The Founding of Stormwind

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

This is a story that I worked on a while ago and posted to the site before it changed over. In brief summary this is my fanfiction take on how the kingdom of Stormwind was founded. It started out as a short story that grew into a much longer tale. I’m not a professional writer. I did this for fun. I hope anyone who reads it will enjoy it as well.

Chapter One: You have to say it right

There were certain places in the world that made Anduin Wrynn appreciate creation; Elwynn Forest was one of them. A gentle light filtered through the branches in almost every corner of the forest. As a result Elwynn was a forest that seemed to be bathed in light and life no matter where one went. For those who lived here, Anduin knew, they were used to it and usually took the simple beauty of the forest for granted. But the young prince of Stormwind never got tired of this place. Even when traveling the kings road with companions who argued as much as his.

“I told you we should’ve stopped for directions,” growled Valeera Sanguinar; a lithe and beautiful Blood Elf trained in the art of subtlety and assassination.

“The creatures of the forest assured me that this is the faster path to the logging camp,” snarled Broll Bearmantle; a tall and powerful Night Elf druid skilled in powers that Anduin found both alien and impressive.

One would not readily know it from listening to them but they were in fact close friends. They were also close friends with Anduin’s father, King Varian Wyrnn, and were among the few people in the world who the King trusted beyond all doubt to protect his son. Anduin understood why his father wanted to keep him safe but at the same time he didn’t think he needed the protection. Or at least to have guardians who actually knew where they were going.

Between Broll’s insistence on asking the creatures of the forest for advice and Valeera’s decision to hide from every traveler on the road Anduin thought it was a minor miracle that they were almost to the Eastvale Logging Camp before dark. He had been at Northshire Abbey when a message had come requesting a priest for healing. Anduin had only recently returned from studying under the Prophet Velen and was eager to lend his aid to his people. Broll and Valeera were at the abbey as well. Valeera to get away from the city and Broll, to be honest Anduin wasn’t sure why Broll had been there; something about seeking wisdom from the vineyards. At first Anduin thought that meant Broll had wanted to sample some of the abbey’s wine but then he saw the druid actually speaking with some of the vines.

The logging camp was now plainly in view as they rode further, well Anduin and Valeera rode on horses Broll had transformed into a great cat and was striding along with them. The camp was owned and operated by the Eastvale company loggers. Using high elven techniques to preserve the forest and still gather a significant load the company supplied more than half of the kingdoms lumber needs. Aside from wolfs and the occasional bandit the camp had had few problems and Anduin knew that they would not have asked for help unless it was needed.

Passing homes near the road Anduin spotted the camp foreman, a woman who was busy berating a group of workers.

“Excuse me,” Anduin asked as he came closer, “can you tell me who sent the request for aid?”

“Just a minute kid I’m busy,” she told him without looking at him.

Hardly the response Anduin was used to he wasn’t sure how to respond. Broll saved him the trouble by transforming back into his Night Elven form and giving the forewoman a growl of a reply.

“Do you have any idea who you are talking too?”

“Someone who is wasting my daylight but being more polite sounding than you,” she was clearly not someone who intimidated easily. “There is a storm coming in this evening and I don’t intend to fill our quota in the wind and rain. Now if you’ll excuse me I…” she trialed off as she turned to face Broll and saw who she was snarling at. Her eyes darted from the towering Night Elf, to Valeera, and then grew very wide when she spotted the prince.

“You were saying,” Valeera couldn’t help herself.

“I, I’m sorry prince Anduin,” the forewoman told him with a bow. “I didn’t…”

“It’s alright,” the prince cut her off. “I was told that someone here needed help with a sickness, can you tell me where they are?”

“Beg your pardon sire,” one of the workers spoke. “But the Tenny families youngest boy has been bedridden for more than a week. They sent word to Northshire but there has been no reply yet.”

“Can you show us where they are?”

Following the directions the three of them came to a fairly large house and barn settled between two huge trees. Anduin saw what he first thought was a bear standing by a work table. As he came closer the prince saw that it was a huge man who was busy shaping a plank of wood into what Anduin assumed was a table leg. Beside the bear of a man was a boy who looked no older than the prince who was busy carving patterns into a mostly finished chair back. The boy saw the trio approach and nudged the man, Anduin assumed was his father, in the side. Setting the plank down he approached them and gave the prince a bow.

“Welcome your majesty,” up close he looked even larger, one of the man’s arms was the size of Anduins waist. He had a rough voice from behind a large gold brown beard. “My name is Malcolm Tenny welcome to our home.”

“A pleasure mister Tenny,” Anduin said as he dismounted. “I was told that your family had a problem with an illness.”

“Yes sire,” Malcolm looked very relieved to hear that. “This way please.”

The inside of the house looked as though it might have been an inn that was converted into a home. It was spacious enough that the five of people entering could walk without feeling crowded. Going upstairs Anduin was lead to a small room where a young boy was sleeping. The prince could tell even from a distance that the boy was ill; he was sweating badly and his skin was pale. At the boys bedside was a girl wearing a simple dress and apron. At first Anduin wasn’t sure what she was doing as she passed a hand over the boys forehead. But a slight blue glow and a flash of cold air from her hand told the prince she was a mage and was attempting to cool her brother.

“Ester,” Malcolm’s booming voice didn’t startle the girl who turned to face the group entering the room. She had limp, dull blond, hair and her face reminded the prince of a Forsaken he had once met; forlorn to say the least. “They can help Duncan.”

The relief that spread over her face made such a huge difference to her looks that Anduin felt numb. Shaking the feeling that the girl in front of him had just transformed into the sun, and ignoring the snicker from Valeera who had clearly noticed his reaction, he gave her a return bow and stood before the young boy’s bed.

It only took Anduin a moment to see what was afflicting the boy. Fortunately it wasn’t a magical or extraordinary ailment. But then not all the dangers of the world were caused by such things and the boys fever was quite severe; his family had been right to send for help.

The prince focused on the Light, willing it to gather in his hand and felt its warmth. Passing his hand over the boy and giving a silent prayer of thanks Anduin directed the power of the Light into his patient. Without a struggle the illness relented and was dispersed. Anduin withdrew his hand and knew from a glance that the boy would recover. Ester lunged forward and hugged her brother, Malcolm and the older boy stood back and though they did not say anything the prince saw the gratitude on faces.

Before anything could be said there was a loud flash from out the room’s lone window and a glance outside showed that two people had just appeared. One was clearly a child, a girl by the clothing, and the other was a woman who, from her robes, was a mage of high standing.

“Looks like your mother is home,” Malcolm told his three children, the two older ones bowing to Anduin and racing from the room. Duncan attempted to get out of bed but Broll stopped him from rising.

“You’ll need to rest for a while longer,” the druid told the boy.

Duncan looked like he might object but a stern look from his father settled him back down. Malcolm strode across the little room and gave his son a reassuring pat on the head. “She’ll be up here to see you in moment don’t worry.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the mage Anduin had spied burst through the doorway and hugged her son. Duncan seemed both embarrassed and happy at the attention. Anduin couldn’t help but feel a little jealous; he had no memories of his mother.

“Tabitha, don’t strangle the boy,” Malcolm told her with a slight laugh; Duncan’s face was becoming very red.

When she released her son she turned to the prince with a tearful smile, “Thank you your majesty.”

“It was a pleasure,” Anduin gave her a bow and turned to leave when he bumped into a small form. He looked down to see a young girl who looked back up at him through oversized blue eyes. She didn’t seem much older than Duncan, maybe eight or ten years of age. Red blond hair and a face that seemed torn between amusement and curiosity marked her appearance.

“Why are you wearing so much jewelry? You’re a boy right?”

“Um,” how exactly do I respond to that, Anduin thought.

“This is prince Anduin, Clair,” Misses Teeny told the girl.

“Really,” the little girl looked at him and squinted her eyes. She then pulled out a silver piece from a pocket of her dress and looked at the engraved portrait of Anduin. “Are you sure mom?”

“Yes dear,” Misses Teeny was a tall woman with dark hair and sea blue eyes. She placed another blanket over her son before she looked to her daughter. Clair held out her coin to her mother who took it and smiled. “This was made when the Prince was your age little one. He’s older now. And before you ask how I know it’s him, I’ve met him before several times.”

“We have,” Anduin asked her overcoming the bemusement he had dealt with from Clair’s question.

“Yes, though you were very young at the time,” Tabitha told him, “I would be stunned if you remembered me.”

The mage led the group down stairs into a comfortable looking sitting room before a large fireplace. Anduin was anxious to return to Stormwind as soon as possible but he did not want to be rude about accepting the Tenny’s hospitality. The prince suspected that at least one of his companions wished to leave even faster than he did. Clair seemed to take an interest in Broll and was bombarding him with questions.

“Why are you purple? Why do you have antlers? Do all Night Elves have antlers? Are they useful?”

“I’m purple because I was born this way. I have antlers as a sign druidic power. Not all Night Elves have antlers. And yes they can be useful,” Broll said somewhat breathless. A look from Malcolm apologized to the druid. But the look on Broll’s face was amusement more than annoyance.

“Do they make a good coat rack?” Clair’s last question was too good for Valeera who burst out laughing.

Broll looked from Clair to Valeera with a sneer, “Do you have any questions about her? I’m sure you’ve never met a Blood Elf before.”

“Her people are called High Elves silly,” Clair’s statement had stopped what would have likely been a nasty retort from Valeera. Instead the green eyed young elf was looking at Clair as though she had never seen a human child before.

“She is a Blood Elf dear,” Tabitha corrected her from a corner of the room where she was taking a large bottle from a cupboard; “I’ve already explained the difference to you before.”
The little girl simply shrugged and looked back at Valeera, “The only difference I see is the eyes. Yours are pretty.”

It was rare to see Valeera smile, she always seemed so depressed in Stormwind, and it made for a nice change.

As Tabitha began to pour drinks for all of them Anduin heard a loud peal of thunder from outside. Everyone stopped what they were doing to look out the nearest window. Coming from the west were dark purple clouds with flashes of lightning striking along the width of the storm front.

“I was afraid of that,” Misses Teeny told everyone. “While Clair and I were in the capitol we saw the storm coming in.”

“And from what I’ve learned from the wilds it will be a strong one,” Broll agreed with her. “It would not be wise to travel in weather like this.”

“Well, you are more than welcome to stay with us,” Malcolm told the prince then turned to his eldest son, “John we need to bring in the horses and close the barn.”
“Yes dad.”

“I can help with that,” Broll offered.

“Wait up,” Valeera told them, “I wouldn’t want Broll to ruin his coatrack.”

He held the door for her, “After you miss High Elf.”

Anduin choose to help Tabitha and Ester seal the windows and doors of the house from the winds and rain. They had only just finished by the time the others returned. When they came inside Malcolm and Broll both had to force the door closed from the speeding winds.

“Will the animals be alright,” Clair was helping Duncan down the stairs and in front of the empty fire place in the sitting room.

“They’ll be okay. They’re used to this weather.” Malcolm passed his daughter and started arranging logs in the fire place. “This time of year Elwynn gets a lot of storms.” After setting kindling he readied a flint only for it not to be needed. A fire bolt shot passed him and struck the logs causing them to burst into a bright and warm fire.

The path the fire ball had taken traced to Ester, who had fired from the kitchen. She smiled at Malcolm and went to work with her mother preparing food.

“Tabitha I can help with that,” Malcolm’s offer was met with snickers from both his wife and children.

“Thank you dear but I remember what happened the last time you cooked something.”
“Did anyone die,” Valeera asked as she settled into a large arm chair facing the fire.
“No, but we did learn how fast certain vegetables can burn,” John told her with a grin and went to help his mother.

Looking depressed Malcolm sank in front of the hearth. “My family hates my cooking.”
Ester gave him a reassuring pat on the back and went to work setting the table. As she did another peal of thunder shook the house. Anduin could hear the rain lash the windows and play with the branches in the nearby trees. The clouds had already blotted out the sun but Ester quickly lit several candles; with a snap of her fingers.

“Hah,” John said after he had taken a large roast from the cool room, “the weather is reminding everyone why the capitol is called Stormwind.”

“About that,” Broll was getting another blanket for Duncan when he and Clair returned from upstairs, “I’ve heard people call this kingdom Stormwind and some people call it Azeroth. But which is the real name?”

“Both,” Ester told him as he sat on the carpet between the fire and Valeera’s arm chair, “When the orcs attacked the kingdom during the First War the only word they had to describe the lands they saw was the name of the kingdom. Eventually it became their word for the entire world. But the kingdom itself didn’t start calling itself Stormwind until we encountered your people, sir. By this time the peoples of Kalimdor all heard the orcish name for the world but most had not heard of the kingdom of Azeroth. So the merchants and nobles started calling it Stormwind after the capitol instead of its ancestral name in order to avoid confusing people. Not a lot of those who grew up in the Eastern Kingdom’s liked the name change so they call it by the older name.”

“Thank you miss textbook,” Clair called her sister and stuck her tongue at her. Ester responded in kind and then turned to John who was smirking.

“Should I give her a name for you since you gave her a name for me,” she snarled and finished setting the table with a jab at a cupboard whose contents sailed onto the table and into their places.

“Ester,” Tabitha snapped at her daughter from a cooking stove, “magic is a tool not a toy. And not something to use when you’re angry, understood?”

With a nod Ester agreed and went to help her mother again.

“I hadn’t heard that story,” Anduin told them.

“Really,” John looked at the prince from around the kitchen door.

“Didn’t you learn anything about your own country in the court,” Malcolm asked him.

To be honest, he hadn’t. Anduin had spent years learning as much as he could about the world and the peoples in it. He could recite from memory the histories the Night Elves, High Elves, Orcs, Dwarves, Dreanei, and a dozen others. But while his studies had given him knowledge about the great wars he had no knowledge of his own people’s history beyond those wars. “I couldn’t even tell you how the kingdom was founded.”

“Well we can’t have that,” Valeera spoke up and gave him a playful smile. “The prince of Stormwind not even knowing his Kingdom’s story; what would people say?”

“Story time,” Clair said excitedly as she jumped to her feet and ran to a bookshelf. She had to stand on her toes to reach the book she wanted but she was able pull out a tome. Running back in front of the fire she looked around the room until she made a decision.

Holding the book out to Valeera she told her, “You’re in the story chair.”

Looking a bit nervous the Blood Elf took the book. She started to open it then started to give an objection.

Clair cut her off, “Elf’s are supposed to be good story tellers aren’t they?”

“Indeed,” Broll said with a smile, “go ahead and show her.”

Valeera waited for Clair and Anduin to sit down before she started.

“In the fifth month of the year of the Holy Light….”

“That’s not how a story is supposed to start,” Clair told her, “You’re supposed to say once upon a time.”

“Ah,” Valeera looked a little annoyed but continued, “Okay.” She then said very quickly and with barely concealed venom, “Once upon a time.”

There was a brief pause, and then Broll turned to Clair, “She didn’t say that right did she?”

“No, you need to say it right.”

Glaring at the both of them Valeera snapped the book closed and raised it over her head to throw it at Broll. But before she could it was pulled out of her hand by Tabitha. She smiled down at the young blood elf, “I’ll take it from here. Clair be nice, she hasn’t heard fairy tales like you have.”

“Really,” Clair exclaimed and rushed to the chair and pulled on Valeera’s arm, “then why didn’t you say so? Come on.”

Valeera allowed herself to be lead next to Anduin on the floor by the fire. The two of them sat down on Anduin’s right, with Clair in the middle; the girl putting her arms through theirs. Tabitha settled into the chair and opened the book.

“Once upon a time, in a faraway land the great Arathi Empire stood as the greatest nation in the known world. Its territory spread from the northern shores of Lordaeron to the edge of the vast Stranglethorn Vale. It was ruled by the honorable and just Thoradin line for centuries. But as it continued to grow the empire began to strain under its own weight.

The first sign of the empire’s end came when Dalaran, the mage city, broke from the kingdom to pursue its own interests. Many within the empire wanted to assault the city and force it back into the fold. But while the emperor knew that his forces could retake the city he also knew that he would lose hundreds maybe even thousands of troops. Also he could see that the individual noble families, who controlled vast parts of the empires outer territories, would see such an action as a threat and would begin to militarize themselves to protect their holdings.

So instead emperor Pillis the Wise recognized and reconciled with Dalaran. In so doing the emperor was able to ease tensions with the mages and with the outer nobility who agreed that his decision was in the best interest of the people. Emperor Pillis’s long reign was seen as a time of peace and prosperity for the empire in which greater trade was established with the kingdom of Quel’thalas and the dwarves of Khaz Modan.

As the emperor grew older a new fear arose; who would succeed him. Both of the emperor’s children had died and the line of succession dictated that only a blood member of the Thoradin line could replace him. That meant that the next in line to the throne was the emperor’s first nephew, Troyic. Unlike his uncle Troyic was convinced that the empire should reassert direct control over its territories and that any territory that resisted in any way must be brought to heel by force; even if that meant the destruction of not only the nobility but all who served them.

In the face of this the nobles, as the emperor had once feared, began to raise arms and armies to defend themselves and their people from Troyic should he succeed the throne. There was one hope for the empire though. The emperor had a second nephew, Dale, who followed his uncles philosophy about the empire and many hoped that he would claim the throne instead of his cousin. Dale had proven himself in battle, alongside his old friend Salir Trollbane, fending off troll war bands but his diplomatic and political skills were unknown.

Emperor Pillis, hoping that Dale could be the answer he sought, decided to test him by sending him and Salir on a mission to the empire’s southernmost provinces; a land known by its ancestral name as Azeroth. There was a dispute between the two leading noble families that many feared would descend into open conflict. And so the two of them boarded a ship and made their way south for the small fishing port of Stormwind.”

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter Two: The Two Families

“Dale, Dale, DALE,” the young man reluctantly opened his eyes as he heard his friend shout. Traveling by sea had never been Dale’s favorite but as he couldn’t turn himself into a bird and fly south there weren’t a lot of options. He stretched out his arms and legs and felt the suspended hammock he slept in rock to and fro. Turning to his right he saw Salir standing by his side, already wide awake and fully dressed.

“We’ve sighted land,” Salir told him through his rough voice and straggly black beard.

Dale slid his feet off the hammock and onto the wooden deck of the ship. Like his friend Dale had chosen to sleep in his clothes and like his friend had a distinct and crumpled appearance. Smiling at the thought of what the court at Strom would think if any of the chamberlains saw him looking this rumpled Dale stood up and didn’t bother to straighten his appearance. He was in his twenties now, fairly tall (though Salir was a head taller than he was), with short sandy blond hair, grey eyes, a bit lean (as at least one chamberlain was quick to point out), and with the general appearance of someone who didn’t care much about his appearance but cleaned up nice when he did.

The ship boards creaked as Dale and Salir climbed out of the hold and onto the deck. The sea breeze and scent of salt air was a welcome change from the musty inside of the ship. The sky above was almost clear with a few low hanging clouds. Looking past the ships prow was the rocky coast that marked most of the southern shores. The dangerous rocks and reefs were difficult to navigate and even more difficult to make land fall through; it was why Stormwind was such a valuable plot of land. Though small, three quarters of all the trade and transit from the southern colonies to the rest of the empire passed through the port.

As the ship came to rest at the dock Dale and Salir disembarked, a small pack slung over each of their shoulders. The first thing that struck them was the sight of dozens of small ships coming, going, or being unloaded of their cargo and catches. The second the thing was…

A loud retch from a step behind Dale told him that Salir had just lost his lunch. Turning to look at his friend bending over the side of the dock Dale couldn’t help but ask, “Really?”

“I told you I hate fish,” Salir said looking more than a bit green and ignoring the looks of either disgust or amusement from the sailors and dock workers. “The taste, the look, the smell, especially the smell.” He closed his mouth in a hurry to avoid smearing the dock.

Letting out a sigh Dale trooped back to Salir, hoisted him up and hurried him away from the docks. It took a climb up a rough worn road and a steep hill to get to the small village that made its living as a trading and traveling post. Spying for something that would help his friend settle his stomach Dale spotted a cart with a young woman selling tea. The red haired woman saw them coming and already had a steaming cup ready for Salir when they were close.

“Sea sick?” She asked in a voice that was both curious and sympathetic.

“If only,” Salir gulped down the first cup and was very grateful when she poured him a second.

Rubbing Salir’s back for a moment and resisting the urge to laugh at his affliction Dale looked over the village. Most of the buildings were unpainted wood and from the looks of them built within a few decades at most. Several inns and taverns that catered to travelers and locals alike with homes scattered about in a roughshod manner. A large stone building at the end of a dirt road was the customs house and town hall rolled into one.

“Looking for work as sell swords,” the tea peddler asked politely, having noted the pairs crumpled appearances and their swords on their backs.

“Not exactly, miss?” Dale asked her name.

“Kira,” she told him with a bow, “And it’s good that you’re not. The nobles around here prefer their own people and not mercenaries to fight for them.”

“Are things around here that bad?” Salir had recovered enough to ask.

“Well,” a loud yell interrupted whatever Kira was about to say and caused them to turn back towards the top of the hill. A pair of men were circling each other with knives drawn, their intentions etched into their faces. As the two fought their slashes became more and more wild, nearly striking an elderly woman who was trying to get out of the way.

Dropping several coins on Kira’s cart Dale and Salir cleared the distance to the fighting pair. Salir struck the man closest to him with the back of his hand and rushing slammed the other to the ground. The one who had been struck looked like he wanted to turn his knife on the new comer but Dale jumped in front of him and a quick hand on Dale’s sword discouraged that thought and caused him to relent. Salir had disarmed his quarry and was holding him in a stranglehold.

“What the fel is happening here,” cried a voice from the town hall. Dale turned to see a tall man with very broad shoulders and fiery eyes bounding towards them and through the crowd that had assembled. The mail over leather armor he wore, hammer at his side, and series of medals on his chest showed the man to be the local constable. The officers eyes passed over the scene before him without missing a detail.

“Thank you both,” he told Dale and Salir, “I’ll take it from here.”

Salir let his target go and Dale removed his hand from his sword. The officer looked over the two fighters with a glare that would have made lesser men cower at his feet. The pair of them were dressed in leather armor and wore tabards of the two most prominent noble families in the south; the Wyrnn’s blue and the Elwynn’s green.

“This is the tenth incident like this to occur in my jurisdiction in the last week,” the officer growled at them. “Enough. The next time this happens I’m barring retainers from either family entry to the port except on business is that clear?”

The two nodded.

“Good. Then shake hands and go about your business.”

From the expressions on their faces that was the last thing either of them wanted. But the constable pressed his point and authority.

“Gentleman my patience is already thin. So unless you wish to spend the next three days chained to the stocks I suggest you do as I say.”

Although it was clear that they were attempting to crush each other’s hand the two complied, and walked away. The crowd dispersed leaving the officer, Kira, Salir, and Dale at the mouth of the dirt road the village was built along.

“Clint you know you can’t prevent either of the families or their retainers from doing anything right?” Kira’s question carried a slight nervousness with her voice.

An amused grunt preceded the officers response. “I know that Kira. And you know that. But I’d bet a month’s pay that neither of those scholars know that. And the warning will at least let Lord Wyrrn and Lady Elwynn know I’m tired of these fights.”

The tea peddler gave him a polite bow and pushed her cart away calling out for customers. The constable gave Dale and Salir a nod and offered his hand.

“I didn’t catch your names?”

“Salir Trollbane.”

“Dale Thoradin.”

The young prince of Strom watched the expression on the constables face change from polite interest to extreme respect before he let go of the man’s hand. Dale had become used to it, and to be frank annoyed by it, a long time ago. Usually he simply went by Dale and would not give his family name. His family was a branch family of the Thoradin line that was well known for its prowess in combat. It was also widely known that the last of his family was a potential heir to the throne; another reason not to give out his last name frequently. Still, if he and Salir were to find a way to resolve the problems here Dale would need the help of someone who knew what was going on.

“It’s an honor to meet you, your majesty.” The constable added, sounding very uncomfortable about how to act around royalty.

“Just call me Dale. It saves everyone the trouble of feigned respect and saves me from being embarrassed.”

Looking relieved the officer smiled and gave another polite nod. “Understood sir, my name is Clint Lothar, one of the few imperial officers in these lands.”

“We had heard the Wrynn’s and the Elwynn’s were becoming more aggressive towards each other,” Salir chipped in.

“When I and the other officers sent the emperor our report things were just getting heated,” Clint told them. “What do you know about the two of them?”

“The Elwynn’s were the first of the noble families to establish a presence in these lands. They were on their way to Kul Tiras when a storm blew their ships off course and they ran aground here. After exploring further into the woods they discovered tribes of humans who were being preyed upon by the Dark Iron clan dwarves and the Gurubashi jungle trolls for slave labor and sacrifices. The Elwynn were famous even then for being among the best fighters in the empire. They succeeded in uniting the tribes and driving off the dwarves and trolls. The Elwynn reestablished contact with the rest of the empire and became the first of the noble families to lay claim here.

