New Dominion (Warcraft)

The Winter War: Part 3 - New Allies New Challenges
The Winter War: Part 3 - New Allies New Challenges

The meticulously crafted, magical amulet glinted in Beve's hand as she half twirled around the cavern her father was holding his familial court in. Just outside one could hear the sounds of revelry at a successful raid, the cheers of brigands and nobles alike echoing into the night.

"Oh this is beautiful, if they can craft such wonders easily then they shall be fine allies indeed," Beve said, looking back to her father and brother.

Aliden was leaning against the wall and scoffed, "Yes, I am sure the trolls can teach you much about magic, sister."

"Aliden," her father intoned firmly from his seat upon stacked rocks and fine leather.

"It is quite all right father, I know my bother never learned to do more than swing a sword, this must be confusing for you dear," she mocked. "But I assure you, as someone who was able to study the notes we took from Medivh's Spell Book and who had the wit to understand then, I can recognize fine craftsmanship when I see it."

"Such a shame you couldn't keep such a relic," Aliden said, clearly trying to divert her attention.

Their father shrugged, "Fate giveth and fate taketh away. Beve, you trust it?"

"Oh yes, the runes absorb arcane energy you see, and guide it into the enchanted crystal that holds the spell, but neither one alone is a completed spell, very intriguing," she mused.

Clapping his hands the once and future king of Alterac nodded, "We shall contact our man in Lordaeron then and arrange a meeting."

"Is that wise, father, he could be a useful spy?" Beve noted.

"He could be," The older man intoned, "But I also cannot have us projecting anything but strength and if we come forward with this early, he will not suspect our other agents."

Neither some or daughter felt enthused, but they bowed their heads all the same, "Yes, father."


Malakk strode through the fallen throne room, now cleaned of rubble but soon to be gaining dust as it was remodeled. Comfortable ceremonial robes flowing around his frame, he marched through the impressive entryway and into the evening sunlight.

'The skies are lovely here, so clear, if a little bright,' Even still the faint chill on the air was nothing to home and part of him missed the dark clouds and rippling skies. 'But nothing to do about it save win quickly, is there?' He mused.

His gaze drifted across the city, snow flecked roofs mingled with bronzed and white stone, the rubble was cleared and the damage well on its way to be repaired everywhere save for the palace itself. Seeing a now familiar carriage rolling towards him, Malakk checked his time piece and nodded, 'I have a moment,' he thought, awaiting their arrival.

Tallest among the carriages occupants was De'jana, tan skin and bright blue hair contrasting with her gold and red uniform. Meanwhile, bedecked in emerald green and gold was Lordaeron's former queen who rode on the other side of the carriage, almost swallowed by its size.

A mane of dark golden hair flowed around her sharp features, held back by a newly crafted circlet in Lordaeron and Drakkari colors. Hands resting in her lap as the carriage came to a stop before him, she looked to him and blinked owlishly.

"Welcome back, Queen Councilor," He offered warmly.

"Ah… Frost King Malakk, my apologies for not greeting you," She murmured, as the carriage door swung open by De'jana's hand. The human very faintly accepted his hand, more a single finger as she stepped down onto the palace road and curtsied.

"It is of no concern; I take it your day was long and trying?" Malakk answered, stepping back, and giving her space and motioning for his guards to do the same, her own guard remained in the carriage, while De'jana organized their itinerary.

"Indeed, it was, however you will be pleased with the result," She said, tone bereft of enthusiasm as she added. "The townships outside the capital have been calmed and return to their lives, they will also accept the foodstuffs and supplies sent to them and pay their taxes as normal."

"Marvelous work, both of you, I am humbled by your efforts," He commended. "Please, take a rest and anything you desire shall be prepared for you. Tomorrow is expected to be quite an eventful day."

Lianne looked tired, but eying his clothes and glancing around briefly she added, "Are you on your way to a meeting, Frost King?"

"Indeed, I am, it should be of little concern to you as it harkens to our allies in Northrend."

There was a moment of brief consideration before Lianne bowed her head momentarily and said, "If your intention is to… induct this land into your empire should I not be made familiar with these allies?"

Malakk chuckled and De'jana added, "A flawless argument, would you not say my liege?"

"Indeed so, Queen Counselor. If you would be so kind a to join me then? I must forewarn we are going to speak with the Nerubians,"

She froze briefly before swallowing and shuffling to his side, "I must grow accustomed to my duties," was her answer and Malakk nodded.

'A strong soul,' he mused as they took off, guards and De'jana falling in around with the guards, all a respectful distance as they marched to the library.


Lianne had seen the creatures before, had watched their familiars swarm and attack those fleeing the capital in the tunnels. Yet still nothing ever prepared her for the sight before her.

A Nerubian.

"Aaah, Seer Ixit" Malakk proclaimed grandly, arms held wide as if to embrace the red tinged monster that looked to be a blend of spider and praying mantis as they strode into the grand royal library.

Lianne hid her instinctive revulsion, but a shiver still ran across her spine at the sight of not just one but several of the creatures skittering about the library could not be stopped. Their bulbous bodies swaying and fanged maws clicking constantly.

Malakk however seemed inured to the alien entities, even as his own guards looked wary, the troll spoke casually and jovially, "I hope your accommodations have been comfortable."

"Acceptable and functional, a vast improvement over the camp," the spider answered, their mouth clicking and rasping but somehow the words worming into Lianne's mind and making her shudder.

Chuckling the troll answered, "I imagine so, once again you and yours have my thanks for your services in the opening gambit of this war. Your actions saved many lives. By letting us make this swift and decisive."

The creature lowered itself down, swaying slightly, "As was our agreement, the scales have been balanced as your kind would say."

Malakk tapped a tusk, eyeing the Nerubian, "Indeed it is so, and if you wish to board the next ship home or simply open a gateway for yourselves, I shall not stop you. But…"

"But you have determined if I requested this meeting, the matter is more complicated than that," Ixit rasped.

"I thought but did not want to assume, speak your mind Ixit, that we might understand each other."

The Nerubian rattled its head, eyes rolling and flashing madly for but a moment and then its predator like focus was once again all upon Malakk's broad shoulders.

"This land is rife with sorcerers and scholars, inhabited by those who plumb the depths of this universe seeking knowledge and the wealth of titans but do not know to fear what they will find." A shuddering, hissing sound rolled in a wave across the room and the monsters stilled for a moment.

'What in this world could frighten these nightmares?' Lianne wondered, only dragons sprang to mind and even then…

"You think more of your dead gods lie here?" Malakk asked, thoughtfully.

The Nerubian drew back and clicked its fangs, hard, "We do not invoke thoughts of such things, but even if not those who peel back the layers of reality have the chance to find nightmares they cannot contain, and they must be stopped."

"You do it all out of the goodness in your heart, I respect that," The troll said, smirking.

"Survival is paramount, freedom a requirement, to be so dangers must be eliminated or defended against… Which is a second point. There is much magic here, many great schools of learning. If we were to leave, they would be claimed by you."

"But if we fight together, we shall share them evenly or study them together as we do now?" Malakk said, motioning at some stiff looking troll and Wolvar "Scholars" flittering about the library.

Ixit looked reserved and maybe… Annoyed, Lianne could not say, but the spider bobbed its frame, "Indeed. If it acceptable to you, scholars and agents shall continue to support you in this war to see that the knowledge of this lands mages is captured, studied and secured against… Malevolent influences."

"That is more than acceptable, noble Seer, with that in mind, I would like to hear your thoughts on our Way-Gate schematics at a later date, once you have had time to research the possibility."

"Hmm, dangerous, but tactical, ancient, but stable, we shall study them, consult with the Spider King and the court, then arrange for a meeting with you on the topic."

"Magnificent, until then, I thank you again for your efforts and happily welcome your continued aid, may we both continue to reap success in the coming days!"

"Frost King Malakk!" A troll shouted, racing into the chamber, "News from the Orcish Legions and Navarch Hooktusk!"

The troll's brow knitted together as he hissed something under his breath, "Is it dire?"

The ornately armored troll clicked their tongue and said, "I believe they cannot be ignored, but neither speak of a sudden disaster, though…" The troll s gaze snapped to her, beady eyes focused in veiled disgust, "The Alliance continues to show they are bereft of hon-"

"Enough, I shall read them myself, have the War Council summoned to my parlor within the hour," he said sharply. The troll saluted and raced out the door as Malakk turned back, "it appears we shall have to cut this meeting short; do you wish for a representative at the meeting, Seer Ixit?"

"We have no forces with Hooktusk or your Orcs, so it does not concern us yet," With those words the spider simply turned and lurched back to an oversized table.

"Very well, Queen Counselor, have a meal, and recover some strength, commune with a priest if necessary, but know I shall need your advice this evening," Malakk said, eyes flicking over the scrolls.

Lianne forced the array of questions competing for answers and her burgeoning exhaustion to the back of her mind and curtsied.

"As you say, Frost King Malakk."


Tea had flown by in a blur, the moon was rising in the sky and the sun had dipped out of sight some time ago.

Queen Lianne stood as was custom, hands clasped before her, a step to the side of and behind the king as a show of presence and support, ready to give advice or aid at a moment's notice.

Only she was not in the throne room, he was not her king and none of this as custom.

Instead, she stood within her husband's sitting room, with plush red carpets, walls bedecked in fine art, maps and the Alliance's banner. Rows of books, a billiards table, and a a once roaring fireplace, now standing silent. All of this was familiar and to be expected, but the thought of conducting business in such a place was alien to her.

But not nearly so alien as the room's occupants and the false king who conducted his court as though at leisure.

Malakk, the 'Frost King' sat upon a movable throne of stone and intricate carvings, other, smaller but more plush chairs had been brought in to accommodate his advisors as they read reports, letters and discussed events.

Lianne had been offered a seat near Malakk but politely refused it. Any comfort offered was a false one after all and she would not let herself be more vulnerable than necessary.

A troll woman with red hair was speaking, "Chieftan Xex'Mon has taken quite a shine to the orcs, his mission to liberate the other camps however has been of mixed success. Of the three found, one is securely in our hands and brought in new recruits, nearly doubling the size of the orcish legions, while the rest remain lost in their ailments. However…"

"I am already well aware of the massacre that transpired in the West," Malakk intoned, sounding genuinely remorseful.

Bowing her head, the morose troll answered, "Yes, my liege, but the humans who massacred them will be found and I do have other most curious news to report that arrived moments before we began."

"Good, the Orcs are under my protection as well and I cannot let such cruelty go unpunished, now as to this new message, Quetz'Lith?"

"It was is a strange one. There was an internment camp found by Sky Shriekers sent to scout it out well ahead of Xex'Mon's advance," she said, tapping the scroll. "It had already been laid low by others when they arrived. The remaining orcs claim another of their kin liberated them, called him Hellscream. Some of the fighters left but many stayed or were left behind due to weakness."

Malakk hummed, idly glancing back at her, beady eyes expecting.

Shaking her head, Lianne answered, "I know not the name, but he may be tied with the Warsong or Burning Blade Orcs. Both have been acting as raiders in the backwoods for some time."

The brutish looking Zol'Maz cut in, "Why were they not interned as well?"

Lianne shrugged, "They were not among the invasion forces, merely thieves. After their scheme with the Dark Portal failed, they mostly stayed in hiding, preferring other vagabonds and bandits as their prey than daring the Alliance's wrath."

A silent debate had warred in her mind that only now reached its conclusion as she added, "I know little else of them save for that they conduct themselves with more with tact than the Old Horde. But signs have been found of bloody demonic rituals at abandoned camps, so the restraint is but by necessity."

She was surprised to see a shade cast over the room's occupants at the mention of demons. 'You are the one's who turned them lose upon us again!'

The trolls and the one Wolvar among them quickly returned their attention to the matter at hand when a white hair troll bedecked in rich leathers and twin dagger moved to speak.

"Speaking of raiders, word from the scouts says that humans in the more provincial areas have been trying to evacuate. Some succeeded, others were found robbed and dead, we assume by human bandits, others by these Ogre creatures and Gnolls we think."

Quetz'Lith shrugged, "War is a good time for bandits after all, should we deal with them Frost King Malakk?"

The troll king mulled on that for a time, tongue clicking before he answered, "By absorbing Lordaeron into the Drakkari Empire we become responsible for its people. If they wish to free themselves of our patronage, they accept dangers. Thus I will not seek reprisal for these acts lest something more untoward than mere raiding is uncovered."

"However," His tone grew stern as he leaned forward on his throne, knuckles flexing and cracking. "We should move to better patrol the lands and provide escorts to the peasantry; it will not be long before towns and food wagons come under attack and we cannot allow raiders to get away with acting in our territory."

Some part of her wanted to snap at him for such grandiose claims after having invaded them. But naturally Lianne kept her piece, not even a tremor of vexation showing on her face. For all the troll's lofty claims, Lianne knew she could not trust him not to lash out, if not at her, then at her children.

He waved a finger idly, "With that in mind, I would request more effort be made to chart out these attack sites and trace back the source of these violent acts. We do not want an army of brigands materializing in the backwoods. Though," Malakk looked to the diminutive dog servant, "Do you have anything to add my friend?"

The creature, Chief Rageclaw as she'd been told, let out a low keening whine. "We send Speakers. Seek Gnolls, Ogres, others. Some luck, but also violence. Chaos at West forests, much violence."

Malakk hummed, "I will want a full report soon, so we can see about who might aid us or at least join hands with us. Do your Speakers need extra guards?"

The Wolvar let out a sharp laugh, far too close to a Gnolls, "No need, strong, smart, swift."

"Very well, I look forward to your progress, until then," Malakk clicked his tongue. "Moorabi, can you appoint someone to oversee the bandit problem, but only who you need."

The dagger wielding troll sat up from his lounge cushion and saluted, even as the long maned woman spoke up, "Frost King Malakk, should some of my Sky Shriekers accompany them?"

'A rivalry?' Lianne thought, filing that information away.

"Your Sky Shriekers would be a welcome aid, Quetz'Lith but they will be needed elsewhere I believe," Malakk said, picking up a scroll and unfurling it before Lianne who took it gingerly in her grasp. She ignored the unfamiliar script and focused on the sharp drawings of ships and sigils.

"Word is the fleets are finally putting up a fight and proving a hindrance to Hooktusk," Malakk said. "She and her crew are experienced, but the rest of our sailors less so and even our size and weapons can only do so much against there speed. She is requesting you and your Sky Shriekers, especially some Dragoons, specifically for if they run into Proudmoore for some reason."

"His son was murdered by the Orcs dragoons," Lianne muttered, ignoring the stares.

"Such is the nature of war," Sighed the 'Grand Prophet'.

The room grew silent and their gazes fell to Lianne once again, she could scarcely read the trolls expressions. Despite all the time she spent dancing around before relenting and answering even one of Malakk's questions, the acts of defiance had gleamed her little insight into the creatures as a whole.

"If you would Queen Lianne," Malakk said, not sounding irritated by her dawdling, "Might you share with us your knowledge of the sigil I marked on the scroll? It is not one that my Navarch recognized, but their ships are of high quality and skilled in the arts of war," Malakk instructed.

Swallowing back bile she answered, "This is the new symbol of the house of Duke_Falrevere. He was once a powerful noble of Lordaeron, boasting a dozen merchant vessels under his sigil and twice as many battleships. However, he has been steadily trying to migrate towards Kul'Tiras, hence reshaping his sigil. I imagine you struck down several of the ships he had lingering here if your claims regarding the coasts are true."

The armored brute, 'Zol'Maz' scoffed, "Seems this nation was fraying before we arrived."

"We are still learning their ways, Zol'Maz, do not be so dismissive," the Grand Prophet chided.

"Whatever the case," Malakk said, forestalling their usual bickering with a tired sigh, "I ask you, Queen Lianne, would he be open to negotiating or has that ship… Sailed, I believe the term is?" He said with an awkward sort of… grin?

Lianne almost wanted to advise them to send a speaker, but bit back the bitter impulse. She could not risk her precarious position so lightly, not seeing how disproportionate the Drakkari could be.

Shaking her head, she rolled up the scroll and answered, "I would caution against it. His reasons for leaving our lands was a protest against the internment of the orcs in place of genocide and our 'generous' open border policies with the Dwarves."

"Ah, so he looks upon all nonhumans as you do upon trolls?" Moorabi chuckled.

Brow knitting together, Lianne answered tightly, "Not the manner in which I would have phrased it, but his contempt for those who are not human is well known."

"Hmm a shame, but not unexpected," Malakk mused, resting his chin on his fist, "Still, I thank you for your forthrightness, Queen Lianne."

She offered a curt little motion that blurred the line between a bow and a nod, "I only wish to protect the people of Lordaeron and my family as best I am able."

"And you are, even if it may not feel like it," Malakk said, idly tapping his throne, "Quetz'Lith, how many Shriekers can you send to Hooktusk without endangering our position?"

The fiery hair woman put down the scroll and brushed back a lock of orange hair, "About a third of my bat riders and a quarter of the dragoons to I am thinking. Hooktusk just wants to keep them hemmed and distracted, but an early show of force would be good, then some can come back."

Malakk nodded, "Very well then, let it be done."

The woman saluted sharply, "As you say, Frost King Malakk."

Nodding the troll motioned to Moorabi, "I want you to contact Slad'Ran and to coordinate your efforts to root out the raiders. I also want you to coordinate with Chief Rageclaw to seek out these other orcish liberators, but do not engage them. Unless they commit an offence against honor or would threaten our people."

The troll shot up in a blur and knelt, "The brigands shall not escape us, Frost King Malakk."

Putting the scroll aside, Malakk motioned to her, "Thanks to our Queen Counselor and skilled Speakers efforts, a work force has been secured to oversee much of the simple manual labor. Prisoners who wish their terms commuted mostly. This shall free up our own forces for patrols and for raids on the Bulwark, and with time could provide other benifits."

"The bulwark still poses a danger, especially with the temple so nearby. I am thinking it was a bad decision not to move East sooner," ZolMaz said.

Gal'Darah scowled at the troll, bristling as he countered, "First you resent our presence here, now you condemn us for inaction?"

"There is a fine line between honor and rank foolishness is there not? Sending word to the East hastened the making of the Bulwark that weakens us," the warrior argued.

"What is done is done," Malakk intoned, "We came here knowing we may need fight all comers, them moving to a potential choke point is not a bad thing. Provided our weapons and forces are at the ready, a defensive war will serve us well into the next theaters of battle. Besides, work has already begun on a surprise for those that strike at us from the East," he smirked.

'So, there are still secrets held in reserve, but what and how dangerous are they?' Lianne wondered.

Her attention turned to a lean, muscular troll woman with a white mane of hair that was smaller than most of her kindred.

"Speak Great Mother," Malakk intoned.

"Word from North Port my liege, Bonechiller Barafu sent me word that unfamiliar mages have attempted to breach our barriers. The Arcanists describe their magic akin to a ghost brushing up against the wards."

"Hmm, concerning, but with Dalaran still pawing at our gates I can only leave the matter to their best discretion and ask they divert only what can be spared to researching this matter," Malakk said.

"As you say Frost King," the troll woman intoned blandly.

Glancing around hands out wide, Malakk asked, "Is there any more business to be conducted this night?"

Gal'Darah raise his hand, ornately decorated wooden armor shining brighter than steel as he intoned. "From my time in the church, speaking with the Archbishop and thanks to recent letters from Prophet Slad'Ran, I have learned that both the Priestess Whtemane and Faol wish to hold a meeting or summit of some sort. To ensure the others 'flock' is well tended and commiserate on holy lands."

Malakk frowned at that, leaning back in his throne, "The Church's collaboration is a useful tool in keeping the populace calm, but I am wary to allow such a thing at this sensitive time. Speak with them further, research their requests, desired meeting places and more, so that nothing may catch us by surprise."

Gal'Darah looked briefly stunned before an oddly pleased expressions spread on his lips and he nodded excitedly, "As you say Frost King Malakk, so shall it be done."

"Then I thank you all for your exemplary service and offer you lodging within the palace for this night before you return to your duties on the morn. Rest well my friends, battle comes soon."

Rising to their feet, an array of salutes, bows and soft words were exchanged as they began filing out of various doors. Lianne herself lingering as long as she could while Malakk stretched and motioned his guards to the courtyard to "Knock the frost off."

Only for them to freeze when De'jana raced through the door, offering her what looked like an apologetic smile before turning her attention to the Frost King.

Lianne knew they could see her and forced herself to leave, every step agonizingly slow as she listened intensely, but only a few words slipped through the doorway.

"A diplomatic messenger awaits an audience with you, Frost King Malakk."

"Oh?"

The words after that faded to nothing and Lianne could not help but suspect foul play as she tried to calm her worried mind.

'It is most certainly a mere message of some distant ally or new discovery, no human would aid these barbarians, not a one!'


Beve_Perenolde stared at the shimmering portal before her, staff clutched in hand, face obscured by a mask in Alterac orange, with rough red and fading purple robes adorning her frame.

"It looks stable enough," she mused. Smiling like a cat at the sound of heavy armor at her side, as Richelle stood before the gateway and saluted.

"Please, allow me milady," She crossed the heavy, bladed shield woven into her armor's right arm over her chest.

Brushing the woman's short brown hair back with a gentle touch of her staff, Beve nodded, "As you wish, my dear."

Standing at attention, pivoting on her feet, with her nearly un-armored right hand reaching up to grasp the handle of her broadsword, she stepped through and vanished into shimmering light.

"Want to bet her head comes flying out?" Lisa chuckled.

"Head if we're lucky," Rosa scoffed.

Beve tapped her stave into the ground, while Singer let loose a low hum and both mages stilled their wagging tongues.

A moment later, Richelle strode out of the portal looking intense but otherwise unharmed as she saluted and said, "The gateway leads to Fenris Isle my princess, they appear safe… If Damaged."

'They've taken Fenris Isle!?'

Beve motioned Singer forward and at the woman's hum her hands began to shine, one with gold and the other with shadow. Placing them either side of Richelle's head there was a tense moment before she pulled back. Glow fading from her hands, the assassin signed 'Mind is her own'.

Checking her Crystal Tipped Stiletto was still fastened to her hip, Beve cheered, "Well then, if it is safe and Richelle speaks the truth, let us see what lies on the other side, no?"

"Yes, Princess Beve!" They answered, before Richelle turned and marched back through the portal.

Singer ran her hands through her dark hair and matching dress, sucked in a gentle breath of the perfume suffusing her mask and strode through, followed by Beve and her apprentices.

Flashing lights of the Nether faded quickly, but Beve's mind was caught in shocked wander as she stepped upon the muggy, frosty island and stared at Frenris Keep.

Once a fiercely powerful fort with a fine dock and many small vessels, the fortress was now battle scared by flame and broken stone. Giant turtles patrolled the waters in place of the now charred gunships, while strange spider webs that hummed with magic crisscrossed between towers and trees, while great idols rose up along the coasts, pulsating with power.

Air that should have been cold and the waters frosting over were instead muggy and flowing freely as though early spring. Before her stood a fierce looking troll woman with white hair, lean muscles, rather handsome features, and pale blue skin.

Firmly striking the ground with the butt of her spear the ornately armored troll said, "I am Great Mother Arkticus, leader of the Frostmane Tribe, advisor to Frost King Malakk and acting overseer of this fort. It is an honor."

Matching the motion of the woman's spear with her Amethyst_War_Staff, Beve answered in kind, "The honor is mine. I am princess Beve Perenolde, formerly of the nation of Alterac, and arch mage of the Syndicate." She motioned from side to side, "This is my honor guard Richelle and my personal assistant Singer, along with two of my apprentices, Rosa and Lisa."

The troll woman nodded, hand over her heart, "Frost King Malakk will be pleased to receive you within the fort itself, and should this matter go well, will cheerfully host you and yours as honored guests in Lordaeron's castle."

Beve smiled, even if a touch of her ached at the thought of Lordaeron sharing the keeps fate. 'It would not feel the same,' she thought, even as she fell in behind Arctikus and said, "I too hope this meeting is fruitful, and wish to offer your liege my regards."

Casting her gaze around and trying to ignore the strange spiders patrolling the woods, she added, "However did you claim this keep? It was meant to house a strong force at all times and the wards were always well maintained."

A new voice, rough but jovial echoed across the courtyard and Beve was greeted to the sight of the largest troll she had ever seen, bedecked in robes as fine as any kings and sweeping his arms out grandly as he proclaimed.

"Fortune, timing, and skilled scouting was our ally in this battle" Sharp features split into an endearing smirk as he continued. "Word is the lord of this isle only kept a garrison while he resided upon it, and as he was away at Dalaran. Thus, we struck before the wizards of the South could fortify it."

He bowed grandly, "I am Frost King Malakk, and I welcome you as my honored guest, Princess."

"I am honored to be receive so graciously," she said, curtsying, "I hope this can be the beginning of a long and prosperous relationship between our peoples."

"As do I, there is much the former masters of Alterac could do to aid us, and much we intern can offer your Syndicate," he said, the word rolling off his tongue strangely.

Motioning for her to join him, they walked into the charred but still whole keep, her guards falling in at her left and the Frost King's at his right, with Arctikus breaking off to oversee soldiers training in the courtyard.

"You are well informed on us; I take it you spoke with our man then?" She asked.

"Indeed," he frowned, "Andron_Gant has quite a reputation about him, but he was very informative."

"He is but one of many agents we have across Lordaeron and the Greater Eastern Kingdoms, keeping our forces abreast of the Alliance's moves against our people."

"An impressive accomplishment to be sure," Malakk said hands clasped behind his back.

They passed through the gate and into the chilled main hall. Beve found a comfortable plush chair awaiting her that was utterly dwarfed by the ornately carved stone throne sitting across from it, with a large map table laid out between them.

"Please, I offer you a seat that we may talk in comfort," Malakk said.

"I accept your kind offer happily," Beve said carefully, trying to follow the troll's diction and earning what looked to be a pleased smile as she took her seat across from him.

"Now, forgive me if I am ignorant," Malakk said carefully, though his tone beget no nervousness, "But I must ask. Would you be considered empowered to speak on behalf of your Syndicate's leader, or perhaps be their replacement?"

Beve rolled the question over in her mind, trying to parcel the world this king came from, what his true question might mean and if obscuring the truth was to her benefit.

'I know too little to play coy,' she decided, and leaned forward, "As the eldest child of Aiden Perenolde, Princess, as well as the teacher and leader of our magical squadrons I could be considered my father's successor. However as of now any deal arranged with myself would be provincial and require his approval."

"And his alone?" Malakk asked.

