As for Logan's claim that the Frostguard would also join the alliance, Ashe clearly didn't believe it.
After thinking it over, she chose to send Tryndamere and several other subtribe leaders back to the Avarosan camp, while she herself stayed behind with Hildhur. Naturally, that decision caused a wave of dissatisfaction among the leaders who had come with her. The Avarosan army was stationed just outside the Winter's Claw stronghold, and now their Warmother was walking straight into enemy territory. It was impossible for them not to be tense. They had kept themselves battle-ready the entire time.
And now Ashe was telling them to take the men back to the Avarosans while she and Hildhur remained here. How was that any different from letting their Warmother become a prisoner of the Winter's Claw?
How could that possibly be acceptable?
But while Ashe was not as domineering as Sejuani, her prestige within the tribe was every bit as great. If she insisted on something, then no matter what the others said, it was useless.
And so, Ashe stayed behind with the Winter's Claw.
Sejuani said nothing about it, but when lunch came around, her appetite was noticeably better than usual. She tore through an entire roast leg of lamb by herself, which made it obvious that her mood was excellent.
Maybe Ashe's trust had pleased her a little?
Those two sisters really were something.
"Logan, I'm honestly curious how you even managed to get involved with the Frostguard."
Inside the Winter's Claw dungeon, Ashe stared in astonishment at the group gathered around a table eating together.
There were men and women mixed together, and most of them had white hair. In the Freljord, white hair was a symbol—a sign of Iceborn blood.
Only those who spent years in contact with true ice would have hair that pure white. The white hair of old age was grayish, not this bright, shining snow-white.
And the only tribe with large numbers of Iceborn was the Frostguard.
Which meant these people really were Frostguard.
But that was the problem. Hadn't Logan said he knew Lissandra? Was the way he got acquainted with her by capturing a bunch of Frostguard and locking them up?
Ashe truly could not make sense of it.
"How did I get involved with them? Well, ask her." Logan pointed at Raelna within the group.
The black armor she had worn before had already been removed. At the moment, she was dressed in a purple wool sweater and black pants, sitting off to one side in sneakers while eating. Her white hair was tied into a long, neat braid behind her head.
At the center of the group was a huge brazier. Nearby, vegetables and all kinds of meat were laid out atop wooden stumps. Raelna was ladling meat and broth into her bowl. At Logan's words, she glanced at Ashe.
"This is… the Warmother of the Avarosans?"
Logan walked over to Raelna. Sejuani followed behind him. Bending down slightly to look at her, Logan said with amusement, "Tell me, do you have any awareness at all that you're supposed to be a prisoner?"
"Heh. Weren't you the one who said you'd already reached an understanding with Lady Lissandra? That the Frostguard would help you, and that I should listen to you?" Raelna snorted, bumping Logan's chest with her shoulder before continuing, "I'm not some prisoner. Stop bothering me while I eat."
"Frostguard, you just believe whatever he says? Aren't you even a little suspicious?" Sejuani said from the side, a trace of displeasure on her face as she looked at Raelna.
These Frostguard people could really eat.
Logan had said all this food was on him and that the Winter's Claw didn't need to provide any of it, but Sejuani still found it irritating to watch a bunch of defeated enemies eating better every day than her own people.
Since when did prisoners start getting treated like this?
"Lady Lissandra sent me here to invite him in the first place, so why would I doubt him? Besides, if he's lying, then when Lady Lissandra arrives, he'll pay the price for it himself. But if he's telling the truth, then wouldn't I just be causing trouble for no reason? If I offend Lady Lissandra and offend him too, what exactly would I gain from that?"
Raelna ate a mouthful of steaming lamb, then tilted up her round face with a faint smile.
"I'm just a nobody. When important people give orders, little people like me just do as they're told."
Hearing that, Logan laughed and patted her on the shoulder.
"In that case, I need you to make a trip back."
Looking at Raelna now, dressed in casual clothes, she was completely different from how she had looked when they first met in that black armor. She had lost some of that solemnity and severity, but in its place there was a hint of youth and liveliness.
"What do you need me to do?" Raelna asked.
"Tell Lissandra to come to the Winter's Claw. I have something I need to discuss with her," Logan said.
Raelna paused at that, narrowed her eyes, and then said, "…Understood."
She didn't ask Logan how he dared say something like that, though she truly wanted to ask him why Lady Lissandra had to come here instead of him going to her.
But Raelna chose silence.
Just as she had said a moment ago, whatever important people did was none of a little person's business. In the Frostguard, soldiers who made decisions on their own were the stupidest kind. They had no value at all.
Meanwhile, Ashe had completely lost track of what kind of expression she was even supposed to make anymore.
"So after you finish this meal, head out this afternoon. It'd be best if you can return with Lissandra in two days. Oh, and if she refuses to come, make sure you tell her this— the sooner she arrives, the sooner I can take care of that matter she wants me to handle."