The Wyrnn are relative new comers to these lands. They came with the previous emperor’s permission and authority to establish stronger lines of commerce with the dwarves and to create a stronger economic base to support the empire. The Wyrnn settled along the coast setting up ports in the west. They also brought with them improved farming and mining methods that they have used to make their territory very valuable.

At first the two families ignored each other; their territories were separated by the rivers and mountains so they rarely interacted. The few times they did it was for trade and defense. The two had a distant respect for each other; the Wyrnn still continue to call the woods Elwynn’s forest. But the two have very different strategies in governing their people. The Elwynn are traditionalists and like their cousins, the Menethil’s to the far north, hold deeply rooted religious beliefs in the Holy Light. The Wyrnn’s prefer innovation and looking to the future giving little thought to what they see as the superstitions of the past.

The conflict started small. People who supported the Wyrrn would insult the ways of those who supported the Elwynn. The people who supported the Elwynn would not trust the at times reckless methods of the Wrynn. Insults grew into resentment, resentment grew into hostility. The spark that lit the fuse around here came when the Wrynn decided to build a school for arcane magic. The people who support the Elwynn are frightened by the arcane and thought the school would be a threat. Lady Ristinova Elwynn confronted Lord Tiber Wyrnn about the school and demanded that it not be built; he refused. Following that the two families have begun marshaling troops and preparing to fight each other at the first sign one does something out of line.”

“Very good mister Trollbane,” Clint told him and gave the man a salute. “At the moment things are being kept from open warfare because Arch Bishop Romani has been able to keep the Elwynn and the Wyrnn talking to each other. But the Wyrnn are accepting larger numbers of magi into their territory and the Elwynn have assembled a huge cavalry force just beyond the coastal ranges. At the moment Stormwind is considered a ward of the empire and not under the control of either family. The other officers and I keep the peace here but as you’ve seen yourselves tempers are running high and blades are being drawn faster.”

Not having experience with getting two people, let alone two groups of people, to get along with each other Dale didn’t know where to start. When the emperor had given him the assignment of resolving tensions between the Elwynn and the Wrynn Dale had thought that their problems were due to someone attacking them. Now that he heard what was going on he immediately realized that he was out of his league.

“Well, time to get to work then,” Dale said more to himself than to either of the people with him. He looked to Constable Lothar and smiled, “The emperor sent us to negotiate with the two families. Not sure how much help we can be but we’ll do our best.”

“Well, that’s all anyone can ask,” the constable frowned but he did seem to at least give the younger man the benefit of the doubt that he could pull something off.

Dale thought for a minute about how to start. The first step would be to get them to gather someplace where they wouldn’t just start attacking each other. This was a good a place as any.

“How soon can the families be called here?”

“The Wyrnn can be here within a day. The Elwynn will take a bit longer.”

“Good. Since Salir and I will be here for a while as well which of the inns would you recommend?”

“The Blue Recluse is the best around here,” the constable offered, “And they serve a great fresh salmon.”

“Ooohh,” Salir started to look pale again but Dale was able to catch him before fell.

“Maybe somewhere else might be better?”

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter Three: The Reason You’re Here

The Pig and Whistle inn was a bit on the seedy side; the majority of its patrons looked like hired thugs. But it was clean, and the inn keeper was a friendly soul that Clint had vouched for. It felt good to sleep on a bed that wasn’t being moved by the sea. Judging from the snores coming from Salir’s room he agreed. The downstairs of the two floored inn was a tavern that never seemed to close. Walking downs stairs into the loud laughter was something Dale really enjoyed.

Deciding on food rather than drinks Dale ordered some toast and bacon. Choosing a seat underneath the stairs gave Dale a good view of the tavern and all who entered. Despite his initial belief that Stormwind was a small port there were a lot of people here. And his impression of what the patrons of the tavern were at first glance was also mistaken. They looked rough but then these were people who lived rough lives; fishermen, hunters, lumbermen, and dockworkers mostly. They stood around the bar or at the center tables laughing and swapping stories; taking no notice of Dale.

He sat at his table eating and watching people come and go. Clint entered and gave Dale a wave. Dale beckoned him to the table and offered to share his food.

“No thanks. I thought you might want a tour of the town before the Wrynn arrive.”
Dale nodded, rather than talk with his mouth full of toast. As he stood he readjusted his sword on his back so it wouldn’t hit anyone as he left the inn.

“There isn’t any reason to carry your sword with you,” Clint watched a few nervous patrons stare at Dale as they left. “The town is perfectly safe.”

“It’s not about being safe Clint,” Dale stretched as he looked up at the cloudy early morning. “It’s about connecting with my sword. A Strom teaching states that if you wish to master a weapon you have to know everything about the weapon. My sword here doesn’t like being left behind.”

“If you say so,” the constable shrugged. “Does your sword have a name then?”

“Yeah,” Dale drew the sword from its sheath and held it before Clint. It was a simple looking long sword at first glance. No major ornamentation on the handle, hilt, or blade. But the silvery steel of the blade seemed to glow, as if a fire was burning beneath the surface. A fire without color that seemed make the cool morning a little warmer.
“Sunheart, the quiet roar. He’s quick to laugh, slow to anger, and brighter than the midday sun when challenged.”

Dale sheathed the blade without offering it to Clint. The constable seemed to understand; it was a royal weapon after all. What Dale didn’t tell him was that the sword was in fact one of Kelpyron’s master pieces. Kelpyron was a legendary smith who had only fashioned fifty seven weapons. All of which were imbued with powers that set all but the mightiest of forces at bay. The old master still lived a quiet life in the Alterac Mountains making farming tools for the locals; who were surprised their farms were doing so well in the hard ground. A weapon like that was not something anyone would hand to a person they had known for a day.

It didn’t take long to explore the town. There was the market where the locals were busy with their wares and daily shopping. The docks had a small shipyard at the Northern end, mainly for repairing fishing boats; it wouldn’t fit a Kul Tiras galley. The majority of the buildings in town were inns and taverns that catered to travelers. The largest was the Blue Recluse. Going inside it was immediately clear that the owners were aligned with the Wyrnn. The most glaring sign was the fact that the inn used mages as part of their staff. A pretty waitress was controlling a mop with a flick of her wrist and another waitress, who seemed to be spilling out of her uniform, filled a patrons mug with a snap of her fingers.

As Dale and his tour guide left, one of the waitresses, with a giggle, called out, “Lion watch over you.”

“Huh?”

When they were away from the tavern Clint let out a sigh. “It’s a local belief that the Wyrnn started mocking the Elwynn for. The local peoples believe that there is an ancient lion that lives in the woods and protects people from darkness. The Elwynn chose to respect the belief and adopted the lion as their symbol. The Wyrnn think it’s a joke. Just a silly story to tell children at night.”

“And what do you believe?”

Clint stopped dead in his tracks. From the look on his face he was not expecting that question. “I believe that there is something at work in these lands. What that is, I’m not sure. But I’ve seen storms that level small coastal villages and yet touch nothing in the woods. So, I’m willing to say something is at work here.”

Dale merely shrugged. Aside from worship of the Light, which linked all of humanity he thought, there were also many beliefs in local legends or ancient powers. Most, in Dale’s opinion, were folk tales at best. But a few of them, like the Menethil belief that there was a great power sleeping beneath the Tirisfal Glades were supported by others. The High Elves not only believed that there was something beneath Tirisfal but were alarmed when they learned some mages were attempting to dig beneath the earth to find out what it was; to the point that they practically threatened to go to war to stop the project. So, Dale wasn’t quick to dismiss something just because it was unusual.

The final stop on the tour was a garden set onto a sea side cliff. It wasn’t some grand spectacle, a simple field of white and purple flowers and short grasses, with a view of the sea. It’s most defining feature was a large group of children playing tag. Kira, the tea peddler Dale met yesterday, was busy trying to keep the game to a form of ordered chaos. Though failing, it looked like she was having fun. After being spun around by the hand by a couple of girls Kira collapsed on the grass laughing.

“And the mighty have been felled yet again,” Clint called out. Several of the children ran to the constable asking if he wanted to play. Kira sat up and gave him a smile.

“Children tend to outlast the elderly,” the young woman said with a laugh, “that’s how the world is supposed to work.” She noticed Dale standing nearby and stood to give him a bow. “Welcome to the Stormwind orphanage.”

“A pleasure to be here,” he returned the bow and looked to the group before Clint. “And I bet you guys think you can tag anyone out don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“You bet.”

“Well,” Dale took off his sword and set it by a tree, “prove it.”

About an hour later everyone was on the grass trying to catch their breaths. Dale was surprised, he had been tagged a couple of times, though one of those times it was Kira and he kind of let her. Clint just stood back and laughed as the group played. A gruff laugh joined the constable’s and Dale looked up as Salir stood over him.

“The Wyrnn are coming down the road,” Salir offered his meaty hand. With a tug Dale was on his feet and went to pick up his sword.

“Tiber Wyrnn is coming here?” Kira brushed herself off as she stood up. A few flowers stuck in her hair.

“Didn’t you hear Kira,” a little boy who had been playing with a small resin disk piped up. “Some prince from Strom is supposed to meet with the Wyrnn and the Elwynn today.”

“A prince,” a little girl with brown hair blushed.

“Great,” a boy caught the disk as it was thrown to him and threw it to another waiting nearby. “He’ll probably be some prim and proper jerk.”

“Yeah, and turn his nose up at the town because of the smell,” said the next boy to catch the disk.

Clint looked nervous, but Dale and Salir were laughing pretty hard.

“What do you think,” Dale asked the boys, “Will this prince be the type of person to hold out his little finger as he drinks tea?”

“Definitely.”

“Or maybe be the type who doesn’t want to get his boots dirty on the road,” Salir offered.

“Sounds right.”

“Now, now,” Kira scolded the three boys, “there is nothing wrong about any of that. What’s more it’s someone you have never met.”

“Oh I don’t think he’ll mind,” Dale smiled and turned to the constable. “What do you think he’ll be like?”

Clint half grinned, half grimaced, as he spoke. “I’m sure he’ll be a nice person.”

“Come on Lothar,” one of the three boys playing catch had run back from catching a wild throw. “He’ll be a jerk and you know it.”

A horse was riding hard to the park. Its rider scanned those present until his eyes rested on Dale. “Your majesty, my lord Tiber Wyrnn has arrived and offers his compliments. He is ready to meet you at your convenience.”

“Tell him I’ll be right there,” it was like Tiber to send someone to look for him. The rider saluted and rode off.

The open mouths on his playmates were a nice ending for the day. He gave Kira a bow and kissed the hand of the brown haired girl who was now blushing a much brighter shade of red. All three of the boys had forgotten their game, letting the disk roll away to stop at Dale’s feet. The prince picked it up and tossed to them, making sure to hold his little finger out as he did. Salir certainly thought it was funny as they walked back into town. Clint seemed a bit more dour but Dale was sure that he spied a smile on the constables face.

A crowd had gathered at the edge of town with a group of armed men surrounding a very tall and imposing figure. Tiber Wyrnn stood as tall Salir, at least six foot seven or taller. He wore no armor; instead he wore a dark blue linen tabard over traveling clothes. He was armed though, with a long sword and a dwarven dirk dagger at his side. His dark hair had a little grey to it but his eyes looked sharp enough to pierce dragon scale. He took no notice of the crowd surrounding him and was instead talking frantically with a man Dale didn’t recognize; though from the tabard he was likely another of Tiber’s men.

“How did you tell that rider to recognize me,” Dale called when he was in earshot.

Tiber looked over the heads of the crowd and smiled, “I told him to be on the lookout for the worst slob he could imagine.”

Dale turned to Salir with a grin, “It’s good to have people who understand me.”

“Understand no. Tolerate yes.” Salir ignored Dale’s glare and stepped forward, parting the crowd as he went. Tiber grasped Salir’s outstretched hand in a vice like greeting.

“Don’t feel too bad Dale,” Tiber said as he gave the prince a powerful hello as well. “If it makes you feel better I can tell you why Salir gets sick around fish.”

“I already know,” Dale saw his friend already turning green at the memory. As a child Salir was playing hide and seek with his brothers by the docks in Kul Tiras. He hid in an old steamer trunk that hadn’t been cleaned in a long time and had been left in the sun.

“Risti won’t be here for another day or so,” Dale choosing to change the subject. “I suppose you and your men will be staying at the Blue Recluse?”

Tiber seemed a little insulted, “that ridiculous fun house with all those silly Dalaran rejects no thank you. The Pig and Whistle has better food anyway.”

With that the lord of the Wyrnn started towards his chosen inn. Dale and the others followed him, though the prince saw a few of Tibers men head in the other direction; likely for the Blue Recluse. On the way Clint left their company to attend to his duties; namely by walking around the town and making sure there wasn’t any trouble. As the group passed a street performer whose act included turning a rabbit into a cat Tiber let out a very loud growl.

“I thought you supported the magi Tiber?”

“Yes, magi,” Wyrnn put emphasis on the word. “Not some magician’s assistants who only know how to direct a broom or cast a few illusions. Dale, I support the building of a school for arcane magic to train people who can actually do more than parlor tricks.”

“Like what?”

Tiber stopped just before the doors to the Pig and Whistle. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the trolls to the South, the Gurubashi. They have constantly been sending raiding parties North to take captives. My people and the Elwynn do our best but for every party we intercept another slips through our grasp; usually taking away a good number of innocent villagers and adding more children to the orphanage here at Stormwind. I’m sure that those who are evading us are using some form of magic. If the raids are to stop we have to develop a way to see through their magic.”

“Fair enough,” Dale lead Tiber and the others inside and stopped at the bar. Tiber bought a round for everyone. “What will Risti say when she gets here?”

Tiber set down his mug, “She will tell you the same thing. But she will say that the dangers of using the arcane outweigh the benefits. I know you’ve heard the rumors that have come of Dalaran,” Tiber paused as Dale nodded. “Well so has she. She’d rather fight trolls than demons.”

“But the Kirin Tor and Silvermoon promised that the problem has been dealt with.”

“Yes, but you know what Ristinova is like,” Tiber grimaced. “You’re the only person who can call her Risti and not be maimed. More to the point the Azeroth tribes have been preyed upon by arcane users for a long time. They are afraid of it. I freely admit that they have good reasons to be nervous but their fear of the unknown is hindering our ability to protect them. They can’t just keep praying that the problem will go away we have to take action.”

“Faith manages Lord Wyrnn,” called a voice from the doorway. “And one thing the Elwynn can not be accused of is lack of faith.”

A portly man with simple priests robes and a lack of hair was greeted with warm hello’s and more than a few bows. Arch Bishop Alejandro Romani bounded into the bar and shook Tiber’s hand. He then turned to Dale and grimaced.

“I seem to recall a boy who always fell asleep during my sermons.”

Giving a mock yawn earned Dale a slap to the back of the head and a laugh from Tiber and Salir. Dale looked up sheepishly at the Arch Bishop, who now wore a bright smile on his worn face.

“It is a true blessing to have you here my son,” Dale was pulled into a bear hug. Before becoming an Arch Bishop, Romani had been a cleric who administered to both nobles and commoners. When he was appointed by his fellow clergymen Romani sold off the gold embroidered robes and most of the rest of the regal looking ornamentation and used it to start an abbey in the Northern portion of Elwynn forest.

“And the abbey is doing quite well,” the Arch Bishop said with a wink.

It took Dale a moment before responding. “I thought the church frowned on using the Light to look into the minds of others?”

“Frowning is not the same as forbidding,” Romani sat between Tiber and Dale at the bar and helped himself to Dale’s drink. “Though if it offended you I do apologize.”

“I’m sure I can convince Ron and Chris to get me another drink,” Dale gestured to the two bar tenders; one of whom was polishing an odd looking hammer. “As for reading my mind, I think I should apologize for having such light reading.”

Romani and Tiber looked to each other, an unspoken comment passed between them.
“Dale,” the Arch Bishop looked at the prince with tired eyes, “You do understand why you are here, right?”

“To keep Tiber and Risti from starting their own little war down.”

“That isn’t why the Emperor sent you Dale,” Tiber added. “That is simply the opportunity to test you. To see if you are able to succeed him.”

Dale nearly spit his drink in a bartenders face, with some effort he choked it down. “Me? I recall you once saying you didn’t want me within a thousand leagues of a throne room.”

“And I meant it,” the Arch Bishop told him seriously. “Dale, I love you like a brother. And I am glad to say that you have become a fine young man and an excellent fighter. But you simply are not qualified to lead the empire. At least, not yet. That is why your uncle sent you here, in the hopes that you could gain that ability to lead.”

Ruling the empire had never been an ambition of Dale’s. In fact he was very happy to have been so far away from the line of succession when he was old enough to understand it. His cousins, the emperors son and daughter were both wonderful people, either of them could have succeeded their father and the empire would have prospered under their rule. But Eric had been killed fending off an Amani war band near Quel Thalas and Jessica had died at sea returning from Kul Tiras. Either due to illness, injury, combat, or any number of different accidents Dale had gone from twenty something in line for throne to second in line.

“It’s not as though I need to be taught how to do things,” Dale protested. “Troyic is much brighter than I am and he’ll make a great emperor.”

Tiber slammed his mug onto the bar with enough force to shatter it. “Troyic is a Light damned lunatic who wants to start a war with anyone who disagrees with him.” Lord Wyrnn saw the shocked expression on the Arch Bishops face and was about to apologize.

“All that fine ale, wasted,” Romani shook his head at the spilled drink. It ran over the wooden bar counter and onto the floor. The Arch Bishop looked back to Dale, “Troyic is indeed an intelligent man. He can speak at least five languages, he knows how to gain political favor from others without much effort, and he is arguably the best swordsman in the world. But, and I am truly sorry to say this Dale, Troyic is an evil man. I have spoken to him before many times and I still pray that he will turn from his current path.”

Salir, who had been drinking quietly, gave the Arch Bishop a breath, “So the emperor sent Dale here as a test? Then what is he supposed to learn while he’s here?”

“Well,” Tiber had a new mug, “It depends on what Dale knows already.”

“Right,” the Arch Bishop added, “we’ll need to see what we’re working with before we can see where to go.”

“You both know I can hear you right?”

“For example,” Tiber continued without paying attention to the prince, “economics; something that any potential leader needs to have an understanding of to be successful. Which form of it do you prefer; trickle down, supply side, credit based, or maybe something completely different.”

Dale stared at Tiber like a deer caught in the open.

“I lost you at economics didn’t I?” Dale’s nod brought several sighs. “We’ll just start at the beginning then.”

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter Four: Lady Elwynn

“No, no, no, you are completely wrong about those lands being named Westfall,” the Archbishops voice carried around the inn. It had been a few days and the Elwynn were due to arrive soon. Dale and Tiber were playing chess while Salir watched; giving advice to Dale so Tiber didn’t crush him. The Archbishop had been peacefully traveling around the town, attempting to seek funds for building a cathedral in town. At least he was until one of Tiber’s allies arrived.

Archmage Ruben Azora, former member of the Kirin Tor and the leader of a sect of magi called conjurors. Compared to the overweight Archbishop, the Archmage was slim to the point that a gust of wind at the wrong moment might blow him away. He wore blue grey robes and his long white/grey beard would have swept the floor if it was not half tucked into his belt. Azora was also far less emotional than the Archbishop; preferring to listen and give measured responses to the Archbishops outbursts.

“It is a land that falls on the western edge of the Wyrnn’s land. Hence the name fits well.”

“But the name is unimaginative,” the Archbishop pressed. “It’s as if someone just threw a name together without bothering to use their imagination at all.”

Aside from looking at the barkeep, as he posted a picture of a lion drawn by one of the orphans to the door, the Archmage gave no immediate response. This had been the atmosphere since the two of them had run into each other a few days ago. Dale did his best not to eavesdrop but the two old men were so loud that it was difficult.

As a result Dale knew that the Archmage had come to Azeroth in the first place to search for something he called leylines. And when Tiber had approached him about starting a school for the arcane the Archmage had been both curious and supportive. Dale also learned that the two of them had so many arguments that most people simply ignored them when they got started. As evidenced by the many people in the room going about their business without looking at either of the loud speaking pair. Also proven by the wide berth everyone was giving them. Something that Clint, as he entered the inn, failed to do.

“Oh Lothar, can you help settle something for us,” the Archbishop asked when Clint made the mistake of coming into range. “I can’t seem to convince him that names like Northshire, Goldshire, and Lakeshire are unoriginal and that the towns deserve some better names.”

“Well,” the constable looked extremely uncomfortable. “They are accurate. I mean Northshire is to the North, Goldshire sits next several gold mines, and Lakeshire sits next to a lake.”

“But none of them offer any style or depth,” the Archbishop pleaded his case.

“Does the name of a town require style or depth,” the Archmage offered. “Is it not better to describe a town with its name?”

“Well…”

“So says the mage from Dalaran. Perhaps the Kirin Tor should have named it mage city, as that describes it?”

“I…”

“Dalaran does describe the city, just as Stormwind describes the name of this town.”

“Maybe…”

“This place is called Stormwind because a strong wind from the sea storm blew a group of ships here, that’s all”

“Clint, can you come over here for a minute?” Dale waved to the constable who cleared the distance between the tables in half a blink.

“Thank you,” the constable breathed.

“Don’t thank me yet. You need to tell me if I should take his bishop or his rook.” The glare the prince received was impressive.

The double door to the inn opened inward again. The new person was a small figure, maybe half of Dale’s height, and by their robes was one of the Clerics at Northshire. Honestly, Dale thought, it was an unimaginative name.

“Archbishop sir,” the young man said when he approached the arguing pairs table.

“Erin you can call me either Archbishop or sir. You don’t have to call me both.”

“Yes sir Archbishop.”

“Much better,” the Archmage said with a smile.

“I’m looking for Constable Lothar.”

“Over there, avoiding intellectual discussions,” Archbishop Romani laughed at Lothar’s wince.

Coming closer confirmed two things about Erin. He was actually a she. And she was tiny to the point of being a tall, skinny, gnome. The oversized eyes and bluish hair didn’t help that impression.

“This is Erin Weaver,” the constable pointed her out. She gave a small bow to the three nobles at the table and gave her attention fully to Lothar.

“Lady Elwynn is coming down the main road. She’ll be here in about an hour.”

“Good,” Dale told her while taking Lord Wyrnn’s rook. And promptly frowned when Tiber moved his queen and called checkmate.

“I’m not sure it’s a good thing sir,” the cleric had a note of nervousness in her voice and her stance. “Lady Elwynn is coming with at least twenty other riders; fully armed.”

Tiber’s victory smile and Dale’s embarrassment disappeared. The constable cast a nervous look at the three lords seated in front of him. “She wouldn’t attack the town? Not with just twenty people?”

“If you’re asking if she will I don’t know. If you’re asking if she’s crazy enough to do so, then yes.” Dale, Tiber and Salir stood up and checked their weapons. Tiber’s men at the inn also got to their feet around the room, fastening weapons to their belts or finishing the last of their drinks. Between Tiber’s people and Constable Lothar’s the town had a good number of defenders. But as Dale did a quick assessment, they were lightly armed with short swords, light bows, with only Tiber and Clint wearing any armor. Mounted knights had slaughtered hosts with ten times as many people; and better armed than they were.

“Fighting may not be necessary,” the Archbishop’s calm voice drew every eye in the room.

Tiber, who was almost to the door, did not seem to appreciate being interrupted. “All due respect, sir. But twenty knights do not travel fully armed just to go on vacation.”

“Indeed,” the Archmage added. “But Romani is correct about not jumping to conclusions. There may be other reasons why Lady Elwynn is traveling with such company. And, despite her aggressive reputation, I find it unlikely that she would knowingly endanger a member of the royal family. Not to mention how attacking Stormwind, a ward of the empire, would be received at Strom.”

The Archmage’s reasoning caused Tiber’s hard expression to soften. The lord of the Wyrnn closed his eyes for a moment; contemplating his next move. When he opened them again he turned to Dale and Clint with a sense of urgency. “Regardless of her motives I think it would be unwise to meet her here. I suggest that we go to meet her at the edge of the forest.”

“Agreed, and besides,” Dale took one last long drink of ale. “If she kills us there it will spare the town.”

The woods around Stormwind had been cleared for about a half mile. It had been done as a way to defend the town from sneak attack; and to provide lumber to build the town. There were still some lumber operations along the edge of the forest, but they were relatively small; wood for fishing boats, home repair, furnishings, etc. The largest of these operations was an attempt to carve a main road through the forest.

It was slow going. The Elwynn weren’t entirely comfortable with the cutting of their woods and as a result labor was in short supply. But the beginning of the road to Goldshire was well underway. Stones were laid as the trees were cleared, a dwarven technique the Wyrnn had gained through trade, this allowed the road to remain smooth and provide travelers with a faster route.