'I was hoping he would not ask that,' she thought before answering, "May I inquire as to the intent behind your question?"

"Nothing sinister," he hummed, offering a lazy wave, "I am simply learning the ways of my subjects and allies and thus there is much I do not know. I myself rule as Frost King, but I am advised and checked by a council of Great Families, Priests and bureaucrats, among which yourself and some among your number may well be counted in due time."

'He presumes much, but that offer is temping, though a court of trolls would be quite a spectacle!' She idly wondered if most were as tall as Malakk, given what she had seen, she imagined him to be an exception.

Smiling, she clasped her fingers and hummed, "My father is king, however much like yourself he holds court with military leaders, nobles and those like myself." It was best not to make promises they could not keep, but not in a way that showed weakness. "As a result of our decentralized nature direct edicts are difficult to institute, though only for now, and no matter the day we hold sway over two thousand fierce fighters, cunning rogues and skilled mages."

"Four legions, mages and an information network, quite a respectable force, but then, that begs the question," he leaned back in his chair and smiled softly, "What is it you desire from your Frost King?"

Beve resisted the urge to click her tongue like a scolding teacher, casting a brief glance back at the eager eyes of her followers, before meeting Malakk's own. The troll was utterly assured and radiating naught but a calm sense of strength and authority.

"Your people came here seeking justice, we desire the same," She uttered, tongue lashing. "When we needed the Alliance, they were nowhere to be found and for striking a deal to survive, nearly all among us were punished, even those of us who had no part in the 'crime' of which my father was accused."

"Oh? I had been told you joined your family in exile willingly," the troll asked curiously.

'Because I love my family and did not want to be sold off as some fool princes breeding stock!'

"My loyalty to my kin and my people is great, Frost King Malakk, I would do anything to protect them," she said grandly.

He showed neither sign of annoyance nor belief at her tone, merely ambivalent acceptance as he motioned, "But there must be more than reprisal against those who wronged you that you seek."

"There is," Beve said licking her lips, "We desire our land back, we wish for our mountain homes as well as for the lands of Hillsbrad and Arathi to fall under our sway when this war is done. We wish to aid you in claiming victory and be rewarded with not just what was taken from us, but the lands of those who robbed us so."

A quiet breath escaped Malakk's maw, almost like a whistle, "Your family and lords desire much, but it is not something I am bereft of mind to give. When all acknowledge me as their rightful king there will need to be overseers and Great Families to tend to the lands and her people's after all and I find it fitting to reward those who conduct themselves loyally and bravely."

"You would find fewer braver or more dedicated souls than we, Frost King Malakk," she offered eagerly.

"Indeed, your enthusiasm does you credit." Tapping his throne he added, "I am willing to agree to a fair redistribution of land to you and your people. Should my rank as king be acknowledged and you aid us in the coming battles. However, the nature of warfare and alliances make determining the exact territory and size so soon a fool's errand."

He held up a hand forestalling a counterpoint, "I will however agree to offer your people Hillsbrad, the lords have summarily rejected my offers, one merely sending back a letter he spat in," The troll bristled in vague disgust.

"Some of the lords here are a rather rough and uncivilized lot," Beve crooned.

Malakk chuckled, "So it would seem, but ah, where was I? Yes, you will also have food as well as new equipment and the support of my own forces in the days to come. I will accept your oaths of loyalty and host your family and advisors at my palace, where we may discuss this in more detail."

'That was swift, perhaps his position is not as strong as I thought and he's desperate, or maybe he is merely arrogant, or trusts too easily…' Her mind whirled, but Beve knew an answer needed to be forthcoming and she would not know the truth from idle speculation.

Rising from her seat, she crossed a hand over her heart, "I am honored, Frost King Malakk, and will take this happy news back to my father and our forces at your leisure."

Malakk rose from his seat, "Whatever time is best suited to you and yours, Princess Beve; though if that is now please, allow me to escort you to the portal point."

"You are a truly gracious king," She offered, resting her hand over his massive digits, and feeling like a child next to an adult given their respective heights.

As they strode towards a glittering arcane circlet, Beve plied the troll king, "If I may ask, who do you intend to appoint as overseer of Fenris Isle when this war is done?"

Malakk hummed, "That is yet to be decided. The Shadowglen of Silverpine played a key role in claiming this sight as did the Sky Shriekers. Should neither of them wish to claim it, I shall likely gift it to the Rageclaw Wolvar, that they might turn it into a trade hub, it is well situated for such a place."

'Just how expansive is his empire?' She wondered, confidence in her family's future further buoyed by the prospect of an empire of more than just trolls and monsters.

"Wolvar?" She asked.

Malakk grinned, "You shall meet them as well as their Speaker and agents at the capital, they are quite eager to ply a new land for relics, herbs and trade abroad and will be most eager to converse with you."

Stepping into the arcane circle with her guards, Beve curtsied, "I shall look forward to meeting them, and our next engagement in the capital, my king."

He grinned, "I as well, Princess Beve Perenolde."


In the depths of the Barov family crypt the air was cold, lifeless, but almost clinically clean.

All facts that were lost on Bartimus. The mage could feel sweat running down his back as he cast the spell. Arcane energies flowed through his being, but the heady feeling was replaced by sheer dread at the darkness of the depth of the family crypt.

Only his lord and lady stood ready to receive the escaping royal family from the occupied capital.

"My lord, my lady, what if they are being pursued?" he asked, breath hitching.

"We have assurance they will be safe, so worry not, dear," Lady Barov murmured, as her husband toyed with his sword and added, "No unwanted quest shall find a welcome greeting, of that I can assure you, Bartimus."

"Finish the spell," they said as one.

He pushed through his fears, he was the family magus after all, it was his sworn duty to obey and-

Something cold.

A presence in his mind.

Too many eyes.

The spell wasn't his anymore.

"I-"

A troll burst forth and before he could scream a giant hand closed on his face and he knew only darkness.


Illucia and her husband had seen trolls before, but these Drakkari looked to be from another world!

Easily a head or more taller than the largest Forest Troll they were more akin to Ogres. Save where Ogres were all fat and bloat, these blue skinned creatures were all sharp angles and dense muscle.

The one who caught the unconscious Bartimus was adorned in thick dark robes of fine material with blue patterns and a white fur trim, magical trinkets adorning their frame.

The other was leaner but taller, adorned in fiery red armor one might expect to see on a skirmisher or commando that left his arms bare and was wielding a giant squared off blade.

The duo looked around and nodded, before stepping back and offering swift bows, "Honored guests of our liege, the Mighty Frost King Malakk. We his majesties bodyguards do welcome you on his behalf and bid you to cross the threshold."

"Will Bartimus survive?" Illucia asked idly.

"Oh yes," the robed troll said, "We don't kill needlessly, he will live, though until we can be sure he is safe he will have to be contained."

"That is only natural," Her husband said, hand on her back they nodded and followed the fiery red troll through the swirling vortex.

The world flared, flashed, and bent before they stood in a richly adorned study chamber and-

Illucia's heart nearly stopped at the sight of the multilegged monstrosity, a sordid blend of scorpion and spider weaving magic next to the portal.

"Don't worry about the Nerubian's none," the red armored troll said casually, "They're repaying us a debt and have proven to be a fine and friendly bunch."

A wheezy voice escaped the Nerubian, "We are neither fine nor friendly, this is just pragmatic rationality."

The robed one chuckled, "They pretend to have no emotions to make conversation dull, hoping that we might stop hassling them. Fret not, noble one's," she said more seriously, "As guests of our liege, you are the safest people on this world."

A weak nod grew firm as they steeled themselves and the portal closed behind them, 'too late to turn back now,' Illucia thought.

The twin trolls bowed before them again, the one in armor speaking, "I am Kutube'sa, a warrior and the burning blade of his majesty." Next was the robed one, a hammer and intricate stone shield on her hips and arm, "I am Bith'sa, Frost Warden and his majesty's unbreakable shield."

"We shall escort you to his eminence."

"Well then, let us not keep our host waiting," Alexi said with a forcibly casual air.

The guards nodded and beckoned for them to follow, leaving behind the spider monsters, and passing by many-a troll, other insectoid horrors, several strange furry creatures and oddly enough many humans moving about the castle without an escort.

Things only grew stranger as they stepped from the halls and onto the grand walkways surrounding the palace and looked upon the miraculously un-sacked capital.

Oh, the damage was there, walls being repaired, Lordaeron's Arcane Tower now but rubble and above all the sight of the fact the castles East Wing was charred and broken, but the houses and streets seemed to carry on as normal!

As they followed the elite guard, they looked over the city streets watched by more giant Drakkari trolls, but less than they expected. But what was more, they saw other humans.

Most down on the streets seemed to be shuffling about on their daily routine but there were others, clearly workers laying foundations upon he ruined sections of castle, while others worked inside to remodel the halls.

They were obviously being overseen by the Drakkari, but there were no chains, no whips. Illucia and Alexi shared a confounded stare.

"They are working for you willingly?" Alexi asked gently.

Bith'Sa shrugged, "Somewhat, they are petty criminals seeking esteem. We promised to communicate their prison time to labor done if they helped repair the city, if all goes well, they shall be home by spring."

Kutube'sa frowned, "We made a similar offer to the soldier and militia types, but they were most unreceptive, and rude."

"And those who refused?" Illucia asked gently.

Kutube'sa spoke up, "Their sentence will be the duration of the war at a minimum, but if this take six months then they go home six months after it is over, two years, another year after that." He waved his hand, "you understand, we just don't want-em causing any trouble the moment they get out."

That was a… surprise, but a comforting one, even if it was a lie; their actions thus far gave hint to Malakk's temperament and strategies.

'We can work with this,' Illucia thought.

They passed through the royal hall, not even lingering on the throne room where trolls and those strange dog creatures were modifying the place; his majesty's throne however still sat, seemingly undisturbed.

"If we are not to be received in the throne room, may I ask where we are going?" Alexi asked.

"You are guests of the Frost King, you may ask whatever you wish," Bith'sa said gently, "As to where. Frost King Malakk abhors stuffiness, so you will meet with him in a parlor for drinks and food if it pleases you."

"It most certainly does," Illucia grinned as they approached a giant set of doors that clearly hadn't needed to be remodeled to accommodate the castle's new rulers, watching as it was pushed open to reveal the king's personal library!

'We would never have been allowed in here before now!' Illucia thought giddy with pride and a darkly amused sense if satisfaction.

Soft blue banners and plush, royal purple seats awaited them, alongside grand bookshelves lined the walls, along with an array of wine cabinets, tastefully displayed art, a billiards table and more.

Laid out on a low table was an array of exquisite dishes, many of which they had personally ordered prepared in the past.

Of-course what instantly drew their attention was the gargantuan beast of a troll standing by a map board. Easily a head taller than even the tallest troll they had seen and broad as an ogre, he had dark violet hair, blue skin, adorned with tattoos and gigantic tusks!

Adorning his powerful frame was a soft, elegantly patterned sky-blue tunic with thick overall buttons running up from the base of the top to his chin. Grey-ish blue pants with subtle patterns and of a loose material covered his legs, while a long, gently furred coat that nearly blended into a cape hung over his shoulders. Several fine jewels formed an intricate necklace, detailed bracers studded with gems rested upon his wrists and golden loop earrings from which hung more jewels.

The troll smiled and that brief flash of fangs reminded them no matter how well he dressed this was still a troll who was easily twice their size. He threw his arms wide and beckoned with ring adorned fingers, "My noble guests, I welcome you to my parlor, please take a seat and help yourselves to whatever you desire."

Both offered a polite bow and curtsy respectively, "We thank our new king for his kindness."

"You are a more gentlemanly host than your predecessor, if I might say so," Alexi chuckled.

"You never drank tea or broke bread with your king?" Malakk answered, tsking.

"Indeed, we did not, he enjoyed the company of his Paladins and generals, but not his noble peers," Alexi huffed as he made to take his seat.

"Traitors!" A youthful voice howled from above.

They stilled and looked askance, only to see a blonde-haired adolescent with bright blue eyes being pulled back from the barrister by the queen mother herself!

"Come, Arthas," she annunciated carefully as the boy seethed and spat.

"Please Arthas," his sister added, tugging on his hand.

Illucia smiled and curtsied, "Queen Mother, have you remarried perhaps?" eyes flickering to Malakk who simply looked bored as Lianne scowled down at her and tugged Arthas away with more force.

As a pair of Drakkari advanced upon them, the fight slowly left Arthas, and with a brief flash of blonde hair and a muttered curse they disappeared. Falling back into the shadows of the studies second floor, before a door swung shut.

"My apologies, the Queen Counselor assured she could keep the boy in line but, it seems not. Though I must ask if the verbal barb was necessary?" Malakk asked.

"Apologies my king," Illucia said, not sorry at all, "old rivalries die hard."

The troll hummed, "True enough, and their comportment was most ill fitting to their station. Please, help yourselves," He gestured at the platter before them, snatching up a piece of caviar for himself as Illucia perused the wine list.

"Is keeping the royal family alive a wise course of action your grace? So long as they draw breath, people will feel Lordaeron lives on?" Alexi asked, as he toyed with a piece of pheasant.

The troll chuckled, "Lordaeron shall live on with or without them, but I'll not kill children over fear of what may come. Besides," He sent them both a significant, conspiratorial smirk, "they could still play a role in events to come, and to our mutual favor."

'Does he suggest an arranged marriage perhaps? To make us royalty?' Illucia wondered.

The troll waved towards the map hanging upon the wall and hummed, "But that is for the distant future, let us instead turn our minds to the now and what shall soon be, such as the lands you seek and of your daughter, Jandice of Dalaran,"

At that the noble couple grinned.
________________________________________
NOTES:
I have no idea how this chapter got so long to be honest, but I hope it proved engaging.

Fun trivia, this art piece inspired Great Mother Arcticus's 'look', with these being her clothes prior to joining the empire.

I'm sort of mixing and matching canon for Alterac's betrayal, as the games had it be from the start, while the books had it be hilariously recent and only when the Horde marshalled at Alterac's foothills and was followed by Perenolde getting a message to send forces to Lordaeron of all place XD Suffice to say, while I am not going with the latter, a version of events along those lines if more drawn out, is the narrative Altericians hold about things, while the rest of the Alliance has a rather less charitable take, though broadly more accurate.
 
Missing Scenes
Hi, sorry due to some editing mishaps, these two scenes from the previous chapter got lost., these scenes have also been edited into the previous chapter.

Missing Scenes​

Kel'Thuzad had been planning this for weeks, working with the finest regent's money could buy, anonymity his blade and past experience his greatest ally.

Having taken up a spot on the mountains outside Stratholme where the Ley Lines converged, the magus weaved his subtle spell. Unexpected and unseen in the face of the contest of wills between Lordaron's former capital and Dalaran that would soon be reaching its next peak.

Still, he needed to be careful and cautious, one wrong step would reveal him too soon and through the fragile, rippling rift would stride a host of foes seeking his head for the interruption. But if he succeeded-

"There!" He cheered, the rift growing stable and sure, flickering images of Lordaeron's archives appearing before his very eyes and strange incense touched at his nose.

Kel'Thuzad gasped as the feeble rift surged with power and a chilling wind sucked him through. Barely grasping his stave in time, the world became a blur of flashing colors and writhing images of untold imaginings before he materialized in the archives.

Spells hummed and claws reached, a hasty blink spell was all that saved him from a spider monsters curse. He weaved around a shouting troll and blasted open the doors with a flick of his wrist and disappeared down the stone halls to the echoing cries of "There has been a breach!"

Racing down the hallways, blinking his way around guards and letting loose gusts of arcane force to throw himself forward he kept out of the invaders grasp.

'Foolish, clumsy creatures! However, did they take the capital!?' Whatever had allowed them to succeed, they were clearly not worth his time to align with.

The tingling song of arcane bubbled on his skin and Kel'thuzad wreathed himself in an invisible shield with a blinding flash of light layered atop. The shouts of pain soothing to his ears as he ducked into a nearby hall and then back out with a blink spell.

Bypassing walls and pathways, he was out of reach as his pursuers began calling for reinforcements, desperately searching as he disappeared deeper into the castle.

'Now, I just need to find the princess and escape with her,' though if worst came to worst he might blend in with the common folk by slipping out the servants quarters and into the city. 'Yes, waiting for the hunt to die down would be wise, but then, they might be able to track me while I wait?'

He had not expected his spell to manifest so swiftly, the ambient energies had clearly overtaken the other sides before he could choose a more subtle location to manifest the spell.

'Still, I am brilliant and these base creatures are clearly surviving solely by raw energy alone. They will destroy the capital like that, best to be done with my business sooner rather than later.'

Kel'thuzad stepped out from the hall and stilled at the sight of the throne room; he had been expressing avoiding the damnable place, how-

His gaze snapped to a giant blue figure lazing on the steps leading up to the kings throne. Adorned in fine robes and an elegant cape fit for a noble, a crown of feathers and crystalized ice resting on a regal brow, with giant tusks that seemed to glint in the fading sunlight.

'He must be the leader, but he is so at ease… Did he sense my coming? I was lured here!?'

The troll king was lazily waving his hand through the gentle incense smoke as he answered, "Your initial breach was genuine and well earned, but let us just say that the moment you stepped foot in my palace…"

The world around him shifted, light bent, smoke swelled, and the troll now stood, towering above him like a god, alit by a burning blue sun that cast his frame in shadow as he lifted Kel'Thuzad into the air.

'Illusions? No hallucinations!?'

"You were in the palm of my hand…" The troll chuckled, the sound and sensation like a hurricane battering his body and blasting away the smoke and illusions to return Kel'thuzad to the throne room.

'Deceived, I!?'

"Now then," The troll king said, already walking out a remodeled doorway, "Join me in the parlor, that we might talk with the others."

'So, I am not alone here…'

Swallowing back the rage that threatened to leave him, Kel'thuzad's gaze flickered to the array of guards hovering at a 'polite' distance and eyeing him warily.

'Maybe this shall be worth my time,' He mused, and conjured a field of subtly protective arcane energy before slowly following the towering troll.


Lianne Menethil stood before the richly detailed map of Lordaeron that hung upon the walls of what had once been her husband's parlor.

Her folded arms tightened as she heard the troll return, his gravelly voice uttering the words, "You children sleep I take it?"

Her tone cold but not rude, "They sleep as well as they are able, I would rather be at their side, but I assumed you would have need of me?"

"It could have waited until morning, but as you are here, we can get it out of the way now if you wish." The troll rolled his shoulders and doffed off his coat, draping it over his throne to stand by a window that looked into the royal gardens.

'What I wish has nothing to do with this!' She wanted to scream. But she did not, Lianne had been raised knowing she might be in a situation like this, or worse, but never at the hands of something like a troll.

Re-focusing her mind she gestured at the map, "I see in your ambitious dreams you control every port in Lordaeron, while the lands within are divvied up between you and your collaborators."

Malakk nodded idly, "To ensure supplies and troops can arrive and be held safely the coasts must be secure, or so I am thinking, you disagree?"

"It may let those within turn against you, though I take it these garrisons are to stop just that?" she asked, motioning to the smaller dots adorning the map along the road ways.

"Temple Towns, though yes they work well as forts," the troll grinned. "You are right though, it is risky, but so too would be leaving myself trapped. But there is more to it. If you look closely you should see the path my forts will take shall support trade and mail services. There are also the new roadway systems I am tinkering with."

"I had noticed, you have many plans," she said, looking at the expanded Barov territory. "Do you intend to honor your pact with them?"

Malakk nodded, "Of course, I promised them land, titles and wealth as they requested and so they shall get them. As shall any others who join my ranks and spare me having to lose soldiers to their blades."

"Accepting these traitors into your ranks?" Lianne Menethil scoffed, "You will drown in cowards and weaklings."

The Frost King just smiled, oddly gently as he tapped one oversized finger against a tusk, "I would not turn away one willing to throw themselves in front of a blade for me, queen Menethil."

"So, you are just using them?" She wondered, 'A fitting fate.'

"Hardly," The troll countered, his tone still genial, but something like offence seeping in.

"Then what are you doing?" She asked.

The troll turned away from the window and met her gaze, once she would have been terrified, now she was growing disturbingly accustom to it.

"I am giving them a chance to prove themselves worthy of rank in my empire; treason is a vile act but one who punishes those who would help them is hardly a fair ruler."

He poured them both a goblet of wine, "I will use them carefully and stake little on them that I could not do myself, to limit casualties. But when I win, if they prove too ambitious to be trusted, I will shuffle them off to some contended little retirement parlor to while away their days, unable to scheme or plot."

"And if they fail?"

"Then their betrayal will be revealed, and their kin shall decide their fate." He offered a brief toast with his goblet and said, "Your concern does you credit Queen Counselor, and I thank you for your wisdom. I hope I can continue to rely on you throughout this campaign."

"I hardly have a choice," she answered, staring into her glass.

"There is always a choice, Lianne, rarely a good one, but it is there," he strode by her. "I will leave you to your thoughts, but remember what I said. I do not execute or torment children and the defenseless. I will not harm you."

With that he vanish, and Lianne was left to silently ponder her fate.
 
The Winter War: Part 4 - Skirmishes & Schemes
The Winter War: Part 4 - Skirmishes & Schemes
Tirion looked out from his keep to where his forces marshalled, a small host of Gryphons, both his own and some Wildhammer brought to his side by word of mouth. They milled about the courtyard in the early morning light while their fellows in battle already swarmed over the mountains.

Myranda materialized at his back, hand resting against steel, "My husband, I know your lot in life is not a safe one, but is this wise?"

Snapping shut his Libram of Retribution, Tirion turned and embraced his young bride. "Fret not my love, for we have the Light on our side, and I would be a traitor to my oath if I left the monastery in enemy hands even a day longer."

He could see her moving to speak but shook his head, "Brave scouts and ranger fell that we might learn what we needed to act, if we wait much longer they shall further fortify the South and the Bulwark. We must act before that happens and divide our foes attention."

She sighed and nodded, "Please, just stay safe, and do not let that good heart of yours lead your head astray."

Tirion chuckled, "I shall not, with you to return to how could I?" Taking her hand he kissed it, "Now please, I must rally the men."

"Of course," Myranda whispered, stepping back while Tirion approached the balcony, chest swelling as he stepped out and looked upon his elite squadron.

"My friends, brave heroes of the Alliance and champions of the Light, I thank you for your support!"

He raised his fist high, Libram of Retribution unfurling and casting him in a golden array.

"Brave souls fell that we might know the invaders, through arrogance or neglect, did not bind our or jail our kindred in the Holy Monastery!"

Oaths to honor the fallen echoed in the air.

"I swear upon my honor they shall be avenged and this most holy site returned to us. For when our skirmishers slip through their patrols and we riders rain divine retribution from the sky, those within shall rise up and strike down their captors. Turning the land back into a bastion for the Alliance!"

Fierce roars and cheers echoed, blades raised high and the air crackled with energy.

"The Holy Light is with us, so ride with me, to victory and justice!"


Slad'Ran sat upon a simple cushion, legs folded beneath him the Prophet sat before an exquisitely crafted oaken desk with books, scrolls, and art laid out before him. Mixed into the research material were intricate mimicries of holy symbols placed upon a Codex and at his side stood a temple scribe and the acting Bishop, Sally Whitemane.

Slad'Ran held up a copy of an intricate holy symbol from a bygone era developed by the church in its early days, sharper and much more angular than one might expect with what looked to be woven vines sliding through the framework.

"Do you know the history of this symbol? It harkens my mind to old Amani symbology I once studied," he asked, voice high and faintly curious.

A frown marring elegant, painted features, she answered, "I would say not, such imagery is merely a holdover from some old heathen traditions in the backwoods. It was born of those that revered tree spirits along with the light."

"I am surprised this is still not done," Slad'Ran mused, "Is not a forest part of your Light?"

As if by rote, Whitemane answered, "All beings are born of the light, but only humans, and other sapient being, can connect with it. Animals can be attuned to it but are not part of it for they cannot think, merely acting on instinct," She motioned to the art.

"In this regard, plants and stones are even less, no life, no purpose or thought, nothing. They can make for excellent metaphors, or used as imagery I suppose." Her tone was more dismissive than musing, before she finished. "But nature itself exists only to facilitate our communion with the Light by providing food and lodging, but it has no mind so it cannot be revered for it exists to serve us."

Slad'Ran's befuddled expression was accompanied by a low, "Mhm, I see, interesting."

That had apparently been the wrong answer, as the red lined eyes of Whitemane focused on him with renewed annoyance he hadn't seen in some days. "Why do you study our tomes and records? Let alone compare them to the works of your... Cousins? Are the beings your worship unsatisfying?"

"Hardly," Slad'Ran scoffed, real offence in his tone seemingly taking Whitemane by surprised, so he forced his tongue to soften, before continuing. "To answer your questions. Because I enjoy learning and there is always something to garner from the experience of others, even other faiths have insights to share with those willing to listen."

Seeing her scowl, Slad'Ran added, "Idle curiosity is not alone my motive," he motioned to her with his pen, "Your nation is to join with ours. If we are to keep the empire unified, your culture and ways must be understood."

Whitemane spoke slowly, "So you say, and yet I feel your inquiries go much deeper than that and more, are not necessary for your kings plan to succeed. We are surrendered are we not? Simply leave us to our business."

Slad'Ran tilted his head, "In my culture, a temple is a bastion and safe havens of learning, political discourse, healing and growth, perhaps it is not that way here?"

"For the faithful or unenlightened. That does not mean casually allow heretics to peruse our manuscripts seeking commonality with ancient foes of the civilized world."

"My apologies if perchance, I have offended," Slad'Ran offered, hand over his heart, "I can always ask another."

Whitemane shook her head, "There is no need, this is my duty, though... When shall I have the chance to speak with the Archbishop?"

Blinking at the sudden shift, Slad'Ran tapped a tusk and answered, "Ah, yes, the meeting is scheduled in three days You shall fly to the capital and meet with him, Grand Prophet Gal'Darah, Queen Counselor Lianne and Frost King Malakk before returning once business has been attended to. If he wishes to visit this temple, he will be permitted to on the returning flight."

"Queen Counselor," Whitemane muttered, as if barely resisting the urge to spit.

Slad'Ran's mind was wondering though, his brow knit together and Whitemane looked on warily but curious as he raised his hand. The sensation of distant hissing and thumps echoed in his mind.

A face flashed into his mind, leather armor and a gleaming dagger.

Pain!

Clutching his skull and hissing as cold steel filled his senses, breaking bone and cutting sinew, his gods power flared with fury and the priest threw himself to his feet.

