The most brutal game. (Closed RP)

At this, Swain snorted, rolled his eyes. His expression gradually lightened as he contemplated the board. "He enjoys pictures of his own face. Otherwise, despite his tendency towards the frivolous and flamboyant, he is duty bound and keen to serve his country. Women, ale, flattery. Easy enough to please."

After a few moments further contemplation, he slid the queenside rook directly behind her and leaned back in his chair. Another quick succession of bronchial coughs followed. Beatrice ruffled her feathers in dismay.

Swain stared darkly at his opponent. Withered fingers drumming on the table punctuated the heavy silence that followed. Finally, he averted his eyes from the Chemist's yellow, rumbling, "It's good you bring that up, about Renekton."

He slid his kingside rook across the board in exact mimic of the scientist's move. "When I visit Zaun in a few weeks, to prepare for the Executioner's campaign, I will have him accompany me. I should like for you to examine him. The hemomancer cleansed his blood, but there seem to be lasting effects." Swain pursed his lips behind his shroud. "He is no use to me weak."

A single nod. The slow blink of crimson eyes greeted the Chemist's misgivings. "As presumed," said Swain. He slid the D7 bishop back to E8, safe behind its brother. "He has been sequestered in the castle of late--but I may well be in need of his prowess sooner, rather than later."

Having made his move, the Grand General sat back in his chair again, silent. Beatrice edged closer to him, nipped at a misplaced strand of hair. A gnarled hand brushed it back with the flow of his sidehawk. "If all goes as expected," Swain averted his gaze, the bags beneath his eyes seeming to deepen as he touched upon the topic of his own mortality, "I'll have the final piece for you by mid-May."

A withered hand deposited the black knight at D5, poised to take its white counterpart--or to be taken. But behind it, two pawns ensured that, should Singed choose to advance, the losses would be even. The Grand General added, "By which time we will have a solid foothold in Ionia."

With a gnarled finger, he stroked his familiar's graceful neck. Beatrice trilled contentedly, shut her eyes. "And it is my hope that a few small task forces of the Zaunite military will already be available for emergency dispatch, should the situation call for it. General Laurentine is an efficient officer." Again, he cleared his throat: a cough, a hack, a wheeze. Then he righted himself, one hand spread across his chest, and shook his head. "Excuse me. And I trust you to keep an eye on progress as well, when you can spare it."

Swain allowed himself a quiet chuckle. "I have plans for everywhere, Singed. Or haven't you gathered by now?" A trembling hand pulled the black queen to B8, where she stood out of range of attack.

"But what is your agenda, I wonder." Crimson eyes flashed over his colleague. "The Dark Sovereign would be a powerful ally indeed--but only so long as we can offer her what she desires."

Swain stared blankly across the table. A few moments passed in silence before he laughed: a wheezing cackle of disbelief. He spread a withered hand over his chest in display of his amusement. "Singed, please. You have to be joking." Beatrice chirped in echo of his humor.

The Grand General's wry laughter eventually subsided; he wiped the creases of his eyes with a single gnarled finger before depositing his forwardmost bishop at G5, positioned to strike if a certain pawn were removed from its path. "Kidnap the Will of the Blades? At Syndra's behest? Did you bother to find out why the Sovereign would request such a thing? Did you figure in the consequences? The risks?" Swain shook his head in apparent disbelief. "By the nine hells, Chemist, it's a good thing you brought this to me before acting. Any other preposterous whims of would-be allies about which I should be informed?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly, awaiting further explanation.

Swain nodded slowly. "Useful indeed. If she can be properly managed." His eyes blazed with the fire of his machinations. "It is better to overestimate than to err in carelessness." He tapped his chin with a single gnarled finger, finally nudging the black queen forward one square, to B7.

The general's burning eyes fixed upon the Chemist, though his gaze seemed to pass through his comrade rather than to linger on his bandaged form. "You will need surveillance. Stealth. You will need to familiarize yourself with Irelia's habits in order to discern the proper moment." Swain paused, pursed his lips behind his shroud. "And a distraction. Perhaps I can provide you with these."