“I see an opportunity. I need a plan to achieve it,” Sylvanas said.
“And if I cannot create a plan?”
“Then we do nothing, of course.”
“Then explain this ‘opportunity,’ Warchief,” he said. “Because I do not see it.”
“Yes, you do. You already said it,” she said. “Why is it impossible to invade Stormwind today?”
“We don’t have enough ships.” Saurfang looked at her suspiciously as he worked through the implications. How is that an opportunity? “We can commit our ships to transport or to war, but not to both—”
The answer slammed into him with such force that he literally staggered. His knees buckled, and he caught himself against the table with both arms. After a moment, he looked up at Sylvanas again, the blood draining from his face.
She had led him to a truth he had not seen, and it felt as if the entire world had changed. Only seconds ago, he had known to the very core of his being that war was impossible.
Now . . .
“You understand, yes?” Sylvanas asked quietly.
He said nothing. He couldn’t. He had been so focused on defending the Horde from the Legion thathe had been blind to the consequences of that war.
There had been a stalemate, of sorts, between the Alliance and the Horde for years. Both sides were strong and had forces placed all around the world. No action could be taken without suffering a swift reprisal. That was why Varian Wrynn had decided not to crush the Horde after the Siege of Orgrimmar—he knew how many lives it would have cost his people to see it through. And, in hindsight, it would have meant the death of Azeroth, for it had taken the full strength of both the Horde and the Alliance to ensure the world’s survival.
But the Broken Shore had altered the balance, hadn’t it? The disastrous counterstrike against the Legion had destroyed a significant portion of both factions’ fleets, and the months of warfare that followed only made the problem worse. The Horde and the Alliance still had strong positions on every continent, but they now lacked the means to reinforce them or maneuver their troops to another front.
Until our navies are rebuilt, the high seas are wild again.
That would take years to change. And once that happened, yes, that stalemate would return, and war would become too costly to pursue.
And by all the spirits, Sylvanas was right, no matter how strongly Saurfang tried to deny it. War would come again one day, and if both factions were strong, that war would raze entire nations. How many different peoples on Azeroth would become extinct in that fight?
But before then, both sides have vulnerabilities and a limited time to exploit them. For a price, we can survive.
“You believe we can secure Kalimdor,” he said. “The entire continent.” It wasn’t a question. The Alliance’s main strength was in the Eastern Kingdoms. The Horde’s was in Kalimdor.
Sylvanas inclined her head slightly. “Yes.”
Saurfang was already thinking it through. Where would the Horde need to strike? Mount Hyjal?
Azuremyst Isle? No—there was only one true center of Alliance military power, where forces were staged and could be projected to the rest of the continent. “Darnassus,” he breathed. “Teldrassil, the World Tree. Warchief, even if it is possible—”
“Is it possible?” she said. “If we marched an army to Darkshore to take the World Tree, would the Alliance be able to stop us?”
No. Not if the attack caught them by surprise. Not if the Horde could avoid getting bogged down in Ashenvale . . .
“High Overlord,” Sylvanas pressed, “speak your mind. Is it possible?”
“It is possible,” Saurfang said slowly, “but not without serious consequences.”
“Indeed.”
“We would win one battle, not the war,” Saurfang said. “If we shift the balance of power, the Alliance will respond in kind. Our nations in the Eastern Kingdoms would be vulnerable to retaliation.”
“Especially mine,” Sylvanas said.
He was glad she had said it instead of him. What target would Greymane demand the Alliance attack but Sylvanas’s seat of power? “I do not know if we can protect the Undercity, not while the Alliance is united against us.”
“And what if they were not?” Sylvanas smiled again. “What if they were divided?”
Then the Horde wins. “How would that happen? If we launch a sneak attack on the night elves’ home, the entire Alliance will seek vengeance.”
“At first, yes. They will be furious, united against our aggression,” she said. “But what will the night elves want more than anything? They will demand that the Alliance help retake their conquered home.”
But the Alliance will not have the strength, not in Kalimdor, not with their fleets.
Again. She had done it again. She had opened his mind to a new possibility, and the world shifted under his feet. The strategic implications spun out before him like the Maelstrom. “It will take years before they can even consider retaking Darnassus.”
“You understand, High Overlord,” Sylvanas said. “Think it through. What happens next?”
“They might try to conquer the Undercity . . . but Darnassus becomes our hostage against that. The night elves will not allow your city to fall if they fear it means you will destroy theirs. The same goes for a strike against Silvermoon.” Saurfang’s thoughts raced. She’s right. This could work. “And even if the Alliance agrees to retake Darnassus . . . The Gilneans!”