Dale sat on an old stump as he and the others waited. Everyone was tense, except for the Archbishop and the Archmage who had resumed their argument, and Dale did not blame them in the slightest. Ristinova Elwynn was the second child among the Elwynn family and its current leader. A role she maintained despite having an older brother for two reasons. First, her late father had chosen her. And second, few had ever been stupid enough, or lived long enough, to challenge her right to lead her family.

The sounds of horses were drawing nearer. They weren’t coming from the road, but from the sides of the road. Tiber and his men tensed, forming a pair of semi circles facing the woods. The wait ended with the first of the riders coming into view through the trees. He wore plate armor and a high helm. A lance in his hand was held at rest in its cradle. He paused before the group assembled before him. His face was hidden behind his helm but Dale noted no fear or hesitation as he scanned the crowd.

“My lady and her company are on their way to Stormwind. Will you yield the road?”

“She is on her way to Stormwind to see Prince Dale Thoradin,” Salir called out to the knight, keeping his tone formal. “The prince has come here to greet her and her party. Will you ask her if that is satisfactory?”

The knight raised his lance in salute and turned his horse back into the trees. He returned shortly. And with him the forest seemed to come alive. All along the face of the woods, for what might have been a mile, came mounted warriors. Some were knights, with their plate armor and heavy lances, but the majority wore lighter armor and carried Elven bows. They surrounded Dale and those with him completely, though leaving enough room that it did not feel like a trap.

“Where did you learn to count,” Dale heard Tiber mutter to Erin. The prince turned to see the young cleric shrink from a glare. Though to be fair, he thought, there were in fact only twenty or so knights; and a couple of hundred others.

The riders parted slightly to allow one among them to advance. She wore mail armor over a leather jerkin. Without a helm Dale saw that Ristanova Elwynn had her long blond hair tied in a plait the reached her waist. Her face was beautiful, but set as if it were in stone. She carried a lance, which she handed to one of her waiting comrades, and at her side was a Gilnean cavalry saber whose sheath glittered in the afternoon sun.

As Lady Elwynn came closer she had a hand resting on her sword. Her blue eyes surveyed the group before her until she spied the prince. She strode forward, ignoring the worried glances that some of Tiber’s men were giving her.

“So, you’re the brat who used to whine about your parents being away all of the time.”

Direct and to the point Dale thought, hasn’t changed much. Taking a deep breath Dale gave a warm grin.

“And it’s nice to see you too, Risti.”

With that she drew her sword and charged.

Dale barely had time to draw his blade. Her saber was a slashing weapon and it preformed its task well. Dale countered by intercepting the slash and adjusting his stance to let the blow glance off, hopefully giving him time to strike back as Ristinova regrouped. She wasn’t going to give that time and instead of withdrawing her blade she forced it down Dale’s sword to get a shot his groin. But Dale was no longer there. Long hours of practice thundering through his head as he moved around to find an opening. Keep moving. Always think. Always look. Never stop. Never hesitate. Never overestimate. Never underestimate. Above all, keep moving.

To those watching the duel, it was more a contest of flashes than of swords. A couple of Tiber’s men and Ristinova’s riders wanted to interfere, but weren’t certain how to do so without dying. Several frantic moments later Dale swept his sword at Risti’s head. Lady Elwynn ducked and brought her sword up to slash at the prince’s unguarded waist. And then Ristinova was dropped onto the forest floor, her head was throbbing. Her eyes took a moment to focus and when they did she saw Dale standing over her, his sword pointed at her chest. It took her a moment to figure out what had happened. But from the shape of the pain on her forehead she realized that Dale, instead of drawing back his sword from its sweep, had punched forward with his swords pummel; leaving her with a nice imprint of the Thoradin royal crest.

The cleared land was dead silent as neither Tiber’s men, nor Lady Elwynn’s seemed to know what to do. Lady Elwynn broke the silence by throwing back her head and laughing at the sky. Yup, Dale thought, she hasn’t changed much at all; still crazy.

“I see you weren’t a complete waste of my brothers time after all,” Ristinova smiled at both the pain and that she had been put on the ground.

“Did you think I’d be here and alive if I hadn’t,” Dale offered her a hand and pulled her up. “I can’t believe you still get worked up over having your name shortened.”

“It’s a way for people to mock others while attempting to be playful,” she brushed herself off and pulled dead leaves from her hair. “I refuse to allow any slights to go unpunished. I would think you had learned that considering the many times we’ve fought?”

“Guess I’m just determined to be your friend,” Dale said with a shrug.

Risti rolled her eyes and then shot a glare at one of her riders that had started to laugh. The man, twice her size, shied away attempting to hide behind his horse; the animal also seemed frightened. When she relented she took notice of Salir for the first time. The tall man had had his hand near his sword during the duel but had now relaxed.

“I see a member of the royal guard is with you. Also known as the little boy who took ill at the mention of fish.”

“You refuse to take any slights from people but you give them all the time,” Salir came to stand next to Dale. “Interesting contradiction.”

“If one isn’t willing to defend themself from an insult that is their concern,” she told him steadily, “as are the reasons for why they choose that course. If one sees it as strength to oppose slights with as much force as warranted then I hold a similar view. If one deems it better to ignore slights as immaterial, I disagree but I respect that view as well. But if you give an insult you had better be prepared to defend your opinion.” With that her gaze focused on Lord Wyrnn.

Tiber met her gaze. He didn’t appear nervous, and his anger at Erin seemed to have abated. Instead he looked at the gathered riders with something, Dale guessed, akin to academic interest. His eyes lingered on a few of the more lightly armed figures before they came back to Lady Elwynn.

“You seem to be going somewhere other than Stormwind with your people Ristinova. Has something happened?”

“As a matter of fact yes,” professionalism over took whatever personal animosity lay between the two. “A troll war band raided a village near the Redridge Mountains. We have been sweeping the forest for them but they are hard to track. They may have already crossed the Nefereti River.”

Tiber gave a silent curse. Salir tensed a bit at the mention of trolls escaping with captives. His family’s reputation centered on intercepting such war bands before they could return to their villages. “Then we should postpone this meeting. Those people come before whatever problems you two are having.”

“As a matter of fact, I have no personal problems with Tiber,” Ristinova had finished grooming with one last dusting of her arms. “It is our people who disagree. My people do not wish a school for the arcane to be built. Tiber’s want one built. I and my people asked that the school not be built. Tiber and his people declined. There is nothing more to discuss on the matter.”

So much for diplomacy, Dale thought. “So you’re going to attack the Wyrnn, over a school?”

Risti’s eyes shifted to the prince; then gave a quick glance to the Archbishop, who stood behind him. The older man smiled and shook his head, Dale guessed he was the subject of an inside joke.

“You were right Romani. His naiveté is going to get someone killed. No Dale, I have no intention of attacking the Wyrnn, their magi, or this school they want to build. But arcane magic has a tendency to lead people to darker paths. We have seen it with the Dark Iron Dwarves and with the Gurubashi Trolls. So when this school of the Wyrnns blows up in their face I intend for my people to be ready to deal with the consequences. And the clean-up.”

“The High Elves think it is safe enough,” Dale countered.

“So they claim. But the risks of using the arcane outweigh the benefits,” Ristinova pressed. “The Dark Irons attempt to draw on more power turned the Northern half of the Redridge Mountains into a fiery nightmare. The Gurubashi are sacrificing dozens of people a day, some of them their own, to what they call a blood god in exchange for power. All of that started with them using the arcane.”

“But they both use the arcane now. This war band your sweeping for is likely using….” Dale trailed off. That may do it, he thought. “You say that the risks of the using the arcane outweigh the benefits, right? So what if the Archmage and his students can prove that their benefits to these lands warrant the risks? What if they can track and find this warband before they get back to Stranglethorn Vale?”

Lady Elwynn crossed her arms, a thoughtful expression on her face. Several moments later she turned to the Archmage.

“Can you or your students find these Trolls?”

“I am not as learned in Troll magics as some of my colleges,” the old man told her. “However, one of my students has studied their arts quite well. I could call for him to join you in your search?”

“Then do so,” Ristinova uncrossed her arms. “Tiber, if you and any of your people would care to join us in this search?”

“Of course,” Lord Wyrnn gave a slight bow and gestured to one of his men. The man departed through the riders, who gave him room to pass, and traveled back towards the town. “He will send word to others to join the search. With your permission I would like to accompany you and the Archmage’s student?”

“Fine.”

“I’ll be going as well,” Dale told them. Risti nodded her approval. She then looked to Erin Weaver, who was looking as small and meek as she could.

“That one will also join us.”

Erin flinched and the Archbishop gave Lady Elwynn an innocent glance. “But why?”

“Because if your friend there is clever enough to keep Tiber from marshaling an army to come out and meet us. Then I suspect she is clever enough to make herself useful in dealing with the Trolls.”

There wasn’t even the barest hint of a smile on Erin’s face. But Dale had to agree with Risti. If Erin had told Tiber about how many people were coming, Lord Wyrnn might have marshaled every soldier he could call on to come to Stormwind. The result would have been a much more tense situation that might have ended with the two families and their allies coming to blows. It seemed relatively clear, that whatever Erin did for the Archbishop, she was rather clever. One thing was certain. This was going to be an interesting trip through the woods.

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter Five: Raven Hill

The woods on the other side of the Neferiti River were so dense that very little light got through. It was another reason why finding troll raiding parties when they crossed the river was so difficult. In the Highlands and the borderlands between Quel Thalas and the human lands the trolls used the mountains to avoid detection. The density of these woods was very similar. Worse, beyond the woods were the vast jungles of Stranglethorn Vale. If the trolls reached those nothing short of a miracle would find them.

Archmage Azora’s student proved very quickly that he knew what he was doing. It only took the man an hour to pick up the trolls trail. Barely a day into their search they had discovered fresh tracks. Instead of looking for more physical clues, like Ristinova’s men had been, the mage would draw a circle of energy and point it in different directions.

He was a tall man with brown hair who looked more like a soldier than a magi. He was also very quiet, and was all business since joining the search. Dale wondered if he was just being anti-social or needed to concentrate on what he was doing. In his few conversations he was so matter of fact that Dale could hear the stiffness.

“Magic is based on many elements lady Elwynn. Troll magic may seem like mysticism but it is based on solid principles. The cultural differences in magic between the different races of our world are only cosmetic at best. As magic leaves traces, if one has studied the right principles, it is possible to be tracked.

This assumes of course that those employing magic are not aware they are being tracked; or else they would take measures to hide their trail. Fortunately those we are following have not been concealing their use of magic. If they continue to use their arts to obscure their path I should be able to track them to their location.”

“Can you tell how many of them are in this band?”

“Not with certainty, my lady. Though I would surmise that they only have two magi among their ranks. A shaman and a witch doctor is my best speculation.”

Dale had fought troll magi before. They varied in skill and power just as much as human magic users. Most tended to focus on nature based magic instead of the other worldly spells of the High Elves. Trolls preferred subtly, as a general rule, and their magic reflected that. Though not as flamboyant as the High Elves they were no doubt effective as combat magic. Dale’s cousin, Eric, had been killed when a troll witch doctor had led him though a thorn bush that had been poisoned.

But despite that veil of subtly troll magic did have a significant flaw, in Dale’s opinion. It lacked power. While there were always exceptions troll magi were generally not as strong the average High Elf or the average human. Dale had witnessed a duel between a young human magi and a young troll magi that ended with the human catching a thrown fire ball and throwing it back at the troll. So while the trolls had two magi and his party had one it wasn’t a glaring advantage.

The bigger question was how many troll warriors were with them. War bands tended to vary in size from twelve to more than a hundred. Trolls were excellent fighters and had an ability, that Dale didn’t understand very well, which allowed them to heal very quickly. Stories about trolls having been cut to ribbons only to heal in moments were very common. However, there were certain things that Trolls couldn’t heal from; or at least not quickly enough to survive. A direct strike to vital organs or severing the head would kill a troll as surely as a human. Also, fire was especially effective against trolls; Dale had never been able to figure out why. But as a result, no matter if it were natural or magical, it was an effective weapon.

And as for the numbers. Tracking a war band with over a hundred riders worked well in Elwynn forest, where the woods offered enough room to maneuver such a force. But across the Nefretti river it was simply not practical. So Ristinova sent the majority of her people to continue sweeping the forest, in case their mage guide was wrong. Ten of her knights and ten horse archers joined them. Tiber brought a dozen of his people as well; not as well armed, but they had experience fighting trolls. Between those people and Dale, Salir, Tiber, Ristinova, and their mage guide the tracking party could handle a war band, regardless of size.

The searchers were making good time. At a few times they saw why the trolls trail was so difficult to spot. Their guide held up a hand to call a halt. And he pointed to a bush that seemed to straighten itself, broken leafs repaired themselves, and bent blades of grass healed before their eyes. The mage rode his horse slightly ahead and used his staff to push the bushes aside. Just enough to show a rabbit hole.

“This hole looks like something innocuous,” the mage told them. “In reality it was made by a shamans totem. The totem set a current of energy in motion that covers the trail of the one who set it.”

“Impressive,” Erin, who was doing a good job of being quiet and unnoticeable, spoke up.

“Not really,” a haughty note was in the mages voice. “It is very simple magic.”

“Simple does not mean ineffective,” Tiber told him. “And with something like this I can see why the Trolls are able to slip past us at times.”

“If we are seeing the magic at work, does that mean we are getting closer?” Ristinova’s demanding tone growled; not unlike the lion emblazoned on her shoulder guard.

“Yes,” the mage looked up, attempting to find a gap in the tree cover. Eventually his eyes spied an opening and he directed everyone’s attention to the scene beyond it. “That large hill. It is likely they have made their camp there.”

Dale agreed. Troll war bands would establish a base camp from which to send out raiding parties. The raiding parties would gather plunder or captives at the camp and once enough was gathered the war band would depart for more secure land.

The searchers dismounted, leaving their horses with two of Ristinova’s knights, and proceeded quickly and cautiously up the hill. Night was falling, which made the darkened woods even more eerie, and gave them significantly more cover. As they made their way through the trees and shrubs Dale spied a clear sign they had discovered their query; sentries.

Tall, hunch backed, and a dark green blue in color stood a pair of trolls scanning the woods. Their tusks had brightly colored jungle bird feathers tied to them; a brilliant red. They carried spears with bows and arrows slung onto their backs.

Tiber knelt next to Dale and gave a silent nod to a pair of his men. The two of them disappeared through the forest. Moments later, both trolls were pulled into the shrubbery. A muffled scream latter and Tiber’s men emerged.

The group continued. As they climbed the hill the sounds of a camp were becoming clearer. Loud laughter, combined with songs, were echoing through the trees. Passing a large oak Dale got his first look at the camp. It was settled into a cleared space, which allowed the starry night to shine on it. There were small camp fires spread throughout the area. Gathered around each were groups of cheering trolls who were celebrating their spoils and dancing in the moon light. In the center of the clearing, in a large bone made cage, were several dozen people. Most were huddled together, clearly terrified of what their fates might be.

And rightly so, Dale thought. He had once asked a veteran troll hunter why the trolls took only adults and left any children behind when they raided settlements; hoping it was because the trolls had some morals about harming kids. Turned out the answer was more practical than moral. In blood sacrifices, the more blood the better. And adults had more blood to offer. Something the orphans in Stormwind were better off not knowing.
Ristinova and Tiber gazed at the camp; a studious look on their faces. They took in every detail, from the numbers of the trolls, to the distance between the fires. Several minutes latter Risti turned to their mage guide.

“I would know your name, magi.”

“Nicodemus Aran.”

“Well, Nicodemus Aran,” Ristinova gave him a strong pat on the back, “you just helped to save innocent people.” She held his gaze with a look of approval before turning to Tiber. “You have more experience with open combat. Call the shot.”

Tiber motioned for everyone to gather round as he set a plan in motion; using his dagger to draw the encampment. “Ristinova’s knights will go in first at the center, with their armor they can call attention without risking their lives. I want some archers in those trees on both sides of the clearing, pick off stragglers and leaders as you see fit. I’ll lead a group from the left. Ristinova from the right. Dale, Salir, and Erin will go in from behind, protect the captives until this is over. Nicodemus, find those magi. If you need help with either of them give us a shout and we will be there. Everyone understand?”

A series of nods and acknowledgments followed.

“Lets get to work then.” Tiber turned to the leader of Risti’s knights. “Give everyone five minutes to get into position, then move in.”

The group spilt up. Dale, Salir, and Erin kept low at the edge of the clearing. Having spied an old, broken, elm tree Dale made his way there. Hiding behind it the prince started a silent count down while keeping an eye on the camp. The trolls keep clear of their captives; more interested in their celebration than those they viewed as lesser creatures.
There was one exception. A larger than average troll, with his back to Dale, stared at the captives. This troll wore robes of a dark color, that Dale thought might be dried blood, and held a staff in his hands that he absent mindedly turned. From time to time the troll would point the staff at a captive, who gave a shriek as if the staff had struck them.

Five minutes later, the knights attacked. The trolls nearest them were cleaved and smashed by heavy swords and hammers before any had a chance to react. The rest of the camp, exploded with activity as the other trolls realized something was wrong. Knights on foot were too heavy to move quickly. But as one troll learned, when its axe head shattered against a knights plate armor, speed was not their goal tonight.

One of the trolls, wearing an elaborate headdress called out to his fellows in Zandalar. Only to drop to the ground, an arrow through his skull, a moment later. As more trolls fell to the hidden archers Tiber and Ristinova charged from the sides. Ristinova cut down a foe that was twice her size and Tiber fought three opponents at once; two already lay at his feet.

With battle engaged some of the trolls rallied to the staff wielding troll before the cage. Dale and Salir threw themselves from around their broken tree. Salir caught two trolls by surprise, a sweep from his sword sent their heads flying. Dale cut and slashed his way through four, not pausing to see them hit the ground, to reach the dark robed one. A burst of light and a sting of pain across Dale’s cheek told him what Dale had suspected; this troll was a magi.

A totem had placed in front of the troll and from it lightning appeared to surround its shaman. The trolls red eyes narrowed as he directed another burst of energy at the prince. Dale did not pause. Instead of dodging the lightning, Dale caught it on his sword and swung away from himself. The lightning glanced of the enchanted steel and struck another troll; who fell to the ground smoking.

The shaman was surprised but, to his credit, he did not panic. He set another totem, this one seemed to conjure the image of a wolf which charged Dale. The prince slashed at the ghostly wolf, which jumped to avoid the blade. But Dale then spun upwards cutting through the wolf which howled weakly before disappearing.

“Azerothi,” the shaman said taking a step back.

Dale, didn’t know what that meant. And he didn’t care. Completing his spin Dale cut down the two totems and swept up with his sword. Sunheart sliced the shaman vertically in half; the two pieces falling to the ground in a bloody mess.

Having a brief respite Dale surveyed the clearing. It was almost over. Only a small group of trolls fighting the knights remained. Salir had gone to join the carnage. He hacked off a trolls arms and legs before finishing it off. The young Trollbane had a name to live up to. But as he started to dismember another victim Tiber called out for him to stop. Salir continued without seeming to hear and as he was about to carve up another, this time cringing, troll Tiber caught his sword arm.

“I said that’s enough.” Tiber didn’t balk at the look on Salir’s face but at least one of Ristinova’s knights took a step back. “We don’t kill like that.”

“Not polite enough for you,” Salir growled. “They’re trolls. They earned it.”

Before either of them could continue, the cringing troll lunged forward, throwing axe in hand. He stopped before he got to either of the arguing humans. The point of a saber piercing his chest. Ristinova kicked the troll off her sword and glared at the both of them.

“You can be much too soft at times, Tiber. And you, Salir. Now we have no one left to interrogate. Which means we have no way of knowing if this was all of them or not.”

“It was all of them,” Nicodemus walked around the smoldering crater that was a witch doctor. “At least, all of the ones who relied on magic to avoid detection. I scanned the surrounding area and all traces lead to here rather than away.”

Breathing a sigh of relief Ristinova sheathed her sword. “Are the captives alright?”

“Safe and sound sir,” Erin had already opened the doors and was leading several people out by the hand.

“It’s ma’am not sir,” Ristinova growled.

“Of course sir, ma’am,” Erin said in her ackward tone. “Um, ma’am sir?”

“What?” Risti’s growl was a little louder now.

“You’ll want to see this.”

Dale joined Ristinova and Tiber as they came to the cage. Sitting away from the others were three trolls. By the dark bluish skin and the smaller stature Dale thought they might be of a different tribe. Two young males slouched beside a female whose head was held high. Her smaller tusks twitched a little, something Dale thought might be a nervous habit.

“Erin,” Tiber called, “You speak a few troll dialects. Can you ask if she speaks our common tongue?”

“Sure,” the young woman dressed like a cleric knelt in front of the troll. “Do you speak the human common tongue?”

“Yes.”

“She does.”

“Thank you so much,” Tiber grimaced.

“What is your name,” Ristinova pushed past Erin, forcing the younger woman to go out the cage.

“Zel Tabrim, of the Dark Spear tribe,” her voice carried a nobility to it that reminded Dale of the Strom courtiers. The ones who weren’t worthless.

“And why are you here?”

“My tribe been da enemy of the Gurubashi fer years now. We bein seen as weak caus we do not bow ta der blood god. We Darkspear honor da Loa and seek der guidance. But we bow ta no one.”

Ristinova gave the troll a nod of respect. The troll returned it. Two birds of a feather, Dale thought.

“Do you know why the Gurubashi are gathering captives now,” Tiber asked. “They usually wait until the end of summer or the start of winter.”

“I do not,” Zel Tabrim told him. “Der bein a rumor tho. There be somethin at work in da North. Somethin bad. The Gurubashi be likely wantin ta prepare fer it by gathering power.”

Tiber and Ristinova looked to get other. A silent agreement passing between them. An agreement that Dale could guess; and one that he approved. Tiber reached forward and undid the bindings on Zel Tabrim’s hands and feet, the same for her kin.

The troll looked up, shocked at being released. “What ya be doin?”

“You are free to leave and return to your tribe,” Tiber said as he moved aside to let them pass.

“What?” Dale had expected Salir to be the one to shout that. Instead it was one of the other captives. A tall man with dark hair who glared at Tiber. He was much better dressed than the other captives; a clear sign he was not a villager or peasant. Most of them were looking at him as though he were either crazy or stupid. “You can’t seriously think to let that inhuman thing go?”

“To my knowledge the Darkspear tribe have never attacked humans unprovoked,” Tiber told him patiently. “Why would we hurt them if we have no quarrel with them?”

“They are not human and therefore worthless,” the dark haired man spat at Zel Tabrim’s feet.

And promptly reeled when Ristinova back handed him across the face. “Let me guess. Scarlet Covenant? Tyr’s Blade? Wurmbane Order? Which group of bigots do you belong to?”

“The Wurmbane,” the man wiped the blood from his lip but was wise enough not to pick a fight.

“Of course,” Tiber said with a snort. “A bunch of idiots who like to pick fights with dragons who are just minding their own business. What’s wrong, ran out of witches to burn so you came down here to look for trolls?”

When the dark haired man didn’t say anything Ristinova spoke up again. “You people are free to travel our lands of course. But if I hear of you attempting to burn someone because you suspect them of being a dragon I will drag you to Stormwind and throw you on the slowest boat to Stratholme I can find.”

“Only the Strom royalty can deny us the right to our holy mission.”

“That would be me,” Dale spoke up. The eyes of the captives became very wide when they saw the prince. And even wider when he held out his sword with its emblem of the Strom royal family for all to see. “And I don’t give a damn what Troyic lets you guys do in Stratholme and Lordaeron. Here you answer to the leaders of the land and they have just told you not to harass their people.” Dale turned to Zel Tabrim, who held his gaze without fear. “I wish you and your tribe good fortune.”

Zel Tabrim gave him a bow and then she and her kin disappeared into the forest. Salir did not seem happy about letting them go, but he didn’t question Dale. He was also busy untying a dwarf, who had also been gaged. Once the rag was out of the dwarf’s mouth his first question, “Anyone got something to drink?”

Tiber took a flask off his belt and tossed it to the dwarf. The dwarf took a long swig and nodded his approval.

“Westwind Logger, about eight years old?”

“Seven,” Tiber corrected. “But your palate might have been messed up by the rag.”

“Aye,” the dwarf took another long drink and then handed it to Salir. “Best thing after an argument lad, share a drink and move on.”

Salir took the flask and gave Tiber nod, which the lord returned, taking a quick drink. He then tossed the flask back to Tiber.

“Forin Silverbeard, a mason from Ironforge. I was on my way to Northern Redridge when those bastards nabbed me. I had a satchel with me, it wouldn’t happen to be about would it?”

