"Stop—everyone, stop!"
Donna raised one hand and barked the order. That sudden shout made the Winter's Claw warriors surrounding Logan freeze in place.
Even so, they stared at Logan like hungry wolves. Weapons were already in hand, and their mounts rumbled with low, threatening growls.
Logan acted as if none of it mattered. One arm stayed around Jinx's shoulders, while his other hand still pressed the drüvask boar down.
Donna first glanced at Vanna beneath her—still making terrified noises, squealing and whining—then looked back at Logan and said evenly, "No wonder you dared come to the Freljord with just two people. Looks like John got fooled. Someone like you doesn't come here to 'sightsee.'"
"So," she said, stepping down from the boar and planting her bare feet in the snow, "who are you really?"
Since Donna was willing to talk, Logan released his grip and let the drüvask go.
The instant Logan lifted his hand, the massive boar kicked hard—then scurried behind Donna, burying its head like a frightened animal hiding behind its owner. It didn't dare look at Logan again.
Logan spent so much time around Ahri and Kindred that their presence clung to him. Humans couldn't really catch it—but beasts like drüvask boars, whose ancestors carried traces of divinity, absolutely could. When Vanna had locked eyes with Logan earlier, it had smelled something it couldn't resist.
And in the Freljord, that kind of dangerous scent came in many forms.
"I'm from Zaun," Logan said.
"From Zaun?" Donna sneered. She slid one hand behind her back, fingers brushing toward a weapon as she spoke. "Vanna only snaps like that when she catches a familiar, hateful scent. And the only ones who make her that angry are Noxians—people who hurt her before."
"You say you're from Zaun," Donna continued, "but the way I see it… you look like a Noxian."
Logan blinked, then tilted his head to look at the boar hiding behind Donna.
Truthfully, if the earlier conversation between Winter's Claw and the caravan hadn't shifted Logan's view, and if Jinx hadn't rushed in without thinking and set the boar off—he wouldn't have bothered talking at all. He would've just fought.
Not because he "hated" Winter's Claw, but because he'd come to the Freljord to rescue Darius.
Right now, he was cooperating with Swain. Noxus and Winter's Claw were enemies. In that situation, Logan naturally leaned toward Swain's side.
But Logan was also reasonable. What Winter's Claw did with caravans was basically a mutual agreement—one side paid, the other provided protection. John's attitude made it obvious: traveling merchants in the Freljord really were being protected by Winter's Claw.
The Freljord was chaos. Tribes carved the land into pieces, and the word "order" barely existed outside of Ashe's Avarosans. The other tribes didn't care about rules—killing and taking were how they communicated.
If Logan had to compare it, he'd say: if Noxians were brutal, then Freljordians were primal.
In the most savage corner of Runeterra, Logan couldn't judge local behavior using his own standards.
And beyond that—this mess really did start because Jinx charged in, cluelessly trying to say hello. And now that Logan looked at it again, Donna's earlier harsh "get back" hadn't been cruelty at all. She'd been trying to protect Jinx.
When Vanna lost control, Donna had tried to rein her in immediately—she just failed.
That was why Logan had subdued the boar instead of killing it.
Logan had always been fairly gentle. Otherwise, he never could've endured Jinx.
He loved Jinx. He adored her. He spoiled her.
But her temper really wasn't something most people could handle. Like a lot of people said after seeing Arcane—she's a character you can love and pity on a screen, but if you met someone like her in real life, even if she was gorgeous, your first instinct would be to run.
Who would want to bind themselves to someone unstable for life?
But Logan did.
And when he remembered what he'd once told Jinx, it felt painfully accurate.
Jinx was Zaun's little disaster. Logan was Zaun's bigger one.
And Logan had always known something else too—his enemies weren't Noxians, or Freljordians, or Demacians.
From the beginning, he'd been preparing for the future.
Back when he was weak, he didn't think like that. If the sky fell, someone taller would hold it up. If the Void ever invaded Runeterra, people like Lissandra, Ornn, Azir, and Ryze would be the ones to solve it. If Mordekaiser truly returned, then LeBlanc and Swain would be the ones losing sleep over it.