"We shall speak later," he ground out, stepping over the table and marching out the doors, hissing commands to his familiars and soldiers as he went.

'They've begun a counterattack!'


Qu'Se was but a humble Snake Handler, one of many who was chosen to infiltrate the mountains surrounding the captured temple to counter any encroaching Alliance soldiers. Winding peaks of bronze, brown stone capped in white snow rose and fell into smooth peaks and rippling valleys, making for easier traversal than the sharp mountains of home.

'Still, they know this place better than us,' the troll mused.

Spectral scales coiled around the trolls mind, 'Heart thump, too loud,' Susa whispered.

Taking in a breath Qu'Se clutched their heart and forced a calm over it, dulling the tension. Then, swiftly returning to skulking and clambering between the pointed peaks, all so close together, creating so many places to hide.

'Prey!' Their partner hissed in the depths of Qu'Se's mind.

Stilling and pressing themselves up against the cliff face, one hand digging into the stone and the other clutching a bark-spark bomb, Qu'Se cast their mind into their partners.

'You sure, Susa?'

'Taste elders' blood on air. Heartbeats, lots.'

'Lots' usually meant something below thirty in Qu'Se's experience, which drew a frown, 'Even an infiltration force should be large… Unless the rest are spread out-'

'Attack!'

Qu'Se heard the wind whistle and hissed a curse, too late to wholly dodge a crossbow bolt that ripped through their ear. Ripping flesh and dizzying confusion filled the trolls mind as another bolt flew.

Scales coiled around their ankle and Que'Se flung themselves from the mesa, spell chants escaping lips as they lobbed the bark bomb into the air and slammed against the sloped rock.

Sparks of pain flashed across their mind as they skimmed down the slope; even enchanted clothes could only take so much!

Qu'Se skidded to a halt and saw the swinging blade gleaming in the light as it surged towards their throat!

Only for Susa to lunge from their leg and crash against the rogues cloth covered face. Fangs bared the python hissed and bit with rampant savagery, letting Qu'Se roll out of the blades range and ensuing bolt shot, if just barely.

A crackling roar exploded from the sky as the bark bomb went off, and the bow-woman snapped, "He called reinforcements!"

The sword wielder ripped Susa off with a shout, but Qu'Se drew their wand and let loose a surging torrent of spectral snakes, forcing him to leap out of the way, and letting their familiar escape.

Another bolt was loosed, this one striking their shoulder, but Qu'Se smirked at the sound of a mighty trumpets bellow, followed by a dragon's roar and distant shouts echoing across the peaks.

Spinning their staff fiercely, Qu'Se battered away the next bolt with a spectral shield of scales. Smirking as a war hoot filled the air and a warrior burst out from behind a nearby peak, surfing and skidding down the snow with war spear and shield raised high.

Now it was a fight, one of many that would stain the snowy hills with blood in the coming days.


The trumpet calls rang in Tirion's ears like thunder crack as the mountains roared and shook, snow surging down the cliff faces at strategic intervals.

Kerr Ironsight put it together first, "The mountain spirits, the trolls got a compact with the mountain spirits!"

Barthilas turned back, "Why didn't you tell us!?"

"We just got here boy!"

"Enough, can you stop it!?" Tirion called, even as he guided his Gryphon onward and upwards.

"We can try but the spirits don't care for you humans much," Kerr offered forlornly.

"Do your best and join us in flight, we will not let our advanced force be struck down so meekly! Hya!"


Through the rough cut canyons and across needle pointed hill tops, battle was joined. The stone towers rumbled and roared as blood was spilled across rock. A hundred little war taking place all across the bronze canvas of mountain paths, not even visible from the skies.

'I did not expect a visit to Northport so eventful!' Quetz'lith mused, breaking through the clouds as her mount rasped, a burning blast of flame spilling from their maw.

She barely heard the Dwarve's howl as her Dragons flame struck their Gryphon's wings. Nor did she slow in her motions of looing an enchanted throwing axe, pulsing with curses into the Dwarf's back.

Watching the pair begin their shar decline, she needn't even tug on the reigns as snapping jaws pursued the second enemy flier with hungry eyes.

'You can eat after we win,' she promised, eyeing her foes wings with an intense focus through a dark visor of shaped glass.

A faint call of, "I can't shame-em!" rang out, and Quetz'lith yanked her partner into a barrel roll, barely avoiding the hammer flying by from above.

"Nice try!" She crowed, loosing twin axes, the first right into the returning hammer, making both explode, while the other swerved around, forcing the Dwarf to angle away from her path.

A trio of Batriders joined her, Bark Bombs, bolts and more flying from their hands as bat shrieks filled the air, and broke her dual foes efforts to rally until-

"Suffer the Lights Fury!"

The blast wave of gold 'stung', water gathered in her eyes as she hissed while soldiers screams filled the sky.

'They're easing up!' A sharp thought to her familiar and the dragon contorted violently.

Dodging the swooping Dwarf who was not prepared for her to swipe them from their mount, while the drake loosed another burst of flame on her other quarry.

The former began his descent to the ground with a choked scream and crack of bone, even as the lightning shield singed her right arm to near uselessness. The other dodged but soon found that a bats sonar was more than enough to keep him busy.

'Now who did that?' she thought, hissing as she angled her mount to spy a charging Paladin in gold-steel armor, touched with blue and a short mane of dark hair.

His sweeping strike was avoided with ease, the golden hammer less so, but it still did not clip her wings.

A burst of flame and steel were met with a burst of light and rendered moot as they spiraled around one another.

'I'm better than he is, technically, but with my arm, and his shields, damn, no choice but a gamble! Quetz'lun, bless my flight and spare me your mercies another day more,' she thought, the gift for Barafu resting beneath her armor like a second heart.

As they charged one another again, Quetz'lith drew her sole Saronite tipped throwing knife and painfully grasped a spirit blessed spear in the other.

The beating of wings and howling winds her only true company as she let her familiar rely solely on instinct and made to move.

The Paladin's hand grew as he loosed his golden hammer upon them.

Quetz'lith leapt forward, the knife already flying and meeting the Light as it left his hand.

The blast did not finished him, but the disruption was there, one, two, she swapped the spear to her good hand, three, four.

Quetz'lith lobbed the spear with all her might, wind spirits shrieking in their flight and was rewarded with a deathly blow to the Gryphon's skull. Not even a dying shriek echoed as the Paladin joined her in a terrifying descent to the earth.

Only the prayer born beating of spectral wings slowed her descent enough for draconic talons to snag her good arm and guide her down to the slopes safely.

Meeting the ground with an 'oof', Quetz'lith looked to her dragon partner and cheered, "Oh you brilliant bastard, I shall feed you two gryphons for that!"

The contended rumble was all she needed to know her partner was pleased, as he forced herself to her feet and looked out across the battlefield.

The number of Gryphon's was down again as more bat riders and dragons took to the sky. And while the trumpets no longer sounded, the hills were marked by the sight of trolls swarming across them like ants.

'Things are turning to our advantage but... Damn, he definitely survived and I don't trust hunting him down like this, let alone winning a fight.'

Spitting, Quetz'lith patted her drakes head. "Come on, let us finish this and get to a healer."


The sun was high over Lordaeron, though one could not see it behind the clouds. The city carried on as was becoming custom, constant terror at the presence of trolls could only be sustained for so long before people needed to work and shop or drink after all.

In this brief calm, leaders needed to reflect, and even a king might find time for a calm conversation. Thus it was the Frost King and Queen Counselor could be found in the palace gardens. Malakk loomed over much of the greenery as he strode between luscious flowerbeds, vibrant vines, hanging bushes, and well-tended to trees.

'I am glad this place was spared in the conquest,' he silently mused, glancing to Lianne as she walked by his side while gardeners worked silently and diligently.

"You think to extend magical systems like this across the farmlands of Lordaeron?" Lianne asked. She motioned to the rune bound Arcane barrier projected over the palace gardens that repelled the winter snow and with other magical aids, allowed a springtime garden to be maintained all year round.

"That is my hope," he answered gently. "This garden is beautiful to be sure, but such master works cannot be contained to palaces alone if a nation is to thrive. My ancestor's accomplishments with enchanted idols, aqueducts and weather magic show that life can be made to bloom even under the harshest of circumstances." He was careful to omit the involvement of spirits and deities in their magics after seeing how wary Faol had become at the mention of such things.

"I had wondered how you could support such a large army in the frozen north," Lianne added thoughtfully. "Missionaries who had travelled to that land across the generations spoke of the difficulty had by the local humans in creating sustainable crops thanks to the biting winds."

"You are correct," Malakk grinned, "We Drakkari however were able to overcome such struggles thanks to our blend of magics and engineering. I am hoping to extend similar gifts across this land."

She sent him a sharp glance, "Among humans' winter is seen as a harsh season, but also one of where much of the back-breaking labor in farms is a distant thought. Do you intend for them to work fields beneath magical domes, while clearing snow outside their houses?"

"Hardly," He scoffed, hand waving the idea away like an errant pest. "The exact methodology is still being determined, my surveyors can only do so much at this time after all. However, with the use of… I believe you call them Water Elementals, much of the labor can be laid upon other shoulders. All while the yield grows high and all can be fed, just as it is in the heart of the empire."

The look she sent him was a strange one and finally, Lianne asked, "Would your impoverished be able to make such a claim?"

Malakk quirked his brow, turning the unfamiliar word over in his mouth, "Do you mean the sick?"

"No, that is to say…" She frowned, searching for words just as he sought understanding when they were interrupted.

"Frost King Malakk, Queen Counselor, my apologies for the interruption, however my liege your, noble allies wish to speak with you," De'jana said with a crisp bow.

"Hmm, I hope this is important," he sighed, offering Lianne a brief bow, "Thank you for your time, hopefully we can continue this discussion at a later time."

"I am sure we shall, Frost King Malakk" Lianne said, curtsying, "I shall be returning to my abode if it is of no trouble."

"None at all, rest easy Queen Counselor," He said, marching away and turning his attention to De'jana.


There were some disadvantages to large ears, just as there were advantages. One problem that was in of itself a boon was the ability to hear much farther and with greater clarity than others might. Loud noises could indeed be woeful and even debilitating, but it meant Malakk heard the chatter in his parlor well before opening the door.

Alexi was first, "I never did think we would be sitting across from one another again."

"I do not recall ever sitting across from you, Baron, I sat upon the council," was Perenolde's snippy reply.

"Yes, yes and now you are well..." Illucia intoned with gentle mockery.

"On the path to reclaiming all that was mine and more, all of that which was stolen, Alterac's again," the former king boasted.

"If you prove worthy of it," Kel'Thuzad cut in coldly.

"The wizard may speak out of turn," Alexi said, "But he makes a fine point. Even if I were to believe your claims about the Alliance abandoning you to the Horde, why not betray them once they were in your mountain passes and make yourself a hero. That seems what a smart man would do."

Aliden scoffed, "Is that what you are planning to do? The Barov's seem awfully proud for traitors and thieves."

"Now, now, it was Stromgarde who sacked you," Illucia chuckled, as Malakk slowed his steps, "And of course we intend not such betrayal. The Queens' mother has surrendered after all, we are merely following her lead."

"Besides," Cut in Alexi, "Few have risked more for this alliance than we, our loyalty is to be uncontested."

"Yes, a spent fighting force and a peninsula no one needs, with a runestone that, oh that is gone as well," Beve chuckled. "I am sure you have so much to contribute to the cause beyond your charming presence in royal bed chambers."

"Such splendor must be quite the new experience for them," Chuckled her father.

Malakk could hear a sharp intake of breath and the scraping of a chair against carpet and so strode forward, hastily flinging open the doors and looking down the long hall.

"Ah, my noble allies! This one hopes he did not interrupt a too spirited sparring session of words and wit too hastily," He said with grand cheer and sharp expression.

Alex quickly reclaimed his seat, looking to all the world unbothered, "Not at all your grace, merely reacquainting ourselves with our future contemporaries." He said the last word with a hard edge, and the Perenolde's looks most sour, while Kel'thuzad chuckled.

Before anyone else could speak, Malakk claimed his throne, "Heartened as I am to hear of it, I am sure you had a reason to seek an audience. Thus, what can your liege offer?"

Kel'thuzad was the first to speak, something like wry mockery in his eyes. "As I understand it, my fellow lords and ladies wished to discuss matters of reinvigorating the lands tax codes."

At the ensuing wave of murmured agreements, Malakk was certain he felt a headache coming on.


Alexandros_Mograine looked out across Stratholme from the third story of the city's finest Barracks. In the distance he could just make out movement of the growing army preparing at the gates.

Brigitte_Abbendis joined him, hands resting on the balcony, "It is less than I expected, but there is still time, no?"

"I would think so…" He offered gently, "Shock, the winter and woes that pre-date the trolls make marshalling whole hosts difficult and many are already on the march; but there's no doubt we shall form a hearty crusade and strike down the invaders."

She chuckled, "I am not a child in need of comfort, sir, I thank you though."

A thrumming hum of energy drew their attention back to the war council within and finally interrupted the increasingly petty power plays of Baron_Rivendare against their acting Lord Commander Saidan_Dathrohan.

Appearing before them in a flash of pink and purple light was the blue robed, and nearly bald Arcanist_Doan, his orange moustache bristling as he clapped his emerald stave against the floor.

"Bad news from the front I take it?" Rivendare muttered, pouring himself a goblet of wine.

Bridgette sent the man a sharp glower which he ignored, while Doan just sighed, "I am saddened to say that is the case."

"Surely we did not lose the Bulwark so quickly?" Alexandros asked as he leaned on his squeaking chair.

Doan shook his head, "No, no, the trolls seem contained for the time being, it is from Hearthglen."

"Fordring?" Saidan asked tightly.

"He lives, my lord and Hearthglen holds fast," Doan offered, before frowning. "However, their attempted rescues of those trapped at the monastery was a failure. They were engaged by troll scouts and dragons. They killed many of his forward scouts and fortified their position before his main force could launch a surprise raid."

"Dammit all," Saidan grumbled, casting a glance at his advisor Demetria.

The prophet bowed and said, "We did discuss this very possibility, my lord."

"I know, I thought it worth the risk but only if their defenses were weak, but to do so when there are dragons?" The Paladin heaved a sigh, "I love the man, but he would not know when to retreat if a sword was sticking out his rear."

Rivendare lazily tapped at the map, "The South is performing very poorly, first the Barov's ambitious little scheme to establish a forward post in Alterac fails and now this. We need stronger and more direct leaderships Aidan. We need you on the ground at the front if we are to stop the incompetent and reckless from costing us every advantage in this war."

"So, you can rule Stratholme as a petty king while we fight?" Alexandros countered, drawing shocked stares but he was of the mind it was always best to speak little and make one's words count.

Rivendare scowled, "Whatever you may think of me, Alexandros," he hissed, "I make a fine point, our Southern commanders are ill equipped and evidently ill-trained."

"I'll not hear another word against Fordring's honor here," Saidan ground out, "Or the brave soldiers who fell in Alterac. The Barov's may have erred but had it worked their plan could have secured us an easy path to the capital."

Alexandros privately disagreed, these trolls were supposedly of a northern variety after all. Attacking in the winter, meant they likely knew more of war in snowy mountains the Lordaeron ever would. But he doubted anyone had known that at the time, given how hastily the Barov's had reacted.

"What's more," Brigette cut in, "My father shall soon have his host at Andorhal, you think to question his ability to lead Rivenrare?"

Throwing up his hands the Baron conceded defeat for the time being, looking to Doan and Demetria, uttering, "Do either of you have any good news to impart?"

At this Doan lit up a fraction, "I can report that our forces at Tyr's Hand under Lord Valdelmarare are near ready to march, and that he expected to have several new frigates ready before our crusade begins in earnest. What is more, Dalaran is braced to send reinforcement North when the time comes."

"That is assuring, still there is more we need do," Saidan's hand dragged across the map of Lordaeron, "We cannot think of just winning this war but how we are to live after it. Food stores will be near empty, and we shall be vulnerable. The other Alliance nations may help, but I would not trust Gilneas not to reach beyond their borders."

Demetria raised her hand, "If I may, there was a matter of some concern which I wished to address, and word of lord Fording's mission has brought it to the forefront of my mind."

Rivendare looked displeased as he had often done since Saidan's arrival at Sratholme, but the rest among them looked to her with interest.

"I have been experiencing difficulty perceiving much within the Glades themselves, my visions are cloaked in rippling shadows and arrays of malformed light. However," she stressed, "I am getting a sense for these trolls' fluxes on the scion of creation and through that have been developing a growing suspicion."

Saidan sighed, "You think there are traitors in our midst?"

"I am saddened to say that it is so," she said, hand on her lords' shoulder, "I sensed something tinged with these troll's magic at the aviary near a week ago, but dismissed it at the time, not yet knowing what it what I was sensing. I could still be wrong but…"

Saidan grasped her hand in his own, "Your insights have always been a welcome aid, Demetria. What's more, if you are right then we must clean up around our feet before these traitors' trip us up. I shall give you a squad of Troopers and a retinue of elite bodyguards, as well as and my blessings to investigate this matter to the fullest extent. We cannot allow informants to endanger our quest."

The priestess bowed, "I thank you for your continued faith my lord, I shall not disappoint you."

He turned to Brighette, "In fact, Abbendis, would you accept the duty of commanding the oracles guards and leading her inquisitors?"

Stunned but eager to please, the young prodigy nodded her head, "I thank you for this honor my lord, no enemy shall endanger her while I draw breath." Her enthusiasm stilled, "However… Does this mean when the war begins, we are to be fighting our fellow humans as well as these heathen trolls?"

Alexandros frowned at her phrasing, 'Dwarves' and Gnomes make up our Alliance as well,' he wanted to chastise, but now was not the time. 'Maybe time away from her father will do her good.'

Out loud he assured, "I would doubt it, foolish informants selling information for promises of gold are a far cry from the type of people who would bleed on the battlefield. They may not even know to whom they are reporting."

Saidan shook his head, white ponytails flowing, "I doubt it shall be so simple, do you forget the Second War my friend? Alterac betrayed humanity and while punished for it, Perenolde and his ilk have continued to be a thorn in our sides since."

"Should have executed the bloody lot of them," Rivendare spat.

"Whatever it may be," Saidan said, cutting the Baron off, "I doubt that even If they are unwilling to aid an enemy of the Alliance again, their Syndicate and other ne'er-do-wells won't take advantage of the chaos."

He leaned over the map table, voice harsh and intense, with a significant look towards Alexandros, "We must be ready for anything."
____________________________
NOTES:
I based a lot of Tirion's characterization on a rather well written commentary I got on the book, not to say I haven't read it, I have as I own it, but I found their insights on his world view and heavily emotional attitude interesting as it gives him a distinct character to work with over generic honorably Paladin guy.

I hope the interaction between Whitemane & Slad'Ran worked, I wanted to involve her more in the story but there's only so much to do with them. Also more exploring of how difference magics and faiths influence war time strategies, that was fun, and an areal battle that wasn't originally part of this, but I felt the battle deserved more attention.

Also thanks to those who noted the Perenolde's might not like being seen as equals to Barons and for the general suggestion of snippy behavior, that whole catty exchange was inspired by it.

And just cos I can, no one expects the Scarlet Inquisition!
 
The Winter War: Part 5 - Perilous Politics
The Winter War: Part 5 - Perilous Politics

Jessi Falrevere watched the mounting political play with no small amount of wariness. House Ashvane's silent backing was not guaranteed after all, but her father carried on without a care.

"We have sunk ships of theirs, Daelin, these trolls are not the gods of the sea you feared, yet you still withdraw our forces!?" Her father slammed his fists against the map table.

Daelin's entire body bristled as he brought himself to his full, impressive height. "Sunk, but not without cost, Falravere. What's more, they have brought unto themselves dragons and even secured safe harbor in Silverpine!"

"All the more reason to drive them out, no?" Lord Ashvane crooned.

Arthur Waycrest shook his head but stayed silent as Daelin pushed forward.

"To what end? Their army sits upon Lordaeron's capital and we have no measure for the size of their navy. We may well spend ourselves and leave Kul'Tiras open to pirate incursions, or a follow up invasion by these Drakkari or even the Amani."

Lord Stormsong looked perturbed, "Fear dictates your decisions. Lord Admiral, do you have such little faith in the Tidemother?"

"Logic and long term planning are my weapons Lord Stormsong." He traced a hand along the map. "We have tested the enemy and found then dangerous but managable. Best then, to keep them contained for now and to focus on ferrying soldiers from the South to the coast. When we march on the capital and liberate Lordaeron, their fleet shall do them little good then."

"The capital," Her father sneered, "Is this city in which we reside not the capital? Lordaerons folly is not our own."

Katherine's curt tone cut through the meeting, "We are of the Alliance, Falravere, whether you approve or not."

"I disapprove of more than that," Her father spat, "But your coward of a husband dares not let me lead, for fear I shall show him up!"

"Still your tongue," Arthur snapped, but her father was red in the face so words were well beyond reaching him.

"I shall not. This entire council is a farce, a farce I say! You dither and dread and damn well waste our opportunities to slay these beasts. Then impugn me with your disregard but have not the courage to face me in a duel!"

Daelin practically spat, "You have not the rank, the support, nor the wit to challenge me Falravere."

"But we do," Lord Ashvane cut in, his wife's hand over his.

The Proudmoore's numb stares of shock were almost comical, even Lord Waycrest could not speak, while Stormsong watched with bemusement.

Lord Ashvane leaned forward, hand on the pommel of his axe, as he announced, "Or did your courage die with your son?"

The reaction was immediate.

Daelin's chair slid back with almost mechanical precision and Katherine's eyes became incredibly, terribly cold.

Daelin, met Ashvane's gaze and answered without warmth or rage or life, "The duel shall be in half an hour, in the courtyard, our respective supporters shall bear witness."

"A dual, duel," Lady Ashvane pried.

"Bring as many as you will," Katherine answered as she turned to follow her husband from the chamber, her last words echoing for all to hear.

"It shall not change anything."


Malakk sat alert but at ease within the parlor as his collaborators strode into the room and made way towards the plush chairs laid out for them. Among their number were the Barov matriarch and patriarch. All three Perenolde's were present who were now a common sight in the palace when not out on campaign, and of course Kel'thuzad.

A part of Malakk still mourned that Uther was not among them, and that he could not yet invite the rumored Harvest Witches of Silverpine to his banquet hall. Uther's Honor and the ideals of the Harvest Witches would ensure more stable alliances than those built on resentment and pride.

'Well, it matters not, they have bound their fates to me now after all.'

Clasping his hands, he offered and easy grin, "My most noble allies, I welcome you."

An array of greetings, bows and curtsies followed, none more simpering than that of Aiden_Perenolde.

"Oh, thank you Frost King Malakk and might I just say you are a most splendid host, I hope my agents have been serving you well," he practically sang.

"I am heartened to hear it and yes indeed, their reports have made for fascinating reading," Malakk offered. His gaze shifting to the man's children who revealed nothing, though the fact Beve's focus was locked on the other humans spoke volumes.

Turning his attention to them and casually crossing a leg, Malakk tapped his mobile throne, "Now then, as king it is my duty to hear and heed the concerns of my people and tend to their needs, with that in mind… I take it something troubles you all to request a meeting so suddenly?"

"Indeed," Kel'Thuzad rumbled, "We feel you have not told us enough of your war plans," The wizard began, growing silent at his ally's collective glower.

"What he means to say is," Illucia said gently. "Is that while your promises of titles and territory have been most generous. Some among us feel a touch adrift in the grander scheme of the war."

Her husband nodded, "I am a proven commander, and the Perenolde's bandits have their uses. As your allies it would be prudent for us to offer insights and advice on this war to ensure it comes to a swift end."

Amused at the man throwing his own words back at him, Malakk grinned. "Your collective commitment to our cause is most inspiring and I assure that for any among you to feel this way was never my intent."

He leaned back in his throne motioning for wine to be offered, which most accepted as he continued. "Since arriving in this land, I have found that while there are many similarities in how people live, the specifics can vary wildly, in this matter war is a prudent example."

He motioned to a map of Northrend now adorning the walls, "Among my people it is not common to share war time strategies among those who are not overseeing an operation personally. This has roots in us dealing with foes who can rip information from one's memories, especially in a recent war," he rumbled before lightening his tone and adding, "We won."

"I see, I see," Perenolde murmured, "that is a wise decision. Lordaeron is a vast land after all, but with your arcanists and dragon rider's information is not far for long. Thus so long as you can coordinate the battles revealing your plans to all may be more of a risk than it is a service."

"I appreciate your understanding Lord Perenolde," Malakk offered politely. "Still, I can see that this has concerned you all, and while there is a lull in momentum as we make ready, I would be happy to discuss whatever may be concerning you all now. Simply ask and I shall tell you, though know I have several weeks of strategy meetings being readied ahead of us, so what we discuss here will be more… Generalized," He said in-elegantly.

Several brief glances followed as they seemingly tried to decide who would come forward first, before finally Alexi spoke up again.

"My Andorhol is expecting to see a host of Alliance soldiers arriving by the end of the month, and if Kel'Thuzad is to be trusted, it shall soon be followed by Saiden himself. I have managed to obfuscate the sabotage of my garrison forces but it seems foolhardy to not move now while they are ill-prepared. If we strike swiftly, we could even destroy the Bulwark from behind, but if we wait, they may be able to begin moving against us,"

"I heard tell some already have begun moving beyond the Bulwark," Kel'thuzad cut in.

"Fair concerns, certainly so," Malakk nodded, before turning to the wizard. "Though, dear Kel'thuzad I must inform you that while interlopers did try to approach the monastery in secret, their efforts were uncovered and brought low. What's more I shall be reinforcing the mountains going forward with the next shipment of troops."

"You feel there is little use for we Alterici there then?" Aliden cut in from behind his father.

"Not at all, if you are able and willing to volunteer your brave mountaineers I would be happy to shuffle around the troop deployments," Malakk chuckled. "Though, I would think that human agents can best be used in lands still ruled by our enemies, no?"

Aiden was quick to move in, "There could be some benefits, especially if we moved to infiltrate, but we would need to ruminate on the matter for a time, Frost King Malakk."

"I shall eagerly await your insights on this matter, Lord Perenolde." He waved towards Alexi and added, "As to your point, bold Alexi, I understand it, but must argue against it. The enemy forces have no choice but to move against us lest they risk losing momentum and more land, while we can fortify our position and fight them from a position of power. If we expand too quickly, rebel cells could spring up behind our line while Southern help to surround them."

The warrior hummed and nodded, "You raise a fair point, still, I dislike the thought of Andorhol falling under the armies control more than it already has."

