Prologue: "Hail, Freljord's Living Legend"

"If something doesn't kill me outright... that certain something had better start running. And it should run very, very fast because it won't take me long to get back up on my feet." - Hail, Freljord's Living Legend

Even he, junior summoner Isaac Madden, had to admit it. What he was doing right now wasn't just daring. No, amongst the many other things he had ever done during his twenty-five years of being alive, this unquestionably took the cake. This task of his was just plain, downright crazy.

Truly, if any of Isaac's fellow journalists back at the libraries in the west wing of the Institute of War knew what he was doing out on the institute's grounds at the current moment, they would not be congratulating nor encouraging him during this mad venture of his. Instead, with sick humor, they would be going over what exactly his signed will and testament of today had to say… because if he made any mistake here and now and revealed himself to his surroundings, if he didn't keep up being smart like he'd been doing since some hours ago, the Winter Claw folk he was quietly sneaking amongst – even though they said they were reformed as the guardians of Freljord, not tyrants – would undoubtedly rough him up, grind him up, then feed him to their tethered Freljordian boars for supper.

Yes, like his adventurous forefathers before him, Isaac was more than likely going to get killed ones of these days during one of these crazy recon missions of his. Especially during such a mission like this one where he was doing his absolute best to blend in with formerly savage, suspicious, bitter hearted warriors of the north. And be it man, woman or child, it made no difference what Freljordian he ran into or slipped by. They all were and always would be tough pieces of work. Especially if they were members of the Winter Claws like now.

Since the very first day that they'd decided to join the League of Legends fourteen years ago, it was common knowledge nowadays to everyone whom lived within the walls of the Institute of War near the Great Barrier Mountains that the tough clans of Sejuani's – the Winter Wrath's – Winter Claws never enjoyed leaving their lands. Even more known, seeing as they had never taken to sleeping within the institute's secure dorms but had rather enjoyed resting in the company of one another in tents outside on the open grounds, they did not ever enjoy foreigners or uninvited guests like Isaac Madden roaming through their camps.

For example, back in the older days when she had initially stepped up as well as become the icy champion delegate of her fellow Winter Claws at the age of sixteen and even though trespassing into her visiting people's set up camps had been forbidden by the highest council of summoners, many a journalist had still dared to secretly nose their way into the restricted Winter Claw encampments. And each one of those subtle yet courageous summoners – truer than true journalists who had simply been looking for a good story on Sejuani's clans – that had made it to the young yet bitter Winter's Wrath herself… had come back inside the Institute of War bruised, scared terribly along with devoid of any kind of story they'd been hoping for.

Yet, those hurt journalists who had had the bravery to trespass into the Winter Claw camps back then hadn't been dense nor crazy nor reckless. Well, perhaps they had been reckless. Nevertheless, they had snuck into Sejuani's presence knowing the risks all the while.

Why do such a mad thing, you may ask? Why would they still go into hostile territory even though knowing the risks?

Quite remarkably, they did so for the sake of news itself, for the sake of eager fans across Runeterra. Not only that, they'd gone against their better judgment and the laws of the Institute of War all because to every good newsman alive, danger, suspense along with pressure came with the job. Danger was a familiarity which made the career thrilling. In the past, danger was what had made every victory for the journalists of the League of Legends all that more memorable. At the very moment, danger was what made everything so very exciting for trespassing Isaac.

Speaking of fine examples of facing down danger for the sake of news gathering, there had been Brian Hemrick, the Bold, during the year of 15CLE. Even though he had been interviewing an infamous poison master who had had a renowned, twitchy trigger finger, Brian had had the courage to speak with Twitch, the Plague Rat, about personal history. Sure, in the end, the good hearted journalist had been shot several times with a number of toxins by the impatient rodent's crossbow. Nevertheless, survivalist Brian had at least come back with information about the same rodent's plans to try to make a race of more plague rats in Zaun.

And the stunned world had appreciated hearing about that, no? Indeed, the news of Twitch wanting to make more rats like himself riled up the Zaunite peoples even more as well as caused them respect the Plague Rat all the more.

Then, in 18CLE, there had been Eric Adamson, the Durable. Braving the plain fact that he was asking questions to a sinister clown who enjoyed reaping death more than anything, Eric had asked Shaco, the Demon Jester, questions that fans wanted, no, NEEDED to know the answers to. Of course, halfway through the list of questions, the questioner in question had been stabbed numerous times by the person being questioned… Nevertheless, Eric had survived the sharp ordeal and had went on to satisfy the needy fans of Runeterra everywhere!