Logan spoke to Raelna with utter seriousness, as though making sure she understood she absolutely had to pass that along.
Raelna merely gave a lazy hum to show she understood.
At the southern edge of the Freljord.
Blood had dried into dark clots, mixing with mud and snow and staining the man's body. He wore tattered animal hides, and the dark red blotches across them stood out sharply. His black hair was a tangled wreck, like a giant bird's nest. In his broad left hand, he carried an axe. Its haft was made from sturdy frostwood, and its crude head was a massive stone lashed in place with beast intestines.
Just from the state of him, it was obvious how hard this journey had been.
And yet his eyes still burned with sharp life, without the slightest trace of exhaustion.
His resolve was fierce enough to be frightening.
"From the Winterspike Mountains all the way to here…"
The man turned and looked back at the endless snow-covered peaks. Beneath his split brow, his crimson eyes narrowed slightly. There was a trace of unwillingness in those dark red pupils, but soon that reluctance transformed into burning battle intent. With a low growl, he set down the axe, then drew the dagger at his waist, one shaped from sharpened beast fang.
He slashed hard across his palm.
Closing his eyes, Darius forced out a hoarse voice from his throat.
"I'll come back. I swear it to you. I'll come back and take your bodies with me. Don't go too far ahead on the other side. Wait for me to send the Winter's Claw down to you."
After saying that, Darius squeezed his hand hard, letting blood drip onto the frozen ground, where it quickly congealed into crimson ice. He drew a deep breath, bent down to pick up his axe, then turned and strode south.
This time, he would not look back again.
He would admit his defeat, and he was willing to accept whatever judgment awaited him when he returned to the empire. But he would not yield. He would return to the Freljord bearing the will of Noxus.
He had to.
And the reason he refused to look back now was so that when he next "met" them, he could put aside the guilt in his heart.
He pressed on toward Delverhold, each step difficult in the ice and snow. He did not let his thoughts wander. His will remained firm as he walked, step by step, toward his destination.
Only after he had lost all sense of time, when the sky was already darkening, did Darius finally see the gray-black smoke rising into the sky.
That was Delverhold.
The exhaustion buried in his heart loosened a little at once, and Darius let out a breath of relief.
"Halt!"
"This is Delverhold, Noxian territory. Outsiders aren't allowed in— wait, you, y-you're General Darius?"
"By the gods, it's General Darius! The general's back!"
"Quick, open the gates! Let the general in!"
"General Darius, we finally found you!"
Darius had only just approached Delverhold when a group of soldiers moved to stop him, but before he could even state his identity, they recognized him.
That wasn't strange. Over the years, Darius had fought in the north constantly, pushing all the way into the depths of the Freljord until he ran into the Winter's Claw. That was where he had been defeated—and badly. He had been stationed in Delverhold for years, so it was only natural that the soldiers in the fortress recognized him.
But what confused Darius was this—
Why were these soldiers being so… polite?
He had already prepared himself to swat away the arrows that would come flying at him and then roar out his name. After all, when a stranger approached Delverhold, the usual result was being turned into a pincushion.
But what had they done instead?
They had only warned him.
"General Darius!"
Just as Darius was feeling confused, a somewhat familiar voice rang out. He looked up and saw a soldier in armor rushing toward him.
She was a young soldier, a girl, her face pale and bare, her eyes red as she stared at him.
"Maja?" Darius froze when he saw her.
Then another thunderous shout rose up.
It came from a huge minotaur, who bellowed, "General, you're finally back!"
"Zalt?" The sight of the minotaur only left Darius even more bewildered.
Zalt hurried over to Darius's side. He was one of Darius's most reliable subordinates. Though he was a minotaur, his loyalty to Darius was absolute. He was practically one of his personal guards. And now he was looking at Darius with tears brimming in his eyes.
"You—how are you here?" Darius reached out with both hands and gripped Zalt's broad arm tightly. "Did you get out too? What about the others? Did they make it out too?"
Maybe Darius himself hadn't realized it, but there was a tremor in his voice.
Zalt managing to escape would not have been strange. He was a minotaur—immensely strong, incredibly resilient. But how had Maja escaped too?
She was just a green recruit.
If even she had made it out… then what about the others?
Noxians all said Darius was a beast, a devil. But the truth was that Darius was not some cold, heartless man. He simply knew that on the battlefield, emotion only brought trouble. So whenever he fought, he turned himself into a merciless machine of war.
But once he stepped off the battlefield, Darius was still a man. He had children of his own, family, friends. He had climbed from common birth to the rank he held now, and because of that, he understood the hardship and suffering of ordinary soldiers better than most.
That was why, within the army, Darius often went straight to the front lines to talk with the men and train them himself.
And because of that, he was deeply loved and trusted by his soldiers.