But as Logan grew stronger—and as the number of people he needed to protect kept growing—his thinking changed.
He began to shoulder responsibility.
From the day Zaunites started calling him Zaun's ruler, he was carrying countless lives and futures on his back. And quietly, he'd started planning something bigger.
First Bilgewater, then Ionia, now Noxus—so why couldn't the Freljord be next?
If an alliance was going to be born, the first step was simple:
Talk.
"I did come from Noxus," Logan said, calm and sincere, meeting Donna's gaze. "But I'm not Noxian."
"My name is Logan. I'm from Zaun. I came to the Freljord to find someone."
"Find someone?" Donna narrowed her eyes.
She withdrew her hand from her weapon and held Logan's stare. Something about him made her want to believe him.
It was strange, but she had to admit it—her hostility faded a little. Still, she asked cautiously, "Who are you looking for?"
"Darius," Logan said. "A Noxian."
Old John, listening from behind, went pale with fear. In that moment, he even regretted taking Logan and Jinx in.
Saying you're here to find a Noxian—right in front of Winter's Claw?
Was this kid trying to get them all killed?
And sure enough, the moment Donna heard it, the tiny spark of goodwill she'd felt vanished. She sneered again.
Anger sharpened her pretty face. She glared at Logan and said in a low voice, "You're standing in front of me and telling me you came to the Freljord to find a Noxian? Do you have any idea what Noxus has done to us?"
"I know," Logan said, shaking his head. "And it doesn't conflict with what I'm here to do."
Then he smiled at Donna. "I'm here on orders from Noxus's Grand General to retrieve someone. The war between Noxus and Winter's Claw is over. Noxus lost. You're the victors."
"But keeping those prisoners helps you less than it hurts you, doesn't it?" Logan continued. "You don't have spare food for them. They can't truly work for you. They'll sabotage and try to escape every chance they get. So why keep them?"
"Absurd!" Donna snapped. One hand on her hip, she stabbed a finger toward Logan's face. "You're strong—maybe the dozen of us can't stop you—but what do you think Winter's Claw is?"
"You started the war. When it ends isn't for you to decide—it's for our warmother to decide!"
"Don't rush me," Logan said. "I'm not finished."
He remembered the joy on Winter's Claw faces when they hauled away food earlier, and his smile widened. "Noxus lost. If Noxus wants its prisoners back, it has to pay the price."
"So I'm willing to make a trade on Noxus's behalf."
"A trade?" Donna's brow furrowed.
"Yes," Logan said, spreading his hands. "You're short on food, aren't you? And I just so happen to have a lot of food."
"Trade me the Noxians you captured, and for each Noxian…"
Logan lifted his hand toward Donna and raised a single finger.
Donna's eyes lit up instantly. "One Noxian for ten pounds of food?"
If that was real, then she'd just made a huge score.
Logan was right: those Noxians couldn't endure the Freljord cold. Once Winter's Claw captured them, they didn't get coddled. They were fed just enough to keep them alive, then driven into hard labor—helping Winter's Claw set up winter camps in deadly cold.
Winter's Claw was nomadic, but every winter they still made camp. Food ran thin, and the old and the young couldn't survive endless travel through storms. Stopping for the season was necessary.
And those Noxians? They deserved every hardship. They were useless—too afraid of the cold, lazy at work, always complaining. The warmother didn't care whether they lived. If one collapsed from exhaustion, they were thrown into the frozen ground. If one starved, same thing.
Why not feed them to the mounts?
Because you didn't keep mounts that had eaten people. A beast that learned the taste of humans would attack again.
So yes—keeping them was more trouble than it was worth.
But if they could be exchanged for food…
One person for ten pounds, and there were at least four hundred Noxian soldiers left in the tribe's hands—four thousand pounds of food.
With what they'd just taken from the caravan plus that much more, Winter's Claw wouldn't have to suffer through the winter at all.
Donna was about to agree on the spot—on her warmother's behalf.
Donna wasn't an ordinary warrior. Sejuani was grooming her like a future commander, which meant Donna did have the authority to release Noxian prisoners in a deal like this.
