Luxanna 840: A Glorious Death He Couldn't Ask For More

Lux's retort caught Olaf's interest.

He had no idea the young woman in front of him was the Her Majesty Luxanna he had been searching for. But someone who dared to brazenly talk back to him was a rare sight.

Since leaving the Lokfar Peninsula and wandering in search of opponents as an Icefield Traveler, Olaf had challenged plenty of beasts, but had rarely fought anyone who could match him. Even in the rugged Freljord, not every Icefield Traveler would risk their life over a few words.

Olaf's habitual foul mouth annoyed people, but outside a tavern, that annoyance rarely escalated into an all-out brawl.

Besides, his hulking frame and bare-chested attire naturally scared off anyone lacking courage. He might have the foulest mouth around, taunting people as soon as he met them, but he rarely ended up in a real fight.

Lux's appearance was deceptive, and she was clearly traveling with a large group, so at first Olaf hadn't thought much of her. Plenty of Demacian merchant caravans roamed western Freljord these days, and Lux looked more like the head of one.

Olaf, born in Lokfar, had never been a gentle soul. His tribe had made its living through raiding, so when Lux unhesitatingly chose to trade words, Olaf naturally couldn't let the insult slide.

He chose to take things further, taunting her in a more openly insulting way.

"That's only because it's so hard to find a beast in the mountains that keeps its head down and hides." He wiped the blood from his axe, leaving a dull red smear on his fur belt. "I'm no Hearthguard. I don't keep a pack of loyal hunting dogs."

Though he spoke of training dogs, his gaze deliberately swept over the guards hurrying up behind Lux. His meaning was obvious.

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