Like, did Shaco have a romantic interest? Perhaps. How had Shaco started his career as an assassin? With a knife. Why did Shaco… grin all of the time? That story was quite long. Why was he always so "serious" about everything? Indeed, why so serious?

And so, encouraged by the thoughts of daring journalists who had come before him, seeing as he had been readying himself for this mission for quite some time, considering the rewards he would receive if he managed to overcome the obvious obstacles in his way tonight, junior summoner/journalist Isaac couldn't allow uncertainty or fear to blind him from his goal.

For, in all seriousness, cowardice had never benefitted anyone in Runeterra. Never had it helped end the Rune Wars, never had it helped construct the League of Legends, never had it helped Ionia win its freedom from Noxus… and never had it helped successful Brian Hemrick nor Eric Adamson succeed during their daring work!

Never ever in the slightest had cowardice helped Isaac either. No, no, no. Never had it helped him in the past when he'd questioned the graceful Tidecaller, Nami, about her personal mission in finding the moonstone her people so dearly needed. Never had it helped him when he'd asked the annoyed Fallen Angel, Morganna, how she was plotting to triumph over her sister during the next skirmish to come. Never had it helped him whenever he had gotten cornered by the eerie Dark Child, Annie, who always repeatedly insisted he play with her and her, ahem, teddy or she would… burn him to a crisp.

Truly, if he had ever given in to cowardice in the past, would Isaac have made it through magic school back in Piltover? No. Would he have made it as well as gotten accepted onto the Institute of War's summoner board of recruits back last year in March? No. Most important of all, would he have managed to hand stitch himself his current replica of the holy cloak of the Winter Claws days ago, donned the said robe after today's fabulous Freljordian skirmish, tricked the guards back at the camp's entrance as well as been able to walk amid the Winter Wrath's kin like he was doing now?

Uh, duh, NO!

And like it had been made clear beforehand, Isaac was, at this very moment, triumphantly yet subtly walking through the Winter Claw encampment. The encampment which, as it'd always been built since Sejuani's very first championship battle fourteen years ago, was situated on the open, northern grounds just outside of the Institute of War's walls and in the shadows of the massive, southern Barrier Mountains.

Thus, while wearing his own fake holy cloak – a phony yet convincing piece of symbolic, dark colored, wool clothing originally given to only the holiest, wisest peoples of Sejuani's choosing – the junior journalist was feeling like what Piltover's Finest would best describe as a "double agent" deep inside enemy territory.

As for why Isaac was being such a supposedly brave, double agent at the moment, as for why he'd been preparing for this secret operation of daringly stealing through the forbidden Winter Claw camp for the last three months, it had not to do with Sejuani herself. Instead, it had to do with her mystical, fabled "hero" of a husband.

Wait, Sejuani's hero of a husband? What? When? How? At long last, Sejuani had a loved one? Well, maybe not a loved one but a man in her life?

Indeed, seeing as tonight was October 23rd of 24CLE (Current League Era), the entire world of Runeterra had been absolutely shocked almost a year ago – on the date of November 15th of 23CLE – when the Winter's Wrath had admitted to the public that she was engaged to a proper suitor. As for this particular suitor of hers, he had not become her chosen by being lucky nor had he used politics to corner her.

No, due to Sejuani's hero, the last few years for the northern reaches of Freljord had been quite an adventure truth be told. An adventure that had ended with the disappearance of the feared Ice Witch, a smalltime civil war between the Frostguard… and the later, peaceful unification of all Freljordian clans.

Yes, thanks to the Winter's Wrath's fabled husband, as hard as it was to believe or even imagine, Freljord was once again a content, unified kingdom today with a council of equal rulers. For the Avarosans, naturally, Queen Ashe as well as King Tryndamere – the Frost Archer and Barbarian King – still spoke. Meanwhile, Volibear, the Thunder's Roar, represented the ursine. Trundle, the Troll King, spoke for the now freed along with honorable mountain trolls and the recovering Frostguard clan. And as for the hardened Winter Claws, Sejuani and her husband represented them.

Just who was Sejuani's chosen though? Who was he; this respected hero of Freljord who had supposedly emerged from the depths of a frozen lake, who had bested the malicious Ice Witch in combat during the final battle in the highest reaches of the north, who had made allies where none could be found, who had – for the first time since so many centuries ago – diplomatically brought all of the frigid north together under one banner as well as stopped the raging war there?