"It is the primary Grain distributor among much of East Lordaron," Illucia added, "Claiming it, or at least sabotaging it would serve well in the winter and deny our foes a resource."

"An interesting line of thought, though is that still true in Winter?" Beve wondered.

"Less so," Illucia conceded, barely restraining her soured tone. "But they are among the most well stocked cities and hold a surplus, as well as a defensible position."

"Hmm, very well, we shall look over your respective agents' assessments of the city's defenses come the next war council if it pleases you all. Then we may discuss what is to be done to… Mute their threat, without showing our hand before it is necessary."

The tension in the room eased as they continued to talk, Malakk offering them enough in general to assuage their concerns, while giving away nothing to specific, and was pleased by some of the ideas offered. Though naturally the evenings events turned to politics.

"I still fear you do not know what to do about the Elves," Kel'thuzad said, tone sharp, his gaze sharper despite the wine. "They will not offer turncoats as the Alliance has, every last elf loathes trolls too much for such things and they would fear your touch upon their precious Sunwell."

The magus waved towards a nearby map of Eastweld, "It is that reason before all others that Baron Rivendare is too wary to commit himself to your service. He knows the Elves may fall upon he and his city at any moment if he does."

Alexis scoffed, "I doubt a Paladin among the heart of the rebel army would change sides regardless of the Elves."

"Though the absence of your dear friend pains me, Kel'Thuzad," Malakk said with a heartfelt sigh, "I am quite content to see this Baron where he is now. But as to the Elves, ah, the elves, they are a conundrum, but one that shall be sorted soon enough. As I have been told their response to my communications has been sent."

The room was stunned, finally Beve spoke, "You are… In negotiations with the Elves?"

Malakk offered a refined shrug, "That may be too strong of a word. I merely informed them, or their diplomats capture and of my motives. As it stands my own agents have seen no sign of the Elves marshalling to make war upon us and our fleet travels unmolested by their navy."

"So, you do not intend to make war upon them?" Kel'Thuzad asked carefully.

Malakk clicked his tongue, "That depends heavily upon their answer, however since coming to this land I have learned that the diplomats act with less authority than our own. So, if they cast him out, the decision on whether to make war on the High Elves will fall to a matter of moral and practical deliberation."

'And a matter of Zul'jin,' Malakk mused, well aware of War Priest Hala'Zhi's purpose in the court besides offering insight. 'But that is a problem for another day, I am not so bound to Zul'jin that I must act in his favor.'

"And the diplomat?" Aeden asked.

"Most likely to be executed, though if I deem he has been cast out to protect a cowardly king and he renders services unto me, I may change my mind. The matter is still in flux I am afraid. But worry not!" He cheered, "For if the Elves make war, they shall face a most unpleasant surprise. For now I cannot say more save that they are being observed by forces unseen and pose little threat."

As quiet acceptance began to descend upon the room, Malakk motioned for the scribe and continued, "I had intended to address this come morning, but as you are gathered here, I must ask you. Noble Perenolde's, what are your thoughts of your cousin, Aedelas_Blackmoore?"

The reaction was immediate but varied.

Beve let loose an impressively hateful scowl that would have been a fine contender in any duel to the death. Aliden cringed as if in pain but unwilling to share it while their father scoffed, slapping his fist against the chair.

"That disloyal traitor is no family of mine, I'd see him dead if the choice were mine," the older man snapped.

Beve drew back in alarm, already looking ready to assuage her father's words but Malakk waved her off. "Fear not my reaction, Beve, for while kin-slaying is a generally contemptible crime, that is only true when the wounded party has done no wrong. Otherwise, it is merely viewed as any other example of justice, if a more complicated one."

Malakk gently took the letter passed to him by the scribe which he waved lazily waved between his fingers. "As I did with the notable nobles and commanders of this land, I sent the man a letter informing him of the paths open to him. Only now did he see fit to send a response."

With a flick of his wrist, the letter landed on Perenolde's lap who snatched it up and read it quickly, then again, scowling.

"He offers neutrality and to purchase orcish slaves, gladiators or sacrifices," Malakk's tone grew guttural and harsh, making even those growing accustom to trolls draw back warily.

"So, uh… What would you have us do then?" Perenolde asked, tapping the letter against this hand.

"Given your past claims, I would have you kill him and take over Dunrholde Keep if at all possible."

One could have heard a droplet of water if it had fallen, as the gathered humans tried to understand his decision.

"Did he not offer you neutrality?" Kel'Thuzad muttered, "This is hardly keeping to your word."

"My honor goes as far as those I deal with," Malakk said fangs clacking as he spoke. "Slave traders have no honor, wit or decency to name and thus are well outside of any promise of absolution. Guest rights are near sacred among my people but were he to invoke it none would question it if I were to fling him from the palaces peak."

"That," he stressed, "Is why my offer of neutrality does not extend to him, magus."

They took a moment to absorb that fact, before Perenolde began to grin. "I believe that can be arranged, my Frost King. You mentioned the Keep as well, should I assume it will be added to our estate when the war is done?"

"You can turn it into a holiday home, tear it down to make a garden or make it into your new capital if you so choose," he offered gamely.

"Wait," Aliden gasped, "that is where Captain_Skarloc is stationed; he's a good man, we were cadets together and saved each other's lives in the Second War."

"If he was such a dear friend, he would have joined us in exile," Beve spat contemptuously.

"He has sent me information in the past," Aliden said, clearly struggling for words, "I owe him."

"Then capture him," Malakk said dispassionately, drawing another round of stares. "So long as he is removed as a threat I care not, but Blackmoore must be brought low." He leaned forward, idly toying with a tusk, "Durnholde would be a fine place to keep Stromgarde out of our affairs as well; so, this serves our… Strategic self interest, very well."

Illucia coughed ever so daintily, "You speak with great passion, Frost King Malakk; but this topic does beg the question… What do you intend for the Orcs in the camps? They once near razed these lands and our people to ash."

Several sharp glares were directed towards the Perenoldes at that as she continued. "They lack your people's civility and honor, but they do fight for you, and we know well you reward those who serve you well."

Malakk leaned back in his throne, his tone was as gentle as could be, he kept his posture soft and his manner inviting. "You need not fear about sharing homes and hearth with the Orcs, wise Illucia. I know the history here is too raw for that. Instead, whatever Orcs survive the war to come shall be led onto ships and sailed to Northrend. They shall be welcomed to a place with few claimants but much land to be worked that they might continue to serve the empire."

The expressions across the room varied, but most ranged from what he thought to be mild shock or concern that steadily faded into amiable acceptance.

Rubbing his chin Alexi nodded, "A fair decision I say, our lands remain untouched and our followers unbloodied."

"So, you have a cure for the bloodlust and ensuing lethargy that infests them?" Kel'thuzad asked, sounding legitimately curious, his tones for once not veiled in bitterness.

Malakk waved a hand lazily, "I am told that the magic flowing in their veins being exorcised is more likely to kill them than cure them of their bloodlust. A more drawn-out process is being discussed by some thinking it can be broken by the next generation or over a longer period of time and exposure to purification magics, but that is all theoretical."

He lolled his head to the side, smirking, "But if you fear them becoming a threat in days or years to come, I assure you they shall not be given the chance. Their home shall be in the shadows of Zul'Drak after all and they will be watched carefully."

Alexi spoke up next, eyes twinkling, "That matter seems settled for now, but that does beg the question of how it shall they shall be accounted for in taxation. In fact, I believe this is a matter of some importance, trade has already suffered from this war, and it shall only grow harsher. How is my family to collect taxes from the peasantry?"

Perenolde spoke up next, "Indeed, while my subordinates are working the land as usual, once we are again settled and ruling, we shall need to know what tax system you shall be following. Shall gold retain its value, will there be trade, with who and what tariffs?"

"Yes," Kel'thuzad said his very breath like a dying sigh, "I too am curious as to your taxing system. Shall it be done with a tax collector, or perhaps something more archaic like the honor system?"

"Do not be foolish, our liege knows well enough the peasantry cannot be trusted, why do you think he has courted nobles like us and isolated the Church so effectively?" Illucia chided.

"Though the Church is a question in of itself," Alexi added. "Will they be subject to tax at last, or shall we still be paying for every stained-glass window?"

The conversation quickly became prattling between the triad of collaborators, and Malakk had to fight awfully hard to not blink madly like some dizzied leopard.

His mind raced to catch up with the unfamiliar terms and the clear and present fact these nobles were evidently not even making mention of Contra or any other kind of work tax.

'What have I thrown myself into?'


Jessi Falrevere looked at the gentle waves lapping at her ship's hull as the 'Falrevere Fleet' sailed South and far away from Kul'Tiras. Leaving behind them the wailing cries of Priscilla Ashvane as she cradled her defeated husbands corpse.

Magrann clapped her on the back, "Chin up Jess, this is a brand-new chapter in our lives, one of rip-roaring adventure on the high seas!" he cheered.

Jessi hummed, "We will see, father is still fuming that not everyone left with us and his plan seems… vague at best."

"Don't lie," Magrann chided, "You're still stuck on the Ashvane's aren't you?"

Scoffing she threw back a sip of grog, "Am I so obvious?"

"Only to me," he said, tapping his brow.

"Do not insult me, we both know your head is empty," she japed, slapping his side

"Ever the cruel word smith sister," he answered, leaning against the railing, "But really, do not worry over it. They sought control of the fleet, not for us, but for themselves. We would have ended up as political pawns one way or the other."

"Hmm, I suppose, and they did know the risks of challenging the Proudmoore's to a duel such as that," she thought, thinking back to the married couple's squaring off in the ring of honor.

"Damned surprised that Katrina woman could throw such a mean right hook, I'll say that much," Magrann chuckled. "Still, it matters not to us, Kul'Tiras can continue their bickering ways easily enough while we," he slapped his armor, "Get to enjoy the spoils of war that will surely flow freely in the chaos."

"Fine, fine," She sighed, pushing herself up, "What was the first stop on this grand adventure of ours then?"

Magrann grinned, "The sailors are having a drinking game down below, what say we drink them under the table?"

"That is a plan I can support!"

With that they raced below the deck of Devil_Shark, happy to leave the north and its war far behind them.


Mariel Morningray was once an honored diplomat of Quel'Thalas, housed within the royal palace of Lordaeron.

Now, he was a prisoner, something he had been for weeks… Maybe months, he was not sure. His memory had become a muddled blur after his capture.

All he knew was that the savages had doused him with some drought he had assumed would kill or torment him, only for it to send him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

A sleep he had been jarred awake from most unceremoniously as he was guided on drowsy feet to stand before the invading trolls king. All for being party to the death of a troll he did not so much as recall!?

The doors swung open and Mariel found himself placed before a troll, monstrous even by the standards of these Drakkari. He was leaning deep into an intricately carved stone throne that thrummed with magic. His sharp features set in a sneering scowl.

"I… I am-" He began, words slurred and body still tingling from too long spent asleep.

The troll sighed, "I have had a long night, I know tomorrow shall be longer still; so I am short on patience and more on time, so do not waste what I have with your words."

He drew an elegant letter bearing the crest of Quel'Thalas and tossed it at him. Mariel let it bounce of his chest before it fell into his hands, blinking owlishly.

"Read it," The troll groused.

With shaking fingers, he unfurled the letter, mind racing as he absorbed its contents.

The Kingdom of Quel'Thalas has long since left the folly of the Alliance behind and thus takes no responsibility for the death of your Speaker.

Mariel neither contacted our council, nor spoke to our Sun King before casting vote. His actions are his own and the Great House of Stunstrider and the loyal retainers of the Morningray family divorce him for speaking in our nations name.

His presence in Lordaeron was no courtesy but a reflection of our desire to be rid of him, so do with him as you will. But tempt not the wrath of the Highborn, or learn our fury as your forest dwelling cousins did.

Signed, the Convocation of Silvermoon


The perfume, the shining ink, the mana radiating from the parchment, all perfect, all of home and yet…

"This… I… it cannot be real… I… They wouldn't!"

The troll glowered down at him, "They did, and now you stand alone, responsible for the death of my friend."

"I... I was only acting on my lords will!" His breath hitched, blood surged through his vein, terror and rage churned in his gut as tear streamed down his face, strangled, choking sobs filling the chamber.

A click of the troll's fingers rang out and Mariel was lost in darkness.

Malakk rested his chin on his hand as he watched Bith'Sa catch the limp limbed elf, hoisting him up by the scruff of his robes and looking to him curiously.

"You wished only to see him unconscious, yes Frost King Malakk?"

"I did," he answered.

"Why?" Kutube'sa ground out, glowering at the little Elf, hand on his blade.

Massaging his temples, Malakk groaned, "Because this is a new land with unfamiliar ways. I am no longer sure killing him would be justice as he may indeed be little more than a messenger. Or perhaps killing him would be justice for he acted alone to call for Malaka'raz's death."

He leaned back and sighed, "Or the Elves are just callous and would cast him aside. Whatever the case, I cannot gauge if any among them speak the truth or the extent of danger in openly challenging them in this moment. I know that Malaka'raz would not have wanted to see the empire fall in a quest for justice. So, for now I shall abstain from passing judgement. At least," he assured, "Until I know more."

His guards bowed their heads, and Bith'sa intoned, "Shall he be returned to the deep sleep with the other high priority prisoners?"

"No, he is of little threat," he answered with a wave. "Arrange for him and the elite soldiers in the deep sleep to be moved to Gundrak, have those who pose a danger moved to the high security cells and him..."

Malakk clicked, "Have him placed in a humble guest quarter. Then inform him that his every breath is a gift from me, a gift that his liege denied him and that he is no longer of Quel'Thalas but exists only in my shadow."

"It shall be done," they answered as one.

"Thank you as always," Malakk said, dismissing them with a soft salute and watching them go with distant eyes.

His solitude did not last, as De'jana slid into the room and to his side, several scrolls and scripts clasped in her hands.

"Young scholar," He greeted, cloaking his weariness.

The young half troll frowned and nodded, "This one is loathed to be the bearer of more bad news, but I felt it expedient to rally your woes."

"Ah, joyful," Malakk intoned, taking the first report, eyes glazing over the contents, searching for the key words and codes while De'jana spoke.

"New security protocols are being taken for supply vessels sailing South; the Tuskar are being most helpful I am hearing."

'Because of Naga and privateers, the latter almost certainly elves, but I have not the intelligence to determine their true origin.' He thought, sealing the scrolls shut and making a note to send a gift to the Tuskar chiefs before moving to the next.

"Grizzlemaw tariffs continue to raise tensions, the Rageclaw say they can argue them down however," De'janna continued.

Malakk nodded, tongue clicking in thought, 'Of course trading more favors to the South may create domestic dramatics and after a point I'll begin to just look weak. Jintha'Kalar and the Snow-Fang are already using this to be difficult about tax and trade according to my observers. I may need to send Zala'Raz home to speak for me.'

Chuckling he added, "Mayhaps we should invest in those Goblin dirigibles I have heard such good things about and sail around them?"

De'jana bowed, "I can be sure to collect our scholars research on the matter before the morrow, Frost King Malakk."

"That would be kind of you," He intoned, taking another report and cursing himself.

'We did not account for an occupation, that reorganization alone is costing us more than mere parchment in confusion and supply disruptions. Nor did we prepare for the new mouths to feed, the former we might manage but the latter...' He almost wanted to suggest the Rageclaw & Orcish Legions lessen their recruitment efforts, or maybe he needed more sources of meat and water?

"The Queen Counselor's efforts have certainly helped see us through this rough patch. Still, I am thinking we should speak with Tal'Vass to make some other localized arrangements."

'The Syndicate too perhaps? Banditry is far from honorable, but if we can hit supply lines... Or perhaps we 'should' move on Andorhol?' His mind was wondering, losing its decisive edge, never a good sign.

Malakk only then noticed he had not been interrupted with another scroll, containing another problem to be quietly addressed.

Looking to De'jana he said, "You seem nervous."

Lips thinned as De'jana gave him her full attention and spoke.

The Queen Counselor has come to concern me. This one fears she may know more than she should, and could aid us more than she is."

The words were delicately phrased, half guilty, half respectful.

Malakk tilted his head, ears twitching, "And what makes you say this?"

De'jana clicked her tongue and frowned, "It is hard to say, but the Queen Counselor seems well pleased these passed days, and bolder too. A quiet confidence carries her through meetings once a labor, even when the matter is dire."

Malakk nodded, but waved the younger troll off airily, "A kind concern but fear not, young De'jana. I imagine Lianne is merely acclimating to her role and future, no longer terrified we shall force horrors upon her children or people, she is simply assuring herself the future I promised in exchange for her service."

De'jana's frown did not abate but she bowed her head, "It is as you say, Frost King Malakk, please forgive me this one her doubts."

"All is well, De'jana, now let us see the last missive and then we can both retire for the night."

At the sight of it Malakk hid a grimace, 'And Still we cannot find these 'Warsong' Orcs. Bah, at least they seem to be troubling the East.'

Letting out a low sigh, Malakk nodded to De'jana, "That will be all this night, thank you for your service."

"It is my honor to serve your majesty," Was her answer, as she took the scrolls, old and new, then shuffled out of the chamber.

Only when she left did Malakk allow himself to sink into his throne with an exhausted sigh, lingering there for a time before forcing himself up at the sound of his elite guards approaching.

It would not do for any to see their liege in anything less than strong spirits after all, making for the door, familiar words echoed in his mind.

'Let us see what the morning brings…'
___________________
NOTES:
Well that was that, I know this section of story is a bit slow, but I can't really jump ahead to the next stage in the war without setting things up properly first, so I hope this worked for that purpose. Oh and yeah for anyone curious, that's what happened to high levels characters who didn't fall in battle, IE, Uther's first apprentice to name one example.

Also, thanks to Pillowsperky for their help with establishing logistical issues for the Drakari and with some apologies to the poster who felt Quel'Thalas would aid Lordaeron. I think you made good points but ultimately Quel'Thalas didn't even move when the Undead were ravaging the lands South so I I just can't see them rushing into war when not already under attack, though they are making moves and plans.
 
Spiritual Speculation (Side Story)
Spiritual Speculation
A collection of conversations scattered across the war that could not be contained within chaptered works.

Sally Whitemane rankled at being called to attend the savages king, for if she let herself fear what he might do with her she may well misstep and damn herself further.

Outside Northport, his massive tent, a yurt they called it, stood like a small fort. Nearly solid walls of soft but sturdy materials with a singular totem pole serving as support for the nearly church high roof. Even the carpets were of fine make, let alone the piles of pillows, shining metal ornaments and intricately carved furnishing, like the 'low' table she now knelt before.

The Barbarian was sitting upon pillows, smoking his hookah and quite at ease. His sole advisor present was the wiry, white haired rogue she knew was called Moorabi who picked at his lieges meal, folding breads around sauces and meats before swallowing.

She had been invited to partake, but already trapped within a den of beasts she would not imbibe what they gave unto her, lest she become sinful and base.

Instead, she simply answered their questions.

Everything from the supplies the Monastery would need, to the mood of the faithful, how she might tend to the flock in order to keep the 'peace' as well as the composure of his soldiers on holy ground.

Malakk let loose several puffs, creating large, faintly pink circles, "There is still the matter of offerings, Priestess."

Squeezing her hands so tight, Whitemane feared blood would spill,but she held her head aloft, "If I am to believe your past words, you said you would not take our people as offerings?"

Moorabi starting choking and Malakk furrowed his brow, placing down the Hookah hastily and said, "I did not mean you unto us, I meant for your temple, or ah, Monastery? I would not want you to displease your Holy Light because of our presence."

Resisting the curl of her lips, Whitemane shook her head, "The Light requires no sacrifices. It is divine and perfect, all powerful and pure, limited only by its flawed adherents and need not eat the souls of the dead."

"Well I should hope it does not devour souls," Moorabi muttered, as Malakk continued to look her over.

Whitemane did not bother lying to herself that there was no wanton nature in that gaze.

Finally, Malakk spoke, "I had heard some tell of your faith through trade and our cousins, but was wary to accept anything but your own claims as truth, Priestess. So please, in your own words, how is it you worship this Light?"

Lips thinning, Whitemane flexed her fingers and sighed, "The Holt Light is the source of all that is good in creation, joy, hope, unity and more. All that which is evil, is but a shadow of the Light, lesser and made up of base things like lust and wanton cruelty. We worship it through good works and holy prayer which creates unity between the flock and the faithful, drawing us closer to its perfection."

The room was very silent for a time, as Malakk let loose those low clicking sounds Drakkari made when thinking, like a broken clock she thought.

"I can see there is much left to learn, even if we are only here for a time," The invader mused slowly. "If this one is correct in their thinking, do you garner guidance from the spirits of the fallen when they pass on?"

Whitemane shook her head violently, "No, to summon the dead is a necromantic art, unholy and vile to the core. At times memories or visages of those past have been known to manifest but they are the impressions of great figures left upon the world, not the true soul. When we die, we all become one with the Light."

Moorabi let out a low chuckle, and Whitemane nearly reached for her staff to strike him, "You mock us?"

"Not at all Priestess," Answered the smirking troll, "You Light worshippers must be the bravest of bastards, to run headlong into battle knowing that is what awaits you."

'Eternal peace and perfection is beyond your grasp Troll,' she wanted to snap, but Malakk spoke swiftly.

"Moorabi speaks the truth. When worshippers of the Loa die, we know what awaits us in the next world. We can commune with our ancestors and gods who speak of these things and more. To go into battle, to risk life and limb, knowing you shall not see one's beloved, knowing one's identity shall fade, even into something greater."

The troll shivered a moment, "I am truly awed by the likes of Uther and those he led." Malakk then tapped the low table, "Though, I imagine you believe this is true for your foes as well. that is to say, we trolls?"

She should tread carefully, but it was hardly something she could lie about and not be caught swiftly and whatever punishment that awaited her...

Whitemane nodded, "We do not believe any power is greater than the Light, that which claims to be is a lie or delusion," She said carefully. "Those struck down by the flock and the faithful are to fade into the shadows, or at times, the Light, if they led noble enough lives in ignorance."

Malakk nodded, a grim expression upon his face, "Thus, just as human bravery is to be respected, it makes the crimes committed unto others ever more staggering as well."

Whitemane stiffened but the troll sent her a smile, which was not the least reassuring as she did not desire such affections.

"Fret not, Priestess, I shall not punish the blameless or the helpless; only those who commit or defend evil shall kindle my wrath."

"My flock and the faithful are relieved by your sense of restraint, Frost King Malakk," The words like ash on her tongue.

He smiled, "Just as your understanding and indulgence has been most appreciated, High Priestess Whitemane."

Not long after that, she found herself riding a carriage back to the monastery.


Alonsus Faol had lived a long, complicated life.

He had spent his youth navigating the intricate intrigues of the church to his position of Archbishop, bringing his Doctrinal faction to prominence over the Orthodox and the Canonical.

Since then, he had advised the wisest and most holiest of kings, served on a council for a war unlike any other. All while weaving his way through the den of vipers that were the noble houses of Lordaeron.

'And now, within a few weeks, that all seems very far away,' he mused. A silent sadness not showing on his face as he rested in an aged chair within his study. Looking across the large bejeweled chess set of his predecessor to the troll Priest, enshrined on plush pillows and ruminating his next move.

'Still, I shall do all I can to see this nation through the occupation. I doubt it shall last more than a few weeks,' he thought as the troll finally made his move, pushing the bishop deeper into enemy territory.

"A bold maneuver," Alonsus intoned, as he ran a hand through his beard.

"Fortune favors the bold, or so they say," was the sibilant yet cheery response.

Alonsus sprung the trolls trap by sacrificing his rook, adding, "You seem well versed in this game already."

Gal'Darah grinned, fangs flashing, "We have a similar game back home, Bal, it is called. Though in that you capture all enemy pieces and they can be taken back." He followed that by sending his queen to strike low the bishop and was now seemingly primed to take place him in check.

Alonsus nodded, "If you've the time I would enjoy the chance to partake. You may have better luck with that," He added, jumping a pawn and striking down the queen with a knight.

"Ah, defeated," Gal'Darah gasped, "Once again you show your skill in both chess and oration, Arch-Bishop."

"You do yourself too little credit, Grand Prophet, shall there be another match?" Alonsus asked gamely, pouring himself a cup of tea.

The troll sighed, taking up his own, larger tea cup and shook his head. "This one apologizes, but the whims of his master beckon me to the palace in short order. Where," Gal'Darah stressed, "I shall bring unto him word of your request regarding the services and shall argue your case. Frost King Malakk is an honorable liege, so I foresee no troubles."

Alonsus smiled, some genuine gratitude behind the political game ship. Gal'Darah's strange belief that their role as priests meant they shared kinship had unsettled Alonsus after initial reflection. But there was no denying that the Church needed an avenue to the leader of the occupiers. 'And however much our faiths diverge, the roles we play are akin to reflections.'

"You have my gratitude, Grand Prophet. For while I have enjoyed holding sermon in the great gardens, I know many among my flock and the faithful would take great heart in seeing the Church continue its traditional services."

"As well they should, fret not, Archi-Bishop, I will not leave you, your faithful or said flock out in the cold."

Faol nodded, "I shall offer you an extra layer in my evening prayers this night then," an old half joke among priests.

Gal'Darah perked up and nodded, looking very pleased before stilling, a hand running through his pink hair.

"That brings to mind a question, if there is the time."

"I believe your schedule is more crowded then my own, please, speak your mind Grand Prophet."

The troll nodded slowly, "Please know, Archbishop that no disrespect is intended by this questions."

"The duty of a priest is to teach, I would be a poor Archbishop if I grew angry at questions," was the well practiced response.

Gal'Darah clicked his tongue, finger & thumb toying with he tip of a stubby tusk. "Among my people, those who are not of holy orders must make offerings to see their prayers answered. Be it in their homebound shrines, the public alters or within the temples. While we holy one's offer our lives in the service of our divine patrons and thus can call upon their power at will."

Faol could guess where this was going and said, "You wish to know the nature of our prayers then, I take it?"

Gal'Darah ducked his head, "Swift of mind and tongue, Archbishop; forgive me, it is just very strange. To us, there must be a divine intelligence to be treated and engaged with. Our faith is a matter of interrogation and reparation to the heart; but yours still leaves me confused. A failure of my imagination I am sure."

"Fret not, Grand Prophet, you are not the first to find the matter confusing, but it is in essence, simplicity itself," Faol answered, leaning back in his chair. "The Light surrounds us, suffuses and fulfill us and yet is beyond us. By doing good works we bolster its presence in our lives, while through prayer, song and meditation were can gain insight and call it to our aid."

