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.
