Justice was served on this day... the King is dead... long live the King!!!
Under the unforgiving rule of Jarvan III magic and anyone who had anything to do with it was persecuted. If caught their bodies and mind would be tortured. Their skin would get peeled away by coarse stone, their flesh cut with a blunt blade and their eyelids would be slowly burned by flame. One would not die of such injuries or at least not before he or she gave away vital information about the others hiding and then after all the suffering they had endured if for some unknown reason they were still alive, they would be killed by hanging. Their bodies stayed displayed for many days, so others could see Demacian Justice done firsthand.
Because of it many chose to step out of the crowd and save the innocent from suffering, even though they too were innocent. Their only crime being that they were born different, touched by an invisible spirit at birth that gave them the power they now had. May the Gods if there are any heal their wounds and mend their souls for their death was not justified, and may the gods if there are any break those who judge others for them too can be judged.
Long gone were the days of Demacian might. The land feared itself. The army once honored with an unrelenting courage in the face of adversity now bore wedges between itself and the people it once sought to protect. At any time the spine that ran through all of Demacian people and held them loyal to the crown, could break. No winner would come out of that war or none would come out at all. Crows already carried messages from the lands to the east. Spies, agents of the crown were warning about a force gathering with a black wolf at its head.
Last time the crows came back the news spoke of a duel between the wolf and his commander whose wife, still dressed in her black rose morning gown died at the hands of what seemed to be assassins sent by the wolf himself to apprehend her and put her to the steels edge. She carried his child too, his firstborn, a son - it said. Enraged were his eyes for it all happened before them. Looking from the highground peak he saw them. He saw soldiers tugging her gown, she resisted with all the strength she had but she was thrown to the ground. Dead she lay there when he came running towards and blood was pouring out her nose. The killers were nowhere to be seen, "had this been reality or a bad dream". Nothing more was said about the man - did he die at wolfs claws or did his heart find another cause, it did not matter. One enemy less.
As if the hounds howling weren't enough, the sky to the north was growling too. Dark clouds beset the icy mountains and mighty drums of war cracked hundreds of thunders that carved into the mountain-stone. Occasionally the earth moved slightly and a loud clang could be heard, Runeterra's furnace was burning - Hearth-Home's forgotten ruins were reborn once again.
The living, spread out over the icy mountains quarrel amongst themselves. The day is not today, but the day will come when we as Demacians a proud people will have to pick a side and when that day comes I fear that we too will be picking amongst ourselves.
"We keep the order. We uphold the law". If that is so then I know what I must do. We will not survive like this. Our nation deserves to live on but not unless all its citizens are valued the same and if that means I have to suffer, so be it. I have a secret to share and so must others. I too was touched and so were others who serve the King like me.
We keep the order. We uphold the law. We survive together or non of us will at all.