Legends of Runeterra

The boy gazed fondly at the yellow flowers of the ginseng plant peeking out from the frost-bitten soil. Hundreds of the same flowers bloomed on this small patch, their vibrant colors jarringly contrasting with the barren surroundings. He crouched beside the flowers and breathed in. A crisp morning breeze and a delicate fragrance greeted his nose. He reached out, wanting to pluck a wildflower.

"Don't touch it," Vanis said.

The older man stood over the boy, his blue coat fluttering slightly in the breeze. Marseno stood beside him, holding an unlit torch. The three of them had been waiting for a long time, without any questioning.

The younger man looked down at the boy, smiled, and nodded.

The boy picked a flower and put it in his pocket.

Vanis shook his head and frowned. "You've spoiled this kid."

Marseno's face flushed red, and the smile on his face disappeared. He cleared his throat and asked, "Did you see anything?"

The boy stood up and studied the rows of houses across the frosted fields, a weather-beaten settlement of ramshackle shacks scattered along the side of the hills. A shadowy figure passed by the cast-glass window.

"There's someone inside," the boy said.

"We can see that," Vanis said grumpily. "Do you see what we're looking for?"

The boy searched for the faintest sign or impression, but all he saw was old gray wood and stone.

"No, sir."

Vanis cursed quietly.

"Maybe we should get closer," Marseno said.

The older man shook his head. "These are mountain people. They'll give you a spear twenty paces from their door."

The boy shuddered at the words. Even the people of Xiongdu had heard of the fierceness of the southern mountain folk. They lived on the kingdom's untamed borders, near disputed territory. He glanced to his side, inching closer to Marseno.

"Light the torches," said Vanis.

Marsino struck the flint, sparks scattering on the oil-soaked hemp rope. The pitch erupted in flames, driving away the chill of the early morning.

They didn't have to wait long.

The doors of many huts opened, and a dozen men and women came toward them, armed with spears and axes.

The boy's hand fell to the dagger at his side. He turned to look at Marseno, but the man's eyes were fixed on the villagers.

"Hold on, boy," Vanis said.

The crowd paused at the edge of the field, their ragged clothing a stark contrast to the royal blue and white suits of Vanis and Marseno. Even the boy himself was neater than theirs.

A slight tingling ran down his spine. He touched Marsino's arm to get his attention, then nodded. Marsino, knowing the signal, gestured for him to step back. They had to follow procedure.

An old woman stepped out from behind the crowd. "Have the demon hunters set fire to the village now?" she asked.

"There's nothing here, go away!" a young man with disheveled hair standing next to the old woman shouted. Others also joined in, making sarcastic remarks and shouting noises.

"Quiet!" the old woman snapped, jabbing the man next to her in the ribs with her elbow.

The man retreated and lowered his head. The crowd fell silent.

These mountain folk were unlike any the boy had seen in Xiongdu. They weren't intimidated by the usual blue coats and wrought-bronze half-masks of the demon hunters. Instead, they stood tall, their faces unfazed. Several of them fiddled with their weapons, glaring at the boy. He avoided their gaze.

Marseno stepped forward. "Six days ago, someone sent a bushel of ginseng to Lunwall," he said, gesturing with his torch to the flowers on the ground.

“Some people are selling things. Some people are buying things. Isn’t it the same in the city?” asked the old woman.

The mountain people burst into laughter.

The boy laughed nervously. Even Marseno's lips curled up slightly. Vanis remained motionless. He stared at the crowd, his long staff in hand.

"Nothing special," Marseno said. "But this flower is rare in this season."

"We are good at farming. We are also good at hunting." The old woman's smile disappeared.

Vanis stared at the old woman. "Yes, but the ground is frozen, and none of you has ever plowed a field."

The old woman shrugged. "Things grow wherever they want. What can we do about it?"

Vanis smirked back. "Yes, it wants to grow," he said, undoing the gray seal on his cloak. He knelt down and held the carved stone tablet over a ginseng plant.

The petals withered and shrank.

"But it shouldn't have died the moment it saw the Forbidden Stone," Vanis said, standing up. "Unless you planted it with magic."

The smiles on the villagers' faces disappeared.

"The use of magic is forbidden," said Marsino. "We are all subjects of Demacia. We are born to obey her laws—"

"Honor can't be eaten here," said the old woman.

"Even if it's edible, you won't be able to eat it." Vanis sneered.

The insult caused a commotion among the crowd, and they pressed forward until they were only a few steps away from the two demon hunters.

Marseno cleared his throat and raised a hand. "The mountain folk have always upheld the moral principles of Demacia, upholding its laws and traditions," he said. "Today, we simply ask that you uphold your honor as always. Will the Man of the Blight step forward?"

No one moved or spoke.

After a moment, Marseno spoke again. "If honor cannot compel you, then listen carefully. We have a child who can identify the guilty party."

The crowd turned their gazes on the boy. Their eyes were filled with accusation, and harsh whispers echoed through the crowd.

"This little bastard doesn't get punished for using magic, but punishes us instead?" asked the man who had just shouted loudly.

The boy flinched at the accusation.

"He works for Demacia," Marseno said, turning to face the boy. "That's all right. Let's get started."

He nodded, wiped his sweaty palms on his trouser legs, and then faced the group of mountain people. Among the dust-stained faces, one stood out, a radiant presence. A halo of light pulsed and floated around the mage.

Only the boy can see this light, and it has been like this since he was born. It is his gift. It is his curse.

The rest of the villagers looked at him with disdain. It was the same everywhere. These people hated him for his gift. Everyone—except the old woman. Her soft eyes simply begged him not to speak.

The boy lowered his head and looked at the ground.

They waited, the moment lengthening silently. He felt Vanis studying him, judging him harshly.