Who was this glorified hero, rumored today to be… a truer than true ice born leading the north back onto a path of glory, honor and power? Well, despite people of all kinds having desperately wanted to know him since he had appeared, not much was known about Sejuani's husband/the hero of Freljord.

What was known nowadays or had been made clear since his acceptance into the League of Legends during last year's May was this; his name was Hail, Freljord's Living Legend. He was a natural born leader and he was going to make Freljord a place of respected might like it had been centuries ago before the coming of the mysterious, malicious creatures known as the Watchers. And with the way Hail as well as his fellow Freljordian champs had been winning streaks of skirmishes for the last year, Freljord's rise to power was fast becoming an obvious fact to everyone.

Indeed, thanks to Freljord's Living Legend's leadership during the recent past, the strength of the cold north was just as known today as Demacia's and Noxus's ancient rivalry.

Truly, having faced his wrath in the ring during past skirmishes on the Fields of Justice or having met him during his visits to the Institute of War, many other champions had admitted to journalists that Hail was a natural at leading. He had quite the dashing looks for a northerner, a respectable attitude, the charisma to make friends out of enemies as well as the loyalty of most if not all of his fellow people of the north.

At one time, Riven, the Exile, after she'd just been saved by him during a rough skirmish between all kinds of champions, had admired Hail's leadership skills.

At another time after having met him during an annual ball held for all sorts of important individuals in the League of Legends, Ahri, the Nine Tailed Fox, had supposedly joked about being jealous of Sejuani's luck in having found such a nice looking husband. Still, had that really been a joke… or a statement from the tricky vixen? No one but trickster Ahri could exactly tell today.

Sometime during last Februrary's skirmish where he had insulted him moments before their battle in mind-lane, Swain, the Master Tactician, had angrily admitted afterwards that Freljord's Living Legend was indeed strong enough to back up his own words. He'd also stated that it was a shame that Hail had made it plain during battle that he didn't share in the same ideas of conquest Noxus did but leaned more towards Demacia's own honor bound traditions.

And after today's legendary skirmish that had pitted all of Freljord's major champions against one another, Ashe herself had stated that Hail was the best thing that had come to Freljord in ages. For thanks to him, the north was not only unified nowadays but was gaining victory after victory in the League of Legends as well as earning the respect of everyone everywhere.

Of course, if the rumors about her always having hidden a deep, secret affection towards him since the day they met were true, the Frost Archer would say that about Freljord's Living Legend, wouldn't she? Yes, quite right. Still, clearly, Hail had given himself to the Winter's Wrath. So, to avoid complications between the clans of the Avarosa and the Winter Claws, such romantic gossip was kept quieter than quiet. It was not spoken of very much.

But where all of this said heroic stuff was commonly known about Hail today, there were so many other things that the citizens along with champions of Runeterra everywhere wanted ever so much to find out about him. Why was he so strong? Why was he so wise? Why had he married hardy Sejuani rather than compassionate Ashe?

Well, if a freaking miracle occurred for him tonight like hoped, if the rumors about this night were true, if he was able to get to the camp's center undetected where a certain tale was going to allegedly be told by the Winter Claw head elder, Agatha Icebane, Isaac would be able to hear of such important things about Freljord's Living Legend. Not only that but Isaac would even get the answers he needed to appease Hail's eager fans.

For instance, what undercover Isaac was hoping to hear from Agatha Icebane as well as jot down on his personal pad of paper during her storytelling tonight around the Winter Claw camp bonfire was this: during his campaign to unite the north and save everyone from a never ending winter, had Hail truly been blessed by the three sisters of Freljord to fight the Ice Witch?

Before he'd married her, had Hail really gone head to head with Sejuani and won the day by using only his bare fists?

Looking at the splendid armor he always wore into battle inside as well as outside the walls of the League of Legends, was Hail literally a walking piece of Freljordian history like the senior summoners believed? Or wanted to believe, put better?

There were so many questions Isaac Madden wanted answered about Hail tonight. Well, they were more questions that the many peoples of Runeterra wanted answered.

Either way, now that he was inside of the Winter Claw camp even though he wasn't supposed to be, as he was getting closer to the center of the encampment to hear Agatha Icebane speak of what Hail had done for Freljord during the last number of years, Isaac could almost say his recon mission for journalism was a success. In another hour or two while remaining hidden amongst the Winter Claws at the camp center, the story of Hail would very well make the giddy junior journalist the next Brian Hemrick or Eric Adamson of Runeterra for sure!

