Within the noble quarter of Maple Leaf Snow, there exists a vast estate that starkly contrasts with the opulent villas of its affluent neighbors. Though grand in size, this manor appears somewhat unadorned and ordinary when juxtaposed against the lavish residences of the surrounding aristocracy.
However, passing nobles, regardless of their rank, dare not show the slightest disdain towards this seemingly modest estate.
For it serves as the headquarters of the Imperial Guard, tasked with safeguarding the royal family, where a third of the elite forces are stationed. Most notably, the current commander of the Imperial Guard is the formidable red-haired woman known as Shyvana.
The sudden emergence of this enigmatic woman in the upper echelons of Demacian society has piqued the curiosity of the nobility.
With no discernible background or past, she appears as if she materialized from thin air, evading the scrutiny of the powerful nobles who have attempted to unearth her origins for years, yet failing to uncover any information about the mysterious figure who now stands behind Prince Jarvan.
All they know is that, barring unforeseen circumstances, this enigmatic woman is likely to become the queen of the next ruler of the empire, Jarvan IV, following the old king's demise.
Such a woman, naturally, is not to be trifled with lightly. Consequently, the standing of the Imperial Guard in the eyes of the nobility has risen significantly.
At noon, the scorching summer sun beats down upon the smooth stone-paved streets, while the sound of cicadas can be heard intermittently from the snow maple trees lining the road.
In a secluded corner of the guard's manor, a man named Tryndamere sits cross-legged in a clean cell, his eyes gently closed as he allows the light streaming through the window above to wash over him.
His bare torso is a tapestry of bulging muscles, bronze skin glistening under the sunlight, marred by numerous deep scars that traverse his chest, each a testament to the brutal battles he has endured.
The man, accustomed to the harsh winds and snow of the far northern Freljord, emanates a formidable presence simply by standing still.
Faintly, the voices of the guards at the entrance drift into the tranquil cell.
"Hey! What do you think the identity of the fellow locked up in there is? Why did it warrant a message from Prince Jarvan himself, instructing us to retrieve him from the guard?"
"Who knows? But I've heard he's a ninth-tier master. Perhaps the prince has taken a liking to him and wishes to recruit him, hence the order to bring him out."
"Pfft... No way. If the prince truly wanted to recruit him, why would he let us keep him locked up? He would have ordered us to provide him with lavish hospitality instead."
"Still, a ninth-tier master is no small feat," the first voice replies, astonished. "It's hard to believe the guard managed to capture one!"
"Well, that's not entirely accurate. According to a friend of mine in the guard, this guy didn't resist at all when he was arrested; he just let them take him."
"Then what exactly did he do?" a previously silent soldier interjects, curiosity piqued. "Why did the guard apprehend him? Did he commit murder or something?"
"I heard that he was responsible for the death of Count Littern a few days ago. At least, that's what I picked up from the guard's boasting; who knows how true it is?"
"Count Littern? Wasn't he killed by Jinx? Wait... could this guy inside be Jinx?"
"Pfft, while the circumstances of Count Littern's death were indeed reminiscent of those unfortunate souls who fell victim to Jinx, it's not quite that simple..."
At this point, the soldier lowers his voice conspiratorially, though his hushed tone is still distinctly audible to the Barbarian king, a ninth-tier warrior.
"I'll let you in on a secret: this was only discovered this morning, and it hasn't been widely circulated yet… According to my friend in the guard, they found the body of Baron Cleo's old steward in a back alley behind Sixth Avenue last night. It was a gruesome sight."
"Rumor has it that the head was intact, but the rest of the body was chopped into countless pieces—reportedly hundreds. The rookie on patrol who stumbled upon the body fainted from shock."
"Uh... Baron Cleo? Who is that? I've never heard of him in Maple Leaf Snow. But if his steward met such a terrible fate, did he cross someone?"
"Cross someone? Heh... once they recognized the old steward's identity, the guard promptly dispatched someone to inform Baron Cleo. And then... heh heh... guess what happened?"
"Did the baron die?"
"Indeed! He died! And it was quite the gruesome end," the soldier exclaims, his voice barely containing a sense of malicious glee. "When the guard arrived at the baron's estate, they found it eerily empty, as quiet as a ghost town. Eventually, they located Baron Cleo in his study, and guess what?"
"When they found him, he was in pieces, just like his unfortunate steward. And most importantly, they discovered a document on his desk..."
"Let me guess, it detailed the baron's nefarious deeds, right? With meticulous accounts?"
"Goodness! How did you know?"
"Come on, after hearing all this, even a fool could deduce that the baron must have committed some heinous acts without facing justice, thus drawing Jinx's ire… Haven't there been enough unfortunate nobles like that in Maple Leaf Snow these past six months?"
"Heh heh... Right, you've got it. You guessed correctly," the soldier whispers excitedly. "When Count Littern died, everyone in the guard was adamant that the man inside was Jinx. But who would have thought... heh heh... now the real Jinx has appeared, and the guard has certainly been left with egg on their faces, ha ha ha..."
Laughter filled with schadenfreude echoes from outside the prison, as the guards revel in the misfortune of their counterparts in the Imperial Guard, as they are not part of the same hierarchy. Within the cell, the previously silent man, deep in meditation, seems to sense something, abruptly opening his eyes and looking toward the cell door in astonishment. "Hmm? That aura... is it little Yunzi?"