"General, the Winter's Claw released us. They took care of us on the way, and when we reached the border, they let us go," Maja said.
Zalt reached up and rubbed his head with one huge hand. One of his horns had been broken off, and in a simple, guileless tone he said, "General, the Winter's Claw folks aren't bad."
Darius's cheek twitched.
Zalt's words genuinely horrified him.
The Winter's Claw weren't bad?
Had this idiot forgotten the part where, when they were slaves, the Winter's Claw had fed them weeds?
"What exactly happened?" But that was simply how minotaurs were. They were incredibly strong, born warriors, but also simple and straightforward. As far as minotaurs were concerned, if you gave them food and a place to stay, they could agree to just about anything.
They didn't chase fame or wealth. There was only one reason they became warriors—
to eat their fill.
Which was precisely why Darius couldn't trust Zalt's judgment. He turned his eyes to Maja instead.
Maja took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and grabbed Darius by the arm.
"General, let's go inside first. You should rest a little. Don't worry—everyone's okay. Aside from the people who froze or starved to death at the very beginning, everyone survived."
"From the day you left onward, we didn't lose a single person. Everyone made it safely back to Noxus," Maja said seriously.
Darius froze, then nodded and let Maja help him into the fortress.
Hot water ran over Darius's body, and afterward he changed into clean clothes. Once he was done bathing, the exhaustion left him half-drowsy, but there was no way he could sleep without first getting the full story.
And so Darius sat in a chair, while across from him stood Maja and a group of soldiers whose names he knew by heart.
"So," Darius asked, "what happened?"
Maja spoke up loudly.
"General, on the fifth day after you escaped, a Zaunite named Logan came to the Winter's Claw. He was the one who got the leader of the Winter's Claw to release us."
"Logan? Who's that?" Darius frowned in confusion. He could understand it if the one who had ordered Maja and the others freed had been someone from the Winter's Claw, but… a Zaunite?
What gave a Zaunite the right?
And more importantly, who even was Logan?
Maja's eyes lit up as she continued, "That's a long story, General. While we were campaigning in the north, a great upheaval happened in Noxus. Grand General Swain launched a coup against Darkwill, and in the marketplace before the Immortal Bastion, he had Darkwill dragged to the gallows and executed in front of all the people."
"Swain?" Darius narrowed his eyes and drew in a breath.
Swain was a man even Darius respected.
But… hadn't he been loyal to Darkwill? His loyalty to the emperor had seemed no less than Darius's own.
Then Darius reconsidered and realized he was wrong.
Swain had never been loyal to any one man, nor to power itself. He had been loyal to the nation.
Darkwill had grown senile in his later years, making one disastrous decision after another. It wasn't surprising that Swain had finally moved against him.
Through Maja's explanation, Darius gradually learned what had happened recently in Noxus.
And then Maja began to tell him about Logan.
"General, Lord Logan is an ally of Noxus. Together with Lord Swain and Lady LeBlanc, he is one of the three ruling seats of Noxus. Lord Swain holds civil and military authority, Lady LeBlanc oversees diplomacy, and Lord Logan serves as special envoy. The reason we were able to escape this time is because Lord Swain asked Lord Logan to rescue us. He went north alone, deep into Winter's Claw territory, and confronted Sejuani, the Warmother of the Winter's Claw…"
As Maja spoke of Logan, her eyes were full of admiration.
It was precisely because she had fought in the Freljord that she understood better than anyone what kind of place it was.
And yet Lord Logan had gone there alone, deep into enemy territory.
That was the Winter's Claw.
Their entire legion had not even been able to defeat one subtribe of the Winter's Claw, yet Lord Logan had successfully persuaded the Warmother herself.
How could that kind of courage and nerve not earn Maja's admiration?
After hearing all that, Darius finally had some understanding of Logan, and despite himself, he felt genuine gratitude toward him.
As for Swain…
Well, forget it.
As far as Darius was concerned, Swain would make a far better emperor than Darkwill ever had.
Swain was Noxus's Grand General. Darius had followed his orders before, and because of that, he understood what kind of man Swain was.
After a long silence, Darius finally said hesitantly,
"So… I made that whole trip for nothing?"
"All that fighting, all those battles against men and beasts, drinking morning dew, eating raw meat… I did all of that to myself for no reason?"
Because if he had known things were going to turn out like this…
Wouldn't it have been better if he'd just stayed put and waited?
For a moment, Darius felt more than a little depressed.
Maja and Zalt laughed first.
Then the soldiers behind them started laughing too, loud and open.
As if it were contagious, the whole room—and even the people outside it—soon erupted into laughter.
And hearing all of it, Darius lowered his head.
Yet the corner of his mouth slowly lifted on its own.
With that faint curve on his face, Darius murmured inwardly,
"Making it through alive… really is a good feeling."
His gaze softened with emotion as the thought crossed his mind.
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