There were a few large piles of pilfered goods laying about the camp. After startling a nest of ravens someone found Forin’s bag. It was a heavy case with plans sticking out of it. The dwarf took his case and rummaged through it for a moment. When he looked back up he drew a large bottle from its depths and immediately handed it to the man who found his case.

“Thunderbrew, you’ll be hard pressed to find better ale. Take a drink and pass it around lad.”

“Very generous sir,” Ristinova said after she took a drink.

“Least I could for your saving our lives,” Forin told her and went to help undo the ropes on a few other captives; notably avoiding the Wurmbane member. “I have some good connections in Ironforge, me lady. If any of you need a new merchant to the Bronzbeard clan I’ll be happy to act for you.”

“There is something you could do sir,” Tiber told him. “The Dark Iron clan has been suspiciously quiet for the past few years. If you could ask why they’ve stopped raiding us we would appreciate it.”

“Gladly me lord.”

With it being dangerous for the civilians to travel through the thick woods at night they made camp in the clearing. Aside from the ravens flitting in and out of the trees it was a restful night. At daybreak they made their way back across the river. Ristinova sent some of her people escort some of the people to their more distant homes including Forin. Most went with Dale and the others to Stormwind, after all they had some celebrating to do.

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Summons from Masters

A group of magi caused an explosion overhead. It created a bright red and blue flower in the sky that expanded out. As it grew the flower became a fiery brilliance that caused the on looking townspeople to gasp and cheer. Archmage Azora had gathered his students to give a demonstration of their magic as something other than combat. The result was a display that proved very popular.

As a child Dale had been to Dalaran. At the end of every week a group of students from the academy would have a friendly competition to see who could put on a better show. The magi would illuminate the sky with so much energy that it could be seen for miles away from the city. Compared to that, this was a much smaller scale. On the other hand the smaller scale made it so people could actually see the images the magi were sending into the sky. And for the orphans who watching with Dale, picking out the different patterns was proving to be a lot of fun.

“Is that a dragon?”

“No, that’s a gryphon.”

“But don’t gryphons look like lions?”

“Sort of. I think. What you do you think Kira?”

Kira smiled at the young girl. “Well it was certainly not a dragon. Dragon’s do not have a lions a tail. So I think it was a gryphon.”

Stormwind’s park offered a great place to watch the fireworks and most of the town had come out to watch. The orphans who usually lived there were happy to have the company. Dale learned that because of how busy most of the people in town were most didn’t give the orphans any time. A few notable exceptions to that were the bartenders from the Pig and Whistle, one of them was giving a young boy a better view of the show from his shoulders. Also, and Dale was surprised at this, the waitresses from the Blue Recluse were giving a small display of their own, by creating birds and butterflies out of light to dance around the kids.

The townspeople were more than happy to bring enough food and drink for all present. Aside from a couple of boys who tried to sneak some mead, it was a night without any problems. Though there was one person Dale made sure to keep an eye on.

“Is everything ok,” Kira asked Dale. Momentarily distracted by her face illuminated by the light show the prince took a moment to answer. After he shook the distraction off Dale inclined his head.

The matron followed the direction away from most of the crowd. The captives who had been rescued were for the most part joining in the party. There was one exception. He stood with a group of seedier looking people who were in a hushed discussion. Dale learned the dark haired man’s name was Arden Rovren a senior member of the Wyrmbane Order.

The Wyrmbane were one of the leading groups supporting Dale’s cousin Troyic. And the group Dale disliked the most. They were zealots who firmly believed that humanity was superior to every other piece of the Light’s creation. And that any creatures that might interfere with humanities rise must be eliminated. As the dragons were thought to often interfere in mortal affairs they were seen by the order has humanities greatest threat.

Which held some truth to it, Dale thought. He had met a few dragons. Most of them, regardless of which flight, believed that the human race was advancing to quickly for their own good. And in terms of power dragons were, well, dragons. If one of the flights as a whole, or even in part, decided that humanity was over stepping its bounds they would and could slaughter the human race in short order.

But the methods the Wyrmbane employed were despicable. They would search through towns and villages, hunting for those they suspected of being dragons or aligned with dragons. Those they suspected were interrogated, tortured, and then burned before a crowd at either Stratholme or Andorhal, usually to cheering crowds of their supporters. What made matters worse, it was a rare event for them to actually find a real dragon. In other words the majority of those the Wyrmbane accused and killed were just villagers and farmers who were attempting to live their lives.

They were based out of the cities of Stratholme and Lordaeron and held authority over a very large amount of territory in the Northern reaches of the Empire. When they first began to emerge the Wyrmbane didn’t dare to accuse someone outside of their sphere of influence; let alone try to harm them. As the Emperor’s health began to falter and their power increased they have begun to reach out to other territories.

And that had caused some problems. The lords and nobles who governed the lands the Wyrmbane entered took their role of protecting their people very seriously. The Wyrmbane had to tread lightly or risk being driven out. At one point a Wyrmbane inquisitor attempted to arrest some people near Gilneas called Harvest Witches on suspicion of being dragon aligned; he actually tried to drag some people away in chains. Harold Greymane, the leading nobleman of Gilneas, not only prevented the Wyrmbane from taking the witches but arrested and executed several inquisitors for harming his people. The Emperor had been able to calm the situation but it nearly started a war between the cities Gilneas and Lordaeron.

Since that incident the Wyrmbane and the other two groups, the Scarlet Covenant and the Tyr’s Blade, made travel through their territory very difficult for those they considered outsiders. Kul Tiras nearly canceled all of its trade shipments to Lordaeron in protest over the raised tariffs and inspections their crews endured. They only continued because Emperor Pillis asked the merchant guilds to. Out of respect and in the hopes that the situation might get better the merchants who ruled Kul Tiras continued with business as usual. But they made it very clear that if the situation got worse they would not be so understanding again.

The increasing persecution and hostility in the North was leading more people to move to the Southern colonies. It was the reason why the Wyrnn and the Elwynn were becoming so powerful, they could offer protection and a place to live to those who came. There was even a discussion about building Stormwind into a major city. Kul Tiras certainly supported it; Dale had been in the room when their Grand Admiral aggressively proposed massive renovations for the small fishing port. Troyic argued against it, saying that the cities of Lordaeron and Stratholme held much larger populations that could benefit from any major projects. The Emperor offered a compromise, if Kul Tiras could prove that the trade being sent from the Southern kingdoms was worth the expense than he would approve the project.

Dale didn’t understand most of the details, but he was good at observing results. And the Grand Admiral turned out to be right. In addition to the gold, lumber, and food stuffs that were being sent North trade with the dwarves and gnomes had tripled since Stormwind began to get more attention. Food and goods were cheaper. And the land here, Dale thought as he looked around. Even at night it was a beautiful place; a good place to build a future.

Salir waved to Dale from the other side of the park garden. The prince gave Kira and her charges a bow before trudging over. Salir wanted Dale to get some rest for the next day. And, Dale knew, he would probably need it.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
“That’s a blasted lie!”

“You’re the liar!”

The back and forth between the vassals of the Elwynn and the Wyrnn had gone on for the last hour without a break. Well, Dale thought as he leaned on his arm, at least they gave him a few minutes to speak about the how a school for the arcane would be a good thing. While the rescue attempt was being made, Archbishop Romani had sent summons to the leading vassals among the two families. It was hoped, Dale assumed, that they could agree on how to deal with the situation if they were brought together.

The reality was slightly different….

They held their meeting in the town hall in the largest room. It had only taken one misconstrued comment to provoke a pissing contest. Dale had brought up how the Elwynn had not been as anxious to build such a school, which was true. But one of the Wyrnn’s vassals, Fordragon Dale thought his name was, gave a burst of derisive laughter and a haughty response that caused one of the Elwynn’s supporters, Lescovar Dale had heard him called through the shouting, to lash out and claim that the Wyrnn wanted to spread the arcane throughout the entire forest. The prince wasn’t sure how to handle the argument and decided to just let the two men hash it out. But as the debate had turned progressively less constructive and more hostile that didn’t seem to have been the best course of action.

At Tiber’s insistence Dale had donned a tabard with the seal of the royal family. A rune set in gold against a blue background. The rune had an ancient meaning that dated back to humanities early days. The Arathi tribe had taken the rune and its meaning as their emblem and carried it throughout the rest of the human race. Its presence was usually something that would inspire hope and calm. As the voices rose to a higher pitch, it didn’t seem to be helping.

“ENOUGH!!!”

Salir’s bellow shook the building and ended the shouting match. All eyes including Dale’s watched as his friend unsheathed his sword and placed it point first into the wooden floor. The royal guardsman stood to his considerable height and gave the prince a nod. Dale appreciated the effort, and stood up as well.

“Look, whatever disagreements both sides have no one will get anywhere if no one will listen. Ristinova Elwynn asked for proof that the benefits of building a school for the arcane could outweigh the risks. One magi was able to help rescue more than a hundred captives and eliminate a large troll raiding camp. What other concerns do the Elwynn have concerning this school?”

Lescovar was almost as tall and imposing looking as Salir. He had a red face and wore the heavy armor of a knight covered by the Elwynn’s green tabard. A fur lined cloak draped his shoulders giving the prince the impression that this was someone who enjoyed the finer things in life. He stood from his seat, clearly the spokesman for the Elwynn, since Risti was staying out of it at the Archbishops request.

“We do not deny that the result of your expedition were impressive your highness. But we must also look to the future. Many of us were once taken as slaves by the Gurubashi trolls or the Dark Iron clan dwarves. We have seen what too much reliance on arcane magic can do to a people. The trolls have used magic to rip apart the spirits of living beings. The Dark Iron dwarves regularly use magic that scars the land. Their magic’s corrupt the animals, making them larger and more viscous. Or worse, they summon foul beings not meant for this world.”

Dale listened, while keeping an eye on the Wyrnn vassals. Many of them looked as though they wanted to speak out, but Salir was an intimidating enough presence that they kept their mouths closed this time around.

“So while we acknowledge that the arcane can be useful, it is also dangerous for its influence to spread too far.”

The prince nodded. It was a reasonable concern after all. Fortunately Dale thought as he looked to the opposite side of the square room, there was a means to address some of those concerns. Archmage Azora sat in silence, waiting patiently beside Tiber Wyrnn. On Tiber’s left sat Romani. And next to him, clearly straining from the effort not to bite at certain people in the room, was Risti. But she would have to wait her turn, Dale thought suppressing a smile.

“Archmage? What do you intend to do with this arcane school? It might help ease some tension if you tell the Elwynn what you have planned?

“Of course,” the elderly man stood by pushing himself up with a staff. He addressed the Elwynn vassals with a firm and respectful tone. “First, let me assure all of you that I have no intension of casually spreading knowledge of arcane magic. A central purpose of this school will be to select those who have the aptitude to wield the arcane and the wisdom to control it. My order, the Conjurors, choose to leave Dalaran because we felt that their use of magic was far too reckless. Magic is a tool. A powerful tool that must not be abused or it will lead to ruin. Building a school to impart that discipline along with the knowledge is the most important goal I have in mind.”

His words had an effect. Most of the Elwynn vassals seemed satisfied. Lescovar was also pleased by what he heard but he pressed for more details.

“You speak as though you have additional goals in mind for this school? What are they?”

The Archmage cleared his throat. “Another goal is to study the magic wielded by the Gurubashi and the Dark Iron clan. Both are relatively unknown by humanity and thus a potential threat. If we can understand what they are capable of then we can prepare to confront them if we must. A third and final goal that I have is to study this land. A current of magic runs through the woods and I am curious to learn more of it.”

“Maybe they can even find that lion of yours,” one of the Wyrnn blurted out.

Lescovar and the Elwynn vassals were about to retort when a sound ripped through the room. The walls reverberated and the glass windows creaked. Dale had heard lion roars near Alterac. This one made those seem weak by comparison.

“It seems someone didn’t appreciate the comment,” the Archbishop said with a smile. The Elwynn vassals were close to laughter from the startled looks on the Wyrnn supporters faces. Fordragon however was of much sterner stuff. He was a fairly short man with dark brown hair but had a powerful build that was for work instead of show.

“All due respect Archbishop, but the wind has caused much louder bursts than that in this town. And there has never been proof that a lion lives anywhere in forest.”

“Relying on faith is my business Joseph. One does not need proof to believe something. The Light reveals its presence in ways that are barely understood. From the rays of the sun to the shine of the stars and the glow of the moon. It shows itself to those who need it and in the form they need it most. The lion who dwells in the Elwynn’s forest is another of those ways. Azerothi may not show himself often but he still makes himself known when he wishes to appear.”

“Azer what,” Dale asked.

“It’s the troll name for the lion of the woods your majesty. We have no other name for him, if he has one” Lescovar told the prince with a shrug.

“Ah, one of the trolls we fought said Azerothi when we fought.”

Lescovar and Ristinova’s vassals did not seem surprised. “The Gurubashi trolls have been afraid of Azerothi since ancient times. Supposedly, the trolls once attempted to settle north of Stranglethorn Vale but the lion drove them out when they made slaves and sacrifices of others. They have been too afraid to settle the woods since. It’s said that the Gurubashi sometimes see the lion in the eyes of their foes.”

Dale still wasn’t sure he believed the stories about this lion or not. But the Elwynn believed it. And it seemed the trolls did as well. The Wyrnn on the other hand…

“Look, this talk about some mystical power is charming,” Joseph Fordragon stood to address the Elwynn vassals. “But it is distracting from the matter at hand. Do you still have reservations with the Archmage building a school?”

Lescovar was scowling at Fordragon. He turned to look to his fellows. Each of the Elwynn vassals gave a silent nod. “We have heard what we wanted to hear regarding the school. And Lady Elwynn has already given her support. We will not oppose its construction. And we will support Archmage Azora’s work.”

“Great,” Dale exclaimed. “That settles that then.” He was very happy to have the chance to leave and started for the door.

“As long as the leaders of the Elwynn and the Wyrnn are in the same room,” Archbishop Romani called to the prince, “perhaps this would be a good opportunity to discuss and settle other issues?”

Reluctantly the prince turned around. The looks on the faces of Lescovar, Fordragon, and the rest of the gathered vassals was a mixture of amusement and consternation with Dale’s behavior. The Archbishop’s face was a mask of polite interest; which Dale knew hid a thunderous laugh. The meeting continued for another hour with things like trade routes, road construction, and planning for settlements being brought up. As a Wyrnn vassal finished speaking about the need for a large garrison to defend settlements around the Dagger Hills Clint Lothar walked in, followed by a slim man wearing a Kul Tiras tabard.

“I apologize for the interruption my lords,” Clint told them, “but an urgent matter has come up.”

On cue the man from Kul Tiras stepped forward; his eyes sweeping until they reached Dale. “Your majesty, I’m afraid I am not the bearer of good news. Your uncle the Emperor’s health has taken a turn for the worse. Quel Thalas has sent the best healers they have. But sadly they have merely confirmed what our own already knew. He does not have much time left.”

Dale felt as if he had been hit in the chest with a boulder. His uncle had been there for him since his parents had died. Of Dale’s large extended family the old man had been the one who always cared about him. Always taking time out of holding the human race together to help Dale with a problem; anything from fighting a monster in a closet to cheering him up when a friend or relative passed away.

As the prince looked around the room it was clear he wasn’t the only one who felt the impending loss. Emperor Pillis had reined for eighty years. His rule saw the life expectancy of the human race increase from twenty five to fifty. Aside from the occasional skirmish or raiding party the Arathi Empire had been at peace. Dale’s uncle had kept humanity from tearing itself apart often through sheer force of personality. News that he was going to leave the world had a shattering effect on the entire room.

“There is more your highness,” the messengers voice echoed in the silence. “Your uncle asks that you return to Strom as soon as possible.”

Dale looked around the room. “I ah,” he stuttered, “I am glad that things are better between those involved. But, I, need to leave. Leave and…”

“We completely understand,” Fordragon spared him the awkward speech he was attempting to put together.

“Of course,” Lescovar added. “Your duty to your family must take precedence.”

Dale gave both of them a quick bow and left the room. He and Salir stopped briefly at the inn to get their packs and then rushed to the docks. The young prince had planned to look around the town more. Say good bye to Kira and the orphans. But his mind kept going to back to his uncle. He knew some people might think Dale was being summoned home by a master to take over for him. The prince knew better. His uncle wanted to see his family before he died.
A Kul Tiras galley was anchored away from the port; the enormous ship wouldn’t fit at any of the docks. A row boat stood at the ready waiting for Dale and Salir. His friend was already in the boat, already looking a bit green. Beside the boat was Tiber, Risti, and Archbishop Romani. Lord Wyrnn extended a hand that Dale grasped.

“I guess the next time I see you I’ll need to bow.”

“Maybe,” Dale said as he let go. That little reality hadn’t occurred to him yet. And the prince wasn’t very comfortable with it.

“Don’t worry. I won’t be bowing to you no matter what happens,” Ristinova’s rough tone made Dale smile.

“Nice to know I’ll have a loyal opposition if I become emperor.”

Lady Elwynn’s face broke into a rare smile. “Give me a break Dale. I used to babysit for you remember?”

“I remember those two children,” the Archbishop’s voice seemed a bit older than usual, but still held its good humor. “They were wonderful. And they’ve both grown into fine people.”
The older man grasped Dale’s shoulder. Romani’s eyes sparkled as he smiled at Dale’s face.

“May the Light guide your way my friend. In all the empty places where you must walk.”

Dale gave the old man a hug before boarding the row boat. And setting out to tell a good man good bye.
………………………………………………………………
The ravens around the cleared hill shrieked after being disturbed. A group of people trouped through the ruined camp. One made a point to kick the burned remains of a tent out of his way. The mood among them was foul to say the least.

“We gave them one assignment. Just one. And they couldn’t even carry it out.”

“Well, they are an inferior people. We shouldn’t have expected much from them.”

“But now our plans….”

“Remain the same.” The voice that spoke carried a power that cowed the others. They turned to the figure who sat by a darkened tree stump. He was playing catch with a troll throwing axe. His eyes burned in the dark, starless, night.

“We have searched for thousands of years. And our clues have lead us here. The Gurubashi served their purpose. They confirmed what we wished to know. Now we will act on that ourselves. Which is why I have called you and the others here.”

Another figure cloaked by the night spoke. “What of the humans? Should we simply slaughter them?”

“Why bother? They’ll destroy themselves soon enough.” Another of the assemblage said; receiving a group dire laughter.

“I have my own plans for the humans that live in the lions forest,” declared the master. “Some of you should accompany me in this. It will be amusing.”

“But what of the lions roar,” spoke yet another. “It could destroy us.”

The master caught the throwing axe once again. And it burst into flames at his touch. The masters eyes focused on the one who had last spoken. He shrank away from the gaze in despair and terror.

“Have you forgotten who I am? And what I am capable of? I could rip this world asunder if I wished. I possess powers that would make all but the truly mighty quake in fear. To suggest that a mere woodland creature is a match for me is insulting.”

The clearing became very quiet. The one who had insulted the master fell to their knees, their head bowed. The ashes from the burned axe fell to the earth; a soft sizzle the only sound to be heard. Finally the master stood. His presence made the silhouettes of the other shrink.

“As we have not gathered in many years I am willing to tolerate a certain degree of insubordination. As long as it is not repeated.”

The cowering minion nodded quickly then stood back up. The master turned away from the group to look down from the hill. His gaze went to the many settlements scattered throughout the woods. Bit small, he thought with a wicked grin, but they will still make good targets. And they will still burn.

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter Seven: Strom

The journey from Stormwind was uneventful. Aside from Salir losing his lunch when the ships chef served fish, not much happened. This was good in that they had a smooth voyage. And bad in that Dale had nothing to distract him from what was waiting for him. It wasn’t exactly fun to lie in his hammock and stare at the ceiling with his head clouded.

Dale had lost members of his family before. Sadly he had lost so many that he had become used to it. But the emperor, Dale’s uncle, had always been the constant. When his parents died his uncle put off a meeting with the kings of Silvermoon and Ironforge in order to stay with Dale. The prince wasn’t sure how to deal with losing someone who had been so close.

Then there was the reality of what else the emperor’s death meant. In other words the issue of who would replace him on the throne. Troyic was the logical choice Dale thought. In addition to being older Troyic was also smarter. The younger prince had only met his cousin a few times in his life. The elder prince had been charged with protecting the rapidly growing regions around Lordamere Lake and the Andorhal Valley. The first thing he did was launch a campaign to drive the remaining troll tribes from the area.

While an overwhelming success from a military stand point the campaign, called the Tyr’s Hand offensive, had caused many of the leaders among the Arathi Empire to be nervous. Troyic had done more than just defeat the trolls warriors. He killed every man, woman, and child he found among those tribes and raised their villages to the ground. The survivors had fled to the vast hinterlands and to Zul Aman for protection. More than one leader among the Arathi had condemned what Troyic had done; including the Emperor and Arch Bishop Romani. But the elder prince had his supporters.

Those supporters included more than just the xenophobic and zealous Wyrmbane. There was also the Tyr’s Blade. They were a group of elite knights who were considered on par with the Strom Guard. Whether they agreed with Troyic’s politics or not the elder prince was their leader and they would go where he told them. The other group, in fact the largest of the three that supported him, was the Scarlet Covenant. Based out of the Scarlet Monastery they were a missionary group that spread the teachings of the Holy Light to all who wished to hear of it. The group had grown so large that more than half of all humans on the continent of Lordaeron were a member.

Considering the size of the Covenant Dale doubted that all of them supported Troyic. But their leaders, who wanted to increase their political power more than spread their faith, certainly supported him. Their Grand Anchorite Vestine had been a candidate for Archbishop who competed with Romani. Vestine had none of Romani’s charisma or way with words, in fact Dale considered his sermons painfully boring. He was a politician, not a clergyman. Romani was both and that was why the church bishops chose him.

‘When trying to learn about someone, look to those they call friend and ally,’ words from a member of Dalaran’s Kirin Tor that Dale had taken to heart long ago. If Troyic’s allies were anything to go by the younger prince could see why Tiber, Ristinova, and so many others were nervous about the older prince becoming Emperor. ‘But when the only choices are Troyic or me,’ Dale thought, “the person they choose shouldn’t be the idiot.”

He had sat in on meetings with the emperor’s court. He had done his best to learn about politics; the art of statecraft and the things that a royal was supposed to understand. But he couldn’t. The place where Dale belonged was in combat following orders; not giving them. He had always been good with a sword. By the time he was six he could spar evenly with members of the Strom Guard. The young prince had even tried his hand at different unarmed forms of combat; he wasn’t bad at them either. But no matter who taught him, or how hard he attempted to learn, he couldn’t get a grasp on politics. Dale couldn’t speak another language. Dale couldn’t even read a book on mathematics without getting a headache; let alone attempt to understand one.

Troyic by comparison could read, write, and think in at least five languages. Dale wouldn’t have been surprised if his cousin had read every book in the Strom, Lordaeron, and Dalaran libraries. And as for his political skills. Troyic had turned the Northern territories from a disorganized mess into a huge, prosperous, and united state now commonly called Lordaeron. But on the other hand, Troyic dealt with dissent in a way that would make the old troll war leaders proud. Any noble or commoner who raised a voice against one of his or the Emperor’s policies was immediately arrested, charged with treason, and executed; usually within the same hour if they lasted that long. He dealt with enemies in only one way; as targets. And he gained allies by letting them do what they wanted or giving them enough power to make them afraid of losing that power.

Dale didn’t know if he could do that. He didn’t know if he wanted to have to do that. The thing the younger prince wished for most was that his other cousins, the emperors children, were still alive. Both because it would mean he wouldn’t have to think about becoming emperor and because it would give him someone he could call family. Someone who wasn’t about to leave this world before him.

It was hard to keep track of time aboard the galley but, distracted by his thoughts as he was, Dale thought the ship made good time. Before he even realized it a crew member had sighted land. The high cliffs of the Arathi Highlands. Soon after that the ship pulled into dock at a bay with a path leading up the cliffs. From the bay Dale and Salir traveled up the path and through a cave tunnel. And there it was.

Strom. The city was not as large as Lordaeron or as elegant as Dalaran or Silvermoon. But it had one thing none of those cities could boast. Strom had an aura of invincibility to it that made every other city of humanity or Elf kind seem like a pale imitation. Its grey walls were fashioned of a stone that a dwarf mason said could withstand the breaking of the world itself. As long as its people remained as strong as its walls, the mason had said, this city will stand forever.

And its people were just as strong as the walls, Dale thought. They were straightforward to the point of being rude. They didn’t care what other people thought of them. And they would fight to the death to defend their friends and allies. A fact the city had proved in its long history during the Troll Wars and the many hundreds of skirmishes with the warbands that followed. The Strom Guard were both the cities defenders and the personal guards of the Emperor. Each and every member was on par with or better than a knight in terms of skill and equipment.

