyalty to the concepts it represents. I am not ignorant of what it means to be bound by such artificial constraints. Now, consider your actions. You, after experiencing significant trauma, have had no time to deal with it, instead being ripped from your world into what is ostensibly the opposite. Your friends who you rely upon to support you have been going through the same trials you have, for the most part, and are often too busy to do much consideration of it. All of this in mind, now consider how you felt the moment you saw Singed. Obviously, you would not be in a fit mental state to make rational decisions. Does this mean that what you attempted did not clash with your chosen code of morality? No, it simply means you have justifiable cause, and thus can work to reconcile with your version of right and wrong without feeling like a monster. You have simply made a mistake that can be learned from."
Twilight deflated a little. "I... I hate to admit it, but I can't really find fault with what you're saying. It's just... Why are you doing this, Swain? Why are you trying to help me? You were one of the ones responsible for my problems in the first place. It's so confusing."
Swain took a moment to sip his tea before rubbing his temples. "Listen, Twilight. I am a man dedicated to self-improvement. I recognize that my own knowledge is incomplete, and I might have picked up a few things from you and your world. Don't misunderstand me, my values are still completely alien to you, but know that I am not a static creature. That being said, helping you helps me. It also makes Riven happy, and right now I need her on my side for reforming Noxus later."
"Okay... Um... Thank you? I think... I'm just gonna go assure the girls that I haven't completely snapped... yeah..." Twilight hastily began her retreat from the room.
Swain nodded his goodbye at her before commenting, "Remember, there'll come a time when you have to do things that go against your heart, but you know they're what you have to do. When that happens, just do it. No tears."