Gal'Darah leaned forward, eyes focused with interest, as Faol continued, "In this regard, one's prayer in which they might beg for absolution from a terrible fate, or a kind day to a loved one, sends ripples across the holy skein that connects us all."

"And thus," Gal'Darah said, nodding, "You endow will and intent unto the world through prayer, fascinating!" He offered a polite and flourished bow, "You have the gratitude of the Grand Prophet, Archbishop."

"Not all, I am gladdened I was able to share with you the knowledge of our Church and appreciate intern the greater understanding of your own people's ways."


Malakk had not been upon Rohk'aka long before he came to realize he did not understand as much of the world as he had thought.

'In truth, I still know more of Nerubians than I do of Southern Humans. A fact I must correct if I am to rule this land and lead her people,' he mused, striding down the city streets, the recently surrendered Queen Lianne at his side on horse-back.

'Still,' he thought, at the looming sight of the grand church, with its elegantly crafted turquoise domes, gold steeples and sturdy white stone. 'It seems that faith and factionalism have sway everywhere.'

Not to say Lordaeron was of the same mind on the role of priests as the Drakkari; from all Malakk could yet see, the ideals were quite distinct.

'Back home, a Priest can be a king, a mayor, a soldier or bureaucrat; but here, it seems politics and their faith strain to be separated. Yet somehow this invests the devout with even greater influence than it would in governance, by whispers rather than words.'

And it was their whispers he needed, to calm the rising tide of dread suffusing the streets and fields of Tirisal.

Thus, he now stood upon the steps leading up to the grand cathedral. Archbishop Faol and his retinue awaiting him, a host of peasants, merchants and more watching even if they could not be seen.

Lianne dismounted and stepped forward, gently whispering, "It is customary to bow before the king of the lands, Archbishop."

Faol responded with an almost wry smile, "Ah, I would, but you see my vestments are quite heavy and I am very old, so I fear I may not get back up for some time."

Malakk threw his head back in a laugh, "My Grand Prophet said you had your wits about you, Archbishop and a will to match it. Consider me most impressed," Malakk offered a flourished bow, not too low but a show of respect. "If this one may, I would ask that you invite me across the threshold of your church, that I may see its glory with my own eyes."

Alonsus let silence hang for a moment before speaking, "Though we met as enemies, your followers tended to all injured when the battle was done, and have reframed from acts of looting. Now, even the Crown stands with you, and so too shall the church, that you might experience our holy hospitality. Please, follow me."

With that, the gold adorned, blue robed priest turned and marched up the stairway, Malakk keeping a respectful distance that he did not loom over the man and silently thanking his fortune that humans too, loved to make their temples giant.

'I only needed to duck my head,' a part of him mused, as he came to stand within the hallowed halls at the heart of Lordaeron's religion.

Curtains of pristine blue, embroidered with shimmering gold thread hung between windows cast in a rainbow of colors that flooded the column lined chapter with gentle, but otherworldly light.

Isle after isle in basilica formation, all carved from the finest oak and treated with care that left them shimmering and pristine.

A gargantuan instrument, he had been told was an organ rested upon a raised dais from before which sat an elegantly smelted table, inlaid with ornamental inscriptions, upon which rested the exegesis of the Light.

Malakk was not a terribly reverent troll, but like with any place of import, one could feel the heart and soul and years that had bled into every inch of stone. Brought by the generations of people who had staked their love and lives on a single location.

He let himself wander the halls, tracing hand along walls and listening attentively as hymns were sung in the distance, as if entirely enraptured.

But though there was truth to his awe, as it was with all things for a king, politics informed his presentation and manner.

When he left the church, he made sure to place his hands beneath Faol's and bow his head as the man gave unto him a prayer of temperance.

Word of his visit would spread.

Tell of his awestruck stare and respectful bow to the beloved old Archbishop would be shared and on that very visits heels would follow his announcement.

Once again the holy sight would be open to the public and sermons would continue as had always been custom.

Malakk may not be the most spiritual of rulers, and there was still much he had to learn, but the nature of of this dance was one he knew well and it would serve him well in the days, months and he hoped, years to come.
______________________________________________________________________________
NOTES:
Well that is that, bit of an odd one this time, but I hope it proved engaging, as always feedback and insights are most welcome!

It was really fun to get to explore the religions in more detail, though there is more world building than this behind the scenes. Thanks again to Pillowsperky for inspiring the Drakkari reaction to human bravery in the face of death. Also, I based the description of the church on the Hagia Sophia, and Mehmed the Conquerors exploration there-of. Also Bal is a real game and very neat with tons of variants and design styles.

Malakk here is definitely taking inspiration from some RL world leaders.
For instance, Cyrus the Great argued that the god of Babylon had blessed his conquest of the city because of the evil actions of the reigning monarch. Later, he would do things like return the stolen statues of gods "To the places that made them happy" aid Jewish people who wished to return home in doing so and built them a temple.
Less charitable but still of interest was (I believe) Genghis Khan. Whom would often see religious leaders leaving his presence having been treated so well they were convinced he would soon convert. His motives were solely political and he was less understanding to those who wouldn't be useful but still.
These show how a foreign and even unpopular conqueror can try and utilize religion for political capital.
 
An Abridged History of the Drakkari Empire & the Grizzlemaw Nation
The imperious Furbolg guardian's tone was rough and weighty, the age of history, heavy on her broad shoulders.

"You, your traders and guests may pass, but let them speak no word of the Drakkari in our lands or suffer the consequences."

Only some hours later, well away from the towering totem poles as camp was made in the deep woods, did it seem wise to ask.

"Given only Wolvar are allowed to travel and trade in the Grizzly Hills, I assume there is some tension between the Furbolg and your Trollish fellows?"

A sharp keening laugh, akin to a deeper Gnolls echoes, though it is not unfriendly.

"Yes, yes much 'tension' between Troll and the Jalgar, which is what the bear-folk call themselves."

"Would you be able to provide me some context for this rivalry?"

"This one can, told by Lore Speakers, conferred with Drakkari codex. There is more, always more, but this one knows much, so listen well."


An Abridged History of the Drakkari Empire & the Grizzlemaw Nation

What must first be known is that there was not always strife.

In days most ancient, when evil gods ruled and the world was but churning chaos, all thinking being stood as one against them, trolls and Jalgar no exception.

Then the evils were defeated, slain, sealed, slinking away into shadows and forgotten as peace reigned for the first time in the world.

The era that followed was, to the Jalgar, a golden age of prosperity.

They gathered in the North to revere their divine sires and roam the lands, many troll were among their number.

Wars with the Vyrkul posed challenges it is true, and legends speak of great evils rising again that needed to be be felled, but it was good.

Drakkari tell it much differently, it was an age of transition and strife.

Ancient codex's and almanacs say they were sent North to do war on wicked things, and fought well, but were consigned to mountains, hunting and herding.

A hard life but not miserable, still, much less than their cousins it was felt, backwards and weak, not an empire but a loose federation of tribes.

The Jalgar's golden age of peace and honey ended when the Kal'Dorei grew arrogant and proud, taking much land of both people's who fought as one against them.

When the demons came, they fought still, the fall of the Jalgar's divine patrons not stilling their claws or their fury, but instead blessing the lands to ward against demonic corruption.

Drakkari records of the war are more precise, though many were apocalyptical in nature, tinged with dread and terror.

Speaking of how the elves spread death and subjugation, and the demons spread flames that neither Loa nor Spirit could quell, yet still they fought, intent to battle to the bitter end.

Then, the world broke.

The Sundering, Kal'Dorei called it.

Thus, began an era of strife & terror, the world in turmoil.

Enshrined in holy land the Jalgar were protected from the worst of it, but their legend tell of many Shamans broken by the horror and refugees from lands now hateful and hostile straining them.

Troll records grow more precise, they tell of the spirits being twisted into wrathful elementals; talk of desperate bids to escape South being sabotaged, be it by neighbors, elements or chaos.

This is when the strife began to flourish, with the Jalgar unable or unwilling to welcome so many refugees and forced to defend against many-a foe, jealous of their safety from natures wrath. But eventually, they brought peace and secured the lands for the clans and those who followed them.

Drakkari meanwhile found the South closed to them & so traveled deeper into the mountains, warring against the Elements & building Gundrak to secure themselves. So pleased they say the Loa were that they blessed them with beasts & birds for food, hoping for more temples.

This one must add, that not all trolls took to the mountains, some founded the coastal city of Tethys and grew strong in the early days of Northrend, but would be wiped out by a terrible flood 8000 years ago.

The survivors dispersed among the Jalgar ruled tribes who were already dwindling, sought to travel to Gundrak or went Westward, where some still live. Most have now faded, their blood too thin to survive the cold, while the Jalgar clans grew in prominence born of peace with the spirits.

As this was happening, Zul'Drak grew with the discovery of Saronite and the birthing if spirits, growing from Gundrak, to the top most tier and travelling West. A great stairwell, Drak'atal Passage was built, first to commune with their Southern cousins, and then to trade with the Jalgar Clans. Though in truth, this often devolved into poaching Southern lands for beast and timber.

The Jalgar disliked this, but did not yet rally as one, there was no need, as neither people's could marshal armies into the others lands and saw little need too. Sometimes they would aid one another against the Nerubians, but just as often the clans would join paw with pincer and fight the trolls. If ever they had chosen a side between Nerubian and Drakkari, they may well have tipped the scales, fortunately for both empires they regarded each side with equal disdain.

However, to much of the Southern stretches, the true power was the Magnataur.

Mighty beasts who ruled over humans and Snobolds as masters, while extracting tribute from the settled people's by spreading woe and terror.

They did this for a thousand years, growing ever bolder, until a union of their foes stood against them, even the insulated Drakkari & Nerubians offered aid. With that, their slaves rose up and the Magnataur power was broken,.

The survivors were sent fleeing West with their few loyal retainers.

From this, many human dispersed into the South and East, joining with the few villages that already survived in this lands and latching onto greater powers than they for protection against the hostile elements of the land and sea.

This was six thousand years or so ago.

Things continued like this for a long time.

Drakkari empires formed and broke while clans grew and dispersed. Trading, raiding, occasional flare ups of war, usually caused by Drakkari or Nerubians. All while Taunka nation of Oneqwah and their human subjects grew in the Southern Mountains.

Before asking, no, Wolvar never made a nation, none known. Even our gods & ancestors not remembered.

This is when war truly comes between Drakkari and Jalgar.

This is the birth of Drak'Tharon; the era of Bloody Paw.

Drakkari records remember this inception very well.

Some 4,515 years ago, poachers saw a great tree rising in the South, the Loa spoke of death and war, the reality to the Priest Kings of ZulDrak was obvious. The Kal'dorei of the West, spoken on by Shadowglen and Farraki again seek to make the world their own and they begin in Grizzly Hills.

To prepare for the coming war, they ordered a mighty keep built in the low mountains, where the herds are many and travel is easier, ensuring great legions could be marched South swiftly. Drak'Tharon it was called, carved first as a single giant tunnel, with caverns for supplies and ambushes if forced to fall back, it was not grand, but it was something.

Snow Flurry, long residences of the Western Woods that border the DragonGraveyards, with totems to match were the first respond. Their Lore Speakers claim they heard the mountains weep and scream, and so made war on the Drakkari. Mighty hunters and skilled Shaman marshalling a host of spirit beasts and battle bears to raid their foe.

Drakkari claim their motives as a lie, for they offer blood and tears to the earth which remained steadfast while other spirits grew wicked and cruel.

The truth, harder to say, the Priest Kings were not know to respect spirits well, but such traditions are not new in Zul'Drak. But in the end, truth mattered little. Skirmishing took place in the Grizzly Hills, many Drakkari seeking to build forts and secure territory.

Even when the tree fell and the elves left, they remained. The Priest Kings of the Four Tiers, loath to let things waste and continued to build, continued to fight with the Snow Flurry for a generation, victories mounting as Drak'Tharon grew and with it, the keeps legions.

Memories diverge here.

You see, Jalgar love their lore, but cared not for details.

Drakkari love their details but cared not for lore.

Both of them seek a pleasing narrative.

The Lore Speakers say that living in Grizzlemaw, their people were able to organize like the Drakkari and drive them off, sealing them within their mountains.

Drakkari say the Snowflurry asked, Frostpaw & Redfang, who had claimed the fallen tree as a home and grown mighty in their city while this war was happening.

Whatever happened, the Clans rose up as one and with sprits at their back, stormed Drak'Tharon, now nearly finished and forced the Legions out.

Scholars say only the promise of all Zul'Drak's Legions stopped the Jalgar from crushing the temple, and instead a treaty was struck, Drakkari could keep their fortress, but never leave it for the South.

This treaty held... For a time...

But generations pass and treaties fade.

Grizzlemaw grew in power, more tribes and families flock to it and like the Snow Flurry before them the Snowspring and Winterpaw bowed their heads.

In these early days the true foe of the Jalgar was Oneqwah nation, who made war upon them and were felled over generation long battles. These Taunka splintered and reduced to mere camps while the humans swore fealty to the Grizzlemaw, paying for the lands with farms and furs or serving at trade posts.

Time passed, the twin clans of Grizzlemaw built their city out, which came to be dubbed the Luminous City for the glowing bees and their shining hives that filled the holy heart of the great tree.

Frostpaw & Redfang secured the heartland, while the three out clans, controlled territories, or states as Drakkari call it, for themselves. Each one marked out with the clans distinct totems, when people pass they must announce themselves at these check points.

Zul'Drak remained as it was, the Priest Kings losing interest in the South and taking focus North and West, for a time, before splintering and rising again and again.

Drak'Tharon remained a point of contention, poachers and sometimes raiders sneaking out to skulk in the woods to claim beasts, lumber or even raid trade caravans, be it of their own people or the Jalgar.

The Snowflurry remained as ever their most heated rival, having recovered much and grown strong as generations passed and no armies made war on their lands.

Only when the Last Dominion rose did true war again come.

Centuries ago now, it was a terrible thing.

A mighty emperor broke the spirits of his people and marched them to war for generations, intent on remaking all Northrend to be like Zul'Drak, one endless city.

Jalgar call this the war of Broken Earth, for the Drakkari sought to bend the world to their whims as they did the people.

Cities and even a royal tomb were made to secure their hold on the South, if the people wished to keep their homes, they would pay their tax or be forced out.

In this war, Drak'Tharon became a place of evil, where prisoners were taken and punished, where raiders took loot and armies reveled in conquest.

Some wonder why the Nerubians seemed to care so little.

Maybe they knew what was coming, maybe they made it happen, we do not know.

For one day, the emperor died, three heirs and no succession made ready; naturally, the Empire tore itself apart.

The people of Zul'Drak rising up against cruel monarchs and the people of the South rising up against the wicked Drakkari.

Blood coated forest floors, streets of stone burned in wrath, the only survival of the royals fled to Jintha'kalar, ruling there until the time of the Frost King.

But nowhere was vengence greater than in Drak'Tharon. For great evils were done in that temple city by the Drakkari and these crimes were answered a hundred fold by the rebels.

Citizen and soldiers chased up the stairs, the chaos stalling any resistance. Taunka Shamans had spent weeks scaling great mountains to unleashed enraged Storm Spirits on the Zul'Drak side of the gates, trapping the trolls for slaughter.

How did Drak'Tharon survive?

Through the cunning of Quetz'lun, Psychopomp of the Drakkari Pantheon.

The souls within, bound by horror, or by fear of their possible punishment lingered in secret within the walls. And though the mighty Loa could have removed them and sent them on their way, as is their compact, she did not.

Instead she offered them redemption through rebirth, as the divine protectors of Drak'Tharon.

Well pleased by the offer, most of the ghosts agreed, but found their memories cooked down, their essence woven together and a new soul born from many, or more, the egg of one.

For Drak'Tharon would be the womb, the souls the egg and to it, Quetz'lun would gift her divine seed.

When at last the occupiers could not hold the Keep any longer, they struck low the last prisoners and catalyzed the birth of a new Loa.

Tharon'ja, born of a deathly divine and souls of the slain.

A great skeleton of spiritual spite rose , each wing beat unleashing the graves chill, its roars echoing across the lands. Only the newborns confusion spared the occupiers who fled, deeming the city cursed.

No mortals know why Quetz'lun did these things, maybe she sought power through a child loyal to her, maybe she wanted to protect the empire, or was lonely and sought something like herself to love?

But the Pantheons keep to their own council, and we ours.

Drak'Tharon stood, and would eventually come again to be host of an army and a prophet who worshipped the great cities patron. They honored it by warring, more raids really, with the South to find offerings and through holy rituals. Where much the rest of Zul'Drak grew insular and fraught, Drak'Tharon, like Jintha'Kalar remained somewhat engaged, though in the former case, only to continue their rapscallion ways.

These acts were most unwelcome but well within the nation of Grizzlemaw's power to handle, the North-Most Clans growing wise in the ways of Drakkari invaders. All the while, Grizzelemaw's influence over the roads and trade routes expanded ever wider until none would dare challenge them in their own lands.

I must also be said, that the raids ebbed and flowed.

Warlord Zim'bo, even before Malakk rose to power, was seen as unusually passive for a ruler of the city; even letting Rageclaw traders pass through to visit the lands of the South. Generations of good will from good trade, forgoing the Wolvar blame for the crimes of their troll hosts.

With the rise of Frost King Malakk, he again enshrined the ancient treaty of times past into law, forbidding invasion or war with the South, seeking instead peace. Even transferring many of Drak'Tharon elsewhere in the empire to weaken resistance against the idea and to ensure they shared their skills as trained forest fighters and explorers.

Thus, we are at peace, though no Drakkari Troll may yet walk this land without special permission and they would be little welcome even then. For the people of Grizzlemaw have long memories and the power to stand on their own, a mighty nation to this day.
_____________________________________________________
NOTES:
OK, and that is that, I hope it proved engaging!

I tried to find the picture source for that first linked image but no matter my efforts I had no luck, ><

I'd hinted at the client state situation of humans to the Grizzlemaw before now, indicating at their power, but I ended up wanting to expand on it and the general history of the place and people.

I speak truly when I say that I did not care for Grizzlemaw's portrayal in the games, a collection of bee hives in the fallen trunk and otherwise just a slightly bigger village seemed ill suited for such a place.

I much rathered the RPG, which established stuff like the other clans exerting influence over large territories via totems and had Grizzlemaw as a large and respected city.

In terms of aesthetic, I'd say its still heavily wooden and tree centric, with a somewhat 'rustic' feel, but that belies the power of the place and their people. I'd say its basically a fusion of this concept art, as well as taking some cues from these aesthetics too and having a layout and general look somewhat akin to this place.

Also I am happy to report the Grizzlemaw won't fall in this timeline!

I was reflecting on how much I didn't want that to happen and then looked up the source of their corruption and it was apparently born of trying to ressurect their Wild God. The thing is, the reason wasn't exactly clear, so I can only assume it was to fight the Scourge, and as the Scourge is gone, Grizzlemaw won't have cause to risk such an act. Thus, they will avoid corruption by trying to utilize the fallen World Tree in their ritual and inadvertently re-igniting Yogg'Saron's influence over the land, wooh!
 
The Winter War: Part 6 - The Golden Spinning Wheel
The Winter War: Part 6 - The Golden Spinning Wheel
Nazgrel did not like Silverpine, even with shamans keeping the muck and mist away it was too dim and dank, oddly lifeless and closed in. Snow was thicker the deeper they went, and roads had to be cleared by armored rhino stomping at the front of the legions as they trailed behind in a great column that stretched for what felt like ages.

Xex'Mon rode at the front and the sounds of a clipped exchange hit Nazgrel's ears, compelling him to urge his raptor forward.

"We shoulda searched the villages more," Burx groused.

"We inspected the nearby villagers, Burx," Xem'mon answered tiredly, "We found no more weapons or people than we should have."

"You can't trust the humans to not be lying, they are tricky scum," the warrior groused, tugging on his snarling mounts reigns.

"Mind yourself commander," Xex'mon said, in a tone Nazgrel thought very like a parent. "Raptors don't take to rough handling and as to your claim, we are hardly trusting them. Under the steady guidance of Oracles, our Hunters search, they are swifter, stealthier and more silent than we. The truth shall not escape them, and nor shall the butchers."

"Their heads belong to us," Burx said again, and privately Nazgrel agreed, but he could not say so and be loyal.

Piping up he said, "We swore to repay the Drakkari Empire for not just freeing us, but giving us homes, equipment, food and more. If those we swore ourselves to say we are needed elsewhere, then that is just how it is. Or do you want the humans to rally and strike at us from behind while we chase down cowards?"

"The humans rallying is just my fear," Burx argued.

Xex'mon looked to speak before silencing himself, as if thinking on his words in a very un-orcish way before nodding and continuing. "The humans pose a problem and delayed justice is always a terrible thing to suffer, But we have not ignored them Burx, and what's more, we now ride to liberate more of your kindred."

That stilled Burx's tongue for a moment and Nazgrel leaned on that silence, "Where is this camp, Chieftain, and how many do we expect to free?"

"Many," The troll answered, glancing down at a map laid out across his lap from atop his small, throne like seat on his rhino's back. "This place is one of the largest internment camps and we know for a fact those within have not yet been harmed, but we need a strong force and surprise to take it, that is why we move with haste."

"That is good at least," Burx said, grumbling, "I see wisdom in your plans, even if it irks me."

Xex'mon nodded, "It does I as well, but know that this course was charted by our Frost King. His vision is grander than any of ours, surely, at this very moment he plots the downfall of the Alliance in a crushing blow and when it comes our justice shall be sweet!"


'I want to go home and sleep these last few days off.'

Malakk kept his manner tightly neutral as he watched his collaborators and advisors' bicker and snipe about land, titles, stipends, and tax rates in a way that made his mind ache.

'Days of this, days and still a deadlock, still grasping for mere understanding, it is madness!'

He saw Alexi and Zol'Maz looking ready to jump one another and repressed a sigh, 'Or perhaps stupidity.'

"You talk with too much authority for one so ignorant," Zol'Maz growled.

"Bold words from one who does not even manage his own peasantry, and you call yourself a noble among your kind?" Alexi snapped.

Each slapped their hands on the table, teeth bared and Malakk saw his out.

"Enough, do not make me separate the two of you like squabbling children, again."

Both men drew back, expressions tinged with embarrassment and boiling frustration.

Kel'thuzad tapped his stave, "The bickering is indeed pointless, but this discussion is dragging on terribly. Why it is so difficult for you and your advisors to settle on a tax and tariff rate?"

"You want to count tokens while Alliance forces marshal in the East," Gal'Darah hummed, "I think you have skewed priorities wizard."

Lianne coughed delicately, "It is true that War can impact tax, but never before has tax ceased, without their revenue, the nobles cannot support a war effort."

"What would you even be using the gold for now," Arctikus groused, "You have all you need and if not, it can be procured, dallying over gold or livestock seems trivial."

"Once again we enter a circular discussion," Perenolde hummed, taking a sip of his wine.

"Indeed," Malakk said, before anyone could get a word in. "I declare a recess on this matter and an end to this meeting, debate amongst yourselves if you wish, but I will broke no further childish caterwauling. Think upon your words, your plans, and outline a draft of your expectations over the course of the next two days and we shall reconvene on this matter."

Illucia waved her hand, "A wise decision my king, but I must ask what are we to do in the interim? If our coffers run dry, of the flow of gold begins to stall among the peasantry they will starve and eventually riot. We can hardly discuss strategy when the future is so uncertain."

"I imagine those in the city and towns are more concerned with food than they are with gold," Zol'Maz countered.

"They are one in the same, or does that concept confuse you troll?" Kel'thuzad said.

Malakk pushed his throne back and rose to his full height, casting a shadow across his advisors and stilling their tongues.

"I declared this matter done for now, I caution each among you to think upon your words before something foolish is said in exhaustion, now go. Rest," he said, his voice echoing.

Each among them slowly rose and left the chamber. Malakk studiously kept his gaze of Kel'thuzad but he listened after the man bitterly mumbling as he left.

"That one is more trouble than he's worth," Kutube'sa spat.

"His informant in the Alliance High Command and knowledge of Dalaran's defenses is too useful though," Bith'Sa said.

"When he speaks the truth," Kutube'sa argued.

Malakk turned, motioning for his guards and Lianne to walk with him, "I need to consult with your tax records, again."

Lianne curtsied, "As you say, Frost King Malakk."

The journey was made in silence until they were greeted by the sound of bustling scribes and scholars, as inks of many types were etched onto scroll and bark paper. The hall of records stretched out around them with row after row of once sealed documents, scrolls and ledgers on shelves. Those within stirred but having grown accustomed to his unannounced visits kept to their tasks, as Malakk marched by a shelf he stood taller than.

He was careful to avoid the nervous humans who scurried about, while confident Wolvar carried on in their work and troll scribes tried to keep pace with their Rageclaw brethren.

Finally, Malakk found whom he was looking for, fur sheered white and bedecked in comfortably loose pants and similarly loose shirts in royal blues and blacks, was an Elder of the Rageclaw Tribe. The aging Wolvar clacked their teeth at his approach and bowed from their high, cushioned chair, "What can this illustrious servant of the empire do for their liege this evening?"

"You are enjoying your greater grasp of this new language far too much elder," Malakk said with some humor.

The Wolvar cheerfully waggled a claw, "A trader's trick, Frost King Malakk, languages come easy to us, even if annunciation is hard," the Wolvar's words occasionally dropping in articulated growls to substitute the needed sounds.

"I hope then you have had similar luck with translating these documents for our needs?" He asked, glancing over the shoulder, and seeing the familiar Drakkari script laid out next to several other languages he had a passing familiarity with.

Tugging at their ears, the Wolvar rumbled, "You ask so much so quickly. We are working hard, very hard and improving at all times. It so happens the syntax and sentence structure are different here, it lacks our efficiency or trolls poetry."

Malakk noted Lianne's sharpened and mildly offended expression at that remark and cut in, "Your personal views on language aside. Have you anything to aid me in resolving this matter of taxes?"

The elder tapped their claws, little feet wiggling, even in old age Wolvar never seemed to grow tired.

"Some progress, troubles hail from different systems and values as much as language. This is why the first translations were bad. So now we begin translating things back to Azotha to see if it still made sense to our aids," the Wolvar looked down and whined, "Often there is a struggle…"

"But!" They perked up, "That has made us closer to real understanding, here, here," they said, offering him a messily scrawled in ledger. "Trying many translations, and I have a reference guide for you too, this will help you understand what you need."