The leaders of the Strom Guard were Salir’s older brother Connor and Ristinova’s older brother Brewden. Brewden was the one who taught Dale how to do more than act on instinct with a sword. The overly silly man, who inherited his fathers love for hard liquors, proved to be one of the best teachers Dale ever had. He taught him the difference between technique and natural talent; and why the two were not equal to each other. Natural talent without technique is useless while technique without natural talent is useful when it comes to swords. A fact Brewden proved by being the first person Dale lost a sword fight to. Luckily they were using sticks at the time and that Brewden was holding back; a lot.

Connor was Brewden’s complete opposite in terms of personality. He was humorless. He wouldn’t touch alcohol. He didn’t teach; you watched him if you wanted to learn. But he had one thing in common with Brewden. Connor was very good at his job. His favored weapon was a spear instead of a sword. And Dale once watched him pierce through five dwarf made shields with one thrust. Connor was the Emperor’s personal body guard and the person who would do anything the Emperor asked of him. If Dale’s uncle was dyeing Connor would be the one he trusted to declare his successor.

Passing through the cities South gate the pair walked through the narrow corridors lined with shops and venders peddling their wares. The Southern end of the city was its market district and its residents happily embraced commerce. The city was not as populated as the larger cities to the North but its design and enclosed atmosphere made the crowds seem larger than they were. In a way it was comforting, Dale thought. Most humans didn’t live in the major cities but in small farming, mining, and lumber communities that were spread out across their lands. Someone might live their entire life and never know there were other people outside of their immediate neighbors. Seeing this many of his people in one place gave Dale a sense of comfort.

The prince and Salir were making their way through the different stalls; they had to take their time moving through the crowded main streets that lead to the cities inner wall. The inner ring of the city included the cities keep and was the home to the Strom Guard and the Emperor. They were walking up the inclined path to one of the inner walls gates when a loud crash drew their attention. Able to look over the crowd and the shops Dale saw that a large cart had been overturned. A group of people wearing armor were laughing at the people who were attempting to pick up their fallen wares. The young prince recognized their tabards as belonging to the Tyr’s Blade; some of Troyic’s supporters.

Abruptly the groups laughter faltered when another, and much better armed group, bearing the red and white tabards of the Strom Guard marched towards them. Dale waded back through the crowded street to find out what was going on; and at the very least attempt to keep the Strom Guard from killing first and not bother to ask questions from the Tyr’s Blade members. It took several minutes but the prince arrived in time to help the cart owner pick up his wares; and to see Troyic and Connor in an argument before their men.

Troyic looked a great deal like Dale (dirty blonde hair, relatively slim but in good physical condition) only taller and the elder prince clearly took better care of his appearance than his younger cousin. Also Troyic had an air about him that, well there was no other word for it, was regal. He wore light mail armor that shined in the afternoon sun and only added to the image that he was a royal. Connor had a hard set appearance that matched his personality. His hair had premature grey through brown. His skin looked like leather and his muscles shown even though he wore heavy plate armor. By far Connor and Troyic’s most defining features were their eyes. Troyic’s were a blue grey mirror that betrayed nothing. Connor’s were a piercing green that could shatter a mountain if he chose.

“My men were out of line,” the elder prince said in a measured and cool voice. “But there is no need to be so aggressive in dealing with them.”

“If they continue to behave like thugs and bullies,” Connor’s voice was a low growl, “the Guard will deal with them however they see fit.”

“This is a minor altercation, nothing more. A simple argument over the price of fruit that got out of hand.”

“Your men make a habit of these simple arguments.” Dale listened to them as he and Salir helped to lift the cart back on its wheels and load it. “Since they have come here there have been a total of twenty seven disruptions within these walls; ranging from refusing to pay for a meal at a restaurant to assaulting citizens who spoke their minds.”

“My people have very strong views. Views they place their honor on to uphold. When those views are challenged they will act. Would you deny them the right to defend their honor?”

“If their honor involves disrupting this city and therefor becoming a threat to the Emperor then their honor is of no concern to me. And I will order the Guard to deal with such matters appropriately.”

Dale looked away from their staring contest to finish helping the cart owners, an old man and his daughter, to fix their wares. Salir winked at the girl, who ignored him but blushed, as he fit the carts gate onto its back.

“Thank you both,” the old man said. “How can I repay you for your trouble?”

Dale picked up two apples from the top of the cart, “May we have these?”

The old man grinned and gave a nod. Dale tossed one to Salir and took a bite out of his own; it was good. The younger prince then walked past the cart and towards the two men who were still glaring at each other. The crowd held its breath as they watched the younger man approach the two lords. Troyic noticed the movement and turned to see his cousin striding towards him.

“So,” Dale said after he swallowed his second bite, “I take it you haven’t housebroken those people behind you?”

“They are unused to having to pay for goods and services.” Troyic’s voice remained measured, but Dale noted a hint of annoyance. Whether that annoyance was directed at the question or Dale’s presence the younger prince could not tell. “In Lordaeron knights are treated with exceptional reverence and are not accustomed to having their honor questioned.”

“They are not in Lordaeron at the moment,” Connor recovered in an instant after seeing Dale. Though the prince spied a look of relief in his eyes. “They and you would do well to remember that.”

Troyic’s eyes flashed with anger but the elder prince regained his composure. He then passed Dale to the fruit cart and took one of the apples. Troyic placed several gold pieces on the cart and walked away; his men following him at a brisk pace. The crowd seemed to give a collective sigh of relief and went back to their business; leaving Dale and Salir to walk away with Connor.

“I take it this wasn’t your first conversation with him,” Dale asked as they walked through the gates to the inner ring of the city.

“Hardly,” Connor had a bitter note to his voice. “Your cousin has been trying my patience since he and his friends arrived in the city a week ago.”

“When did the problems start?”

Connor paused. Then walked up the stairs of a rampart and motioned for Dale to follow him. The view from the city ramparts always gave a great look at the highlands with the Hinterland Mountains in the background. Unfortunately there was a blight on that view not far from the city. A large city of tents that played host to hundreds or thousands of people. And even from a distance Dale could see the residents of those tents were soldiers.

“They say they’ve come to give the Emperor their respect,” Connor told the young prince.
“If they wanted to give him their respect they should have brought food and drink for a dwarf wake. Not an army with siege equipment.”

Sure enough the wind caught one of the larger tents at the right moment giving Dale a glimpse inside. A large catapult fully prepped to fire. Workers outside were hastily tying down the tent flap and being berated by their superiors. In fact most of the troops were just lounging about not making any effort to appear like anything other than a group of thugs.

“Not exactly the most disciplined people,” Connor continued. “Most of them do not dress like soldiers. They do not act like act like soldiers. I don’t understand how Troyic expects them to fight like soldiers. If he assaults the city with that ramble, the Guard will slaughter half of them before they can attempt to make a formation.”

“It could be an act to mislead people,” Salir put in.

His older brother shook his head. “We’ve been keeping a close eye on them since they arrived. Aside from the Tyr’s Blade knights in their ranks they are a pretty pathetic bunch. I think they are here to intimidate; to put on a show for the other nobles if they refuse to accept Troyic as the Emperor’s successor.”

“How is he,” Dale nearly demanded.

The Guard leader seemed taken aback by Dale’s outburst; or maybe the fact that Dale was ignoring the army ready to attack Strom. Regardless Connor lowered his head.
“The Emperor will not be with us much longer. Both our own healers and those of Quel’Thalas agree that he only has a few more days left at most. I’m sorry Dale.”

The younger prince grated his teeth trying to think of something, anything, that could be done to save him. Some magical power. Some legendary healer. But nothing came to mind.

“His time is ending,” Connor told him, guessing his thoughts. “It is something to morn but also to be expected. Our people do not live forever. Nor should we. We create our legacy for those who will come after us. At least,” Connor clenched his fist, “that is what the Emperor told me.”

Dale fought off something in eye and smiled, “yeah that sounds like him. I’d like to see him.”

“And he is eager to see you,” Connor was back to business as usual when he spoke. “Unfortunately his majesty has already gone to sleep for the day; he is in a very delicate state. When he wakes up I will send for you immediately. In the meantime there is the matter of rewarding you for your work in the Southern Colonies.”

“All I did was be in the right place at the right time,” Dale hadn’t expected that. “And I wouldn’t have been able to do anything without help.”

“No you took advantage of a situation and worked with good advice,” Connor told him gruffly. “Your reward has been left for you in your chambers.”

Dale had a room within the Keep. It wasn’t anything elaborate and since he was child he had hardly been there. Making sure to sneak past the chamberlain’s, one in particular, who always tried to get him to look the part of a prince Dale opened the door. Set up on a stand before his bed was a set of articulated plate armor. It was elaborate to the point of making the rest of the room seem brighter. Each piece of the armor from the helmet to boots gleamed as the afternoon sun touched them. The metal was clearly dwarven but there were runes etched into the steel that looked elven.

As the young prince examined the armor he felt both awe and a sense of impending doom. It was a beautiful gift. But he couldn’t help but wonder; just what were people hoping he could do with something like this? And why couldn’t they pick someone else?

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter Eight: Define Wise

The armor was surprisingly light. It felt no different than wearing a normal set of clothing as Dale tried it on. It made the prince wonder if the armor was just for show. On the other hand it was dwarf made so Dale felt he shouldn’t judge too harshly until he actually had to wear it in combat. He tried on the helm last. It completely hid his face from view and Dale had to get used to looking out of the eye slits before he could see clearly. The full set covered him from head to toe. Dale had fought alongside knights before but he had never actually been one or dressed like one; at least until today.

He striped the helmet off with one hand and set it back onto its stand. It was odd for Dale to think of himself as a knight; he never had before. The prince had fought alongside knights before and respected them; but they hadn’t mixed very well. Most of the knights who served the major nobles of the Arathi Empire were so serious and formal about everything; only the Strom Guard could boast being stiffer. And Dale, wasn’t.

As the prince left his room wearing the armor he did his best to get the feel for walking in it. The boots were a little tight but otherwise he didn’t feel any different. He was paying so much attention to the new armor and not enough to his surroundings along the Keep’s hallways. And as a result Dale was discovered by someone he had been avoiding. It wasn’t that Marin Evenwood was a bad person; in fact she was a very gentle person. It was that as the head of the household within the Strom court she made it her mission to make sure everyone in the court looked presentable. Something Dale was reminded of as she snuck up on him with a comb.

“What?”

“Hold still boy your hair is a mess,” Marin was running a comb through his hair before he could react. One of her aids, a maid he hadn’t seen before, with blue black hair was trying not to laugh as the prince protested. The older woman gave the maid a scolding look that silenced the laugh. The maid had a pretty face and she gave the prince a bow before moving out of sight. But Dale could hear her chuckle from one of the nooks in the hallway.

“There,” Marin paused to inspect her work. “My word you actually look like a prince for once in your life.”

“Thanks I guess,” Dale was about to reach up and mess his hair up again; only to have the hand swatted away. Marin gave him a similar scowl that she gave to the maid. ‘Incredible,’ Dale thought, ‘I’m a big guy with a sword at my waist and an older woman with a comb makes me cringe.’ The situation made him smile. “Are you sure you’re not the queen?”

“If I were the queen Dale I assure you that you would never leave this city looking like a vagrant again.”

“Yes mom,” Dale said it under his breath. Though to be honest it wasn’t far from the truth; she was the closest thing to a mother he could remember having.

A loud laugh caught the princes attention. Sitting by a large window look out the west side of the Keep were Salir and Brewden; taking a break from their chess game to laugh at Dale’s appearance. Salir stood up and walked around Dale, taking notes of the princes attire.

“If only those kids at Stormwind could see you now,” Salir was having a hard time not laughing. “I mean come on, Dale, this is a bit ridiculous don’t you think?”

“No kidding,” Brewden was as tall and imposing as his younger sister but had a much gentler voice and demeanor. That didn’t stop him from laughing at one of his students when he thought they deserved it. “When I heard Connor had prepared a suit of armor for you I was expecting something practical. Not a costume. Well I suppose you could always get the enemy to laugh themselves to death.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dale waved the comments, “You’re just jealous because I can see my reflection in my armor and you can’t.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Brewden grinned through his gold beard. “Can you at least move around in it?”

“Sure,” to prove his point Dale leapt up and towards a wall. He pushed off the wall with his knee and launched himself to the vaulted ceiling. The prince pushed off the ceiling and did midair roll before landing on the floor. The maneuver didn’t impress Brewden on its own. But being able to do so in armor caused Ristinova’s older brother to smile in approval.

“Not bad. But how durable is it?”

To answer his own question Brewden drew a claymore from his back and swung at Dale’s chest. Dale hadn’t expected it and was hit dead center. The blow sent Dale fifty feet down the hallway and caused Marin and her aid to come running.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!” Marin’s roar made the guards at different points in the hallway look out of their posts to see what was going on. Seeing the prince on the ground and Brewden alone holding a sword several of them came running; weapons drawn.

“It’s ok,” Dale said as the maid helped him up. In fact Dale had barely felt the blow. Looking at his chest plate there wasn’t even a scratch on it.

“That armor may look like a set piece from a stage company Dale; but it was dwarf made at the great forge.” Brewden had sheathed his sword and offered a hand to lift the prince to his feet. His tone held a rare edge to it; the kind he used when he wanted the prince to take something seriously. “Those runes running over the armor aren’t for show either. A Kirin Tor Archmage imbued that armor with powerful protections; the best Dalaran and Silvermoon could craft with their heads together.”

Dale watched as some of the strange lettering over of the armor caught the light from outside. The words flared red then blue and back to gold as the light touched them. The silver steel of the armor seemed to radiate a light of its own that reflected the light of the sun at twice the brilliance.

“I know you’re not used to wearing armor Dale. But that suit was crafted specifically for you. And you need to learn to respect it.”

Dale gave his teacher a polite bow as the guards returned to their posts. “You don’t need to worry about that Brewden. This will take some getting used to, but I will.”

“I know kid,” Brewden told the young man and made a point to ruffle his hair in front of Marin before walking away.

“Why can’t he take more pride in his appearance like his sister,” the head mistress glared at his back.

“He is who is he,” Dale said with a shrug and a smile. “And you,” Dale turned to Salir with a scowl, “You didn’t think about warning me he was going to do that?”

Salir’s eyes had been lingering on the maid’s low cut dress but he looked at his friend with a smirk. “He wanted your reaction to be caught off guard Dale. If I had done anything it would have tipped you off and you would have fought back.”

“Light damned right I would have fought back,” Dale growled, “do you have any idea how many scars I have from training with him?”

“Each and every one of them taught you something young prince,” called a voice from the corner of the hallway. “So you have little to complain about.”

Striding towards them was the one Dale was certain had brought the armor to Strom. A tall red haired elf wearing the robes of a Dalaran Archmage was giving the prince a warm smile. Krasus was a common figure around Strom and its keep. He was an old friend of the Emperor and often served as a bridge between the Kirin Tor and the Arathi Empire. The High Elves were always welcome in Strom and many regarded Emperor Pilis as a friend and ally to their people. This was in addition to the Sunstrider lines, who ruled Quel’thalas, pledge to forever aid those of the Thoradin line for the aid given during the Troll Wars. It was no surprise to Dale to see Krasus within the Keep; he had come to say goodbye.

“Your uncle is awake,” the Archmage told him, “he is asking for you.”

Dale nodded. Salir patted him on the shoulder and Marin and her aid gave him a bow as he walked away. Krasus lead Dale down familiar corridors and hallways to the ornate throne room. The high vaulted arched ceiling was fashioned of the same ancient stone work that made up the rest of the city. But this room had been built to be more than just defensible. It was an intimidating place made to focus a persons attention no matter where one entered onto a large chair fashioned of oak and inlaid with gold. The throne had been carved out of the trees that stood on the site of the cities construction. At the moment it stood empty with an honor guard standing at attention on either side of it.

Krasus and Dale walked past the throne and entered the Emperor’s private chambers. Inside were an office, where the emperor conducted most of his real work, Dale thought with a grin. Past that was his bed chamber. A group of healers, both human and elven, in white and red robes were waiting outside the doors of the chambers. They bowed to Krasus and the prince as they approached.

“His majesty has asked for privacy,” one of the healers told them.

“He has also asked to see his nephew,” the Archmage announced to her, “please tell him we are here.”

She gave a bow and opened one of the double doors to slip inside.

And promptly screamed.

Dale and the Archmage charged through the doors almost breaking them down in their haste. The young healer was staring at an empty four poster bed. A quick glance around the room showed that the Emperor was nowhere to be found.

“What happened? Where is he? Is he alright?” The other healers began to search every corner of the room big enough for a person to be out of site and when that failed they branched out to other rooms to see if the Emperor had entered them.

Dale, however, looked at a large door that leads to a balcony. He opened it and glanced outside to see a stunning view of the city and the entire highlands; he looked away from Troyic’s followers camped outside the gates. Dale paused at the balconies railing and turned to look up and the Keep. The roof was slanted to allow rain to runoff but there was enough room for a person lay down on the red tiles.

And sitting there eating a basket of fruit, cheese and wine was the Emperor. It was hard for Dale to imagine him looking so frail. Dale had never known him as a young man but even in his mid-age Pilis held a commanding presence. His now white hair no longer held a trance of its original blond and his physic looked so withered that it was painful for Dale to see him like this. But the Emperor still held a power that could move mountains and shatter armies; the power to be silly.

‘I tried being serious once. Then I tried being silly and I’ve never gone back.’ Dale couldn’t help but laugh as he remembered his uncle’s words. The old man was sitting in his bed clothes, eating a snack, and with the best view in the whole world right before him. And he looked perfectly happy about it. The laugh caught the old man’s attention and he looked down to see his nephew. His smile grew even wider causing many of the lines of his face to vanish or stretch.

“Come on up son, there’s enough room for two. Hell, make it three. Tell Krasus to get his wrinkled butt up here too.”

“Only if you have enough food to share,” Krasus peeked his head out the door and looked up with a grin.

Pilis tossed him an apple and the Archmage lifted himself up and onto the roof. Dale did likewise just as at least one of the healers burst out onto the balcony.

“How did, why did, hey!” The healer who had screamed earlier stammered at the scene before her. “I thought you were supposed to be wise?”

“Funny story about that,” Pilis told her and took a long drink of wine out a bottle. “I got that title from King Sunstrider. But he added a word after calling me wise. Let me give you a hint, it started with an A.”

The exasperated looking elf was lead back inside by her friends. Pilis shook his windswept hair at her as he took another drink. “What the hell do they expect me to die of; old age?”

“I think they’re just trying to keep you around for a while longer,” Dale did his best to keep the sadness out of his voice; it didn’t really work.

“Nobody stays around forever son,” his uncle reached into the basket and pulled out a wedge of cheddar. “We make our mark on the world as best we can and then move on to the next big adventure. Romani talked to me about what the Light has waiting for us but truth be told we can’t really know till we get there. And I’m looking forward to it.”

That made Dale feel a little better. Say what you want to about his uncle, Pilis was completely fearless about dyeing. It was just what came next nothing more nothing less.

“Besides, there are a lot of people who I’m hoping to speak to again,” the Emperor spoke between bites. “If you’re going to live make sure you have stories to tell people when you get to the other side. Boring people who have been waiting for you is very rude. And I have a few stories to tell.”

“That is something of an understatement,” Krasus was helping himself to another bottle of wine. “Dale has he ever told you how we meet?”

“There I was wandering around Lordamere Lake, minding my own business, when a blue dragon bursts out of the water. And there was Krasus, with cuts all over himself, lying on the beach. So I do what anyone else would I jump onto the blue dragons back, box its ears until its ready to give up, and then jump off as it flies away. And so I saved a Kirin Tor Archmage; and invented the rodeo at the same time.”

“Right,” Dale had heard this story and it changed depending on his uncles whim. “You left out the part where the dragon turned into a beautiful woman who was only fighting with Krasus because he stood her up. And the fish you caught the hour before that was the size of a whale.”

“To be fair it was a pretty big fish,” Krasus said with a grin, “the three of us had it for diner while we made up.”

“But enough about my stories I want to hear about yours son,” Pilis offered Dale another apple, that Dale realized was the same as the apples from that cart he and Salir helped out. “Tell me about Stormwind. Did you like it?”

“Yeah,” Dale didn’t have to think about it. “Its people have issues but I think they can work them out. And I wouldn’t mind going back someday to see what it’s like when they build it into a city.”

“I understand a former peer of mine is establishing a school near Stormwind?” Krasus and the Emperor were passing a bottle of wine back forth.

“Archmage Azora. He and Romani love to argue but he seemed like a good guy to me.”

“Yes he is a very good man and a great mage Dale,” Krasus took the bottle as Pilis stared down at the city streets. “He left the Kirin on good terms and it is good to hear he is doing well.”

“HEY YOU,” Pilis shouted at the streets below causing many of the people in the city to look up and see their Emperor shouting down at them. Dale felt his face go red from more than just the wind as hundreds people were now staring up the three of them. Pilis pointed at a rider in front of a very pretty woman and the man looked like he might collapse from nervousness.

“YES YOU, WHAT DO THINK YOU”RE DOING KISSING HER LIKE THAT?”

Dale couldn’t hear what the man was saying from so far away but it looked like he was saying that he had just kissed her hand.

“ANY MAN WHO CAN RIDE SAFELY WHILE KISSING A GIRL IS NOT GIVING THE KISS THE ATTENTION IT DESERVES. NOW GET BACK THERE AND DO IT RIGHT DAMN IT.”

Though he had now turned to a brighter shade of red than an apple the rider got off his horse and kissed the girl, who was also blushing bright red, on the mouth. The Emperor clapped and whistled and a crowd of on lookers did also, giving the pair a cheer.

“That kid has been trying to ask her out for months,” Pilis told the two sitting with him. “Why do young people today need a kick in the rear to get things going?”

“This generation has no sense,” Krasus was close to tears as he spoke.

“So what about you,” Dale’s uncle was now giving him his full attention, “meet a girl on your trip to Stormwind?”

“Well,” Dale thought his face would be permanently red after today. “I did meet someone I liked. Her name is Kira. She looks after the orphans that live in Stormwind.”

“What is she like,” Krasus asked with a smirk.

“She’s smart, funny, has beautiful red hair-“

“Hold it,” the Emperor raised a hand to stop him. “Dale do not fall in love with a red head they are nothing but trouble.”

“Uncle, Aunt Iris was a red head,” Dale retorted.

“Exactly look at how much trouble that woman caused me,” Pilis groaned. “Do you have any idea how many times I had to rescue her from whatever villain of the month who was after a powerful mage showed up. I had to marry her just to keep her out trouble.”

“It didn’t hurt that the two of you loved each other,” Krasus added.

“Not at first. You should have heard her the time some warlock or something was carrying her away in cart and I ended up riding an old mule to catch up to them. You’d think she’d be grateful I was coming to save her but no. ‘What you couldn’t wait till that flee bag became glue?’ That’s what she said to me. Well I’m sorry I thought she could go a week without being captured by the forces of evil.”

Queen Iris was a mage who was expelled from the Kirin Tor for almost blowing up the city. In her defense, she told Dale, she did take out a demon some idiot had summoned. She had passed away about five years ago but Dale had had a chance to get to know her. Iris was just as crazy as her husband, twice as outspoken, and twice as compassionate. The world seemed a little less bright without her in it. But at the same time, Dale knew that if he cried about her she’d come down from where ever the Light sent her and kick his butt till he felt better.

“Anyway,” Pilis got his nephews attention again. “How about Risti, is she still scaring away everyone she meets?”

They three of them remained on the roof for another hour talking about Stormwind, Ristinova, Tiber, the kids in the orphanage, with the Emperor throwing in a story of his own from time to time. They kept going until the sun had set and the stars were peering down on them. By which point the Emperor declared that he was tired and leapt from his perch back to the balcony.

“He’s doing really well for someone who I thought was close to death?”

Krasus’s eyes grew sad at Dale’s question. “There is a reason for that Dale. Your uncle has been fading for some time. When he learned that within a few months he wouldn’t even be able to move or speak he sent for me with a request.” The archmage held an empty bottle for Dale to see. “This potion is called the Peaceful End. It will resort a person to full health even if they are on the brink of death; but at a price. Its effect lasts for three days. And then the person who drinks it will simply stop.”

Dale heard what Krasus said but it took him a moment to process it. Krasus saved him the trouble. “In three days, your uncle is going to die.”

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter Nine: State of the Empire

Running in the rain wasn’t exactly safe but it was a great way to clear a full head. And Dale needed that more than the safety. The young prince was on his third Strom mile and was starting to get a little tired. A Strom mile was not an actual mile but a term used by the Strom Guard to describe a part of their training regimen. First a person would start by running around the entire inner ring of the city. And then around the outer wall of the city; starting and finishing at the main gate.