Yes, naturally, as it always went with publishing stuff without permission from someone somewhere or whatnot, Isaac would get some complaints and maybe even some kind of punishments from the highest ranked summoners in the institute. However, their disagreements with Isaac wouldn't matter. Not when the thousands of fans along with peoples of Runeterra finally knew what they had always wanted to know about the fabled Living Legend of Freljord.

Be it political or private matters, everything would work themselves out in the end. One way or the other, everyone would be happy. Honestly, up to this point, it was no longer Hail's choice to selfishly keep his heroic story to himself. Sooner or later, as it had gone with every other champion of the league, someone was bound to hear of how exactly Freljord's Living Legend came to be the Winter's Wrath's husband, of how he'd defeated the Ice Witch, of how he'd unified the merciless north.

And tonight, if the gods helped him through the next trial to come, Isaac would be that exact someone who would hear of all of those things. Then, next, he would be the one who would go back to the libraries in the west wing of the Institute of War, go over all that he'd heard from elder Agatha and earn himself a good title if not the respect of journalists everywhere! Ha ha, yes! How splendid this night was going to be!

As he convincingly limped along on his own path, all that Isaac had to do now to secure himself Hail's intriguing story along with his own personal worldwide glory was a simple task; not get found out. Thus far, ever since he'd cunningly made his way right under the gazes of the rather stubborn yet persuaded guards at the camp's entrance, the spying junior journalist had the grunt, the walk as well as the fanatic attitude of one of the Winter Claw's holy men down perfectly.

Indeed, with the way Isaac was presently acting like he was under some kind of aggressive vision at all times, seeing as Winter Claws kept backing away from him respectfully, all of those past months of having studied the ways of Freljordian holy men had paid off! Not only that but the magic that Isaac had used to make himself appear more Freljordian seemed to of worked. For although he'd forever been a Piltovian of average height with dirty brown hair and green eyes, the junior journalist was practically the icy blue eyed, gray haired northerner he needed to be at the freaking moment!

Indeed, no one in the camp had ever seemed too suspicious of him. How awesome was that? Too awesome, that's what. Hmf, none of the other snobbish journalists back in the west wing would have been able to do this. In fact, they had never thought to dare to do this in the first place.

What a bunch of sniveling higher-borns who were used to having everything handed to them on a plate. Well, after this night, Isaac would show them. He would show the entire world just how much of a success he could be!

Yes, he could do this. He was already doing it, ha ha! He was going to be as popular as Ezreal, the Prodigal Explorer, back in the City of Progress!

Focusing back onto the task at hand, where was this camp's center? Mind, even though he was not used to this environment, the center of the encampment would most definitely stand out to Isaac. For not only would there be head elder Agatha but there would also be many a Winter Claw resident gathered around a huge bonfire which would be cooking their meats, their vegetables, the fine meal everyone would be taking part in tonight during the first actual retelling of Hail's story.

"Hold on a moment, the Gem Knight approached you again to discuss the subject of buying our True Ice Sapphires? Well, for the hundredth time, I suppose you told him that they were not for sale, my chosen."

The voice that had just spoken… it had sounded very, very familiar to Isaac just now who froze in his tracks. In turn, a pack of running Winter Claw kids roughly crashed into him! Then, between himself as well as the irritated north born brats, there was a bit of a commotion, some punching, some kicking, all finished by sharp exclamations in good Freljordian from both sides!

Next, as the rude, northern children scampered off while doing whatever they had been doing before having run into him from behind, Isaac kept very still while he tried to hear the familiar voice he'd heard moments beforehand.

Come on, come on… If those foolish children had cost him his moment of glory, by the gods, he would hunt them down and-

"Sejuani, love, the Gem Knight meant nothing insulting towards you nor me nor any of the Winter Claws. Honestly, like we have done countless times, he as well as myself simply bartered a little like the friends we are before I told him once again that the sapphires of your ancestor were not for sale." A new yet recognizable voice said over the din happening around attentive Isaac, making the junior journalist's heart stop for a moment, "You know very well that dear Taric is a collector of sorts and that his stylish armor has never matched ours since I showed up on the Fields of Justice. He simply wants to match our own splendor on the battlefield."

"But that splendor you speak of is the splendor of our people, Hail. That splendor is the splendor of the Winter Claws. It is the beauty of Freljord. Even if he personally wished it of my ancestors, the sapphires of true ice would not fit in with the Gem Knight's attire for he is not of the north." The other familiar voice – Sejuani's it seemed – argued with obviously her chosen and important husband, Hail, nearby somewhere, "Thus, you should feel ashamed, my chosen. Not only because you actually bartered over the ownership of my peoples' sapphires but because, once more, you gave Taric some kind of false hope that he could possibly look good with such gems in his armor."