"As always thank you for your service elder, I will send down some prized foods and drink as added thanks," Malakk said airily, already skimming through the ledger.

"Ooh that will be nice, now must work! I will die in a year or so, cannot stomach more interruptions," they said, waving him off.

'Stomach?' Malakk wondered, before shaking it off as another human term the Wolvar had picked up. He motioned for his guards and Lianne to follow, they began the march back to the royal parlor.

The palace was well memorized to him by this point, so Malakk could lose himself in thought as he studied the ledger and tried to wrap his mind around his new subject's world view.

'There are great houses who oversee the lands, but the church holds influence, yet it is seemingly both far spread and yet delicate in its influence. The people work the land, but the labor is not considered a tax in of itself, but instead they are given tokens to be exchanged for the necessities of life… Why such a roundabout system and why can they not see it is especially foolish in war?'

Maybe he was misunderstanding and drawing comparisons where there should be none or misconstruing the necessity behind the system. Was it a result of such a widespread territory? Did it make a workable bureaucracy impossible?

'The other tribes and even we have tinkered with money, but I never thought it pertinent to study and even then, it is their way or only history to this one...'

Malakk sat upon his throne, mind wracking for a solution as he read over the translations and reference guide, desperate for a solution.

'If my understanding is right… How am I to keep the nobles loyal?'

He settled in for another long night of studying this new land and her people.


The sun was not yet rising, but Beve Perneolde was awake and alert as she strode down the halls of Lordaeron's Palace with assured confidence. Richelle at her back and Singer in the distant shadows, as they made their way to the royal parlor.

Beve glanced at the sullen door guards and after a moment of waiting was rewarded with the doors swinging open to grant her entrance to the royal study. There she was greeted by the sight a handful of Malakk's advisors milling around, talking, or researching while the Frost King scowled at a small book resting in his lap. Nearby the queen mother watched her intently.

'I wonder if he was here all night?' She thought, slowly gliding across the plush red carpet towards the towering troll king.

Singer had mentioned the other advisors only making their way to the parlor in the last hour, so Beve knew that Malakk had not been in his fellow trolls' company all night. 'But he does still allow them closer than we, let alone Lianne who has not left his side. That is no surprise perhaps but…' she thought eyeing the fallen queen, 'Perhaps I can change that, for our family at least.'

Smirking, Beve curtsied, "If this one may approach their liege?"

Malakk looked up, "I am not one not stand on ceremony, Beve, if you wish to be here rather than enjoy the morning you are welcome too."

Striding closer she circled around on the Troll and crossed a hand theatrically over her heart, "I am honored, and I believe this to be a wise choice, as I have the solution to this dilemma we are facing."

His smirk was perhaps meant to be friendly but given the number and size of his fangs it would come off as a little predatory. Beve however was growing very comfortable with such things, a fact which disturbed her less than it did her brother.

Malakk waved her on, "Do please share with me your insights."

Continuing her little amble around the room she spoke carefully and deliberately. "I have been watching this discussion drag on and wondering so many of the same questions as my," she scoffed, "noble contemporaries."

She spun to face Malakk, flourishing her staff as if pulling back a cloth, "And only now do I see through the looking glass so to speak." Her grin grew as she felt the queen mothers gaze harden on her.

"Should you win this war this world will never be the same," She shrugged. "The others think this just means saluting a trollish monarch rather than a human one, but I see the truth now. You, and your empire are not like us at all."

Malakk was watching her with interest, fingers steepled as the room's focus was solely on her as he said, "And how, may I ask, are we so different?" He said, already sounding pleased.

Beve waved her hand, robe flicking in the air, "Gold has no meaning to you, and should you win it will no longer have meaning in this land either, will it?"

The Frost King was carefully neutral, beckoning her on while Moorabi chuckled from somewhere behind her, "It can make for pretty trinkets, so it's not worthless."

"Exactly," She smirked, staff clacking against the floor, "Your economy is irrevocably different than ours and they do not realize it. But I do, my family and our nobles found what gold we smuggled to be of little worth in the woods. We had to adapt to survive, but the rest wish to return to the old ways and even before used the glint of 'pretty trinkets' to lure the foolish into our service."

She cast a glance behind her, "The other collaborators are even more deluded than those seeking their old rank and wealth. They think this a chance to garner more lands and wealth; power and money is all that matter to them and they assume the same of you. They are but scarcely suspecting the truth of you Drakkari, for they cannot conceive of it, yet."

"And are you any different?" The Queen Mother spoke up, "You came to him seeking power and rewards, little Beve. Why are you any more reliable than those who make up this court of traitors."

Beve rested a hand over her heart and bowed, "Because I am loyal," She looked up, "And I am smart enough to know that death awaits all who fail here. The others are foolish enough that if they realize the truth, they will try to break ranks, believing their wealth will spare them, I know the only path forward is with the Frost King. Thus I will ensure the Drakkari Empire's supremacy at any cost."

"Supremacy is not the word I would use," Malakk said, voice chipper, but eyes steely and focused. "But still, this is an interesting theory to say the least, but as of yet, it is merely you're understanding and not advice as you so assured," Malakk offered gently.

"My advice is simple," she held out her hand open as is offering him a gift. "Play them, reward them, feign that the Drakkari run on money as we do, or did. War is a convenient enough excuse for our trade to have ended and the treasury is bursting with wealth. Prop up your new nobles with splendid glamour while sparing the common folk and then when your enemies have been crushed," She balled her hand into a fist.

"You can reveal the truth with no fear, they will play along so long as they think they are gaining both the power and wealth they so crave. It matters not that they cannot use it for anything right now. Simply hoarding it will please them and then, before they even realize the truth, it will be worthless, and you shall be emperor."

Malakk chuckled, leaning back in his seat, idly tapping one of his giant tusks, "You are a sharp one, Beve Perenolde."

Beve lightly thumped her fist against her chest in the manner of the Drakkari, "Thank you Frost King Malakk."


After such a fruitful meeting with the young Beve, Malakk found himself in good humor as the company in his parlor dwindled leaving but he, one other and his guards.

Queen Lianne had taken to the windows to stare upon the garden, and Malakk hovered by the next window over, wandering if he saw as she did, though a part of him doubted it.

Hands clasped behind his back he rolled his shoulders and spoke gently, "You had realized the truth of our problem even before she did but remained silent."

It was not a question, and wisely, the queen did not treat it as one, only half glancing at him to utter, "I saw it as your matter to resolve, not my own," Her voice grew sharper by only the barest octaves, but it spoke volumes, "You may forget this, but I do not want you to win this war."

A grin spread across his face, "Haha, I see, it seems as I had hoped you no longer fear me, which is good, even if it could have come at a more convenient time."

Hands clasped ever so slightly before her dress and gaze wide and wary, Queen Lianne spoke, "What is to become of us then? If I am no longer reliable?"

Malakk huffed, flicking back his head in a dismissive motion, "Your advice still has merit, but less so now." Seeing her gaze was unwavering he added, "Which means depending on how things proceed I may move forward in ways I had not planned to just yet, but this changes nothing in the long run. You and your children will live well enough if I have anything to say about it."

Queen Lianne's expression was inscrutable as she matched his gaze, as if trying to peel back the layers of fur and skin to stare into his very soul seeking some answer she could truly trust.

"What use do you have for me if Beve plays my role?" She asked slowly.

"Beve is a smart one, but she is not of Lordaeron or its royal family, thus she cannot replace you," his tone grew weary with disappointment. "Before this I had thought to make your rank as Queen Counselor intertwined with creating edicts and policy. I see now that you cannot be trusted in this, so you will stay, in a sense, but only to advise and inform. But that is all, lest my trust is regained."

The woman's expressions remained impossible to read, her posture tense as she wracked her mind for some new question or solution, for something she could not grasp.

Sighing, Malakk said, "Get some sleep, Queen Lianne, there will be more to be done on the morrow."

As the queen left his sight, Malakk looked to De'Jana who stepped out from the shadows and murmured, "You were correct, De'Jana."

The young woman bowed, "This one takes no joy in that fact, but is glad to have served wisely."

"As you shall no doubt continue to, Overseer De'Jana."


Clothes sewn from gold shall weigh heavy on their bones.

Bangles & jewels shall be chains adorning their frames

False crowns will cast their gazes down forevermore.

After the last few days of drawn-out meetings and mind-numbing debates, Illucia Barov was welcoming the sudden shift in their schedule gleefully.

In place of holding court in the morning, Malakk had placed it on hold for the day, allowing she and Alexi a pleasant lie in before enjoying a four-course breakfast. After which they had joined Malakk and his other advisors in the gardens for an array of performances, from singers, to an amusing little play performed by nerve wracked actors and even some Drakkari Illusionists.

'Kel'thuzad must still be sore after his first encounter with them given his scowl,' she thought, hiding a titter behind her sleeve.

What was more, Malak had seemingly banished Lianne from his sight. Which was tragic in that Illucia could not watch the former queen silently fume as she was treated like a secretary but did spare them her constant scowls and glares.

'Still, this cannot have come from nothing, was her advice the source of the strife between us, or perhaps he simply no longer finds her appealing?' She wondered.

Alexi perked up and placed down his bourbon, compelling Illucia from her own musings to watch as Malakk rose from his throne and strode forward to stand before them.

His new regalia was a pleasing sight to her eyes, casting off the robes so common among his people for sharp dress pants, forgoing the cape and instead adorning his broad shoulders with an elegant coat. All still lined with elegant patterns but rather than black, white, and blue contrasting, he instead now adorned his clothes with dashes of gold and silver.

With a subtle flourish, the Frost King placed a hand over his heart and spoke gently, but not without grandeur, "My noble allies, your liege must offer you his deepest apologies."

Their numbers stirred and Perenolde, ever the sycophant spoke up, "Whatever for your grace?"

"For my lack of understanding for your difficult position and the sacrifices you have made to support your monarch." His words and motions were smooth and made him look every bit the statesmen as he continued.

"For you see, among my people war is something that is strictly managed and controlled, treated more akin to contests than all out battles. We have experience in this too of course, but always it has been surrounding Zul'Drak and never have we suffered an invasion."

His gaze flew across their number, "This war would be different from the beginning, this I knew. But I did not truly appreciate the pettiness of our foes, nor sympathize suitably with the impacts a war economy would have on your persons."

He slashed his hand through the air, "That ends now, one's as gracious and wise as yourselves deserve compensation for your sacrifices," with that he clapped his hands theatrically and a gasp fell across much of the crowd.

Ornately carved trays of gold were marched out by robed Drakkari, laid atop them were bars of gold, gems, jewels and even tomes that pulsed with power, one of each was offered to each of them with a bow.

Alexi took up a gold bar and happily tossed it in his hands, as Illucia snatched up a familiar tiara and placed it upon her brow, "Oh this is marvelous, your generosity is most welcome my liege!"

"Indeed," Perenolde murmured, fingers tracing across the golden bars that seemed to shine upon his ratty features.

Malakk offered a bow of mock humility, "Consider this a 'down payment' on what you shall be gifted when this war is over, trade and traditional taxes are restored, and your enemy's manors are laid bare. Until then, I hope you can appreciate this token of my esteem, gifts from the royal treasury and," he winked at her, "The royal collection alike."

Illucia traced her hands along the queens crown and marveled at how perfectly it fit as Alexi chuckled, "You are too kind my king, but I am glad to see we are passed that minor hurdle in deliberations. However," He hummed, "I take it this mean tax will still be on hold for the time being?"

Malakk placed his hand over his heart again and nodded somberly, "Tragically it will be so, for now at least. The increase in raids and with war awaiting on several fronts and none willing to trade there is little the peasantry could offer in monetary tax. After a month or so that would not be trying to get blood from a stone."

He offered them a cocky smirk and added, "It is better I feel to not inform them of such and to instead focus their energies on work that we might keep things on the right path. We can of course draft plans, but given the nature of war, I expect each of your territories to grow making such things purely theoretical, till the matter is settled."

He offered a wane smile, "But that of course is no reason to deny my most noble supporters of what they are owed."

"Hear hear!" Beve cheered, happily perusing a tome with a wide grin that was mirrored by Malakk's own.

"Now then, my comrades, let us sojourn to the war room. With the finances well in hand, we must turn our attention to the front. But" he added teasingly, "Do not be surprised if another gift awaits you in your chambers this eve."

Later that very evening, Illucia and Alexi were delighted to find a ballgown and dress suits with threads of gold woven throughout.
____________________________________________________
NOTES:
At last we reach the end of this political heavy arc, not that I haven't had fun but I think many will be hoping to get back to the war and all the drama I have planned for that. I hope this works as a cap off and also dropped some final hints on how things are developing for the war to come, hehehe.
 
The Winter War: Part 7 - The Wheels Come off
The Winter War: Part 7 - The Wheels Come off

The hour was not yet late, but it was far from early, as the gathered nobles and advisors of the Frost King stood around a grand and intricately carved map of Lordaeron.

It seemed to emerge from the stonework of the floor itself, carved by Drakkari stone shapers to best resemble the true landscape and was decorated with tokens bearing the Drakkari insignia and coins marked with the Alliance's symbol.

Malakk motioned at the map with a glowing idol and uttered, "Zol'Maz you are among my most skilled but cautious advisors. Thus, I will place you in charge of reinforcing the Bulwark in the East." At his words and motion, a small host of Drakkari tokens slid across the map and gathered at the Eastern pass.

Zol'Maz knelt and slapped his fist against his chest, "On my honor and life they shall not break through, Frost King Malakk."

Alexi tapped his cane against the floor, and Malakk motioned, "Speak, noble Barov."

"Thank you, now see here," Alexi said, motioning towards Caer Darrow, which was South-East of the Bulwark and where the Alliance armies of Eastweld marshalled. "I respect your decision to place a Drakkari in command of your legions, but given this is my land, I feel I should be involved in the defense."

Malakk took the point with a hearty grin and answered, "Worry not my noble ally, for you have not been forgotten, in fact one could say you and your lands serve as a lynch-pin in this plan."

Sweeping his hand grandly he proclaimed, "To the noble House of Barov I shall send three of the ten Legions of Gundrak, our most elite fighting force."

"They are of some renown then I take it?" the man asked, already preening.

"Indeed so," Malakk said puffing up his chest. "Alongside the six Legions of Drak'Tharon the Gundrak Legions are our mightiest and finest soldiers. I would never disrespect our loyal legionaries, but military life is a career to them. While for the Gundrak Legions it is a way of life, an art they spend every waking moment perfecting. Why, even one Legion can turn the tide of a battle with ease!

"Thus," he added delicately, "I offer their services to your noble house, guard your lands, unleash them upon our enemies ranks from the South. Use their presence to divide their army by forcing a siege or strike at reinforcements from Hillsbrad. It is all at your discretion."

Alexia brimmed with pride, hand resting upon his ornate new blade as he cheered, "It shall be done, Frost King Malakk!"

"Marvelous," Malakk offered with a sharp clap. His gaze turned to Beve, "What reports have you from the Southern March, Beve?"

Bowing grandly the brunette waved a piece of parchment, "The Syndicate scouts and raiders are doing fine work in the South. Dalaran continues to marshal but can do little to undermine our rogues." She motioned to Thoradin's Wall and added, "My father and brother are en-route to Dunrholde Keep and Thoras's army is still an extra day out from their arrival thanks to Falconcrest and his agents. There have been no complications."

"Good, the longer we have the South in chaos, the faster we can win this war," he motioned along the Southern Coast. "Hooktusk has said there is little activity on the seas, the Tirasi Fleet cannot breach our blockade and so the Northern Coast and inlands remain safe from their touch."

Gal'Darah squatted down, waving at the map, "This does mean seizing Durnhole matters even more I am thinking. Reports say the Tirasi are sending forces in land, and there are the Arathi to think on as well. Let alone the wizards."

Malakk nodded, "Indeed, the Great Mother is marshalling Troops on Fenris Isles to keep Dalaran contained as we speak; however, I will be seeing to it that you join our invasion force for Dalaran soon, Gal'Darah."

Kel'thuzad's raspy voice cut through, "You think Dalaran will fall to such a small force?"

"There is more at play here than I have shared, my sharp-tongued comrade," Malakk assured.

"I should be informed, Dalaran is my foe, my prize," he ground out.

"May-haps if you could offer more to our cause than broken promises from a minor baron you would be entitled to more?" Illucia chided, "As it is, nothing you offer can match the access offered by our Jandice."

Malakk chuckled fondly, "Now, now, the wise wizards' insights on his former contemporaries spell-craft and defenses has proven worthwhile. You shall have a role to play, Kel'Thuzad, of that I assure you. But we must tread carefully and not show our hand too soon."

"So, you keep saying, but the longer this war drags on the more I fear your position," The wizard answered. "Already your information network is being driven underground or into the scorching light by the Inquisition and with that Rivendare loses motive to strike an accord with us."

Moorabi perked up from the cushion he sat upon, "Sounds to me like that is a threat, bold of him if nothing else," the lean warrior chuckled.

"Rivendare is not fool enough to throw his lot in with the losing side, but" Kel'thuzad noted delicately, "he could be brought to the negotiation table with the right offer however."

"By the offer of Callia, I am aware, and I deny him again. One too easily cowed so as to take no risk yet demand others risk for him is not worthy of my time or as an ally," Malakk said simply.

Kel'thuzad looked as if he had been slapped.

"I will negotiate with him in good faith when we stand victorious and if in the last hour, he sallies forth to our side all the better," Malakk continued, arms behind his back. "But I took my risk in the letters that drew you all here rather than simply going on a swift and brutal offensive when I held the element of surprise. Thus, if he wishes to even be reflected in my eyes, he had best be willing to show some courage."

Malakk gave them no time to linger on the topic, though the pleased grins from all save Kel'thuzad spoke volumes.

"If we are to linger on Dalaran a moment longer, I must thank you both, my dear Barov's," Malakk said with a sweeping gesture. "Your brave Jandice has granted us many-a insights into the mage city's schemes and smuggled our supply drops in with aplomb." Malakk smirked and flicked at the air, knocking over one of Dalaran's tokens, "We know they plan only to march once the Eastern Front is in full swing so as to strike at the city by surprise with a two-pronged attack, but when they do, the traps laid for them shall spell their doom."

"A cunning ploy," Beve cheered, "With their ranks and city disrupted, along with fear of treason in the midst, they will grant us enough time to mop up the remnants of Lordaeron's armies."

"I do wonder about the Trollbane's though," Zol'Maz said with a sneer, "they are reputed to be fierce warrior and Loarderon's fall would endanger them as well."

"Indeed," Alexi said with a scoff, "Trollbane was always like a loyal cur to Teranas, they were friends, I've no doubt he has marshalled a most elite army. In truth… It is odd he comes so late."

"Sending most of his army through the mountains and marching openly with only a small host to distract us mayhaps?" Gal'Darah wondered.

"Perhaps," Alexi said, words drawn out in consideration. "Concentrating their forces in Eastweld would be a workable strategic move… But the Arathi have been struggling since the Second War, so perhaps there are tribulations we do not see?" Alexi asked.

"We can speculate forever more if we wish, but for now we have scouts in place and are readying a trap at Durnhole. If they march upon us in Hillsbrad or Eastweld they shall find a most unwelcome surprise," Malakk smirked, "And that ould be but the first of several, for the Winter Axe and several of their neighbors stand ready to strike when the time is right. We shall wear them down before they even leave Hillsbrad."

Malakk motioned to the map, "Though, speaking of local liaisons, bandits, Ogre and Gnolls raiders have been attacking isolated settlements. Both my own and those still opposing us and we need to determine a solution."

The Frost King motioned to a leather adorned Wolvar in loose pants and shirt who bowed and briefly clapped their paws, "The Rageclaw Speakers are having mixed bags of luck. Bandits and Ogres are difficult, many were soldiers and see themselves as rebels, while few Ogres Clans will speak to those deemed weak, but those we have from Shadowglen are strong."

Sour expression spread upon on the human advisors faces.

"More soldier are always an aid, and it seems we've stymied some brewing rebellions as well, is there anyone else of important, Chief Rageclaw?"

The Wolvar nodded, claws clacking, "Gnolls are hard to track and some can be very aggressive, but we have recruited several packs. They reinforce the Bulwark now. Also, Kobolds seem very interested in alliance, but nervous."

"Talking to such creatures is a waste of time," Alexi scoffed.

"You want more wars to fight?" The Elder Rageclaw countered.

Malakk motioned for quiet, "I did not broach this topic to begin a hearty debate, as interesting as that might be. We are here to discuss a new policy for guardianship, diplomacy and counter attacks. As it is, we have been stamping on one spark at a time as dozens begin to light flames around us. A broader, more detailed plan is needed."

He stilled on his words for a moment, toying with his tusk he spoke slowly and deliberately. "We must work together to craft one that can protect the empire, while not fighting battles we do not need to."

With that the conversation began to shift as minds turned from the war and looked inwards.


With night falling, the meeting concluded, and they began to disperse, seeking evening entertainment or a path to their next destination.

Gal'Darah was perhaps unsurprised to see Zol'Maz looking low on spirits and was equally unsurprised when Moorabi clapped the armored warrior on the back as they marched into the hallway.

"Looking down old man, missing your family or just fearful of the battle to come?" He asked, in that way that always left one wondering if he was being friendly or petty.

Zol'Maz gave the rogue-priest a sharp look before shrugging, "Both, this campaign dragging on is not what I desired. Even if I see the logic and I am wary of these plans, as one should be."

"Mhm, I can always have some raiders stomp in and coax them into a fight perhaps? Or maybe we have the lil Barov's help out with a surprise attack?" Moorabi said, switching to Zan'Drakki.

"Perhaps, but both carry risks of failure," Zol'Maz said.

"The humans need this land back faster than we need to expand, play on that," Moorabi said as they wandered down the halls that while by no means cramped did always feel claustrophobic compared to home.

Gal'Darah caught up to his fellows and grinned, "Fear not my comrades, so long as we follow our visionary's leaders plan all shall be well!"

Zol'Maz's answer was to roll his eyes, "Your faith in our monarch borders on religious fervor, I am not so ardent."

"I have never been given cause to doubt my faith," Gal'Darah said, smirking.

"You may yet, something can always go wrong," Zol'Maz intoned.

"Trust me old foe, you have nothing to worry about."

Moorabi just watched them silently.


I am moving to claim the princess, be ready to receive us when I send the signal, the prince will be dealt with.

That had been how Kel'thuzad had finished his coded 'report' to Rivendare asking for more overt 'support' for the trolls in this war.

Ignoring the courtesies of the troll 'arcanists' in their flowery bows and manner, he turned and strode out of the library and made his way towards the heart of the city.

'Underground markets have been growing since the siege, some under-collaborator control, others not. If I am to get the regents I need, I'd best be careful.' He would need to steal a sample of Saronite as well.

Yes, Kel'thuzad had a terribly busy night indeed.


Jandice Barov rested her chin upon her silk bedecked arms as she looked out from her one of her apartments windows to the streets of Dalaran. The singing crystals of the observation towers humming in the far distance, the vibrant splashes of purple contrasted against yellow stone, all lined with gold.

'I wonder if this Malakk character will make me queen of Dalaran?' She thought idly, an amused quirk to her lips at the thought.

Pushing herself up with a yawn, Jandice looked over her notes. Ideas for her mage-weave, space warping bags had been dismissed by many as a curiosity. And even now, despite necessities of supplying troops, were seen as a mere distraction, as something for 'later' once the war was done, even by her fellow arch mages, let alone the Council of Six.

She pushed her notes aside and took in the next layer of study, one she had been commissioned for by the council, the illusionary mass cloaking spell.

The problems with the spell being too easy to detect or for mistakes to spell its doom in bringing about surprise attacks had been among the first problems encountered and remained a headache to herself and all others assigned the task.

'Not that it would help them,' She thought, thinking to the notes and counters she had already sent back to her family lest anyone try to sneak up on them. Her mother was deemed a hedge mage at best, but she had taught Jandice enough to qualify for her position in Dalaran after only a year more of schooling to correct her "Sloppiness".

'Besides, if it really was trolls who disrupted teleportation to Lordaeron they'll know what to do with the notes.'

Jandice blinked as a faint hum scratched at her mind like music, drawing the mage from her reverie at the telltale sounds of a a strange summoning spell. Pushing back her chair with a thud she hurried to her cupboard, snatching up a led box from her desk as she went.

Pulling the dresser open and removing the false bottom she reached within and grasped the rune inscribed object that pulsed with magical power and stank of gunpowder. Quickly she sealed it away in led with one quick motion, muffling its presence to any but the sharpest mage. Pulling a note from beneath it she scanned the instructions and incinerated the parchment just as quickly.

'Getting an explosive beneath the barracks would be hard for anyone else, but for the mistress of illusions, it shall be child's play,' she thought with a titter.

Pushing herself up, Jandice flicked out her wrists and with a flourish let the arcane energies of the universe suffuse her being, leaving vibrations humming across her every nerve and cell before the energy shifted but a foot away from her in the form of a perfect copy. Her dark hair, pale skin and vibrant purple and gold lined robes.

Playfully tapping her doppelganger on the nose, Jandice watched her copy flounce towards her desk, fake quill in hand to begin 'working'.

Taking her led box in hand, Jadice cloaked herself in a tightly bound layer of light warping energies that clung to her robes and skin, obscuring her from all before slipping out the open window and hopping her way down to the streets below.

She did not see the cloaked watcher from across the street, nor sense presence of the Violet_Eye magus at her back until a familiar voice whispered, "Traitor."

'Archmage_Leryda?'

Then Jandice knew no more.


Jandice_Barov stirred, her mind aching as she tried to move but could only hiss at the sensation of sharp steel tugging on her cheeks and pressing down all around her.

"W- What is this!?" She snapped, only her jaw could move, runes were flaring to life around her and counter-spell cuffs adorned her hands.

'No, no!'

"Are you really so surprised, Jandice? Antonidas asked with a tired sigh, leaning against his staff, and meeting her terrified gaze with quiet judgement.

"I have done nothing wrong!" She snapped.

Drenden scoffed, "Did you think we would not notice your illusionary doubles eventually?"

"That we would not have someone track you?" Kael'Thas hissed.

"I… I have done nothing that warrants this level of interrogation!"

"You were doing far more than smuggling mere contraband, traitor," Archmage_Modera hissed, rounding on her bereft her staff but wielding dual wands.

"I…"

"Enough," they snapped as one.

"Leave this to us, your eminences," A new voice echoed, and from the corner of her eyes Jadnice's heart stilled at the sight of Jailor_Kassan.