The first thing Dale thought when Krasus told him his uncle would die in three days was something akin to being thrown off a mountain. The second was to ask if this potion restored his uncle to full health once why couldn’t he just take it again. The Archmage warned that if the emperor drank anymore it would kill him immediately. He described how the potion worked by saying that it wound a persons life force like a spring. Anymore and the spring would break. But when the spring unwound the person would stop; permanently.

Dale wasn’t sure how to talk to his uncle about that. It had been the old man’s choice. In a way Dale understood. If someone had a choice between a slow, painful, and humiliating death or a quick painless death the choice seemed obvious. At the same time a choice like that had a finality to it that made Dale feel; well he wasn’t sure how he felt. What the young prince wanted more than anything was to have an alternative to his uncles passing. He had thought about it all night and to keep himself from thinking about it further Dale had gotten up early and went for a run.

He wasn’t the only one who had gone for a run this morning. Strom had always had a martial attitude and the majority of its people exercised frequently. Dale was joined in his run by a number of the Strom Guard who kept pace with him and by a few children who were attempting to keep up. Generally speaking civilians did not run a full Strom mile so the children were doing well to keep up at all. The Guard was not so much required as expected to be able to run several without a break.

Earlier as Dale passed the main gate, soldiers from Troyic’s encampment had come out to watch and laugh at the runners. Not everyone in the Empire had the same attitude about running and Lordaeron in particular regarded it as a silly means to train. The Guard ignored the mocking that gradually replaced the rain drops. The children who were running with them did not. At least one child paused to give either throw something or shout an obscenity at the Lordaeron troops. Angered, some of Troyic’s supporters chased after the group. Half of them collapsed after their little sprint causing Dale and the Guardsmen to shake their heads; the kids just laughed.

Coming up on the gate a bit later the rain had picked up again. The Lordaeron soldiers were gathering at the center of their encampment. A loud voice calling out to the crowd told Dale that they were gathered for a morning prayer. The shared belief in the Light united the human race. But the religion that grew out of that belief knew no greater followers among humanity than the people of Lordaeron. The people of Lordaeron prayed at least eight times a day or participated in meditations that could last for days. Another thing that Dale admired about the people of Lordaeron was that despite exceptions like the Wyrmbane most of them were uncommonly kind to strangers. Archbishop Romani had explained it to the prince once. ‘Being kind to another, especially someone different, gives someone the chance to be kind to an angel.’

Hearing some laughs coming from high on the outer wall Dale spied a pair of children mocking the Lordaerian’s. The young prince didn’t care for the behavior but, he thought with a shrug, they were kids. And as he looked up at them it seemed there was someone else giving the three boys a lecture. A girl not much older than the boys she was glaring at was speaking with her hands as much as her eyes. One of the boys got angry and gave what he thought was a playful push. And she fell over the edge of the wall with a scream.

Dale had trained alongside a group of High Elves when he was younger. The part of that training that stuck with him the most was acrobatics. Dale leapt to the side of the wall and sprinted up it using the leverage of the wall to push himself up. It was hard going along the shear face of the wall. But Dale was able to catch the girl. Landing was a bit trickier with his hands full and he ended up sliding back down part of the way. As he reached the ground the Guard members who had been running with him came to help catch the descending pair.

“Is she,” one of Guard asked.

“She’s fine,” the girl confirmed Dale’s words by giving the prince a big hug. Dale felt himself blush which drew a laugh from several of the Guard.

“STOP!”

Dale wasn’t sure which of the Guard shouted but he quickly saw why. At the top of the wall, giving the boy who had pushed the girl a death stare, was Troyic. Dale wasn’t sure which was more alarming; that Troyic looked as though he wanted to kill a child or that he had climbed up the wall so quickly. The elder prince towered over the cringing child. Dale wasn’t sure what he was planning; until Troyic threw the boy over the edge. The girl screamed and Dale wasn’t sure if he could catch the boy in time. Thankfully he didn’t have to. Troyic had leapt after the boy and caught him by the ankle before he reached the ground. He halted his momentum by grasping a small hole in the wall. From there Troyic let go of the hole, fell another few feet, and caught another. Continuing until he reached the ground.

“Was it fun,” Troyic asked the boy as he set him, quivering, onto the ground. When the child didn’t answer right away Troyic drew his sword and planted in front of himself. “I asked you a question.”

“Troyic,” Dale yelled as he got closer. “What the hell was that about?”

“This boy seems to enjoy putting other people into dangerous situations,” Troyic’s tone might as well have been talking about the weather. “I’m curious if he enjoyed that danger himself.”

The child still remained silent. And Dale saw several of the Lordaeron soldiers coming away from their prayer; drawn by the commotion. And by the glares the members of the Guard were giving their commander.

“Can you guys escort these kids back home?” Dale asked the Guardsmen. None of them seemed to like it but they realized they were being dismissed. The girl Dale had rescued was leading the boy away and mouthed thank you as she departed with the Guard.

“The people of Strom are a simple breed,” Troyic’s statement drew Dale’s eyes back to his cousin. “They respect only strength and power. I can’t understand why our uncle remains here except for the security the city provides.”

“Did you ever consider that he likes this place because it’s his home?”

The brief laugh answered that question. Troyic was still the same as the first time Dale had met him. They had been visiting Dalaran for a conference of some kind, to honest Dale didn’t remember the conference itself, and both cousins had come with their parents. Eric, their cousin and the Emperor’s son, had invited the two of them to sneak away from their chaperons and explore the city. Troyic refused saying it was improper behavior for a prince of the Empire. He always stuck to the rules and never deviated from them. And always looked down on those who would not or could not follow what he believed to be the ideal. Troyic didn’t seem to understand why people put trivialities above, as he called it, the greater good. Humanity should be one people, Dale remembered him saying, and anything that interfered with that should be removed.

“I suppose you enjoyed your time in the South?”

The question drew Dale’s attention back. “As a matter of fact yes I did. Tiber sends his regards by the way.”

“I’m sure he does,” Troyic said with a snarl. He rarely showed emotion but he and Tiber had been enemies ever since they had first meet. Dale wasn’t sure on the details only that it had ended with Tiber on the ground bleeding. “No doubt he was instructing you on how to be a better ruler. That is why the Emperor sent you to the colonies. As a test of your potential leadership skills.”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying.”

The elder prince looked at Dale with a raised eyebrow. “You sound as though you do not want to rule.”

“I don’t,” Dale almost shouted it. He had been holding it in since the day he showed up at Strom and it had just gotten to be too much. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to rule the Empire. I never wanted to tell other people what to do with their lives. And I’ve never wanted the throne. That’s your goal Troyic and I wish you well with it.”

Looking shocked at his cousin’s outburst it took Troyic a moment to say anything. “You’re serious. Aren’t you?”

Dale nodded. For the first time since Dale had returned to Strom Troyic’s eyes softened. “I owe you an apology Dale. I had assumed that our uncle was working with you to promote you as a successor by you willing consent. Clearly I was mistaken.”

“He asked me to help resolve a problem in the South. I would have done so no matter his reasons.”

“Of course, of course,” Troyic said more to himself than to Dale. The elder prince seemed lost in thought as though he were assembling a puzzle in his mind. When he turned his attention back to Dale his attitude was so no longer confrontational. In fact he seemed warm; well for him at least. “The Emperor is playing a chess game of sorts Dale. He had hoped to be able to use you as a pawn that he could turn into a more powerful piece on the board. And I think I understand why now.”

“What do you mean?”

“It has to do with the state of the Empire Dale. And to be honest, the Arathi Empire is in a very unstable condition at the moment. Dalaran was the first sign of its impending collapse. As I’m certain you’ve noticed in your travels Dale there is a growing disunity within the human race.

It is not unexpected. Once a civilization reaches a certain size it begins to fragment. History has shown this many times. The Trolls. The Dwarfs. Even the High Elves were once apart of a much greater society than they are now. Over the course of centuries those civilizations grew so large that disparate societies began to emerge within them. Those different societies developed different cultures and different identities for themselves. In the end those differences tore those empires asunder.

And it would seem humanity is no different. Gilneas and Alterac are very close to open rebellion against imperial authority. Even Lordaeron’s position is perilous. The different nobles within the region are becoming increasingly bold in their defiance. The only thing keeping them in line at the moment is the Emperor himself. Once he passes away the last thing holding back their ambitions will pass away with him.

That is unless he can establish someone who can be seen as his natural successor. That is why he sent you to Stormwind Dale; in an effort to promote your authority. From there you would have been sent to other provenances to deal with some other small concern in an effort to demonstrate you as his successor. It would have worked if our uncle had more time.”

“And he choose me over you because you disagree on how to lead the Empire.”

“That is part of it,” Troyic still seemed like he was assembling a puzzle. “But the Emperor isn’t so petty as to let a thing like that interfere with what he feels is in the best interests of humanity. No, it is because I have not endeared myself to the leaders of other regions. Tiber, Ristinova, and I hate one another but the leaders of other territories and I loathe each other that overshadow that by a wide margin. If I am chosen to succeed as Emperor it will mean a civil war between my supporters and my opponents; a war that must be won in order to prevent the collapse of the Empire itself.”

Dale hadn’t considered that as possible. The Arathi Empire had endured for more than a thousand years. The idea that it might collapse was another weight that Dale really didn’t know if he could handle.

The elder prince saw the look on his cousins face and turned his attention away from the puzzle he was putting together. “My point in telling this Dale is that no matter which one of us our uncle chooses we must stand together. The best chance for preserving the Empire is for its heirs to be allies after our uncle leaves this world. If you are chosen I will swear allegiance to you and provide you with any aid you may need. Will you do the same?”

The younger prince didn’t even have to think about it. “I may not always agree with you Troyic but I’ve always supported you as the rightful heir. If our uncle chooses you, you can count my support.” Dale held out his hand.

Troyic clasped his cousins hand with a broad and genuine smile.

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter Ten: What About Betsy Lane?

‘Was that the right thing to do?’ Dale kept tossing and turning that night thinking the same thing. After everything he had heard about his cousin and everything that he had knew about his cousin was making that promise the right thing to do. He hadn’t spoken to anyone after his meeting with Troyic and had simply gone for a walk around the city the rest of the day. Thinking back Dale must have looked like he was in a daze. He certainly felt like he was a daze now.

The world felt like it was being held together by a string. And in a few days that string would break. When it did things would fly out of control in so many different directions that Dale couldn’t see where it would end up. He knew that the Empire had been in trouble. Aside from the ones who controlled the cities almost every member of the nobility on the continent of Lordaeron had begun to marshal soldiers. The increases in military forces lead to many of those nobles looking to expand their influence in one way or another. Thankfully there had not been any violence; but it may only be a matter of time.

According to Arathi law only a member of the Thoradin blood line could ascend to the throne. The reason for that law had nothing to do with ensuring the Thoradin lines power. It was because the nobles refused to acknowledge anyone else as their sovereign. That meant that even though people like Risti, or Tiber, or Connor were around and would have made excellent candidates for succession the Emperor couldn’t even consider them because the nobles would refuse to follow their leadership; they would say it was beneath their dignity.

That left Dale and Troyic. Dale knew that he wasn’t fit to rule. If he were chosen he wasn’t sure if he could hold the empire together even if Troyic did keep his word to support him. And Troyic had made powerful enemies in his pursuit of power. Those people would almost surely rebel if, or when, the elder prince started to impose his version of order.

So which one of us will our uncle choose? And why?

Dale arose early the next morning to a knock on the door. Still sleepy it took him a moment to recognize his uncle standing in the doorway. A couple of blinks later to clear his eyes and Dale saw Krassus standing behind his uncle.

“I’m going for a walk today. You’re joining me.”

“Um,” confused the young prince responded with a shrug. “Ok, sure.”

Connor wanted to send a full company to guard the Emperor but the old man bluntly told him no and pointed out that with Krassus and Dale walking with him he’d be perfectly safe within the city. And he was right. Even in street clothes rather than more formal attire the people of the city immediately recognized their ruler. Pillis had always made a point to get to know his people and held a running conversation with them as he walked. Dale was impressed by the old man’s memory as he would ask questions about the lives of people he had met only once and many years apart.

“So you still think Kul Tiras is going to float away one day?”

“Well sire,” as they continued their walk a ship captain the Emperor had met years ago was pulled into an old conversation. “The island isn’t a normal one. It isn’t held to the sea floor in the same way that most islands are. Rather than a mountain sticking out of the water it would be better to describe it as being supported by natural pillars of stone; like the roots of a tree. It would have to take a powerful wave or sea quake to set it adrift but yes I still believe that it might happen.”

“Ok,” Pillis continued, “Assuming you’re right what do you think should be done about it?”

The captain gave a defeated sounding sigh. “I don’t think there is anything that can be done. And even if there is the expense would be enormous. I sincerely doubt the merchant guilds would be willing to pay for such a project given how unlikely such a catastrophe would be.”

“Well it hasn’t happened yet right? So there is time to think of something.” Pillis seemed genuinely angry at the captain for giving up. “So get back to Kul Tiras and work on it until they agree to fix the damn problem.”

The captain tried to speak but was so dumb founded by the Emperors outburst that all he could do was stutter. Not bothering to wait the Emperor kept walking and talking to different people he met on the street. He discussed the best way to ride a horse with a squire, which was better ale or whisky with a couple of dwarves, and the difference between the arcane magic and the Light with a local priest. Dale noted that his uncle didn’t seem to care about their social class, appearance, or background and more about what they had to say. In other parts of the Empire, like Lordaeron or Alterac, people would be shocked to see a ruler walking among their citizens. But something that Stormwind and Strom had in common was that Pillis’s actions were not only unsurprising but expected of a leader.

The journey around the city continued as the evening began and at this point Connor had enough of the Emperor and a prince traveling without an escort. The Guard captain along with Salir and Brewden had come along with a dozen of their people to intercept the travelers. Connor was giving the much older and higher ranked man a lecture; which the old man wasn’t paying attention to. The Emperor’s attention was focused more on a sound coming from around the corner of the street. A wry smile came to his face as he looked to Brewden motioned for him to lean in close. The Emperor’s personal body guard grinned in a way that Dale knew meant trouble.

Connor was too engrossed in his lecture to pay attention. At least until the Emperor grabbed his right arm and Brewden grabbed his left and carried him around the corner. And carried him to a seedy tavern built into the city wall. The inside of the Laughing Eagle was well lit with lanterns and candles hanging from the ceiling. It was crowded with patrons that reminded Dale of some bandits he had once run off; in fact he thought he recognized a few faces. Over the din of conversations a fiddler was playing by a fireplace; impressively well Dale thought. Despite Connors protests he was dragged to a table and thrown into a chair. The bartender was a large woman with grey hair and a number of tattoos on her arms. When she saw the Emperor her smile seemed to take decades off her face.

“I haven’t seen you in months old man how have you been,” a couple members of the Guard cringed at how she addressed their Emperor but Pillis laughed and gave her outstretched hand a kiss.

“Having my life shaved away by pretentious busybodies. What are you up Rala?”

“Keeping busy,” Rala smile brightened even more when she saw Dale. The bartender looked him up and down before she spoke again. “You’re either Alexander’s son or his twin. And considering the age I’m going with his son on this one.”

“You knew my dad,” Dale asked a little dumbstruck.

“Well your mother more than your father. She used to work here you know?”

“Really,” Dale’s father had been a soldier and then the Arathi Empires ambassador to Quel Thalas after he lost his leg in a troll raid. But Dale really didn’t know much about his mother’s past. Though considering how the court didn’t seem to have liked his mother it made sense she wasn’t part of the nobility. Dale’s few memories of her were of a person who laughed a lot; especially at those who took things to seriously.

“She was one of my favorite people your mother,” Rala continued. “She was a waitress here who started a game to bring in customers. She would have a drinking contest with a customer and if the customer won they got to marry her. If she won she took their wallet. The only person who ever beat her was your father. Confidentially, she let him win because he had a sense of humor.”

Yeah, Dale thought with a grin, that sounded like his parents.

Apparently that game was still being played by the waitresses at the Laughing Eagle tavern. As the young prince looked around Salir was competing against, and losing badly against, a very attractive young woman with an eye patch. Connor was at the same table berating his younger brother for his behavior while Brewden was dancing with a group of the regulars. The Emperor of the Arathi Empire was shaking hands with everyone and buying round after round for the patrons. Dale was shanghaied into Salir’s drinking contest against the same waitress. Just a whiff from the glass he was offered told him that it would knock him out in one go and he forfeited with a shrug and a toss of some coins. The dark haired waitress laughed and gave him a playful wink with her good eye as she scooped up the coins. Salir meanwhile was being settled into a chair to sleep the rest of the night; his wallet already having been relieved from him.

The fiddler played along as the Emperor lead the tavern in a chorus of ‘Mad Mage Reggi’ that was so loud and tone deaf Dale was shocked people weren’t coming in to complain about it. The song was about a mage who fell in love with a dragon and attempted to convince her to marry him by doing increasingly dangerous, and crazy, things to impress her. The story went that eventually she did marry him one day but he was so addled from his effort to woo her that it took him two weeks to realize it. The Emperor was using a bread roll to conduct the patrons through the final chorus.

“And now that I’ve found her, I’ll never let her go. Now that I’ve found her I’ll never. LET HER. GOOOOOO!”

“Thank you my friends,” the Emperor said with a laugh and a grimace, “That was really terrible.”

Between the hacking spells from some of the patrons and the dog howling along, or in pain, Dale agreed with how terrible their singing had been. And he cheered along with everyone else as the fiddler stood up, at the Emperor’s insistence, to take a bow. She had managed to keep the sounds coming from the patrons to resemble something like music instead of cats drowning; that deserved and received a standing ovation.

The Emperor settled into a chair near the back of the tavern along with Dale and Krassus; Connor, on principle, was standing with his back to the wall keeping an eye on everything in sight. Krassus passed the Emperor an ale and the old man raised his mug and called a toast to life. The rest of the patrons joined in.

“So, Krassus? You’re a Dalaran magi. Is that story about Regi true?”

“Honestly I’m not sure.” The Archmage could certainly hold his liquor; he was on his twelfth ale and his eyes weren’t even blurry. “I think it is a true story. But there are different versions of how it ends. The Dalaran version had Regi and the dragon become close, but never marry. The Kul Tiras version had Regi and the dragon marry for a time but eventually break up. The Lordaeron, Alterac, and Gilneas versions all have depressing endings?”

“In Alterac they are chased out of the city by a mob, in Gilneas Regi dies from his ordeals, and in Lordaeron the dragon eventually eats him.” Troyic’s arrival at the table caused Connor’s eyes to narrow and while he didn’t reach for a weapon Dale watched the Guard Captain clench and unclench his hands.

“Guess that makes the Strom version the best,” Dale’s uncle responded with a smile, “they lived happily ever after.”

“The most unlikely outcome of the six.”

“Hey now,” the Emperor scoffed at his nephew. “Just because one is a mage and the other is a dragon doesn’t mean they can’t live happily ever after. It makes certain things a little more complicated I grant you. For instance what happens if she snores and breathes fire at the same time?”

“Green dragons do not breathe fire,” Krasus corrected, “they breath acid.”

“What’s the difference,” Pillis asked.

“Usually the pain.”

The emperor shrugged and offered a chair next to him for Troyic. The elder prince took his seat making a point of adjusting his sword so it would in no way be pointed at his uncle even if it was sheathed. Connor relaxed a little at the action but Dale could still see the Guard captain’s eyes glare.

“I wanted to find you to inform you uncle,” Troyic declined an ale that Rala brought for him. “Baron Harold Greymane and Baroness Kinly Paren have sent emissaries to Strom; my agents spied their approach. They should be here sometime tomorrow.”

“Coming to pay their respects I know,” the Emperor did not sound surprised. “I know Harold wanted to come in person but he was worried about traveling through Lordaeron to get here.”

“His actions against the Wyrmbane have made him extremely unpopular among the people of Lordaeron but I assure you he would be in no danger.”

Connor gave a humorless laugh that summed up what he thought of Troyic’s assurance. Dale had to admit he had a point. A member of the Kirin Tor, traveling to visit relatives in Stratholm, had been killed by bandits. Bandits who had been surprisingly prepared to fight and kill a high ranking mage. And leave behind several very valuable rings and trinkets. But bandits none the less according to Troyic’s people who investigated. Which was convenient considering the mage in question was an out spoken opponent of the Wyrmbane order.

“Regardless of his decisions,” Troyic continued pretending that Connor had done nothing.  “These emissaries will both ask the same question that many have been asking you.  Who will you choose as your successor?”

While Dale doubted that the rest of the tavern could have heard Troyic’s question over the fiddler’s renewed playing but every eye in the room was on the table and ears were definitely being strained. Pillis had an impassive expression on his face as he finished his ale. Then the Emperor’s eyes turned to Dale.

“You’re asking because Dale admitted to you that he doesn’t want the throne?”

“How do you,” Dale started to ask.

“Son,” the Emperor began, “you’ve been tossing and turning over something since yesterday and you and Troyic had a conversation that ended with you two shaking hands. By the way, you two should be more careful about playing on the city walls.”

Dale remembered a mental note he had made long ago. ‘If you’re in Strom never try to hide something from the Emperor. He will find out.’ Dale had learned that the hard way many years ago when he attempted to hid a mirror he had broken. The next day the mirror was repaired and sitting in Dale’s room with a note saying Dale was grounded for two days.

“Sorry if I’ve disappointed you.”

“Nonsense,” his uncle almost roared. “I’ve known you haven’t wanted the throne and that you are trying to make sense of the situation you’re in.” His uncle grasped Dale’s shoulder with one hand. “Why would I be disappointed in you for that?”

A smile passed between the two men and the Emperor called out to the barkeep. “Rala, can you get this new comer a drink?”

“Thank you,” Troyic raised a hand in protest, “but I would prefer to keep my head clear.”

“No problem there son,” Rala had come to the table, “Would some tea work?”

“That would be good,” Troyic said in a dismissive tone that caused Rala to raise an eyebrow and Pillis to give her a sympathetic nod. “If you were aware that Dale did not wish to rule then why not…”

The Emperor cut him off, “I’m also aware that Dale is not the brightest star in the sky and that he is more suited for the battlefield than the royal court. And I’m familiar with your intellect and your abilities Troyic. But it is your intentions that are causing me to consider other options.”

“My intention is no secret my lord. My intention to do what is best for the Empire and the human race.”

“I see,” the Emperor took another drink. “Where would you start with that?”

“The first step must be the elimination of divisions within the Empire. The differences that are emerging are the root cause of many of the Empire’s problems. So, should I be appointed Emperor, I would see to it that cultural, ethnic, and political elements are more centralized and controlled to avoid those divisions.”

“Ok, but question? What about Betsy Lane?”

Troyic seemed puzzled by the Emperors question, “Who?”

“The young woman playing the fiddle over there,” the Emperor pointed her out, “how would your plans impact her?”

“All due respect what does she matter to the state of the entire human race,” Troyic asked as though it were a joke to even consider it.

The Emperor shrugged, “Probably nothing.”

“After those difference have been removed I would move to better secure the Empire’s borders. To begin with I would lead an assault on the remaining Troll tribes on the continent of Lordaeron.”

“I attempted that a few times Troyic,” the Emperor’s eyes became a bit heavier. “The last time I did the Empire lost thousands of its young men and women, including my son, for nothing but a scrap of forests and mountains to wild for us to ever fully control.”

Dale had been a part of that campaign. It was in response the frequent raids on the North Eastern settlements of the Arathi Highlands. But it was also a trap. The Trolls had led the Arathi soldiers into several natural labyrinths that had imprisoned them for almost a month. The High Elves sent a group of rangers to rescue them but the damage had been done. Dale and Salir had lost a lot of friends and Dale had no desire to go through that again.

“All due respect to your sons memory, but the campaign failed because it did not go far enough. If the full might of the Empire were committed against the Trolls they would have been wiped out. The Empire would of course suffer losses but they would have been acceptable considering the outcome of never having to deal with these raiding parties again.”

For a moment Dale thought his uncle might lash out at Troyic for considering his son an acceptable loss; Dale was tempted to himself. But the Emperor remained composed. “Perhaps your right. But I doubt Rebeca Tishli would agree with you.”

“Who?”

“Her two sons recently joined the Strom Guard. Fine boys, I could see Thomas becoming an officer one day and Alfred has real talent in the healing arts.”

“And their contribution to the Empire should be recognized. But they and their mother should have acknowledged that by putting on their uniforms they could also be putting on their funeral shrouds,” Troyic pointed out.

“A reality that anyone who wishes to become a soldier should face before taking their oath. It doesn’t mean that they should casually tossed into the fire without hesitation. And it certainly doesn’t mean that their futures should be ignored once the call for battle has ended.”