"I know, I know, love. Only a Freljordian would look his or her best while adorned in the sapphires of your ancient grandmother, Serylda." Isaac heard Hail coolly if not loudly say to his right side, making the undercover journalist stump his way past several weary look Freljordian oxen to hear better, "And I've always known that, Sejuani. Remember, before I met you in this era… I personally knew Serylda. And do you know whom she would be telling off at this moment?"

"Me, of course." Sejuani admitted, sounding a bit – as shocking as it was – humored to have been told off by her chosen man, "She would be telling me that I shouldn't be scolding you because you know better than anyone alive not to ever let her sapphires out of Freljordian possession. After all, if it had not been for you last year… my clan would not have even found the True Ice Sapphires that we needed to make the Frostguards join our side during the war for Freljord's future."

"That's exactly right. Without my help in locating the True Ice Sapphires of Serylda, no one would have been able to convince the trolls of Trundle that the Ice Witch who hid them could have been bested. Without those gems, without your permission, Ashe would have died." Hail goodheartedly laughed elsewhere, making intent Isaac look around as well as back track to a rather impressive look tent where there was much hustling along with bustling, "Yet, let us not speak of the gems of the Winter Claws. Instead, I want you to just stand there and let me admire you like I was doing during all of today's skirmish on the Fields of Justice. Truly, today, like you've always been, you were magnificent in battle. You made the Winter Claws proud."

"As did you, Hail. We made the Winter Claws proud." The Winter's Wrath actually snickered back with a hint of playful teasing in her voice, making Isaac feel bewildered while he listened outside, "No, we made all of Freljord proud."

"Indeed, that we surely did, Sejuani. You and I represented the power of the Winter Claws with all of our might today. In the meantime, Volibear did his part for the ursine, Trundle battled like a Troll King should, Nunu and his furry friend represented the yetis well, Anivia was very much the guardian of Freljord, Olaf brought his fury forth, Ashe shot true, Tryndamere raged on for forever, Braum protected others like a true protector… and we all very well took Runeterra by storm this day." Freljord's Living Legend proudly said within the tent, sounding very glad over today's described skirmish which had undoubtedly been impressive for everyone everywhere watching, "Yet, where it does my heart good to know that Freljord has been brought some honor today… I know that there is still much work to do."

At his last words, Hail's tone became somewhat disheartened. A silence followed where Isaac, trying to ignore everything else happening around him, did his best not to lose track of what was going on or what was being discussed.

Finally, to Isaac's delight, Freljord's Living Legend spoke again. Instead of sounding proud though, he spoke with serious firmness to his wife, "No matter how many victories I gain for our people of the north, Sejuani… I just cannot help but feel at a loss. Even now, with all that we accomplished during this day, I know that Avarosa as well as Serylda want me to try harder, fight better, think faster."

"Is that really all you have to say about what we accomplished today, Hail? Even though we fought good and hard during today's skirmish before the eyes of the world? Even though we gave everything up to this point our absolute best?" Sejuani questioned from within the tent, actually sounding tender rather than bitter, "My chosen, you cannot push yourself like this so much. Not like you did for the last four years while bringing all of the north together. Yes, it will take many more years for Freljord to become what it was when you knew my ancestor, Serylda. Yet, on this day, Serylda is proud of us. Everyone is proud of us."

"I am aware that it will take many years for Freljord to become what it was when I knew your ancestor, Sejuani. During the days of Lissandra, of Avarosa, of Serylda, the north was… the inspiration of the world." Hail wisely spoke, sounding like he was quite deep in thought, "Before the blasted Watchers came, before the cursed black ice, Freljord was a realm of unity, of strength, of culture. Now, with the Watchers gone and with myself awake, perhaps the north can become as glorious as I once knew it."

"Yet, there is something troubling you, isn't there? You're worrying over the same things again, aren't you?" The Winter's Wrath wondered gently, her voice heavy with care over her husband's revealed stress, "It's the Ice Witch that haunts you, right? She troubles your thoughts, no?"

"You tell me, love." Hail wearily sighed back, probably having his face in hands or so Isaac imagined while eavesdropping, "I know that we got the best of her years ago but… my ancestors thought the same centuries back when they had defeated her as well as her superiors at the Iceborn Bridge of the Howling Abyss. That witch is a spider, a patient one at that. And where the Watchers fell to my mace when I liberated the north four years back… I know deep down that Lissandra didn't."

