The afternoon sun was hanging high in the gray sky, and the sunlight was not enough to drive away the cold of the north, as soon as the north wind blew, you could immediately feel the biting cold wind hanging over the placket of your clothes.

Silver-winged dragon birds hid above the clouds and chased each other, and in the undense bushes, Silas led a raider through the forest, making a rapid run to the south.

Their goal was Miyin City, the second city of Demacia, which was not as difficult to attack as Xiongdu, with a large number of troops and a large stockpile of supplies to support Silas's resurgence.

When the tall white walls of the Silver City came into view, Silas ordered the group to stop.

"Stop, we'll lurk here until dark, and when we enter the city in the dark at night, we will catch them off guard."

He stopped, and reached out to stop the group of boar riders behind him, and since he was the only one on foot, he became grunting and gasping when he stopped for the first time after several hours of walking.

Silas was clad in fur to protect him from the cold, his black hair tied loosely in a ponytail at the back of his head, his gaunt beard filled his chin, and behind him he dragged a pair of iron chains, a pair of strangely shaped, bulky handcuffs, of a pale stone, firmly bound to his wrists...... Strangely, his movements were very natural, as if he had long been accustomed to the heavy chains in his hands, and he lifted weights as lightly.

"Moving on, the Raider of the Winterclaw Tribe's fighting style is to highlight a quick victory. If you stop at such a time, it only makes me feel that this is a trap, that you are luring the enemy deep enough to wait for the Demacians to come and take us down. ”

Freina, the leader of the raiders, questioned Silas' decision, riding a giant Guvałque boar. This wild boar is unique to the ice fields, and the cold environment has made the animals that live there more than ever before, with fangs thicker than a human hand and a thick, warm mane.

Flena the Scarmother grabbed the reins and stopped beside Silas. Her majestic figure sat on the Vaske boar, the fanged beast roaring irritably, one hoof staggering heavily on the ground, glaring at Silas maliciously. Freina kicked it hard to silence it.

Freina could not hear the weak southern language spoken by Silas, and the two of them exchanged with a shamanka who accompanied them. The shaman Solva rides on a smaller Guyvaque boar, and even in the warmer part of Demacial, the cold weather can freeze to death in thin clothes, but she does not wear a heavy fur coat.

Her bare arms, coiled with indigo tattoos, were directly exposed to the cold north wind, but she had no discomfort, for the threat of the cold had long since worn off against her.

All Freljords know that the Frost Nuns are one with the cold, and it is said that it is a gift from the Old Gods......

From the moment she picked up this strange Demacian on the ice ballast of Freljord, Freina didn't believe him in her heart and wanted to slash him to continue his crusade to raid the Alvarossa tribe.

However, Frost Sister Solva, who had temporarily joined the raiding group, insisted on saving him, saying that it was God's will, gaining the approval of the other superstitious warriors in the tribe, and changing the destination of the raid from Freljord to Demacia.

Behind her, the rest of the Winterclaw Raiders also held on to the reins, waiting for their Scarmother and Shaman Kasolva to give instructions. They slid off the saddle, stretched their backs, and moved their numb legs.

Freljord's tribe has always been matrilineal, so the chiefs and other important positions in the tribe are often women.

"It's easy to do things when it's dark, I've taken you to stealthily cross the border of Demacia, if you don't believe me now, then I have nothing to say."

Silas shook his head, not afraid of the huge boar or the strong Scarmother with three knives with him.

Sometimes he wondered if it was too extreme to take a group of barbarians to plunder his homeland, but when he thought about what the Demacians had done to him for fifteen years of imprisoning him, Silas was furious and felt that this was a matter of retribution.

Then think of the fellow mages who followed him to Freljord in search of magic, and one by one they fell, snatched by blizzards, hidden chasms, and brutal beasts. Since then, there has been no turning back.

He had already stirred up considerable resistance in Demacia, he had lit the flame of rebellion, and he wanted to see the fall of the monarchs and nobles of Demacia, so he needed more fuel to make the flame burn!

And he had already found that fuel, which was the powerful Ice Magic, so he couldn't afford to retreat at such a critical juncture, even though he knew that he would go from a grassroots hero seeking justice for the mages suffering in Demacia to a complete national traitor.

It's all about liberating the country! Free the shackles of the dyed!

"Good, Ice Fang." Solva said. She gently patted the violent mount, the bone talisman and totem wrapped around her wrist rattling.

"Silas has brought the oracle of the three sisters, as long as they follow his arrangement, whether it is real money or food and livestock, they will be at their fingertips."

The shaman Casolva was the first to dismount from his mount and leaned against a bush, indicating his willingness to stop and recuperate.

Shamanka is the one who dreams of the will of the gods, and in Freljord, even the most powerful matriarch must know how to respect the old faith.

As soon as she spoke, Freina, who was Scar's mother, had to weigh it.

The most powerful warrior in the group is an Iceborn named Blokval Ironfist, a burly Iceborn warrior who has been a fan of Freena for nearly a decade, and occasionally her lover.

He was half a head taller than her second-strongest warrior, and powerful enough to lift a Guevaque on the ground, and was well worth trusting.

He carries the broadsword on his back, a sword that has been passed down for centuries among the Winter's Claw clan and has been passed down from generation to generation among the Iceborn. An immortal ice was embedded in the hilt of Winter Sigh's sword, and cold hoarfrost wrapped the blade. If anyone other than the Iceborn tried to pick it up, including Freina, they would suffer immensely, even death.

If he had any weakness, it was superstition. Everything he saw was an omen and a vision, such as the crow's flight patterns or the blood splatters on the snow, and the biggest headache for Freena was that he especially worshipped the self-righteous shamanka, even thinking that the path she traveled was a holy place. To make matters worse, his unmistakable respect seemed to infect the other warriors under his command as well. She saw several people nodding in agreement, and they all whispered in the wind.

So when Solva went down, Brockvar followed suit, and even many of the Ice Vein warriors went down to rest, and they were all ready to obey Solva's arrangement.

Scar's majesty was crushed, to which Freina cursed. The minority obeys the majority, and she can only order to stand still in the bushes, after all, it is extremely irrational to have an internal conflict in the enemy's territory.

Silas watched all of this and sighed.

It is not easy to negotiate, not to mention that he is just a small grass man from Biangou Town, a border town, with no cultural background, and he may not be at the same level as this group of barbarians.

If it weren't for the fact that Sister Frost Solva was so interesting to his looks, it would not be easy to convince this group of brutes.

He twisted his arms, sore from the heavy chains he had dragged for a long time, and prepared to take advantage of the time when the northern barbarians were resting to return to the secret camp of the nearby Vault Dwellers and mobilize a group of exiled mages to join them in their plan to storm the Vault Silver.

He said to himself in his heart that all this was to end the cruel system that had plagued them for so long!