“Agreed Uncle. Which is why after the Trolls have been suppressed the best interests of the Empire must be promoted to ensure the prosperity of its citizens continues. To achieve that the question of what to do with the Elves and Dwarf’s needs to be addressed.”

“The Elves are content to be left alone and more often than not save us from making foolish mistakes. And aside from the Dark Iron Clan the Dwarves have sought only trade with us. In fact I’ve very much enjoyed having emissaries from the Bronzebeard and Wildhammer Clans as guests and trade partners. As have the merchants of Kul Tiras, Alterac, and Gilneas. And I am confident that with their help we can transform Stormwind into a great city. What would need to be addressed with them?”

“Arrangements can change as can the needs of our people. How long until our growing population has need of the lands of the High Elves? Or how long until we can no longer consider the trade with the Dwarves to be in best interests when we have the power to simply take what we need? The Arathi Empire must look to its long term goals and place them at the forefront of its endeavors.”

And now at last Dale could see what Tiber and so many others had said about his cousin. Troyic could only see his own grand design and either did not or would not consider how it would affect other people. The look on Troyic’s face was of a person who was gazing ahead to future only he could see. And if what he had just said was any indication Dale didn’t like where that future might go.

“And what would you do about Kenith Proudhawk?”

“Really uncle these trivialities are of no consequence,” Troyic said as he rose to leave. “You already know that Dale is unsuited to the throne and that he does not wish to rule. I will bring greatness to our people and ensure their future if you choose me. I think you know what the correct course to take is.”

The elder prince bowed to the Emperor and left; the tavern feeling many degrees colder in his wake.

“You should see the look on your face kid,” the Emperor wiped a trace of ale from the corner of his lip. “You’d think your world was about to fall apart.”

“Isn’t it,” Dale wasn’t sure how to say what he was thinking. “I’ve had people telling me Troyic had some crazy plans but that was…”

“There is nothing wrong with having a dream for the future Dale,” his uncles statement made Dale’s mouth drop. “No there really isn’t. It’s good have a goal and an objective. And even better to look to a greater good.” And then the Emperor’s eyes grew as hard as tempered steel. “The problem is when the smaller ideals are abandoned to promote the greater good. It’s like building a house without a foundation it can not stand. You know that Dale.”

Yes, Dale did know that. He wasn’t sure how, but he did. “So who is Kenith Proudhawk?”

The Emperor’s eyes softened, old lines disappearing as he smiled. “He is a craftsman who lives on the border of Quel Thalas. I meet him the last time I made a trip to Silvermoon. He had recently asked a High Elven merchant to marry him. She was still thinking about it but, between you and me, I think she was just giving him a hard time before she said yes. At least that’s what she was trying not to say when I meet her.”

The combined laughs of the Emperor and his nephew seemed to lift the dour spell that Troyic had cast on the tavern. Conversation’s and laughter picked up along with Miss Lane’s fiddle.

“A ruler, Dale,” his uncle continued, “has to be able to balance between the small ideals and the greater good and he or she must at times make decisions that will benefit either one or the other. And at times make sacrifices of one to ensure the other. This is why I’ve had such difficulty in choosing between you and Troyic. You focus on the smaller ideals but have no clue how to approach or even conceive a greater good. Troyic on the other hand has a very clear greater good and grand design but gives no thought at all to the smaller ideals. To be brutally honest neither one of you should be on the throne in my opinion.”

There it was and Dale had to agree. And as he did he looked at the silent figure standing with his back to the wall; watching over everyone in the room as he had watched over the city for years. For a moment Connor caught Dale’s eye as he glanced down. And the Guard Captain gave one of his rare smiles.

“Don’t even think it Dale,” Connor told him. “Every noble from here to Gilneas and everything in between would scream bloody murder if anyone other than a member of the Thoradin line was considered. Pride can be a dangerous thing when it’s threatened.”

“I know,” Dale sighed, “Just so you’d know, you would be my first choice.”

Connor gave the prince a reassuring pat on the back. Both were distracted by the Emperor getting to his feet and calling the tavern attention. In at least one corner of the room someone moaned.

“Oh don’t worry I’m not going lead you in another song. My ears are still hurting from the last one. I just wanted to say. That this evening with all of you has meant more to me than you could know. And that no matter what the future may hold for any of us that I am happy to have met you.”

As the Emperor started for the door the barkeep Rala had uncovered a piano near the fire place; started to play a familiar tune. The Emperor paused at the door and smiled as several of the patrons began to sing him on his way.

“The regular crowd shuffles in.
There’s an old man sitting next to me making love to his tonic and gin.
He said son can you play me a memory. I’m not really sure how it goes.
But it’s sad and its sweet and I knew it complete, when I wore a younger mans clothes.”

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter 11 Ninety Seven Bells

Marin meant well, Dale couldn’t fault her for that. But having a formal ceremony in the throne room where the Emperor could meet and speak with each of the dignitaries and visiting nobles so they could pay their last respects was, well, morbid. The throne room was packed with several hundred nobles from across the empire. Only the Southern Colonies had not sent a delegation, which Dale suspected was the Archbishops doing; he would know that the Emperor hated this kind of pageantry. Dale stood on the left side of the throne, Troyic on the right. For formalities sake they and the members of the Guard were in full armor aside from their helmets and both princes wore their swords on their belts as a status symbol. The visiting nobles would approach the throne in turn and kneel before it before they would offer their thanks for being allowed to be there and their condolences for the Emperor’s health. The Emperor was polite and smiled, but after going through this ritual for three hours he turned to Dale with a grimace and whispered.

“If one more person comes to me with tears in their eyes I swear I’m going to kill someone.”

Dale smiled, “I think the Gilnean delegation is the last one.”

“Good, they’ve never liked me.”

A group of dark cloaked men stepped forward as Marin called them from the crowd of assembled nobles. There was one among the group that surprised Dale. He was an older man with light grey hair, fairly short and with a bulky build that had made many people call him a bulldog. A name that suited his personality has much as his appearance. Harrold Greymane, the leading noble of Gilneas and by far the Emperor’s biggest critic.

“I thought he wasn’t coming,” Dale asked Troyic from over the throne.

“Apparently that intelligence was wrong,” the elder prince hid his emotions well but Dale could see something burning beneath the surface. And he wasn’t the only one. The members of the Guard were paying very close attention to the Gilneans as they came to the throne. And aside from Lord Greymane the other Gilneans were on edge as they saw all of the eyes following them.

“My condolences your majesty,” Harold’s deep voice had a trace of sarcasm to it. He was not very tall but he carried himself with an air of authority; that usually triggered Dale’s impulse to mock. An impulse, Dale knew better than to give in to right now. Embarrassing Marin in the middle of this ceremony aside Harold Greymane was probably the most dangerous person in the room. The young prince remembered the stories of how Lord Greymane had defended his lands from enemies; they were not children’s tales.

“No serpents tears Harold,” the Emperor asked his voice measured.

“I would never insult your intelligence or waste your time with what we both knew was a lie. I hope I do not disappoint.”

“On the contrary,” the Emperor smiled, “I find the honesty refreshing. I trust that your daughter is well? I heard she was pregnant.”

“I became a grandfather shortly before coming here,” Harold told him. “No offense but she did not name her son after you.”

The Emperor let out a laugh. “Good, to be honest I’ve never cared much for my name. What did she name her child?”

“Eric, after her one of her best friends.”

A silent nod passed between the two old men. They were enemies in political games and Imperial policy. That did not mean that Emperor Pillis and Lord Greymane never agreed on anything. Dale knew Lauren Greymane only by acquaintance; never having been to Gilneas. But Eric, Dale’s late cousin, had been good friends with her and her husband Charles. Dale could have seen his cousin squirm at the idea of being a godfather and be happy about it at the same time.

Harold’s eyes ignored Troyic. Which was best for everyone. On more than one occasion Lord Greymane had warned the rest of the empire against Troyic and his positions. And Troyic had never forgiven Lord Greymane for ordering the execution of several Wurmbane inquisitors. In fact the only reason Troyic was not berating him right now, Dale suspected, was because their uncle was in the room.

But the older man’s eyes did settle on Dale for a moment. After an appraising glance Lord Greymane offered Dale a polite nod. “You look very much like your father Dale. I regret that I never had the chance to meet your mother. And even more that you and I have never met.”

“You mean because you’ve never had a chance to sway me to your opinions,” Dale said with a smile; and then realized he had said that out loud. More than one person was holding their breath as the Lord of Gilneas’s eyes narrowed.

Finally the old bulldog laughed in a voice that seemed to shake the walls. And, to Dale’s surprise, his uncle was laughing along with him.

“You are indeed your father’s son boy,” Lord Greymane barked. “And yes that is exactly why I am sorry we haven’t met before. But the night is young and I may sway you to the idea of Partial Succession yet.”

Partial Succession was a personal project of Harold Greymane’s. It was a policy where the individual regions of the Arathi Empire divided themselves into separate, and independent, states rather than an all-encompassing nation state. For the cities of Gilneas, Alterac, and Kul Tiras, Greymane had argued, it would benefit them greatly to establish their own markets, legal systems, and political structures that did not have to answer to the central imperial authority at Strom. Emperor Pilis flatly rejected the policy. It would further divide the Empire and would lead to unnecessary confusion as the regions formed their own policies, currencies, and laws. Some autonomy was necessary, the Emperor had once said, but there needed to be a balance between central authority and autonomy for the Arathi Empire as a whole to thrive.

“Well,” the Emperor attempted to stand with some difficultly, “I welcome all of you to Strom and my imminent demise. After dinner tonight I plan to give my own eulogy. Don’t worry Harold I’ll leave a few minutes for a rebuttal.”

“I look forward to the comedy of errors, your majesty,” Lord Greymane gave the Emperor a bow when he had fully stood.

Dale’s were not the only eyes that apprehensively watched the Emperor leave the room. ‘From what Krasus told me,’ Dale thought, ‘he doesn’t have much longer. In a few hours the world may be a very different place.’ A lump in his stomach seemed to get tighter and Dale felt something irritate his eyes. But he pushed both feelings aside and walked along with the rest of the room to the banquet hall.

Strom’s banquet hall was generally open to the people of the city. The Emperor enjoyed having his castle filled with laughter and happy voices and a good way to ensure both were present was to allow a part of the castle to be used for public meetings, weddings, or just a good party. On more formal occasions, such as tonight, every surface was cleaned, pressed, and revealed the smooth white walls, beautiful tapestries, and gleaming coats of arms and suits of armor that glittered under crystal chandeliers. The biggest difference between the banquet hall and the rest of the Keep was that it was fashioned out of marble instead of granite. Also unlike the rest of the Keep which was built for strength and defense this rooms function was purely social and entertainment. Several large fireplaces were set on either side of the hall; their hearths carved with intricate designs that told of significant events in the history of humanity.

Dale sat at one of the long tables that had been set for the nobles and the feast that was to accompany tonight’s festivities. His back was to a fireplace carved to show the story of humanities first encounter with the High Elves. A hunting party was tracking a herd of deer when it came upon a similar hunting party of their pointy eared neighbors. The two parties were at first not sure of each other. But after meeting several times as they tracked their target they eventually worked to together. That first meeting lead to other meetings and eventually to the friendship between Strom and Silvermoon that exists to this day.

In fact the Silvermoon delegation was one of the ones Dale knew beyond a doubt would be in mourning for his uncle. Pilis had always been a friend to Quel thalas. There was a time when a strange magical famine struck the High Elven lands by surprise. Emperor Pilis had immediately sent aid without any promise of reward. It later proved to have been an attack by the Amani Trolls and when the High Elves learned of its source Emperor Pilis again sent aid; this time military aid. Such expressions of friendship and alliance had been made several times during Pilis’s reign and it allowed the High Elves to explore and learn more about the world beyond their borders. In exchange the High Elves gave humanity something priceless; knowledge. The High Elves helped humanity to develop mathematics, astronomy, and a dozen other magic’s that Dale didn’t have the slightest clue about but could see how they made people’s lives better.

The feast was ready and the castle attendants only waited for the Emperor to arrive before it was presented. Unfortunately the Emperor had yet to arrive and a few of the nobles were becoming nervous at his absence. Marin and Connor had left to see what was keeping him. Dale couldn’t help but be nervous as well. He knew that his uncle did not have a lot of time left but he wanted to have one more night to laugh with him.

When Marin walked back into the hall her eyes were red.

“When?” The voice sounded like Greymane’s, but Dale was suddenly unable to tell.

“A few minutes ago.”

Dale stared at the table in front of him. Around the room he thought he heard tears, prayers, words of comfort but none of them affected him. It was the moment he had been dreading since he had received his uncle’s message in Stormwind. The last string that held back an avalanche. And now it was gone. His uncle was gone. He would never hear him laugh again. Or be embarrassed by him. Or anything else. The young prince didn’t cry but that was only because wasn’t sure tears were enough. He didn’t know how to grieve losing someone who had always been there.

A tapping noise drew Dale’s attention. He looked up to see Lord Greymane stand up. He held a goblet in one hand and set down a spoon with the other.

“My friends. We knew that this day was coming. And we knew that it would hurt. But we also knew how he lived. And how he would want us to live after he had left us. So while we can, should, and must grieve. Let us do so in a manner of which he would approve.”

Lord Greymane raised his goblet.

“To Emperor Pilis Thoradin.”

Slowly others joined him in raising their goblets.

“Our Emperor.”

“Our friend.”

Dale forced himself to stand and to raise his goblet. “Our father.”

Harrold gave the young prince a nod. And when he was satisfied that everyone in the room who would, or could, speak had done so he drank to the Emperor’s memory.

“By tradition,” Marin’s voice was strained with sadness but it was steady, “we will ring the city bells. Once for every year of the Emperor’s life. Once that has been done, and the final bell has tolled, Connor will announce the Emperor’s chosen successor. Now, if I may be excused to make those arrangements?”

She did not wait to be excused and no one in the room objected to her hurrying from the hall. Marin and the Emperor had been close. Their relationship was that of an older brother and younger sister by friendship if not by blood. And every member of the court and the nobility knew that aside from his family she would be taking his death the hardest.

Dale rose and went after her; no one in the room said a word as he did. He found Marin leaning against a wall trying not to cry as one of the castle’s maids was doing her best to console her. Dale placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked him in the face and suddenly they both started crying. They held each other for support as they wept; the maid standing apart from them was close to tears herself.

And as if heard from another world the city bell rang.

The people of Strom had been told what to expect should the Emperor die and when the bell began to ring silence fell. Beyond the city those who heard the bell toll stood spell bound; struck by the silence that emanated from Strom. As the city bell tolled again many people fell to their knees in prayer. Others, such a young recent couple, cried together. Those in an old tavern raised their mugs and drank to the memory of their friend. And that was the attitude that flooded the city. They were not only mourning the loss of a ruler but of a friend; someone who had been there for them no matter what.

The bell had tolled several times before Dale and Marin let each other go. The older woman tried to smile as she straightened Dale’s messy hair; the prince smiled in spite of himself when she did. No matter what, Marin would want the young man she considered like a son to be presentable. Especially on a day like today.

“I want to see him,” Dale asked still fighting through some tears.

“Of course,” Marin led the way through the Keep to the Emperor’s private chambers.

A number of the Emperor’s attendants were waiting outside the opened doors; more than one was on their knees crying or praying. Dale and Marin passed them without comment. Within the bedroom several members of the Guard stood around the bed as ceremonial protectors. They recognized Marin and Dale and immediately parted so they could approach.

Pilis’s body looked peaceful. His hands were clasped together on his chest, his eyes were closed, and he had a smile on his face. The last, Dale felt, fit best. He put a hand on his uncles hands. “He asked me if I had found a girlfriend while I was in the South. I rambled about someone with red hair and he warned me about red heads.”

Marin placed a hand on top of Dale’s.

“He was dyeing and he wanted to know about people I had met,” Dale found it difficult to continue as the city bell tolled again. He had lost count of how many times it had rung.

“He loved you,” said a voice from the balcony. “No matter what anyone says never doubt that.”

Krasus stood with his head down and his hands on the balcony railing. Dale wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or some magic at work but he thought Krasus’s face seemed several shades redder than usual.

“I know,” and Dale meant it, “that doesn’t make this easier though.”

“There is no easy way to deal with loss Dale,” Krasus’s voice seemed hoarse. “But remember what your uncle thought about the next life.”

It took Dale a minute to remember past the grief. And then the memory came through with his uncles voice. “Death is simply the next journey.”

“Yes,” Krasus walked away from the balcony and grasped Dale’s shoulder. “It is no different from life though the path and destination change. And one day you will see him again after your journey through this life has ended. And when you do…”

“And when I do I had better have some stories to tell,” Dale completed for him.

The bell rang again and Krasus gently let go of Dale’s shoulder. “It won’t be long before the last toll. Connor said he would meet you and Troyic in the throne room.”

Dale had completely forgotten about the issue of succession. It gave him a not so slight feeling of dread as he walked to the throne room. But imposed over it were his uncles words; to have a journey worth talking about. No matter if it was Dale or Troyic that was chosen; the younger prince braced himself for whatever was to come. If that would be enough, Dale didn’t know. But he wouldn’t run and he wouldn’t hide from the future. He would face it and make of it the best that he could. That was as good a place as any to start a story.

As he came to the throne room there was a commotion that almost drowned out the next toll of the bell. Coming closer he saw Troyic standing before the throne with many of his supporters standing behind him within an inch of attacking Harrold and his Gilneans. Marin had walked with Dale and she sprinted forward to put herself between the two groups and held up her hands.

“Gentlemen what is the meaning of this,” the castle chamberlain demanded looking back and forth at the groups. “This is the throne room of the Arathi Empire not a tavern.”

“I was about to take my place when this Gilnean thug stood in my way,” Troyic’s eyes never left Harold.

“Your uncle’s body isn’t even cold and you are attempting to sit on his throne,” Lord Greymane took a step forward and everyone except Troyic took a step back.

Dale bit back his first instinct, to rip his cousins head off, and stepped forward to help Marin be a peacekeeper.

“I understand your feelings Lord Greymane,” the younger prince stared daggers at the older one before looking at Harold, “but there is a time and place for this. Troyic,” Dale had to fight to make his expression neutral, “think about your behavior. Is this how a potential heir to the throne is supposed to act?”

“Well put Dale,” Connor had entered the room. Salir was at his side and he went to stand with Dale. Brewden came in from another room and stood behind Troyic’s group of supporters. All three of them were armed and in full armor; as were the members of the Guard that were surrounding the Throne Room. “Let me make this clear Prince Troyic. Lord Greymane. No matter the lineage of anyone in this room the Guard will not tolerate violence here. Now, is everyone going to back down or not?”

A knife Harold had been holding seemed to disappear up his sleeve and Troyic took his hand off of his sword. Connor gave a sign for the Guard, which had been closing in, to return to their posts around the room. Dale let go of a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding and Salir gave his friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder as the bell tolled again.

“That was the ninety fifth toll Connor,” Troyic informed the Guard Captain. “I suggest that we forego the suspense and have you reveal who our uncles successor is.”

Connor’s hard leather face gave a sigh. “I suppose that would be for the best. Since I admit I’m not comfortable with the Emperor’s decision.”

“Then Troyic is the new Emperor,” Dale asked and braced himself for the answer.

“No he is not.”

Troyic’s eyes narrowed but he maintained his composure. “Then Dale is our new Emperor.”

“No he is not.”

The bell tolled as the confusion settled over the room. Krasus entered the room and stood beside Connor. More than one of the nobles in the room was muttering to each other; almost certainly as confused as Dale felt. By Arathi law and by consent of the nobility the ruler of the Arathi Empire had to be a blood relative of the Thoradin line. And there were only two of them left; Troyic and Dale.

“If neither of us is the new Emperor,” Troyic asked his voice carrying a slight note of hesitation, “then what did our uncle choose?”

“Emperor Pilis choose not to choose either of you.”

Troyic’s eyes grew wide with anger. “That is ridiculous. If neither of us becomes Emperor than that means that…”

“That the Arathi Empire is affectively dissolved with the last toll of the bell,” Krasus finished for him.

The sound the echoed throughout the room next sounded more like thunder than a bell.

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter 12 Its Not Complicated

“What is the meaning of this,” Troyic was almost shaking with rage. “The Emperor has no choice but to choose one of the two of us. He can not refuse to pick a successor.” Troyic was clenching his fists so hard Dale thought he saw blood dripping from his hands. “He can not just dissolve the Arathi Empire on a whim.”

“Yes he can,” Connor didn’t look comfortable, Dale thought, but he did seem to enjoy seeing Troyic so furious. “And it is hardly a whim.”

“I’m confused,” Dale interjected.

Krasus spoke first. “It’s not complicated Dale. Your uncle knew full well what the state of the Empire was. Between the various nobles own dreams of power and Troyic’s grand plans the Empire was going to fall apart no matter which of his heirs he choose. If you were chosen Pilis knew that you would be manipulated by others and you simply weren’t capable of stopping them. Eventually whether it was Greymane’s philosophy or Troyic’s or Ristinova’s or someone else those manipulating you would turn on each other and pull humanity apart.

If Troyic were chosen the nobles who didn’t support him would ally with each other in preparation for whatever Troyic was going to do. Troyic would then rally his forces to either subdue or destroy his opposition. Eventually a civil war would have begun.”

“So,” Harold Greymane had a wry smile on his bulldog face, “considering that either of his heirs would lead to a civil war and he was unable to choose someone else without the same thing happening the Emperor chose another option. If the Empire was going to fall apart anyway then why not direct where and how it fell apart. By not choosing an heir all of the nobles are free to choose to whom and to where their allegiances lay. And considering that without the unifying authority of an Emperor their allegiances would mostly fall to the strongest regional land holders who already have established borders with each other his plan stands a good chance of at least stemming any violence.”

“Unfortunately preventing outbreaks of violence completely in the wake of all of this may be an impossibility,” Connor grimaced. “The nobles fighting amongst themselves being bad enough the Amani Trolls, Goblin cartels, and other groups will do their best to take advantage of the Empire’s collapse. But if the infighting is kept to a minimum and new kingdoms are able to rise quickly enough and stable enough then while the old world may vanish the new one might have a chance to be bright.”

Dale’s head was spinning. This opened and closed so many different doors that he wasn’t sure where to turn next.

“I think it goes without saying that you would become the ruler of Strom, Connor,” Greymane continued his chest now puffed out impressively. “Kul Tiras has always been led by their merchants guilds anyway so there shouldn’t be any troubles there. The Perenolds will have to reinforce their position as the leaders of Alterac but it shouldn’t be too difficult for them. Dalaran was already an independent state so no trouble there beyond border disputes.”

“I’ve already spoken with the Kirin Tor,” Krasus informed him, “and they are perfectly content not to expand our borders. Do you think there will be any problems for your family to secure Gilneas?”

The lord or rather now King Greymane, Dale supposed, gave a shrug. “Some of those with estates along the coast and in Silverpine Forest are pretty ambitious. But I am confident that they can be persuaded to act in their enlightened self-interest.”

“The southern colonies are going to be a bit tricky,” Salir never left Dale’s side; for which the former prince was especially grateful. “The Elwynn’s and Wrynn’s were already close to fighting each other before all of this started. Archbishop Romani has been working heavily with them though. So he may be able to avert any fighting they may be tempted to start.”

“Let’s pray that he can,” Marin looked as though her mind was also racing but at the same time there was an excitement in her eyes that made her look many years younger. “Perhaps with some additional support he can help the two families to form a kingdom in the south?”

“It’s something to think about,” Connor agreed. His dark eyes were narrowed as he turned to Troyic. “That just leaves the question of Lordaeron.”

The former elder prince stared at the floor. His followers stood behind him not daring to breath. Dale could feel the tension as every eye was on his cousin. Slowly a smile spread over Troyic’s face. Dale wasn’t sure how to describe it except to say that it looked like the single most evil thing he had ever seen in his life. And the laugh that slowly and loudly accompanied that smile didn’t help that impression.

Troyic looked first to the empty throne that he thought might be his that day. He walked towards it and stopped just before the ornate oak seat.

“I was wrong about our uncle Dale,” Troyic had seemed to regain his composure as he spoke. “I thought he was playing chess when in fact he was playing poker. He hid his hand well and played it masterfully. It might very well work in preventing the human race from collapsing. I do congratulate him for inventiveness.”

With a flourish Troyic turned away from the throne to face the room; his eyes sweeping over everyone before him. “But his plan is a stop gap at best. These newly formed kingdoms may part in peace with each other for a while. But in time they will turn on each other.”

“You do not know that,” Krasus shook his elven head at Troyic’s declaration. “Even the Bronze Dragonflight, the Timewardens, cannot say with certainty how the future will unfold. They can predict possible futures just as you can. But clearly knowing all that is to come is a power that does not exist in this world.”