"Yes. Yes, she's out there somewhere, my chosen." Sejuani assured, sounding very encouraging now, "But there is something you must always remember. It is always the same something you've been telling me since you vowed to make my people the warriors they once were…"

"And what is it that I must remember, love?"

"You must remember that while Lissandra is hiding out there, you are here bringing the north together day after day, night after night. She will not be able to spin her webs like she did before for the last hundreds of years. No matter what she does now, you will be there to stop her. And Serylda as well as Avarosa will be there with you when you do."

"As will you, Sejuani." Freljord's Living Legend stated, his voice determined now rather than questionable, "Yes, Braum, Ashe, Tryndamere, Anivia, Volibear, all of the north will be there at my side when I put a stop to Lissandra's plots again, I know that. But… You and your Winter Claws will be the ones at my side during it all. Correct?"

"Correct, my chosen. Just as I was there when you stopped her the first time and freed the Frostguards four years ago, I will be at your side once more when you defeat the puppet witch of the Watchers again and again in the future." The Winter's Wrath confirmed, sounding happier along with braver all of a sudden, "Just as I will be at your side tonight during the retelling of your legendary story of bringing the north together under your banner. So, as you said before me moments ago, let us not talk about this ill subject anymore. My dearest ancestor, Serylda, would not want you to look so glum during the reciting of your heroic tale."

"No… I suppose Serylda wouldn't want me to feel so worried about nothing, would she?" Hail proudly replied, laughing at the same time while getting up or so Isaac could guess while listening in, "Especially not during this night! No, not when Agatha revisits the victories you and I accomplished during the last few years to retake Freljord from the Ice Witch. The same Ice Witch who hasn't shown her face in Runeterra since I smashed her up good for the sake of all of the Frostguards!"

From what Isaac could hear next with the tent before him, there was a sudden sound of movement, some laughter, a bit of messing around between the King as well as Queen of the Winter Claws, finalized by some kisses and hugs. Sejuani enjoying herself? What an odd thing to imagine let alone hear, no?

"Wait, talking about me having smashed the Ice Witch apart with my mace, do you think she's putting herself back together these days?" Hail jokingly wondered aloud abruptly, earning a laugh from his wife in turn, "Hey, yeah. Maybe that's what she's been doing since she vanished, eh? Ha ha, what a thought! She's no spider hiding in a web. She's just a pile of dust like her masters."

"If you say so, my chosen." Sejuani replied, chuckling the whole time her husband seemed to be carrying her around in his arms, "If you say so. One way or the other, only the future will tell us the answers we seek."

So, fortunately, the Winter's Wrath and Freljord's Living Legend were together at the moment. Indeed, the king as well as queen of the Winter Claws were in this impressive looking tent discussing their personal history before disbelieving Isaac's ears. Not only that but had they at some point said there was in fact going to be a retelling of Hail's story during tonight? Yes, they had very well said so numerous times.

By the gods, this was too good to be true! Already, the Isaac was hitting the jackpot! Now, while the married rulers of the Winter Claws did whatever they were doing in private in their tent, all the undercover junior journalist needed to do was get out his writing materials and – Whoa!

A child, a little Winter Claw girl of maybe ten years, had taken to staring curiously at Isaac while he was distracted by the realization that he had found Sejuani and Hail together in their personal tent or whatever. Judging by the way she was looking at him too, the kid might have been suspicious of him. Yet, as Isaac immediately resumed looking feeble, older than old along with a bit touched in the head while suffering from some kind of snowy vision, the girl in question simply grinned, bowed a respectful bow to her supposed elder, then skipped along to wherever.

Phew. That had been close. Now, where had Isaac been before having been interrupted? Oh, yes, he needed to get back to listening in on Hail and Sejuani who didn't sound as bitter, straightforward nor blunt towards each other as most people guessed. No, despite their histories of being rough, tough champions, Freljord's Living Legend as well as the Winter's Wrath truly sounded like they did actually adore one another. Of course, inside of the battle ring, they gave off the impression of being fearless fighters. Yet, outside of the battle ring, in their private tent here… they sounded just like any other loyal husband and wife discussing the unknown future.

And speaking of the married leaders of the Winter Claws, just centimeters to surprised Isaac's right, they'd just exited their tent as well as were being greeted with much warm praise, welcomes along with hoots from the nearby peoples!