Madora rounded on her and any attempt Jandice made to lean even the slightest bit away from the woman left her skin screaming as it was jabbed and tugged by the probing metal.

Madora placed the dual wands at each of her temples and Jandice whispered a begged, "No…" Kassan's hands grasped at the chair binding her, restraints tightening.

The other Arch Mages vanished in flashes of light as Madora leaned forward and whispered, "By the time I am through with you, traitor, you will have not the will to lie."
_______________________________________
NIOTES:
Been feeling kinda off lately and very worn down, but I was still able to get this chapter out in time, I hope it proves engaging!
 
The Winter War: Part 8 - Coming Undone
The Winter War: Part 8 - Coming Undone

Clouds were winding their way through the air, having let loose their glut of snow and letting scattered stars twinkle in the skies above Arathi's lowlands. Tents and carriages were arrayed across the sleet covered fields and campfires roared furiously as human soldiers huddled around them for warmth and Ironforge Dwarves sat by on watch.

'Poor blighters thinking this nippy weather is real cold,' Muradin_Bronzebeard thought.

A loud, pleased gasp hit his ears and the Mountain Prince looked to Thoras_Trollbane. Sitting across from him on a large log, bulky armor and horned helmet still adorned, the man loomed over his young son, Galen.

"Aaaah, I haven't had ail like that since," His expression turned briefly sour, "Well since last you visited Lordaeron.

"That was a memorable meeting," Muradin chuckled, hoping his humor would rub off on the man.

Waving him off Throas grunted, "Don't mention that now, the mood is somber enough," he tapped the rum bottle against his leg, "To think the last words I would speak to Teranas would be in anger."

"These things happen, sadly and unexpectedly, but if it helps, I doubt he took it personally," Muradin said.

"That would be his way, too patient for his own damned good he was," Thoras muttered, throwing back a larger gulp and then roughly ribbing his son, knocking Galen off the log. "Stop shivering and drink up lad, it will put hairs on your chest."

Galen scowled and snatched the bottle from his father and pushed himself up, "I was given to understand surprise attacks were dishonorable." With that he sat himself back down next to his father and took a swig, blooming disgust or pleasure washed across his features as he pulled the bottle back, "Thank you, Prince Muradin."

Thoras scoffed, "You hardly sound grateful," shoving against him to snatch back the bottle, "Here, if you will not appreciate a gift, I shall!" He cheered before chugging nearly half the bottle, the soldiers around the camp watching the father and son spat with interest.

"Hey now, no need to finish it that quick, we gotta long night ahead of us and fires can only do so much," Muradin japed.

"Bah, I will be fine, this hardly compared to the hardships against the damned Horde and their Alterici traitors," he spat.

"Aye," Muradin growled, "These trolls seem more careful than the usual types, if they were like the Orcs or the rest of their kind, they'd have scorched their way across half of Lordaeron by now."

"That is a double-edged sword," Galen muttered, "It gives us time to rally, but means they will be well rested when we face them."

Throas gave his son a rough jab in the arm which he flinched from with a scowl, "Show some courage boy, our name is bloody well Trollbane!" He tapped the legendary blade on his hip which Galen eyed intensely, "Trol'kalar is our birthright and killing trolls our nature."

"One sword will not win Lordaeron's War," Galen countered, earning a reproachful shove from his father that nearly toppled him again.

"The prince does raise a fair point, though not the one I am thinking of," Muradin said, lazily toying with his hammer as he spoke. "Given how things have been these last few years, I am mighty pleased you are joining us. I know you coulda waited for the trolls to run themselves ragged in the North, but here you are sallying forth to be big damn heroes!"

Thoras chuckled, "Bickering with Teranas aside we are all allies are we not? We would have left sooner if this one," he motioned to his son, "Had not tried to stir up a riot over it."

Galen's scowl magnified as he spat, "Stormwind is taking more from us each year, the Alliance taxes devastated our treasury and we have yet to even recover our navy from the Second War. You call racing off to war heroism, but it would leave us defenseless." His words grew hastier and sharper, "If not for Ironforge's reinforcements, I would still be protesting this march."

"How did I raise such a coward, Galen?" Thoras shoved his son again, but this time Galen did not budge.

Meeting his father's gaze, the prince said, "There is a fine line between bravery and foolishness father," Before rising to his feet and marching into his tent, his favored Lieutenant_Valorcall following after him.

"Well, that coulda gone better," Muradin said lightly.

"Bah at least he is standing up for himself now," Thoras said, "For foolish reasons perhaps, but I will take what I can get given Danath is not here, he always had a way with the boy." The king's gaze glossed over his soldiers and nobles who quickly looked askance. "If I were a more paranoid king, I would fear a coup."

"Madness," Muradin said, "Family is family whatever disagreements there may be, I think nerves are just getting to him."

"A proper battle should sort it out then, something to get the blood pumping," Thoras murmured, tossing the now empty rum bottle in his hand with surprising skill for one who looked drunk. "Speaking of, we shall be making camp at Durnholde in a few days. It is another bloody internment camp, but they should have provisions and if we put down the green skins, we can bring the local garrison with us."

"I know Durnholde well, the Stompike family visited there often, and we were damn near ready to build a fort some ways away from it till these troubles," Muradin said, cringing the moment he spoke as Thoras looked to him with interest.

"Troubles, you mean the trolls? Because that seems a fine reason to build a fort and would save me having to deal with one of Perenolde's odious relatives while we are at it."

"No, no, nothing like that, it is, uh, a local problem, some stony bastards rising up from a few dig sites and causing trouble, stalled a lot of projects this year. They're dumber than Orcs mind so we will deal with them soon enough," he assured, recalling his own valiant charges against the savage beasts. "But there is a lot of the bastards."

"Ah, so that is why Gnomeragan is not sending their little toys," He motioned to the copters, "Save those buckets of bolts I suppose."

"They're helping us a lot in the Badlands already, and I know they sent some of their subs Northward too, but they were never much for fighting. Still, they will prove their worth, just as the Siege Engine did for clearing the snow," Muradin assured.

"Sounds like I will have a reason to visit Dun Morogh again when this is over!" Thoras cheered. Only to drop the rum bottle which cracked against a rock surrounding the campfire.

"Well damn, have another? I say we should have a toast to battles yet to come," Thoras said.

"That I will and that we shall," Muradin cheered as he passed the towering man another drink and struck his own bottle against it before they cheered and drank as one.

"To battles to come!"


The morning sun shone down upon the bustling war camp, the sounds of sparring, cooking, and chatter filling the air. Tents upon tents stretched on in all directions, with wagons and hastily constructed fortifications scattered about in a sort of ordered chaos.

From within his command tent, Saidan_Dathrohan could see little of this, but he could hear, it, sense it and understood it better than most.

Arcanist Doan stood politely at his back, a fickle mage-light illuminated the map table as he drew his armored finger from the camp to Andorhal, a day's march away, the Bulwark but a mile from the heart of the camp and unknowns all around him.

He wished he had Demetra to advise him, but even her prophetic ability had its limits, and her work was necessary in Stratholme, as the stack of letters regarding captured collaborators proved. He cast a glance back at Arcanist Doan who stood with scroll in hand, expression dour as several shadows converged on the front of his tent.

"Hail Grand Commander," High_General_Abbendis uttered tiredly as the blue armored man strode in, followed by Alexandros_Mograine and Tirion Fordring.

All three men saluted and stood across from him at the table, gazes glancing across the laid-out tokens and then to Doan, each one's minds clearly awhirl.

"I need a status report," he said briskly, "how is the front?"

Abbendis's lips twitched fighting back a scowl, "Since we have been called back from the breach our march has stalled."

"That was no march it was meaningless skirmishing, even your commanders, our Brothers of the Silver Hand agreed nothing of worth was being done," Saidan countered without a hint of rage.

"Sir, this is war, we were killing the trolls," Abbendis groused, hands slapping against the map table.

"And losing our soldiers' lives as well, with no territory lost or gained," Saidan snapped, matching the younger man's glare. "Do not let your contempt for the trolls blind you to the truth. Zeal may win duels, but it shall not win this war; not without leaving us broken and depleted." He tapped the table, "When we move it will be with stunning and overwhelming force, ensuring a clean victory, not a bloody brawl."

Abbendis's gaze hardened, his teeth ground and then. He took a breath, leaned back, and looked to Alexandros whose hand rested on his shoulder and smiled a little, before facing him again. "Please forgive me, Grand Commander," He saluted, "The front is stable and the scouts tell me our munitions out pace those of the invaders. However, the magi believe something is cloaked in the distance, I suspect it is their cavalry forces, but we cannot pierce the haze of magic they cloak them with."

Saidan nodded, a low hum rumbling in his throat, "I see, those could be a problem when we breach the Bulwark, have our agents continue trying to gleam the truth, lest we trip over their trap."

The men saluted and he turned his attention to Alexandros, "I am told you received letters on this morn, is there news you wished to share with me, Alexandros?"

The man's normally serene manner faded into one of veiled anger and worry as he answered, "Yes Milord. I have received word from family and Lord_Agrovane himself that we can expect little aid from Hillsbrad proper."

Before Tirion and Abbendis's offence at that could be made manifest, the man hastened to add, "Not a day after the capitals fall, word came that bandits had grown bolder than ever before. The Regional_Defenders have been practically overwhelmed and while the lord is trying to raise a host, sabotage of munitions, theft of foodstuffs and fires springing up across villages are bringing his efforts to ruin."

"Could these be saboteurs from the trolls?" Tirion asked with a frown.

"Just opportunists are more likely, I doubt even bandits would welcome troll warlords," Abbendis answered.

"You may be righter than you know Tirion," Saidan sighed, "Reports from our Inquisition hint at a network of informants, thieves and brigands who fed information to the Syndicate."

He paused to let each man spit out a curse on Alterac's name.

"Whatever the case, we shall have to leave it in Agrovane's hands until Tyr's Fleet arrives. Word came from Lord Valdelmar, Captain General Orman set sail a week ago, and should be arriving within a day or two at worst."

Alexandros frowned, "Milord, that is my home, and while I respect your decision, can we truly spare nothing for the people? With Kul'Tiras mired in internal disputes and the fleet still far away, these trolls could use their agents to open the way for a new war front."

"You do not cloak your desires in strategy as well as you think, Alexandros," Saidan chided, leaning over the map table, "And what's more, Kul'Tiras has already marshalled several hosts that march with us and Dalaran even now, with still on the marching, destroying any bandit that come across. Dalaran stands strong and marshal's their army in preparation, while reinforcements from Stromegarde and Ironforge are expected in days. Hillsbrad shall soon be inundated with Alliance forces, the bandits will be obliterated or flee."

"I see, please forgive my selfish request," He offered with a bow.

"Your concern is understandable, but for now I need you not as a man of Southshore, but as a Paladin and soldier of the Alliance," he said, levelling a gaze at the man intensely.

"I am at your disposal Grand Commander."

"Good," he sighed, pushing himself up and motioning to Doan, "Another reason I can spare none from the camp is we shall be opening up a new front shortly. Namely, at Caer Darrow."

"You cannot mean-"

"What happened!?"

"The Barov's betrayed humanity?!"

"Calm yourselves," he snapped, making each man snap to attention as he motioned to Doan who stepped forward and bared the Dalaran marked scroll before laying it out for all to see.

His gentle voice fell over the quiet tent, "One Jandice Barov was caught smuggling magical items into Dalaran and observations over the past week showed her in communication with unknown figures. In all instances she would burn the letters, but observers of the Violet Eye were able to read at a far, to determine her family were sending instructions through a subtle summoning Network. Collecting information on behalf of the trolls, while she laid the groundwork for Dalaran's invasion."

"Madness," Alexandros murmured.

"Betraying his own kind, sickening!" Abenndis near roared.

"I never knew Alexi to have much honor, but this is low, even for one such as him," Tirion seethed.

"I am glad you are all so impassioned by this fact," Saidan said carefully, "Reports from Andorhol hint that they may have been behind the robbing of the grain stores as well." He tapped his finger on the map table, "And thanks to the invaders working around Dalaran's portal network, we can assume they have marshaled a respectable force on their peninsula."

"However," Arcanist Doan said, "It cannot be too large, as it still needed to slip by unnoticed by those who watch over the Ley Lines. We can assume however, anywhere between one and two thousand troops could be stationed there, especially if the Perenolde's brigans were also sent as reinforcements."

"Which is why," Saidan said, "I am sending you, Fordring, to place them under siege."

"By Lights Grace, I will not fail you Grand Commander, the traitors shall cause no more harm to our kingdom," he said with a fierce salute.

"Good, and Abenndis, you should be gleeful, as we shall be opening a new front upon the trolls soon," Sadain offered, he was pleased to no see glee upon the man's features at that.

"Milord, is this wise?" Abenndis asked. "With supplies as they are and it being clear these trolls wish to lure us into attacking them, that they might defend their entrenched position."

"I am heartened to see your consideration on that fact High General," Sadain said with some measured cheer. "However, with these revelations I am wary of simply awaiting the other boot to drop. What is more, if we keep their army distracted, or better yet draw the ire of their leader, Dalaran and our reinforcements will have an easier time striking the capital by surprise, reclaiming the Royal Family, and gutting the organs of their government. From there we can push them back and overwhelm them as reinforcements flood in."

He held up a hand for silence and motioned to Alexandros, "However I would not be risking this had we not a secret weapon in our midst."

Alexandros stiffened, then nodded, "I can have the package here within a day milord, I merely hope it shall be enough."

Sadain grinned as he loomed over the map table, "I sensed that crystals dark power my friend, when it is turned to the Light it shall empower our army beyond measure and these heathens shall suffer the Lights Judgement."

Raising his fist high, he shouted, "For Lordaeron!"

"For Lordaeron!" his generals bellowed.

"For Lordaeron!" The Camp cheered.


Illucia's heart was beating in her ears, her shoulders quaked, and nails dug into the parchment bedecked in violets, blues and sparkling gold that mocked her fury.

The Kirin-Tor have uncovered your daughter's treason. Jandice Barov was feeding information to the invaders and smuggling explosives into Dalaran proper.

If you know nothing of this, throw open your gates and grant my subordinate command over your keep until this war is done and your lands shall be returned to you.

Refuse this order and we shall have final confirmation of your own treason; you will be captured by the Lordaeron army and placed on trial along with your daughter for treason.

Signed,

Grand Commander Sadain Dathrohan

'They know, dammit they know and just want us to surrender!'

She slammed the parchment against her desk, chest heaving, mana crackling in the air, she ignored the knocks upon her study door, head falling low as she rasped.

"Jandice…"


The sun had yet to set, but the stars were beginning to twinkle in the skies of the Hillsbrad Foothills.

Racing across the rolling hills was a figure with fading brown hair in fine leathers, and a smattering of light steel adorning his wrists and ankles.

Chest heaving against his breastplate, Aliden waved down an approaching horse rider, "Skarloc, you came!"

"Its Captain_Skarloc now and what the devil are you doing sending messages like that? I am meant to enforce the law!" Despite his words, the Internment Camp captain clapped him fondly on the shoulder, big red beard bristling as he passed Aliden some water.

Sculling the soothing liquid, he answered, "I had to, my father and sister have gone mad! They mean to kill your master and hand his keep over to the trolls!"

"What!?"

"They were to arrive soon, claiming to be here to purchase slaves but it is a lie, they wanted to free the orcs to use as cannon fodder against the Alliance, against our fellow man!"

"We have to stop them, on the horse, now, come on!" Dragging him onto the mount, Skarloc groused, "Why did you not tell me in the letter!?"

"Because I had to send it through envoys, not all of who's loyalty I could trust with the truth of my plan! Meeting you ahead of time was the best I could do."

"I see, how long do we have?"

"Maybe twelve hours before word gets back to the capital and more are sent?" He answered.

"Durnholde is a fortress, so once Blackmoore learns of their plan, they shall not be able to take it, not from us." He looked back grinning, "You did the right thing, Aliden."

Aliden nodded tiredly, "Let us just hope it is enough."


It was the dead of night, even the bustling city of Stratholme had fallen into an exhausted slumber. All save for the scattered watch towers glowing across the city with a faint crimson light, and their commanding troopers, eyes wide and wary for treason and heresies.

It was in this arena that Aurius Rivendare the first, found himself within one of his spare homes, filed under a now dead servant's name of course. Dusty curtains were sealed shut and the Baron was striding down the creaking stairs into the sparse but roomy basement to await his prize.

The Paladin possessed no arcane skill of his own of course, but fortunately Kel'thuzad's instructions had been precise and clear. Thus, it took him little time to pour the arcane powder into the desired runic pattern, and even less to lay down the teleportation runes.

Then he stood back and began to wait, foot idly tapping as he folded his arms and bristled, "Dammit man, I know this is more art than science, but you should be more precise with your timing." He glanced around the room and shook his head, the enchantments would hold up, no one would sense him, and the inquisition was on the other side of the city anyway.

That was when the stairs began to creak, the cloth draped along the walls ruffled and a familiar voice hummed, "You have been found, Rivendare."

'Demetria!?'

He spun around only so see Brigitte Abbendis surging towards him a sharp jab, knocking his hand away from his blade; he had to throw himself back to avoid the follow up.

"What is this!? How dare you attack a noble!" He roared, even as Inquisition troopers marched down the steps, flanking their accursed mistress whose crimson mantle seemed to shine in the night. Leveling an accusing finger at Saidan's witch he hissed. "Trust me woman, there will be consequences for believing the lies of whichever treasonous cur you picked off the streets this night."

A sharp chuckle met his ears before she answered, "Are you merely lying, or do you truly believe I was fooled by your deceptions?" She smiled so serenely, "I knew that lead was false, we have been following you all night."

"You… You expect me to believe such nonsense?!" He looked around, eyes growing frightfully wide, "Where is my son?"

"He is resting," Bridgette answered coldly, "We know he was but an unwitting pawn in your treason."

Spitting, he rasped, "Treason!? This is Saidan's doing; he wants to rule Stratholme alone, he always feared my power, never trusted my wit, you would strike me dead over a tyrants claim!?"

Demetria shook her head, "My lord has always trusted you. I however, have smelled treachery on your skin for weeks; but I could not reveal this fact to anyone, lest you grow more careful. So, I let you think me a fool and a charlatan, for as long as was necessary."

A pleased smile bloomed across her face, but the gentle grin belied the thorn-like sharpness of her glare. "But now there is no need for secrecy. You have revealed yourself to us and this sordid affair can be closed."

He looked to the ritual circle, mind awhirl with possibilities, of excuses and claims to being a double agent, but he could see the rage in the inquisitor's eyes, such claims would merely be pouring fuel on the fire right now.

"It is over, Rivendare," Brigitte said sharply as she took a heavy step forward and offered, "Submit yourself to the Light's judgment."

Sighing he waved his hands in mocking surrender, "Very well, let us get to the courthouse, I am certain you have a very stern lecture for me to hear along the way so let us get it over with then."

"You misunderstand," Demetria said, her tone assured and eerily calm. "I have known the truth for some time, but simply never had the chance to isolate you." She chuckled softly as shadows began to ripple around her frame, "A man of your wealth would withstand any trial, even with our testimony."

Brigitte drew her blade in time with her troopers and hissed, "In other words you will not be leaving here alive, Baron."

'I will not let it end this way!'

"These are not the actions of a Paladin," he rasped, sliding back against the wall, hand easing to his blade.

"You dare lecture us, traitor!?" Bridgette roared, her minions bracing to charge, heretic, and traitor on their lips like snarls.

"Traitor or not, this is not how these things are done," he said, eyes frantic.

Demetria tilted her head to the side and blandly answered, "As of this time, we are inquisitors whose duty it is to purge the treasonous from our lands in the name of the Holy Light. We are charged to do this by any means necessary, and this is necessary."

Snarling he grasped his blade, pride, fury surging through him as he stared down death and refused to yield the Light surged, "Let us see whom the Light favors!"

Flashing gold and sparking steel filled the basement as shadowy magics rained down form on high.


Night was passing, but morning had not yet come, with the moons waxing and the clouds thick, a pitch-black darkness reigned over Lordaeron's capital that would cloak any suspicious soul on a street, but not so in a castle.

Thus, Kel'thuzad did not travel to the royal chambers by hall or balcony path alone, all watched by guards awaiting the end of their shift, but with eyes sharp after from a day spent in rest.

Instead, the Archmage slithered and subtly blinked his way across the palace, always looking to be on business when in plain sight before vanishing away when out of it. His path to the royal family's 'chambers' was a winding and circuitous one, that took nearly an hour of circumnavigation to complete.

'The trail will have faded, I have been seen across the palace but stayed nowhere long, and never once did I even appear to be moving in this direction. By the time these savages understand the truth, I shall be far away.'

Standing within a paladin's guest quarters, the residing trolls drugged some hours ago by his hand, Kel'Thuzad pressed his staff against the walls, arcane energies gently thrumming as he slipped through the familiar defenses and cloaked the chamber in a sound muffling, magic obscuring spell.

'It will not hold up to strong discretion, but I merely need those within to not notice my presence until it is too late.'

With his mind set and a plan in motion, Kel'thuzad suffused his surroundings with arcane magics, the energies bubbling around him and clinging to his frame. Within a slow, but deliberately controlled flash he blinked from one chamber to the next, practically phasing into existence within the royal children's bed chamber.

Tense and alert, he held his staff tightly, but grinned at the sight of the royal siblings lost in slumber and their mother passed out upon a nearby desk. Briefly he considered killing her, but even ignoring the added risks, he could only imagine the shrill, shrieking she would get to once the truth was discovered. The prospect of Malakk suffering through that amused him.

Shuffling along the plush carpets, his every step cloaked and hidden, he came to stand between the twin beds, each one large and regal, though not as ostentatious as those usually inhabited by royalty.

'I suppose even royal prisoners cannot expect all their privileges to be kept,' he mused, looking over the twin blonde brats, each with golden hair messily spilling across silken pillows. Callia had so recently passed into adulthood, her elegant and lovely figure would please Rivendare; Arthas was still an adolescent, but easily as broad and stocky as a blacksmith's son.

'The boy has training, I will need to secure the princess for Rivendare before I kill him,' the magus though, doubting that he or his friend would have the chance to kill the boy after this 'rescue'.

Gliding along the floor, magic wafting over the room he clutched his staff tightly and levelled it at the boy. Magic slowly swelled and hummed, not fast enough to alert anyone even as the faint blue and white light of crackling cold magic writhed to life at the tip of his stave.

His chest grew tight, the room chilled, its occupants unconsciously curling up in their beds. With delicate care, he placed a pulsing teleportation runestone against Calia's sleeping frame.

Then she woke up.

With a shriek she scrambled away from him, snapping her brother from his slumber.

Casting off his covers, fury in his eyes he lunged with a roar, "Who goes there- Ah!"

Letting loose a surging bolt of jagged frozen mana into the brat's chest Kel'thuzad launched him against the wall with a violent crack.

"Arthas!" The princess screamed, trying to race around him to reach her impaled brother.

"Be silent, you dull girl," he hissed, grasping at her arm, and dragging her towards the rune she'd left on the bed.

Glass shattered and pain exploded through his skull, letting Calia escape, he spun around to see Lianne, eyes wide in fury, a broken wine bottle in hand she lashed out and carved out a chunk of his cheek.

Slashing her hand away, he snapped, "You dim woman, I was rescuing her!"

The Queen consort practically threw herself him, howling, "Ferrying her away to another prison, far from her mother to serve as a living womb for some nobleman!"

The doors thumped and Kel'thuzad barely got of an ice bolt in time to freeze them shut.

She spat in his face, hissing, "Better she remains here where she is scarcely even reflected in the Drakkari's gaze than suffer such indignity alone! Guards!"

'Dammit all!' He thrust his hand towards her chest, she grabbed him, another strike, this one against his eye making him bite out a curse as a bolt of mana swelled in his hand, intent on blasting her innards across the room.

Only to flicker out of existence as if consumed…

His gaze fall to the golden chain adorning her neck and the pulsing green gem of Saronite humming within its heart. 'That's why Callia felt my presence! He must have given one to each and the accursed things were feasting on my spell!'

The doors burst open with a screech of cracking ice and enchanted wood.

A dagger flew towards his half-blinded side.

Barely blinking away in time and far away from the queen he was left racing to Callia.

'I can still fix this!'

The next blink spell died in his grasp as the arcane energies surged around him.

The room flashed with arcane light and shining threads of silk entrapped his frame and a blast of cold flooded his vision with white before he fell unconscious to the cries of the royal family.


Within the pristine marble temple of the Holy Light in Lordaeron's capital, Gal'Darah still often found himself having to crouch to get around its halls. Fortunately, the study of Alonsus Faol was somewhat grander and meant the two could comfortably occupy the spartan space with a small table and chessboard between them.

"I will be leaving for the front soon but wanted to thank you kindly for your diplomacy during this affair," Gal'Darah said, moving his 'rook' into a larger formation.

"I hope you will understand why I do not wish you good luck in this venture, but merely pray that things be resolved without bloodshed?" Alonsus said, moving his 'bishop' a few squares, adding to his chaotic formations.

"Completely understandable," Gal'Darah said gamely as he moved a pawn forward to stall the human's advance. "I too hope this can be resolved without bloodshed, but as your own predecessor spoke, 'that which creates disunity and chaos must be stymied'."

"You have been reading," Alonsus noted casually, shifting his queen, "I often felt that he spoke not of the people causing chaos, but the root cause."

"Your history's make for fascinating study and if we are to hold sway here, we must understand each other, misunderstandings cause such strife," He shuffled the next stage of his formation forward with his queen moving to the center. "You speak wisely, but I feel it is less applicable in this scenario, or at least that it is more nuanced."

"Perhaps, though I trust you will understand my reservation regarding our interest in mutual understanding, as I feel some matters are, black and white, so to speak," The Archbishop said. He then grinned, "Oh and check mate," before shifting his bishop into place and trapping Gal'Darah's king behind their queen.

"I… When did you…" He leaned back and chuckled, "Once again I am bested."

Alonsus waved one of Gal'Darah's knights over the board, "You still treat this game far too much like real warfare I think."

"Aah, my past strikes me low it seems," Gal'Darah murmured, daintily picking up his own pieces and shuffling them away. Idly he toyed with a bishop and said, "Am I right to say these items are made of the same stone, even if they are painted in different colors?"

Alonsus stilled and sighed, "That would be correct."

Gal'Darah grinned and placed the piece away, "Thank you again for the game, and for your time."

Alonsus waved him off, "You have been a most polite guest given the circumstances, perhaps we shall continue this discussion in the future."