Sejuani didn't respect those Noxians anyway.
A Noxian general had led an army into the Freljord, and in the end, the warmother didn't even have to show her face. The ones who beat Noxus were only a Winter's Claw detachment.
Yes—one detachment… and they still crushed Noxus.
But then the black-haired young man in front of Donna chuckled and shook his head.
"It's one hundred pounds," Logan said.
"One Noxian can be exchanged for one hundred pounds of food. And if you give me the man I'm looking for, you can get two thousand pounds of food."
"H-how… how much?" Donna's mouth fell open.
Around her, the other Winter's Claw warriors also stared at Logan like he'd lost his mind.
"You're serious?" Donna blurted, stepping right up to him. "You're not joking?"
Earlier, she'd kept her distance because this man was terrifyingly strong. If he grabbed her—after what he'd done to Vanna—Donna had no doubt he could rip her apart.
But now, she forgot about her own safety entirely and stood right in front of him.
"You can really give us that much food?" Donna's voice held a trembling hope—almost desperation.
Logan looked at her, at the way she stared at him like she was begging. He froze for a beat.
Then he nodded. "Let me introduce myself properly again. My name is Logan. I'm from Zaun."
"And I have another name," he added, smiling. "Zaun's ruler."
"Zaun's ruler?!" Old John was the one who shouted it. His beard quivered as he stared at Logan in shock.
Donna turned to look at John. Catching her gaze, John quickly bowed and said, "If what he says is true—if he really is Zaun's ruler—then he really can give Winter's Claw that much food."
Before John even finished, Donna grabbed Logan's hand.
She clutched him with both hands, holding on like she was afraid he'd vanish, her face lit with joy.
"Hey!" Jinx immediately bristled.
She brought her hands together, then chopped downward, splitting Donna's grip off Logan. Jinx planted herself at Logan's side and stared at Donna with clear displeasure.
Donna sucked in a breath and forced herself to calm down. "Sorry. I… I lost control."
Then she gave Logan a blatantly ingratiating smile. The cold, stern warrior from earlier was gone—she didn't even look like a fighter anymore.
Because what was a warrior's pride worth if your people couldn't eat?
What was pride worth if the old and the children couldn't survive the winter?
Nothing.
To Freljordians, food was everything. It was the only thing that mattered.
And now an outsider with absurd wealth was offering Winter's Claw endless food, and all Winter's Claw had to do was release a bunch of weak, stupid Noxians.
How was that any different from being handed a gift?
Forget pride—if Logan could truly bring Winter's Claw that much food, Donna would kneel if he asked. She would.
The girl—who was even younger than Jinx—rubbed her hands together, then spoke shyly. "My name is Donna. I used to be from the Frostwolf clan. Now I'm a Winter's Claw warrior."
"I'll take you to our warmother right away," Donna said quickly. "This isn't something I can decide alone anymore. You have to come with me to Winter's Claw—meet our warmother."
Her urgency was unmistakable.
Logan looked at Donna's expression and couldn't help feeling amused… and a little moved.
Freljordians were absolutely among the strongest people in Runeterra.
You could see it in how Darius led an army to invade the Freljord and got crushed so badly he didn't even get to see Sejuani. Or how Sylas got Sejuani's help, marched with a group of Winter's Claw warriors into Demacia, and pushed deep enough that Galio had to appear.
The Freljord… was full of monsters.
But those monsters were trapped by one thing:
Food.
They were unbelievably strong—and unbelievably poor.
A thousand pounds of food was nothing to Logan. Zaun's fishing fleets near Bilgewater could return from a single trip with thousands—tens of thousands—of pounds of fish. And when Hextech cannons brought down sea beasts, that was tens of tons of meat.
But what was nothing to Zaun meant everything to Winter's Claw.
Donna thought giving up Noxian prisoners was a small thing. And Logan thought giving up food was a small thing too.
And on top of that—he could go straight to Sejuani now. That was something Logan hadn't expected at all.
Thinking about it, Logan couldn't help but feel it again:
Technology really did change everything.
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