Chapter (8):the price to be a king
In a certain village,
The villagers were performing some worship rituals, and as they offered sacrifices to Haestryr, a certain little girl noticed something and asked her mother, "Mom, what is that?"
The girl looked and pointed her finger toward a certain mountain. The mother turned to look and was filled with terror.
There was an entire horde of massive creatures, and the mother recognized them immediately. She screamed with all her might:
"Trolls!"
All the villagers turned toward the woman, following her finger to where she was screaming, and as she grabbed her child to flee, they saw the trolls and panicked instantly.
"Trolls!, run! Hurry! Hurry!"
The trolls were charging like a tsunami, heading toward the village like an unstoppable tide. The thunderous sound of their footsteps echoed like war drums as they approached.
When the trolls reached the village, the first to confront them were the warriors.
From a distance, Trundle saw an old man with a long white beard carrying a staff.
Trundle felt something familiar about him and knew exactly what that feeling was-it was the same sensation he got when near one of the wandering Ice Guards. This man was...
"A shaman! That man is a shaman! Everyone, fall back... He's casting a spell! Retreat!"
None of the trolls listened to Trundle, despite his shouts and warnings. Just as they were about to rush the village gate, the shaman completed his incantation.
From nowhere, icy spears erupted from the ground, impaling many of the trolls. The attack completely shattered their momentum, forcing them to retreat a few steps. After a moment, the spears vanished, and the dead trolls collapsed. But before they could recover from the sudden assault, arrows rained down on them from afar.
The trolls were being pelted by arrows, though the projectiles didn't deal significant damage due to their regenerative abilities. However, the arrows piercing their flesh and getting stuck due to their healing nature caused excruciating pain-equivalent to three arrows striking the same spot.
"You foolish trolls! Use the bodies of these dead bastards as shields! That's an order!"
This time, the trolls obeyed Trundle. They used their fallen comrades' bodies as shields, blocking the arrows while slowly advancing.
The village warriors shouted and prepared for close combat.
"Kill these weakness!"
Trundle leaped forward, charging at the front-line warriors, and the other trolls followed. Their frontal assault was slow and weak, not to mention the arrows still raining down. But Trundle focused on something else.
He saw the fleeing villagers-children, young men, women, and the elderly. The sight of them escaping enraged him, and he barked an order to the trolls:
"Those enemies are running away! You there-go and kill them!"
As soon as Trundle spoke, a group of trolls broke off to chase the fleeing villagers. The shaman witnessed everything and, consumed by fury, unleashed a barrage of vicious ice spells at Trundle.
Trundle cursed his luck and tried to dodge, but he was wounded in several places. He glared at the shaman, who shouted at him in rage:
"You vile creature! You kill woman and children?! How low your level?!"
"low as killing you!"
"I will show you the wrath of Haestryr!"
The shaman unleashed every ice spell he could summon to kill Trundle.
Trundle ran for his life, dodging every spear aimed at him. He weaved closer to the shaman, just enough to-
He lunged, swinging his club, but an ice wall blocked his strike. Shocked, Trolndel smashed the wall a few times, shattering it.
The broken shards transformed into flying daggers aimed at his face. Trolndel barely managed to block them with his arm, protecting his vitals.
"Damn it! What's wrong with this human?! Why is he so absurdly strong?!"
"Every time I try to get close, he pushes me back or shields himself with that stupid wall! Am I going to lose... again?"
No! Not again!
"Grrraaaahhh!"
This time, Trundle charged recklessly, ignoring everything coming at him, focusing only on killing the shaman. He ignored the spears, the wall-everything. His body was riddled with wounds, but just as he was about to strike the shaman down-
Suddenly, ice chains materialized, binding him completely. He felt helpless and stunned. Then, he saw multiple ice spears appear behind the shaman. In that moment, Trundle knew it was over.
"This is for the death you've caused, troll!"
The spears flew toward him. Trundle desperately struggled against the chains as the spears came within a hair's breadth of impaling him. He closed his eyes, expecting death-but nothing happened.
When he opened his eyes, he was stunned by what he saw.
The shaman was coughing up blood, clutching his stomach as if in agony. He knelt, then collapsed, motionless. As he fell, the ice magic dissipated, freeing Trundle.
Trundle approached the shaman, shocked by what he discovered. Upon checking:
"He's dead? But I didn't even hit him! Then how...? Did... Did his time just run out?"
Trundle should have been overjoyed that the shaman was dead. He would join the other trolls, finish off the remaining warriors quickly, and get what he wanted.
But the fact that the shaman had died of old age left the worst taste Trundle had ever experienced-worse than the bitterness of his defeat at the hands of that Noxian warrior.
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"
Trundle seethed with rage as he looked around the village, now a devastated battlefield. Despite outnumbering the villagers, the trolls were being outmatched-warriors fought valiantly, taking them down one by one.
Trundle cast a final glance at the warriors before joining the fray to end it...
.
.
.
Meanwhile, Lissandra sat on her throne-a massive block of shimmering black ice under the moonlight-deep in thought.
"My lady."
"What is it? I did not summon you, Inquisitor."
"I do not doubt you, Lady of Ice and Darkness, but... is it truly safe to entrust such a important mission to a troll?"
"Because I want to see if he will be a useful tool or not."
"You could have at least sent a few of our loyal warriors to hunt down any escapees."