"I think we will."

The room hummed with energy and in a surging flash of purple light, a Nerubian arcanist materialized in the chamber, making Alonsus jump back with a shout.

"What happened?" Gal'Darah snapped, already moving towards the spear he had left by the door.

With clicks and a rasp, the Nerubian answered, "Kel'thuzad betrayed his sponsor. Tried to kidnap the princess and kill the prince." Their dark, glinting eyes shifted to Alonsus, "Healer. Now."

Not even stalling a moment, the priest snatched his staff and holy wand, racing to the Nerubians side as swiftly as he could, joining Gal'darah as they grasped a bone like hand and were whisked away in a flash of light.

_________________________
NOTES:
So this is what Stromgarde has been up to and why things have been slow on their & Ironforge's end. Originally I had Gnomeragan already falling but I think that period was closed to WC3 than this currently is so I shifted things around some. Also there's some hints in Galen's dialogue about some plans he's made but I'll leave it at that.

I hope I managed to convey Saidan as a fairly competent and even handed commander, and to balance some of the more extreme personalities off of him effectively. Also, as always, no one expects the Scarlet Inquisition!

And thus Aliden makes his play, in the books he was portrayed as disgusted by his fathers actions and while I find the whole "The Syndicate want to go back to the Internment era" thing kind of weird & stupid, I can at least tie it to policy making decision on his part over a core principle if that makes sense, which further explains his motivation.

In canon Kel'thuzad is meant to be a good statemen, at least enough to build a cult. But here he is also working against different cultural mores than is used to and doesn't respect. Plus, he has little bargaining power beyond his own abilities. I do wonder if I conveyed this well enough though or gave him enough focus, hopefully so.

I hope the exchange between Lianne & Kel'Thuzad worked, I wanted to explain her motives for the attack beyond sheer rage. Also, yeah so Arthas is having a real shite time of it, he's spent the last few weeks/months with little means of training, no access to weapons or metal armor so I hope his wounding (Given his & Kel'thuzad's canon relationship) makes sense.

I hope the subtext of Gal'Darah's chess piece comment made sense.
 
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The Winter War: Part 9 - Chaos & Counterattacks

The Winter War: Part 9 - Chaos & Counterattacks


Malakk had been pulled from a deep sleep to a castle in a growing state of frantic chaos. Reports falling upon his ears as fast as his mind could stir and each one chilling his heart.

Kel'Thuzad was a traitor.

The prince had been wounded.

His healers were trying to save him.

But nothing they had tried could stir him.

Malakk had found Lianne and Callia watching in desperate worry as Alonsus prayed and beseeched his light, eyes flaring gold, the room shimmering with a blinding power. Ice was forced from his veins, necrosis was beaten back and skinned mended, yet…

It had not been enough.

Even when Gal'Darah joined hands with the Archbishp and they desperately invoked the power of Light and Death, Life and Holy energies coalescing...

It had not been enough.

The words still fell heavy upon him, the memory of looking at the youth's pale and stiffened features as the news broke and the princess wailed, throwing herself upon her brother and weeping as her mother consoled her, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Why!? Why can't you save him!?"

"Arthas, darling, come back to us!"

Heads were bowed low in misery, voices touched by energies not of moral ken echoed from shamefaced healers.

"Though the body is willing, the spirit is not."

"We cannot force his soul to return, such would be Necromancy."

As one they bowed, heads pressed to the floor as mother and daughter cradled their golden prince between them.

A final prayer was raised, one desperate chant, the words and spirits of mother and sister raised as one to beseech the boy between them, Calia's eyes blazing gold.


It had still, not been enough.

An hour had long since passed but the castle was still locked down, Alonsus would not be leaving, nor anyone else who knew the truth, not yet.

'It cannot be held back forever but I just need time to resolve this…' He thought, a frown set upon his features as he stood within the castle's armory. The Archishop had remained with Calia, while Gal'Darah, his guards and Lianne stood with him, awaiting the crucible.

'The scales must be balanced.'

"Bring him in," Malakk snarled.

The doors flew open instantly and a pair of dark armored, Frozen Warlords dragged a bloodied and unconscious Kel'Thuzad into the chamber.

"Wake him."

With a snap of his finger, Gal'Darah broke the spell and Kel'thuzad weakly sputtered to consciousness.

"wha… What is happening here!?"

Malakk pressed a bare for against the frail man's chest, encompassing his entire rib cage and pressing him back firmly as the warlords held his straining form in place.

"Justice is what is happening," Malakk spat. "I welcome you, treat you as a guest and ally, but you repay it with betrayal, attempting kidnapping and murder."

Chest heaving, he rattled, "So, I got… That much done... I wonder, was it my spell? The fool healer… Or did he not want to come back… Ack, aah… Stop it!"

"You are guilty of crimes aplenty, Kel'thuzad," Malakk said.

"If you… Had just… Dealt with Rivendare…"

"People are not things to be traded away for favors, wizard,"

"Can we please see this done?" Lianne whispered, voice rough and hoarse, hands clasped so hard he thought they might break.

"Of course," Malakk said gently. "Kel'thuzad, you are guilty of all accused crimes and will be summarily executed, now."

"No!" he heaved, "I am too useful to die!"

"Lianne, did you wish to do the deed?" Malakk asked, ignoring the man's prattling.

She shook her head, "I just wish for this to be finished, that he might know the same pain he forced upon my son."

"He will," Malakk swore.

"Wait. I can help! I know Dalaran, I can-"

Malakk drew Zerat, the Soulburning Greatsword, its flat-bladed tip now enshrined with blessed ice and with one fell swoop he rammed it through the man's chest, hoisting him off the floor in one fell motion, piercing through his entirely.

A guttural, spluttering gasp escaped Kel'thuzad's lips, he tried, desperately to force magic from his Saronite poisoned frame but could do nothing but shudder and shiver.

Crackling ice bloomed across his body, tainting his skin a sickly blue hue that crawling along his body like fire across parchment until he was frozen solid, agony marring his features.

Malakk was not done.

With a roar, he unleashed another wave of accursed magic, mystic flames from the swords heart burst into Kel'Thuzad's frozen form and dragged from him a spectral scream.

Finally, Malakk hurled him to a wall and watched the body shatter into thousands of shards, each one now aflame.

Turning, he bit out, "Gather the remains, grind whatever's left into powder and feed it to some pigs."

Lianne let out a soft, shuddering breath before her composed mask was back in place, "If it pleases my King, I would like to return to my daughters' side now."

"Of cour-" He froze as frantic shouts struck his ears.

"Frost King Malakk is very busy, hey!"

"He needs to hear this!"

"Damn your eyes, let me through now, Malakk!"

"My liege, a report from the front!"

As if conjured from the ether or his own nightmares, four figures, haggard and wide-eyed burst into the chamber, the Barov's, Beve and Arctikus, followed by a frazzled De'jana.

None stopped to bow, all moving to speak when he barked, "Silence!" His gaze snapped De'jana who bowed, "Apologies Frost King Malakk, some just arrived, others have been searching for you, and all will only answer to you."

Repressing a rumble he turned back to the trio, "Speak, Barov," He said, seeing how her eyes were red with tears, sunken in dread and exhaustion.

"My daughter, I… Dalaran found her, captured her. They sent demands for our surrender," She knelt before him, golden threads growing mired in dust, "They are going to place us under siege, I… They promised her safety if we surrendered but…"

"You want me to save her," Malakk intoned.

Illucia bowed her head.

"Rise, we will find a solution, I promise." His gaze moved to Beve who swallowed nervously, nails digging into her stave.

"I just got word. My father is dead, Aliden killed him before slipping from the camp. He intends to reveal our plan to Blackmoore and aid the Alliance reinforcements in taking the South. He may have already arrived."

Malakk fought against himself to keep his heartrate steady and his composure firm.

Eyes steeled, and manner resolved he looked to Arctikus who bowed, wiry frame riddled with tension.

"I received word from Zol'Maz…"

"Why did he not contact the palace?" Gal'Darah snapped.

"He could not," She answered, "Dalaran is closer than we thought to breaching our defenses and can now interfere with our portals as much as we theirs. They have forsaken interfering with Fenris Isles for this, which is how he contacted me but," she sighed. "From his words, the Alliance is readying to march, and I know that so too is Dalaran, they intend to end this over the next few days."

'Too soon, Dalaran was not meant to move yet, the South was to be locked in chaos, the Lordaeron army tied by the Bulwark!'

"They march with only half their army to the Bulwark?" He asked, mind awhirl and latching onto whatever hope it could.

Arctikus bowed her head, "The Word Priests in the Warlords company sense a great and vibrant light and it is growing… We believe they have a secret weapon and will march on us soon."

Malakk's fingers twitched, his skin tingled numbly and his mind was flashing between blankness and frantic recriminations for his own failings.

Lianne's sharp tone cut through the din as she intoned, "Well, Frost King Malakk, you wanted to wear the crown. What shall you do now?"

.

.

.

'I am king.'

"Everyone. To the war room. Now."


Zol'Maz did not need to look from his fortified chamber to know the battle was progressing poorly. Shouts of the enemy's approach rang constantly, while an aura of gold lit up the bulwark as canon fire roared.

'We were meant to lure them into a fight by looking desperate, but it was for an ambush! We were not meant to be in real danger!' He glared down at the map before him and seethed, 'If they break through, they will wear us down, inspire rebellion in every corner…'

"Report?" He said, as the Amani War Priest, Hala'Zhi landed on the balcony's ledge and leapt from their bat to kneel.

"Your Gundraki Brutes have rallied behind Battok_the_Berserker and the Warlords hold fast under High Priestess Tua-Tua, but they cannot withstand this much longer. Their armor bounces back the Light, the flames and barriers, but the concussive force is still wearing on them, and some have been felled through sheer numbers."

"Do the humans forces dwindle?" He asked, tugging on a tusk in frustrated worry.

The Troll frowned, "Some, but not enough, the healing waves and revivals keep all but the most broken of their forces moving. Their Siege Engines keep the rest of our number back and the Sky Shriekers cannot break the magic dome erected at the Lights Heart."

An advisor stepped forward, "We Spirit Wardens could conjure an earthquake and try to bury the advancing army, or at least block them off."

"A waste of time," Zol'Maz muttered. "Golden flames, healing light and divine shields; whatever they have to empower their vanguard it will not be overcome so easily."

"Then what will you do," Grik'nir the Cold piped up, "even our Shadowcasters can do nothing to this light!"

'We can try and contain them and wait, but with them on the offensive a drawn-out battle will not favor us…'

Chittering echoed in his ears, "You need act soon, your defensive line breaks and we cannot yet call reinforcements."

"Accursed wizards!" someone spat.

A side door swung open and a novice priest fell to her knees, "Warlord, the Prophet of ZimRhuk sends word. We have been gifted one hundred idols by the grace of our god."

His mind latched onto the offer as a beast did meat, Hala'Zhi clearly of the same mind motioned with all three fingers and the Warlord nodded before barking in a sharp, commanding tone. "Order these guardian idols into a three line formation and have them march into the Bulwark," three fingers then two, he hoped the troll guaged the Alliance effectively, "And send the signal for our legionaries to fallback in five minutes!"

"As you say Warlord!" Several voices bellowed.

"The stone idols will not hold for long," the Nerubian rasped.

"I know, but if the humans want to play with their secret weapons, we should return the favor." Marching through the long chamber he bellowed, "Have the Shaman and diggers raise the earth and craft trenched behind us so that if they break through, we can make this as frustrating as possible!"

Turning he looked to a priest in medication and ordered, "Revered Disciple of Mam'toth, rally your kin and awaken the War Mammoths we are readying the charge!"

Blinking in surprise the serene troll bowed their head, hands clapping together as the Loa's visage flickered around them.

"Hala'Zhi, rally your agents and our new recruits and do with them as you see fit. Arcanists, hold the illusions for as long as possible, but once we break through turn all of your energy to barriers. Someone, begin moving the Saronite Ballista to the front and Word Priests, ready your prayers to guard against our foes power."

Within his fort, Zol'Maz thumped a fist against his chest, "Drakkari, get ready to march!"


The dimly lit chamber of the Council of Six was filled with a fervor of conversation.

Antonidas listened intently, one hand gently running through his beard as he pondered the ever-shifting tides of this strange and sudden war.

"The savages have begun to change the spell-works around the capital, I can only assume they know we have begun to unravel their inner workings," Drenden murmured.

Kael'thas_Sunstrider hissed, "You give mongrels far too much credit to think they had anything to do with this."

"Underestimating these trolls has caused Lordaeron much harm, Prince Kael'Thas, I would caution against pride," Antonidas intoned.

The elf rolled his shining eyes, "I do not deny they have skilled arcanists in their service. I merely want the record to show it cannot be the trolls doing this, such magic is beyond them."

"Who is casting the spells is irrelevant, Kael'thas," Modera snapped, "What is pertinent is that it is happening, your wounded ego is none of our concern."

"My friends, if we can turn out attention to the matter at hand," Antonidas cut in gently. "I believe we should consider how this effects our deployment strategy. With their defenses shifting we may no longer stand a chance at breaching the capital even briefly."

"I am left wondering how, we were so careful," Drenden said.

Each of them froze as the air began to hum and shift, a familiar twang of energy strummed in Antonidas's mind that left him both relieved to know who it was and wary at their news. Few knew of the council and even fewer could access them at a whim, let alone would risk their ire by doing so.

"What is the meaning of this!?" Several voices snapped as Archmage_Cedric appeared in a flash of light and offered Antonidas a bow.

"Forgive me, councilors, but we have news from the front," he looked up, brow furrowed, "The trolls on Fenris Isle are making their move."

"Insanity," Kael'thas said, "even with their reinforcements they could not rally the ships in time."

Cedric nodded, "They have gun-ships, but they are not the problem I… believe you should assess the matter yourselves, noble councilors."

Shrugging, Antondias rose from his seat and drew the arcane energies from around him, resonated them with those suffusing his being and in a flash of glorious magical unity the energies combined, and he was gone.

Re-materializing at the northern watch tower, Antonidas was followed by his comrades, all of whom joined him in staring out across the vast lake that had come to brush up against the city proper with the rainy season.

"My, my, that is a rather unique solution," Antonidas hummed.

"Creative only in its sheer stupidity," Kael'thas sniffed.

Stretching across the still waters was a shimmering ice bridge, one stretching nearly a quarter of a mile wide and all the way back to Fenris Isle. Amassing at the forefront were cannons and ballista, while a smattering of gunboats, obviously stolen from Lordaeron and under the control of collaborators arrayed alongside it protectively.

"This would have taken hours to prepare; I take it they know of Jandice then?" Drenden said, tapping the stone fortifications.

"That would explain the sudden changes in their magical defenses and this…" Modera said, motioning to the ice bridge as it began to grow outwards so as to allow more soldiers and long-range weapons upon it.

Antonidas frowned, "That will make marching our army through Alterac difficult, lest we can contact the Lordaeron main army, or Trollbane and Ironforge's forces to strike down Caer Darrow and march on the city from there."

"Do not be so quick to dismiss our initial plans," Kale'Thas insisted.

"And the Barov could still yield useful information," Modera added, a scowl on her features.

Antonidas bristled, "Her information has been unreliable thus far, revealing nothing or false leads."

"Kassan and I will need more time with her, I shall go now, and will not stop until her mind unravels if that is what it takes," Modera snapped, before vanishing in a flash of light.

"I suppose we should intensify our defensive barriers here," Drenden murmured.

"And array some of our forces as well, I do not want the trolls to use one of their tricks to breach our defenses as they did in Lordaeron," Antonidas said.

"We should take up positions across the city to ensure the spell-work is up to standard," Kael'thas said, "They may try and use more of their collaborators in a surprise assault."

"A prudent decision, we can reconvene when Modera is done with her work, thank you Cedric," Antondias added with a nod. "If you would assist me in marshalling our troops and inspecting the defenses?"

His old friend bowed, "Of course, lord Antonidas."


Arctikus tapped her toes against the rough ice, "Barafu, you and your casters are doing good work, but this is wide enough, focus on raising fortifications now. If you can," she added, seeing some of the casters weary faces.

Bonechiller Barafu toyed with a lock of bound red hair before slipping it into her robes and bowing, "As you say Great Mother and do not worry. We shall make this look good," she added with a smirk.

'I certainly hope so,' Arctikus thought, before shaking the doubt away from her mind as she heard the approaching slap of her soldier's footsteps. With a roar she slammed the butt of her spear against the ice, "Warriors of Zul'Drak, a servant of Frost King Malakk lies chained within that city and its cunning masters seek to tear down all our liege has built!"

A baleful roar rose up from the legion.

"Ready the cannons, prepare the ballista and let this city know no peace, for Zul'Drak!"

"For Zul'Drak!"

In the distance she could see the arcane barrier surrounding the city intensifying and soldiers were beginning to marshal near the coastline.

'They believed this much at least, now let us just hope it is enough for our agents!'


The Dalaran sewers were large, only mildly rank, and the flowing waste shimmered. All facts the pair shuffling through them on a frail ledge had become depressingly accustom to in recent days.

"The Violet Hold should not be far from here," Rose murmured.

Lisa glanced over her back at the bag on her back, or more, its contents, "This will work, right?"

"Mistress Beve said to trust her, and she has never steered us wrong before," Rose answered.

"And what if we're spotted by some watcher?" Lisa asked. They were a long way from the underground markets, but one could usually find some form of life scuttling about between every crack or cranny.

"Well try not to act suspicious," Rose whispered back as they rounded the corner and saw the sewers were barred off. Or more, that they should have been. Because by simply brushing her hand along the steel, Rose touched nothing but sickly air and with easy confidence marched through the illusion.

She almost tripped on the remnants of the warped bars but recovered with respectable aplomb she felt, before gently guiding her partner through the bent metal remnants of the grate.

"Seems we aren't alone here," she whispered.

"You are not," a rough little voice growled, and one of those Wolvar they had seen at Fenris Isle popped out from a hole in the brick work, tail wagging happily as it rocked back and forth on its paws, their robes strangely clean despite the sewage.

"It is just you?" Lisa gasped.

The creature chuckled and motioned up ahead, "Your friend came sooner, others elsewhere too. We are… Marshalling our forces, so to say."

Glaring through the shadow, Rose blinked at the sight of Singer, still in her elegant dress and Syndicate mask, standing over a dead mage and delicately waving to them.

"Now," the Wolvar said, "Let us get to the start of mission, yes?"

Rose and Lisa looked to one another and answered, "Yes."


"What!?" Saidan's scowl was mighty as he looked upon the panting page kneeling before him.

"Milord, I am deeply sorry but yes… Tyr's Hand is under attack, the message arrived but moments ago and I came to you as swiftly as I could but…"

Saidan was already pacing around the map table, "Damned, accursed creatures, did the Elves let them through or are they merely incompetent? And what of their Fleet on the Western Coast? Where do these trolls spawn from?"

"Ah, that is... Apologies milord, but these are not the new trolls, but older enemies," the boy looked up, "They are the Amani Fleet."

That stopped him short "Of course. Of course, they would use our turned backs as a chance to strike."

"Milord, what shall we do?" Doan asked, "Lord Fordring is pacifying Caer Darrow and Lord Morgraine marshes on Trisfal in the Lights Glory but if we leave our backs exposed?"

Saidan waved him off, "Do we have any word from the Fleet of Tyr's Hand"

The page gulped and shook his head, "No milord, no word of their arrival in Southshore either."

Tapping at his chin Saidan weighed his options and swiftly came to his conclusion, his gaze drifting across his remaining advisors.

"Had the fleet landed I could have spared troops from the front soon enough, but as matters stand; Tyr's Hand shall have to hold without us. If we break off the attack now the trolls will have time to rally or hit us from behind."

The Page shot to his feet, "But Milord, Tyr's Hand is sacred, you cannot leave it to those Amani monsters!"

His guards rounded on the boy, but Saidan slashed his hand and they stilled, "Mind your tongue when you speak to your superiors."

Falling to his knees, the page pressed his head to the grass, "Please forgive me… Tyr's Hand is my home milord, I just worry."

"We are all concerned, but the Amani will not breech such a sacred place, its walls are strong, and the cannons reach far. When the fleet arrives and we break through the Bulwark, I shall send a detachment to reinforce the city," He offered soothingly. "But until then, we cannot break the march," His gaze turned to the half open tent flaps where his remaining soldiers milled around to guard their supplies, and in the distance shone a golden star of fire and pulsing light.

"Our glory shines like the dawn and shall be a beacon to the people of Tirisfal to rise up and for Dalaran to strike."

He smiled, "and when that moment comes our victory shall be assured."


Alexandros Mograine's soul sang.

Glittering crystal held aloft he rode at the heart of their main force, surrounding him was a host of paladins, clerics, and magi. The Paladins stood ready to guard against any surprise attacks, the mages made ready to raise barrier in case of a sudden wave of cursed metal and the clerics?

Well, their job was the most important of all, they sang.

Each one chanted their prayers and sang their hymns, staves held aloft and charged with light they channeled into the 'Hopes-Beacon'. The shining crystal that had once cursed him now would bring salvation, its form purified, and energies enhanced by prayer, it suffused their soldiers with holy power.

With the purifying energies of the Holy Light suffusing their very beings each warrior could run heedlessly into the enemy lines. Even when their shining armor was torn asunder and their bodies mangled, they healed as swiftly as their wounds could be made!

When bottles of fire rained down from the sky, the healing light was turned to a hardened barrier that repelled the flames. When the enemy army's numbers grew too great, it became a golden fire that eventually drove away those bedecked in cursed metal.

"They grow desperate my brothers! Their unholy armor breaks before our glory and their stone idols shall be sundered by our might! Push on my brethren!" Already his soldiers were breaking through the seemingly last desperate battle line of the invaders. Stone warriors that felt neither pain nor fear, a living wall that was still being washed away by his forces.

"Soon we shall arrive in Tirisfal and return the Light to this land!" He roared.

His warriors cheered, footman stamping so heavily as they marched the land seemed to… rumble?

A mage shouted, "The illusion is breaking!"

'So, this must be their secret weapon, we must be making them desperate indeed,' he thought.

The sky before them bent and shifted, warping as if fraying material being stretched thin until it broke, or a fist striking through waters surface.

Now it was the invaders cheering, their rough, guttural voices howling on the wind as the ground rumbled and roared at the weapons approach, music was playing, and trumpets blared.

For but a moment, Alexandroes was frozen in shock.

But the Light grounded him, as it always did, and he could think clearly.

It was as if they had blended a sailing ship and a barracks into one towering fortification, a mobile fortress. Hewn from wood he could only assume had been culled on Lordaeron's shores, it was adorned in a rich tapestry of color and patterns, many of which glowed with some unholy magic.

A wicked troll face was carved just above the front-facing balcony upon which stood a host of chanting trolls' casters. The roof sloped and domed watch tower like structures were bolted onto the sides. While the unholy steel was melded onto the front of the fortress and tipped with similarly vile spears the size of ballista bolts.

Unholy words flooded the air and arcane magics thrummed to life around the structure as it roared forward, gargantuan wheels and the sound of stamping feet echoing and shaking the mountains.

"Fall back brothers!" he roared.

But it was too late for those who had raced ahead, their legs were too short and soon enough they were swallowed up in the horrendous structures wake. Wheels crushing their bodies into the earth while the stamping feet of whatever beasts stood cloaked beneath it, pushing it forward crushed them into the dirt.

'The Light cannot save those soldiers, their bodies remain ruined beneath the fort and once they are freed, even if they revive, they will be isolated and fallen upon!'

He drew back his mount, making it bray as he bellowed, "Sons of Lordaeron, fall back, we shall become the vanguard and shatter this unholy fixture! Roll the Siege Engines forward and have them join us!"

His army surged like rapid waters as they hastened to obey and Alexandros grasped Hopes-Beacon tightly, thrusting it forward like a blade. The golden light flowed from the air and coiled together, forming a thick, golden barrier between his advancing foes and his army.

"You will not break our resolve; we shall be victorious!"


"Warlord, they bring forth their mobile cannons and have raised a mighty barrier, even with our efforts, I am unsure we can break through!"

"But can we survive it?"

"I believe so," The Word Priest answered tightly.

"Good, then ready our cannons and ballista, send word to the Sky Shriekers and let us show them that their trinket may well block our path, but that we have the high ground."

"As you say, Warlord!"


The sound of echoing cannon fire drew Alexandros's gaze to the sky and ripped a gasp from his lips.

'Cannons, they have cannons atop that eyesore!?'

With nary a thought he cast a glanced back, behind the barrier where soldiers bereft of priests and mages to conjure barriers shouted and shields raised high as they braced for impact. In one calamitous moment giant steel balls and long spears crashed down into their numbers, blitzing dozens of soldiers apart in an instant.

Bat like shrieks and dragons' roars boomed from the mountaintops and Alexandros could already envision the slaughter to come.

'They have used our formations against us!' He seethed, nearly crushing the crystal in his grasp. 'We must weaken our barrier to defend our troops or let our umbers be thinned, damn their eyes!'

"Sage Truthbearer, Gavinrad the Dire, take your forces and fall back to reinforce our brethren, now, now! Cleric we shall hold the line!"

Some had begun racing to their fellow's sides before the orders even left his mouth, while others hastened to obey with cries of "Yes Milord!" and "For Lordaeron!"

Turning his gaze back to his foes, Alexandros teeth ground at the mobile forts approach. 'We can bear its weight, but can we break through now?' He doubted it, and with a bit back curse he understood what this was.

'A stalemate.'
_________________________________________________________________________
NOTES:

Well... I did that. Sorry for those pulling for Arthas surviving but tat just wasn't in the cards with the story I'm writing, I hope I delivered it with suitable gravitas though. Kinda wish I'd ended the last chapter on that 'I am King' bit, but well, live and learn.

I also finally get to reveal the secret weapon the Drakkari have been hinting at for ages, a mobile fortress inspired by this example from Berserk. I love mobile fortresses and canonically they can be very effective, this one doesn't fly though.

Yup, Jandice has been doing a bit more than just trying to sabotage supplies or making reports, will it be enough, who knows. Also I brought Hala'Zhi back, I'm so glad to see them I hope I can weave them into the story a bit more again, but there's so many players & pieces.

I hope the spin I did on the Ashrbringer worked, I figured they didn't have time to fly to Ironforge and that given they weren't fighting Undead specifically, it would be better optimized for defense over fiery group combat.

Anyway that's all for now, I'd love to hear your thoughts, be it positive or negative, I won't know what to change or focus on if I'm not told after all XD
 
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