For more than excited Isaac who was blending in well with the ranks of happy Winter Claws, this moment he'd been caught in was an incredible experience. Despite how rare it was seen within the League of Legends, the secret junior journalist was actually witnessing Sejuani openly showing affection to Hail by allowing him to hug her closer to him during all of the attention. Not only that but it seemed that the married couple – who were evidently going to lead the folk gathering around them to the center of the encampment where Agatha awaited – were not going to be wearing their traditional armor tonight.

No, surprisingly yet intriguingly, the Winter's Wrath and Freljord's Living Legend were in fact dressed in regular looking garments of cotton, wool and furs like everyone else in the growing crowd.

Yes, tonight, happily, dressed like their fellow Winter Claws, Sejuani and Hail would hear what elder Agatha had to say at the bonfire. On this night, as it had been made a law by every Freljordian since the unification of Freljord four years ago, there would be no strong nor weak Winter Claw. With their participating rulers, there would only be equal, happy Winter Claws during the recap of Freljord's Living Legend's tale.

Well, heh heh, there would of course be them plus a certain, undercover junior journalist. Duh. Oh but shush. Isaac couldn't let anyone else find out about that. Not yet, anyway. Shush, shush.

Agatha Icebane, the head elder of holy elders of the Winter Claws. Wrinkled, donned in many layers of fur robes, with her long hair and eyes as gray as the smoke of the camp center's bonfire she sat before, Isaac knew that elder Agatha had maybe looked better fourteen years ago when she had first told a younger, sixteen year old Sejuani that she would become the inspiration of the Winter Claws; that she would become the Winter's Wrath.

Tonight, though, the holy head elder in question looked very tired, very distant, very unaware of her growingly crowded surroundings.

Either way, whether or not she was joining in the moment with the rest of the Winter Claws gathering around the encampment's large bonfire, Isaac had taken to keeping in the shadows out of sight of the sagely woman. Seeing as she had been the ancient leader of all of the rest of the holy people of her now gathered clan for the last sixty years of her life, Agatha would undoubtedly see right through the undercover junior journalist's disguise. Yet, hiding from her sight wasn't such a hard thing for Isaac to accomplish. Not when all attention was focused onto seated Sejuani and Hail nearby.

Speaking of the Winter's Wrath and Freljord's Living Legend, despite the fact of Sejuani having always been bitter, the two rulers of the Winter Claws really were quite the item together. They both appeared to be the same age of thirty. And yes, holding each other's hands along with exchanging proud glances every so often, they looked perfect while sitting together amidst their gossiping fellows.

As Garen, the Might of Demacia, had come to quickly find out during the friendly skirmish between Demacia and Freljord back last March, Hail was quite a tall if not muscular individual. Indeed, at the moment, even though sitting down, Sejuani's buff husband was a good half foot taller than her. And that was saying something because unlike her rather small yet nimble Frost Archer counterpart, it was common knowledge that the Winter's Wrath was a little over six feet tall.

Moving on, talking about Sejuani, she wasn't fancily dressed in a delicate dress like an Avarosan would be for the occasion but instead was garbed in a finer than fine wool tunic, pants along with doeskin boots plus gloves. Very much so, even though dressed a bit casually, she looked quite beautiful in her own right. Honestly, with her short hair of white flowing freely, with her blue eyes as bright as true ice, with a smile always on her face, she had a beauty that demanded attention, respect as well as awe. She had the beauty of her ice born ancestor, Serylda.

Then there was Hail, whose looks – in Vi's, the Piltovian Enforcer's, opinion – shamed Jayce's, the Defender of Tomorrow's, own.

Freljord's Living Legend, dressed almost the same as his wife but with thicker gloves along with boots made of Freljordian dire wolf leather, was known everywhere for his own lightning blue eyes, his coal black hair cut short as well as his northern, friendly smile. Yet, mind, where it was one thing to hear about Hail's qualities over the news or from other champions' perspectives… it was completely different to see it firsthand like Isaac was doing.

Truly, despite him being there as an intruder, Isaac was deeply honored to be part of this moment around the Winter Claw camp center's bonfire. He had been in recent awe when he'd observed the many Winter Claws follow their close king and queen without hesitation to this massive fire where everyone had taken a seat. This event thus far had shown the junior journalist just how much respect Hail and Sejuani truly held amid their folk which was plenty more than rumored. Now, forming a huge circle around the crackling fire, dozens of Winter Claws patiently awaited silent elder Agatha – who was seated at the head of the gathered tribal folk – to begin retelling the awesome story of Freljord's Living Legend.

