Varok sat at the table, the pages of Blackscar’s report strewn in front of him. Across the room, Garrosh picked up a few wooden tokens painted blue for the Alliance, a few painted red for the Horde, and a few painted with skulls for the Scourge. He dropped all of them onto the map of Icecrown, south of Mord’rethar, the Death Gate of Icecrown Citadel. With a stick of charcoal he drew a large X onto the cured hide. The report had given this region a name: the Broken Front.
The Alliance had attempted to conquer Mord’rethar, but a Horde patrol had seen the regiment and successfully prevented its assault…by attacking from the rear. Pinched between the Scourge at their front and the Horde at their back, the Alliance forces had perished—but so had the Horde’s. The Scourge too had suffered losses, but the gate remained under the Lich King’s control.
Blackscar’s forces had deliberately waited until the Alliance soldiers were engaged, then slaughtered them. Thrall’s face contorted as he read the sky-reaver’s words: Though it cost them their lives, their selfless bravery prevented the Alliance from capturing a strategic point. Such courage is worthy of true soldiers of the Horde!
“‘Selfless bravery.’ ‘Courage’ worthy of the Horde.” Thrall nearly spat the words. “And the Scourge still holds the Death Gate. Is that what he wants? Is this what passes for glory among us?”
Garrosh remained uncharacteristically silent, instead looking hard at the wooden chips upon the map. He could almost feel Varok’s eyes boring into his back, and Thrall’s would also soon fall upon him. It was good the Alliance did not hold Mord’rethar; of that Garrosh was certain. Still he continued to stare at the little wooden markers, and late into the night, long after the other commanders had retired to sleep, Garrosh reread Blackscar’s letter.
Such courage is worthy of true soldiers of the Horde!
He summoned a courier. “Send for Sky-Reaver Korm Blackscar of Orgrim’s Hammer,” he said, handing over a scroll. “He is to return to Warsong Hold immediately. Tell him Overlord Hellscream wants to see him.”
Now he stood in the front hall of the citadel he had built, set upon the land he had conquered, awaiting the arrival of Korm Blackscar. Thrall had remained in Northrend. Garrosh was certain he desired to witness how Garrosh handled the sky-reaver.
Shall you be disappointed once again, Warchief?
Blackscar lumbered in through the doorway, looking around in surprise at his audience. Despite the warchief’s presence, he addressed Garrosh. “You requested I return to Warsong Hold, Overlord,” he said. “I’ve honored that request.”
Garrosh held up the missive on the Broken Front. “Here you detail how one of your patrols prevented the Alliance from taking a strategic point against the Scourge.”
Blackscar broke into a wide grin. “That was a piece of work on their part! Is it not glorious?”
Garrosh looked at the report, then back to Blackscar. “No.”
Blackscar’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“An ambush on open troops waiting to fight is one thing. To attack a regiment already engaged in battle with another from behind? What would you do next?” Garrosh demanded. “Would you sneak into their camp and poison their water? Would you enslave one of their commanders with magic and force him to murder his troops while they sleep? Would you rain disease upon your enemies, like the Forsaken? Would you fight the way they do?”
Blackscar stuttered, at a loss for words.
“There is no combat but honorable combat, Blackscar.” Garrosh held up the report in front of his face and crumpled it in his hand. “This? This is coward’s work! I will not have cowards among my ranks!”
“Overlord,” Blackscar stammered, “if I have brought shame to our cause, I will leave my post.”
“Do you admit to being a coward? Again: I will not have cowards among my ranks. Prove that you are not one, Blackscar. Go back to Orgrim’s Hammer and lead your soldiers in a manner worthy of the Horde. Should you fail, it is not your resignation I will seek, but your head upon a pike. Now get out of my sight.”
Garrosh did not wait to see Blackscar leave. He strode out of the hall and up the stairs to the top of one of the hold’s bulwarks. Up and down he walked, brows furrowed. He examined the status of the defenses and noted to himself what would need fixing, and who was responsible for letting it lapse.
He turned to walk the wall’s length again, and he started when Thrall was in his path. “Yes, Warchief?”
Thrall eyed him thoughtfully. Garrosh did not like the look on his face.
“I think you handled Blackscar well,” Thrall said. “His soldiers’ actions at the Broken Front were unconscionable, but he is still a strong commander. Our advance into Icecrown would suffer for his loss. You made the right choice.”
Garrosh pushed past him. “He will only get one more chance. I will not have tricksters and deceivers amongst my ranks,” he answered.
“Indeed,” Thrall called after him wryly. “I recall something someone said to me at the top of the Violet Tower not too many weeks ago. ‘A true warchief would never partner with cowards.’”
Garrosh stopped dead in his tracks and slowly turned around. Hearing Thrall quote Garrosh’s own words unsettled him. “I am not the warchief,” he answered after a moment.