"And that is precisely what I'm counting on."
"?"
"I expect him to fail. It's impossible for trolls to slaughter every villager. But their escape from the trolls will prove that the god they worship is nothing but a false deity-not even a half-god of any real power."
"As you wish, my lady."
With those words, the Inquisitor left, leaving Lissandra alone in the throne room to plan her next moves.
---
Meanwhile, far from the battlefield of destruction, Trundle looked upon the village, now completely ravaged by the trolls. They carried the corpses of livestock they had hunted. He glanced around-warriors and trolls alike lay dead, their bodies covering the snow. A heavy snowfall had begun, signaling an approaching storm.
This massacre had been unnecessary. Many trolls had died in the raid. Trundle didn't care about them-fewer mouths to feed. But his military strength had weakened. The largest trolls had fallen in this battle.
Then he remembered something and turned. His eyes fell upon a strange crown shaped like a stag's antlers. He recalled Lissandra's last words before he left:
"And, Trundle... the power you seek lies in this crown-the Crown of Haestryr. Once worn, it will grant you the strength you desire."
He stared at the crown with a strange expression, then placed it on his head. The crown resized to fit him, and a surge of power coursed through his body. He began to transform.
His body underwent bizarre changes-he grew taller, leaner, his muscles reshaping. His hair lengthened, and his facial features sharpened. The other trolls watched in awe.
"Look! Trolndel is growing taller!"
"He's becoming stronger!"
"His body is more refined!"
Trundle examined his new form, feeling power surge within him. His mind grew sharper, his thoughts clearer. Without realizing it, he had become more intelligent.
"Trolls, behold! The Troll King has bestowed his power upon me! I am the rightful heir to the throne!"
That was what Trundle wanted to say, but after his shameful, luck-driven victory, he no longer had the energy to spin tales for the gullible trolls.
"Hey, where are the other trolls I sent away?"
The trolls looked at him and said they hadn't returned. Trundle headed in the direction they had gone. It didn't take long before he found them.
Every last troll lay dead-brutally dismembered as if by a massive, sharp weapon. Their faces were frozen in pure terror. Seeing this, Trundle felt a pang of unease.
"Damn it! First the shaman, now this?!"
He searched the ground for tracks, but the snow had covered everything. There was no way to tell where the villagers had gone.
"What do we do now, my king?"
Trundle looked at the snow-covered ground, the approaching storm, and made his decision.
"We return home. Our work here is done."
He chose to abandon the chase. There was no point hunting down weaklings. Besides...
Only the gods knew what had done this to his trolls. He didn't want to find out. Hell, he didn't even want to think about facing whatever it was.
Trundle stared into the distance, watching the storm approach the village with a bitter, inscrutable expression...
He would tell Lissandra he had done as she asked. Now, their alliance would be more secure. He needed her to trust him enough-so he could eventually dispose of her. But that was a matter for another time.
...
In Frostguard Citadel... in the throne hall...
"I have some news for you, my Queen," spoke one of the Frostguard, kneeling on one knee. Lissandra gestured with her finger for him to continue.
"We... have failed, my Lady."
This time, Lissandra looked at him with frustration before asking, "I sent nearly 120 warriors, and yet you all failed?" She glanced at the Frostguard in disappointment. "Where are the others?"
"The others... are not here."
She looked at him with an inscrutable expression behind her helmet. "Why?"
The Frostguard lowered his gaze. "Because... they are dead."
"What? Dead? Did the warriors from this tribe do that?"
"No, my Lady... A single warrior did this," the Frostguard spoke in a fearful tone.
"Are you telling me that one warrior managed to kill 50 Frostguard soldiers? Who was this person?"
"It... was not a person, my Queen."
"Then what was it?" Were it not for her helmet, Lissandra might have raised an eyebrow at the strange response.
"May I... describe it frankly, my Queen?" The question only deepened Lissandra's interest, especially as she noticed his body trembling. "You may."
"It was a demon... That thing did not belong to this world!" The Frostguard spoke in horror as he recounted the events. "Its sword cut through our men like paper, its body was harder than iron, and its red eyes... like those of a predator... It was-! I... Forgive my rudeness, my Queen."
"I understand. How did you survive it? Did you flee?"
"I wish I had," he muttered, recalling the terror. "After the slaughter, it chose to spare me... to bear witness. And... it said... something heretical before leaving me."
"Heretical?" Lissandra looked at him with curiosity. "What exactly did it say?"
"It said... Forgive me, my Queen, but its words alone are blasphemy."
"I grant you permission. Speak."
"It said... 'The Goddess will awaken. The Darkness will break free from its icy prison. And the mortals... will either die or become part... of Avarosa.'"
The guard finished speaking and looked at Lissandra one last time before she motioned with her finger, signaling his dismissal.
"I see," Lissandra replied with a smile.
"Then I shall take my lea-"
Before he could finish, his head was swiftly severed by an Inquisitor-so fast that he didn't even realize the Inquisitor was there.
"Inquisitor..."
"Yes,my queen"
"Send all your men to find them. Learn everything about this... being, and how it knows such things. Then kill it. Quickly."
The Inquisitor left without uttering another word, leaving Lissandra alone on her frozen throne.
"I do not know who you are... but you have just condemned your bloodline to a gruesome death."