Of course, for the last ten minutes since everyone had taken a seat with Sejuani and Hail, Agatha hadn't broken out of the trance like state she was currently in. With her old face giving no hints, with her faded eyes never moving, it almost seemed like she was going to be lost forever in the dancing flames of the bonfire everyone had taken seats around.

Yet, as a certain spark crackled up from the embers and onto her cheek, the weary looking head elder of Winter Claw's holy elders came back into reality. With a twinkle in her eyes, with a smile on her aged expression, she looked around at everyone intently observing her from every direction.

"Oh my. Well, look at this." Agatha announced aloud, looking around in mock surprise at the Winter Claws that had gathered around her, "Only a moment ago, I was all alone looking into the stories this fire had to share with me. Now, here I am surrounded by my family, my friends, my fellow good people of Freljord."

In turn to her praises, there was some murmuring amongst the humored children sitting close to Agatha. At this, the head elder of Winter Claw elders smiled at the said children before saying, "And what, my friends, do you wish of me? What is it you want from this old wolf of the north, hm? You have all gathered here with me tonight for a reason. What, pray, is that reason?"

"We want to hear what stories the fire told to you, elder. We want to hear the story of the defeat of the Ice Witch." A young girl of perhaps seventeen years of age with fiery red hair spoke up, looking purposefully from Agatha to Hail, "We want to hear the story of he who was frozen in ice but didn't die. We want to hear about he who came back stronger than ever, of he journeyed to the top of Mount Thunder Top, of he who ventured into the darkness of the – the – the Howling Abyss to reclaim the True Ice Sapphires."

"Alright, Samandra Firemane, alright." Agatha chuckled, getting the excited girl with crimson hair – Samandra Firemane, it sounded like – to sit back down with her friends, "I'd be more than willing to-"

"Yeah!" A boy of fourteen exclaimed this time, actually looking very excited even though he'd cut off the head elder of holy elders, "We want to hear about he who earned the respect of the ursine! We want to hear about he who gained the loyalty of the trolls!"

"We want to hear about he who smashed the Ice Witch into little bitty pieces!" Another girl of perhaps eight yelled jumping up and down. In turn, her energy made all of the children begin shouting out tales that they wanted to hear. Tales Isaac knew or guessed were all related to humble Hail whom simply smiled while putting an arm around proud Sejuani and drawing her closer to him.

"So many requests… I do not know if I will be able to answer them all on this night, my little wolves of Freljord." Agatha chuckled softly, breaking out into an amused grin as the riled up children – the little wolves of Freljord – were calmed down by their parents, "Tonight, myself and the fire were expecting only one request. I thought I was to tell the story of Freljord's victory over the Ice Witch."

"You are supposed to tell that story, elder." Another ten year old Winter Claw girl in her parent's lap admitted, "But doesn't that story include he who was frozen in ice, he smashed the Ice Witch, he who earned the respect the ursine?"

"Indeed, it does include him. Him and so much more." Agatha said, nodding her head towards Hail who slowly nodded back while seeming to tighten his embrace upon content Sejuani beside him, "Alas, that is what you have all come to me for tonight, correct? You all wish to hear of the tale of the fall of the Ice Witch?"

When she received the nodding of heads from everyone in answer to her inquiry, the head elder of Winter Claw elders announced boldly, "Then be glad, my fellow wolves of Freljord. For the Ice Witch's downfall could not have come without he who was frozen in ice. In fact, today, without him, Freljord would not be united. Now, let us quiet ourselves. Let's enjoy our food a moment… and then listen to what I have to say about he who was frozen in ice."

So, this actually happening? Yes, this was indeed it… This was actually happening! Agatha was starting to tell the story that Isaac, that all of Runeterra, had wanted to hear for the last year!

With his pen and paper ready under his disguise and his heart pounding in his chest, Isaac was literally going to be the first summoner journalist to hear as well as record the story of Freljord's Living Legend! Thank the gods, all of his intense, past work in getting ready for this moment had paid off!

Yet, as elder Agatha began to tell the story of Freljord's Living Legend, as she began to review of how Freljord came to be united under one strong banner, there was one thing Isaac couldn't prepare himself for… and that was the sheer depth along with sincerity of Hail's story. For Freljord's Living Legend hadn't become such an icon in the past with a happy ending after every conflict. No, during his journey, as there had been happiness, victories and friendships gained, Hail had experienced despair, losses as well as madness.

This wasn't some Demacian fairy tale, Isaac was about to hear from the head elder of the Winter Claw's holy elders. This was a tale of the bitter north. This was an ice born tale. This was Hail's, Freljord's Living Legend's, tale.