“But what I have said is the most likely possibility is it not,” Troyic challenged and Krasus seemed to bit his lip in frustration at the challenge. “It might happen immediately. It might not happen for a thousand years or more. But eventually humanity will rip itself apart unless it is united and its different cultures and identities are purged from it.”

“Becoming united is one thing Troyic,” Marin reasoned and it was clear from her voice that she was attempting to reason with him. “But what you’re suggesting isn’t unity its domination.”

“Perhaps,” Troyic conceded. “And perhaps there is another way? Dale,” Troyic focused on his cousin. “Our uncle may not have chosen one of us as a successor but surely you can see how much chaos this plan of our uncles will unleash. If you stand with me now and support me as the new Emperor we can prevent our nation from falling into this madness. Together we can unite our people as they never have been before and ensure both order and power for the human race.”

“Power,” that word had clicked something in Dale’s mind. “The human race is the most powerful mortal people on our world already. What do we need more power for?”

“If the Empire falls apart we will lose that strength,” Troyic had a snarl in voice. “And as for us being the strongest mortal race on our world. Why should we stop there? When in time our people can ascend to even greater heights than that? And as a united and orderly Empire no one can stop us or prevent us from achieving that glorious destiny.”

Dale started to clap. It caused Troyic to stare at him, confused, along with everyone else in the room.

“Wow,” Dale finished his slow clapping and did his best not to sound as confused, or scared, as he felt about the whole situation. “That was without a doubt the most arrogant speech I have ever heard. No really, that was impressive.”

While the former prince was certainly frightened he willed that fear away. Instead he allowed himself to feel the anger that had been building against Troyic for the last few days. “I’ve been told that you were crazy for years but I have to say you certainly convinced me of that today.”

“It’s crazy to seek to better the human race,” Troyic’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t think so,” Dale steeled himself; it would come soon he told himself. “But trying to force that change on people who do not want it is wrong. Or at least it is to me. And then you plan on striking out not only at our own people but anyone of any race that disagrees with you. I’ve been trying to figure out why Tiber, Risti, Salir, Connor, and so many others would want me for an Emperor. Well they don’t. They want anyone as long as its not you.”

The snarl was gone from the elder princes face but the expressionless glare almost made Dale take a step back.

“Then this means you are opposing me?”

Dale took a deep breath. “Yes Troyic. I choose our uncle and his flawed plan over you.”

Troyic cast his eyes down in sorrow; it almost looked genuine. “I see. That is unfortunate.”

And the elder prince struck.

Troyic was fast. He cleared the distance between them so quickly most people’s eyes didn’t register it. Dale barely had time to draw and raise his sword. Sunheart clashed with Troyic’s blade, Rivenwind, with enough force that several people were knocked back. Dale was being driven back as Troyic broke Dale’s parry to send him back further. Reaching out with one hand the elder prince grasped Dale’s left arm and pulled him back. Troyic’s face was contorted with fury as he brought his sword forward intending to run Dale through the chest.

He never finished his thrust. A knife passed by Troyic’s head; only missing because the elder prince had seen it in the corner of his eye. Troyic let go of Dale and intercepted another knife with his sword. This time Dale could see Harold Greymane holding two more knives that just appeared in his hands. Around the room things were happening quickly. Troyic’s supporters rushed to support their leader only to find that the Strom Guard were now blocking their path. Connor thrust his lance with enough force that Troyic had no choice but to retreat or be skewered. One of Troyic’s supporters had tried to take Marin hostage and was backing away from her bleeding; a blue-black haired maid was standing near him with a pair of daggers. Salir, Brewden, and most of the non Lordaeron nobles in the room put themselves between Dale and Troyic. More members of the Guard were charging into the room and they too took up a defense of the younger prince.

“He is no longer your sovereign,” Troyic snarled. “Why defend him like this?”

Salir snorted.

“Its not complicated.

“We like him more than you.” Harold Greymane finished for him.

Troyic quickly assessed his position and ordered his supporters to follow him from the room. The Guard who were entering parted their ranks at a gesture from Connor and allowed the group to leave.

“You may regret doing that,” Greymane told the former Guard Commander. “No one here would have said a word about killing them.”

“Perhaps,” Connor did look torn over what he had just done. “But one member of the family I was sworn to protect has died today. I’d prefer to avoid the death of another.” He looked to one of his men, “Make sure they leave the city.”

“Sir,” the man saluted and left. A soldier next to him stepped forward. “What about the force outside the gates sir? What if Troyic has them attack?”

Brewden, Connor, and Salir gave a slight chuckle.

“If Troyic is really arrogant enough or stupid enough to attack Strom with those buffoons then he deserves to die today,” the Guardsman knew what Connor implied and left to give the appropriate orders.

“There is another matter that has not been addressed,” Krasus smiled kindly at Dale. “What will you do now?”

That was a good question, Dale thought, what should he do now?

“If you wish to rule Strom I will gladly yield the throne to you,” Connor told him with a bow.

Dale shook his head, the one thing he was certain of was that he should not seek a crown. “This city is in the best hands it could hope for already. In fact let that be my last act as a member of the Thorodin line; to name you as the ruler of Strom.”

Connor gave him a respectful nod. “I will accept that title from you Dale but I will not accept you giving up your family position.”

“Nor will I,” Greymane spoke up as did others in the room; nobles from every part of the empire. “The Thorodin line ruled for a thousand years, that legacy should not be abandoned or worse left to someone like Troyic.”

“That’s a great point,” the heir admitted. ‘So what should I do,’ he thought. Dale had to smile at Pilis’s choice. A consequence of it, and Dale didn’t doubt for a second that it was unintentional, he was free to choose anything he wanted. But when he thought about his many options one stood out to him. It would help his friends, be a way to make a difference, and on a more personal level be an adventure.

“I think I’ll head for the Southern Colonies,” Dale told the others. “I liked what I saw of the Wrynn and the Elwynn and I like the idea of helping to create a future there.”

“And by leaving here you allow Connor to establish his authority independent of yours,” Marin and her maid smiled. “I think I will join you. The idea of building something new appeals to me as well.”

“So that’s where he gets it from,” Salir smirked. “Well I definitely need to go with you. You’ll get yourself killed if you go on your own.”

“Whatever you say, your majesty.”

The new prince of Strom’s smirk vanished. “Don’t start.”

Dale continued as though he hadn’t heard through the rest of the day. Troyic had not been so foolish as to attack the city and by the next morning his forces were leaving for their homes in Lordaeron. Dale, Marin, and Salir were not the only citizens of Strom or its court to decide to leave for the Southern Colonies. In fact by the time those who had chosen to leave where ready five Galleys were needed to carry them to Stormwind.

Dale stood at the stern deck of one of the ships and gazed back the city. In just a few days so many things had changed. He had come here believing that he was being forced into a corner. And now. Now he was free. Literally, truly free. Dale could choose anything he wanted. Pursue any dream he wanted. It was an odd feeling. The former prince imagined that this must be what flying felt like. And though he was still grieving for his uncles passing it did not consume him.

“Thanks old man.”

“With respect Prince Dale to whom are talking to,” Dale had not heard the blue haired maid come up the raised to deck stairs to meet him. But considering who she probably was, he thought, that wasn’t a shock. “Mistress Marin asked me to remind you to get some rest on this voyage.”

“You’re good Erin.”

She feigned surprise well. “Sire?”

“That was your name when we meet in Stormwind right? I thought you were part gnome when I first saw you.”

For a brief flicker the girl kept up the façade. And then her posture relaxed, she stretched her neck and arms, and looked at the former prince as though he were a plaything.

“You shouldn’t feel bad about that,” Erin walked to the ships railing and leaned against with her arms. “Believe me that wasn’t the craziest disguise I’ve ever put on.”

Somehow, Dale thought, I don’t doubt that at all. “So what kind of magic were you using to disguise yourself?”

“None,” Erin turned around to lean her back against the railing and keep her eyes on Thorodin’s heir. “People sometimes say that appearance doesn’t matter to them. They’re lying. People see someone wearing certain clothes, or having a certain haircut, or a certain attitude and they immediately base everything they know about that person around what they see. It’s not a bad thing it’s just part of how humans are. And it does make my job much easier.”

Dale frowned, he wasn’t sure he liked that description of human nature. “So what was your job in coming to Strom?”

Erin was still looking at Dale as though he was a plaything; and Dale realized that was probably how she saw everyone she meet. “Archbishop Romani has been sending to Strom for a while now to keep an eye on the situation there. This time it was because you were coming to the city, thinking that your uncle was in trouble. So naturally I decided to keep an eye on you.; on the assumption that you would get yourself into trouble.”

“Ha, ha,” the former prince shook his head and then had an epiphany. “That was your knife that stopped Troyic. Not Greymanes.”

“Very good. And I congratulate you in figuring out who I was. Salir never got past looking at my cleavage to notice who I was even when I was taking his money at that tavern.”

Dale thought for a moment; then a wink from Erin gave him the clue he needed. “You didn’t make a bad pirate with that eye patch.”

“Is that what you were looking at when you saw me,” Erin’s grin reminded Dale of a cat. “My face?”

The young man felt his face turn a little red, “I noticed other things as well. But I do my best remember to a persons face. It’s how I figured out who you were Erin.”

“Really?” Erin looked thoughtful for a moment. “By the way Erin isn’t my real name it’s just what I’m called when I play the part of a naïve cleric.”

“Makes sense. So what is your real name?”

“I don’t have one,” she said with a shrug and cast her eyes down. “For me names are just something that I switch around for different assignments. For example right now I am Florentina, humble maid. At other times I’m Belle, a courtesan for the nobility. One of my favorite roles has been Chanis, bounty hunter and frequent patron of the Laughing Eagle tavern. As for my birth name… I’ve never known and don’t particularly care. So call me whatever you like.”

A grin crossed Dale’s face. “Ok, then from now on your real name is Nicole.”

The newly named person looked back up at him with her eyes wide; she had not expected that response. Then her eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re not naming me after the first girl you ever kissed, are you?”

“Uh, no, of course not,” the young mans face was a brighter shade of red.

Nicole continued to glare at him for another moment; but there was no anger behind it. In fact, she looked as though she was enjoying having someone to play with. It made the journey to Stormwind much more interesting.

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter 13 You want to build what?

“I didn’t think gnolls were that stupid.”

“Well, there were twenty of them and only two of us.”

“I know but still,” Dale and Salir were riding back into Stormwind after spending a day on patrol through the woods. It had been a fairly uneventful day until a pack of gnolls, short doglike creatures on two legs, mistook the two of them for simple travelers or settlers and attempted to rob and kill them. It only a few seconds to convince the snarling thieves it would be better to run.

Since coming back to the port town Dale and Salir were kept very busy. The breakdown of the Arathi Empire had been relatively peaceful but that did not mean there weren’t problems. A trio of Goblin Cartels had attempted to take advantage of Gilneas and Kul Tiras while they were distracted. Only one of those cartels was allowed to flee; the other two no longer existed. The Amani Trolls launched several raids against Quel thalas and Strom territory. As far as Dale knew they had all been repelled.

Troyic had his hands full attempting to consolidate his holdings. The Menethil family out of Stratholme was refusing to enact Troyic’s policies, now that they no longer were beholden to Arathi Imperial decree; as were several smaller noble families throughout Lordaeron. In fact the various other nobles were either pledging themselves to the Menethil or establishing their own small kingdoms around their estates. Troyic had a much larger standing army than any of the other leaders in the North but the Menethil were holding their own at least the last time Dale had heard news.

And thanks to the many new settlers coming south he didn’t have to wait long to hear something new. The combination of the political turmoil up north and the lure of large tracts of fertile, unclaimed land in the southern colonies were bringing daily ship loads of people into Stormwind. This caused Dale, Salir, Clint Lothar and his officers, and the Wyrnn and Elwynn families, to have to spend a great deal of time protecting them from some of the woods more dangerous residents. Gnolls and Kobalds, rat like miners that frequently tried to tunnel into existing mines to make new homes, were highly territorial and unpredictably migratory. That said they were not the brightest of foes nor very good fighters. As long as the patrols were kept up in force and as long as the settlers weren’t stupid enough as to build in places the Elwynn and the Wyrnn couldn’t reliably protect they would be safe.

The town of Stormwind itself was close to bursting with people. Not all of the settlers who came south wanted to build in the woods. Many of them came from the cities in Lordaeron and wanted nothing to do with the more rural life style that was the norm in most of these new lands. Stormwind had maybe a few hundred people there when Dale had first come to the city. Now, as Dale rode to the town hall, there must be several thousand people wandering about the place.

As the pair dismounted near the town hall Dale couldn’t help but notice the many eyes that were watching him. Marin had through a combination of being the most highly ranked person to step up and lead, and the fact that with her contacts among the nobles she could make arrangements that no else could, become the de facto mayor of Stormwind. She had insisted that Dale wear his armor and the Arathi Royal tabard from the moment they got off the boat in Stormwind’s harbor. ‘It would help people to feel more at ease,’ she told him. Maybe it did, he thought, but it also made him stand out like a giant at a gnome family reunion among the towns people, refugee’s, and settlers. Also, the look on peoples faces when they watched him was something Dale did not care for; the look of people who were longing for something, anything, to give them an anchor. It wasn’t that he begrudged them wanting stability but he did not like being the focus of that desire.

Besides there were other things in the town that were giving people something to cheer about or at least smile at. Kira and the orphans under her care had stepped up and become greeters, guides, and helpers for the people who were coming in. They acted as intermediaries by helping the settlers and the locals to connect with each other and become friends and neighbors. A side effect of that was that Dale had not had a chance to ask Kira out but he was able to keep in touch; for now that would have to be enough.

The other major thing that was causing a smile was Nicole; or Erin as most people around here knew her. A series of practical jokes were occurring around the town the targets of which were anyone who tried to take advantage of others or cause trouble for the sake of causing trouble. A few days ago a couple of would be thieves had robbed the Blue Recluse. The next day they were hanging upside down by their ankles from the roof of the tavern; with their stolen gold beneath them. They claimed that seven people tracked them down and did this to them. Nicole, in her Erin guise, had innocently shrugged when she was asked her opinion on that; and on who her six friends were when Dale asked her about it. Considering the number of pranks that passed between Nicole and Dale on the trip from Strom to Stormwind Dale had no doubt she was behind it. Salir still wasn’t sure how his beard had been shaved without his knowing. And, Dale grimaced as he removed his helmet, considering that Salir had promised to shave Dale’s head if he could prove Dale was involved in that it might be better for him not to know.

The main room of the town hall was filled with tables with charts, diagrams, and blueprints laid out across them. Marin and Constable Lothar were busy speaking with a group of masons and architects; the leader of which was attempting to convince them of something.

“You want to build what,” Marin sounded skeptical, “a river throughout an entire city?”

“Not exactly,” the architect, Christopher Yohan, pressed politely. “It would be a canal system that links multiple districts within the city. It will allow goods and people to move very quickly throughout the city and give the entire city access to the sea.”

“But any connection between this canal system and the sea would have to go up hill and downhill. How would you solve that problem?”

“The principles in moving water are not that difficult to engineer even for moving up hill,” Mister Clerk answered. “The trouble will be in gaining the resources and the labor necessary to build it.”

“I’ve sent word to Kul Tiras and Ironforge and both are more than willing to assist in providing the resources we’ll need to build a city.” Marin was sorting through several papers before her as she spoke. “A city here would allow them to continue trade with each other and the rest of the world. And labor shouldn’t be a problem either with so many people coming south looking for a place to live. If they are willing to travel here to find a new home they should be willing to help build a new home.”

“From those I’ve talked to everyone would be more than happy to work,” Dale chipped in.

Marin raised her head from her papers and smiled. Clint looked much more disgruntled and disheveled than when Dale had first met him. Understandable, considering he was protecting a small port town that had tripled in population four times; and was still growing. Fortunately most of the people who had come south were more interested in building a future than causing trouble; and that several of those who had come had volunteered to join his constable force to keep those who were interested in trouble under control. But even with that the strain of long hours were showing on his face.

“Any problems on patrol,” he asked in a tired sigh.

“A gnoll pack tried to eat us, but we changed their minds.”

“I thought you weren’t too far into the forest?” Clint’s voice had a slight nervousness to it now.”

“We didn’t,” Salir told him and stretched his arms. “We were half way back from Mirror Lake when they tried to ambush us.”

Clint shook his head attempting to unscramble his thoughts. “Mirror Lake is nowhere near the gnolls usual hunting grounds. It can’t just be their migration something has to be pushing them to reach out for new hunting grounds.”

“If you’re right then what is pressuring them,” Dale asked. “The forest, the river, and the mountains have plenty of game, fish, and other food. And the Elwynn and the Wyrnn generally avoid disturbing the gnolls camps if the gnolls don’t bother them. And what about the kobalds? They are more of an annoyance than a threat as long as the mines are guarded. So if something is pressuring the wilds its just affecting the gnolls.”

“I know,” Clint agreed. “I guess it’s more of a gut feeling than anything else. As if something dangerous were closing in on the south. Maybe it’s just anxiety?”

“Constable Lothar,” the voice that called from the doorway belonged to a premature balding man in priests robes. Roberts was his name, Dale thought, the leader of the clerics at Northshire; a simple man who, like the Archbishop, had been a great source of comfort for both the settlers and the locals of these lands. “The Archbishop wanted to tell you that he is planning a meeting here tomorrow.”

“That might be a problem,” the constable grimaced. “A large group of merchants from Ironforge and Kul Tiras will be visiting here tomorrow to see the town. Their first impression could be the difference in whether or not we can get the resources to build a city. Merchants are usually not the types who enjoy having a prayer meeting when they are conducting business.”

“They are coming to see if it would be worthwhile to build a city here,” Marin put in. “If they see that the people of this town are able to pull together and have a positive and stabilizing force like faith in the Light it would help that first impression.”

The architects and masons agreed. Clint scratched his greying head before nodding. “I had better see if the Elwynn and Wyrnn are willing to help with security; and to keep any problems between each other to a minimum.”

“They’ve behaved like grownups since that troll raiding party was defeated,” Salir added then looked thoughtful. “That might change if one family thinks that the other will gain a foothold in a new city before the other. Not to mention that if Stormwind does become a city the question then comes of how the balance of power will be distributed. A major city between the lands of the Elwynn and the Wyrnn brings up the obvious question of who will govern it. And how will that authority translate to the rest of the surrounding lands.”

“In other words who will become the king or queen of Stormwind?” Marin completed for the young Trollbane. She thought for a moment before continuing. “There are really only two choices Tiber and Ristinova.”

“There is a third one,” Dale grinned as he thought that Marin had overlooked the obvious. “You.”

The former head chamberlain of Strom scowled at him. “I’m not of noble birth Dale. And any one who attempts to gain authority in these lands cannot start from scratch with their power base or they would be challenged immediately by one of the established nobles. Not unless they are prepared to expel, imprison, or kill anyone who opposes them.” She stood a little straighter as she spoke now. “I abhor violence Dale. I wouldn’t be able to do that.”

“Well, I’m not an option unless you want to risk drawing Troyic or his supporters here,” Dale did his best to hide the relief he felt at that little reality.

“More to the point no one thinks you’re smart enough to be a king Dale,” Salir’s taunt was greeted by a few chuckles and mock hurt look from the former prince. “I agree that Tiber and Ristinova are the obvious candidates but choosing which one has its own set of problems.”

“That is a good and reasonable point Salir,” Marin admitted, “but we have more pressing matters to attend to right now. We have a lot of preparations to make before our guests arrive so let’s get to it. If we put in the effort then tomorrow may be the day the city of Stormwind is founded.”

The Dagger Hills, named for sharpened point shapes of the hills, were home to the largest tribes of gnolls in the south. Every now and then the tribes would become too large and a portion of them would leave to seek a new home. Because of how hostile gnolls were this guaranteed a constant conflict between them and the human Azora tribe; and then the more recent settlers from the north. But beyond that the gnolls did not usually venture far from their homeland.

That had changed recently. Fires had ravaged their home and had forced the majority of their kind from their homeland. Those that remained were those few gnolls who had the courage to attempt to save their land instead of being a scavenger or thief among their human neighbors. One gnoll in particular had found some success in his efforts and was taking a much deserved break. Unlike others of his kin he had watched the humans work their magic on the soil to grow food and was attempting it himself. While it was hard it had afforded him a chance to live without having to worry about starving; and he could even provide for most of his kin.

As he rested he heard something strange nearby. It was almost like human laughter. But that didn’t make sense to him as humans rarely came near the hills unless it was to dig beneath them for shiny rocks. Curious the gnoll snuck closer to the laughter so he could see what was going on.

Glancing over a ridge of rock the gnoll saw a group of about five or six humans sitting together and laughing. And the sounds of the laughter reminded the gnoll of the most vicious of his kin. The ones who hunted not for food but for sport. The ones who enjoyed killing.

“Did you see how those vermin ran when he set these hills on fire,” one of them laughed.

“Absolutely,” another, a female with dark hair grinned wickedly, “A pity we can’t do this more often.”

“I still don’t understand why the master wants us to bother with this,” said a third, a dwarf the gnoll thought his kind were called, who picking his teeth with a bone. “Why bother with corralling the humans into areas when he can just set the whole of these lands on fire?”

“You have no sense of strategy do you,” another female growled. “He wants to gain maximum damage with minimum effort. That way he will be free to unleash even greater destruction.”

“He is worried and rightly so,” said a fifth, a human who looked smaller than the others. “The Lions forest is dangerous to attack directly. At least it is now. In time, as the Lions roar wanes in power….”

“We’ve been through this before,” it was a silent snarl but even from a distance the gnoll could feel the bloodlust and danger in the words. The short human certainly felt them and was quiet. “The humans have acquired our prize. They are ignorant of its power for now but that may not be the case for long. We must retrieve it. And when we do our master plans to test it. What better test could he ask for than a few cringing mortals in their huts.”

The gnoll felt a pressure in his back; then a great pain. He had not heard nor felt the approach of another of these monsters but one had found him. These monsters who had delighted in burning his home. These monsters who were planning to destroy the humans as well. The gnoll only regretted that he could warn others. That he would die alone with no one to know of him.

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter 14 First Impressions

There were times that Marin’s planning ahead annoyed Dale; she did once advise him to pack ten pairs of shirts for a three day trip just in case. For today at least he decided she was right. Marin had organized the towns people, both the residents and the new settlers, to clean and dress up the small port as best they could. The buildings were given a fresh coat of varnish, they didn’t have enough paint so they worked with what they had, and the dirt streets were cleared of anything that might cause a problem; excess dust, rocks, empty bottles, etc. Something that caused Salir a big sigh of relief was the docks were cleaned and sanitized to remove the old fish smell. In fact the only part of the town that wasn’t touched was the park.

And the towns presentation made a good first impression on the visiting guests. The merchants from Kul Tiras and Ironforge definitely realized that the town did not always look so polished but they seemed impressed by the effort. Dale was asked again to wear his armor; just adding a status emblem Marin had told him. He walked with the group of merchants as Marin pointed out the different ways that Stormwind could aid in promoting trade between the two cities.

“Speaking for Kul Tiras we have always supported building Stormwind into a city,” a merchant named Greenvale pointed out as they passed the different inns and taverns. He was one of the leaders of the Kul Tiras Merchant Guilds; his guild specializing in ship manufacturing. With the need his guild had for lumber it was almost a given that he was in favor of supporting Stormwind. The vast forest around the city must have looked like gold to him.

The owners of each inn were putting on a display of some kind. The Blue Recluse had its mage waitresses cast an illusion that made the inside look like a blue and gold version of a Silvermoon inn. The Pig and Whistle was being less dramatic though more inviting by having several open pit grills set up with large barrels of mead for free. The dwarfs were certainly enticed by the prospect of free food and drink. And, Dale admitted, so was he.

One among the dwarfs was being particularly cordial. Forin Silverbeard had made good on his promise to be of help for saving his life. The mason and merchant had pulled together a large group of his Bronzebeard clansmen to visit the town for themselves and was speaking volumes on how it was in their clans best interests to help support the town.

“An growin food has always been a problem in Dun Morogh but will ye look at all this,” Forin spoke as he ate a plate of smoked boar with corn, carrots, apples, and a pint of mead. “How can ye tell me that tradin with these people would be a bad idea?”

“It’s impressive no deignin,” another dwarf, Thraron Bronzebeard Dale heard him called. “But we can trade for food just as easily from Gilneas or Lordaeron and without havin ta build a city ta do it.”

“While that is true sir,” Marin was being much more polite than Dale would have been, “It is also true that what Ironforge needs most in order to trade with others are ships. The Thandol Span that your kin built is impressive but even with that great achievement it still takes a long time to move goods and people over land. While transport by ship is much faster. With Stormwind acting as an intermediary and with the Kul Tiras fleet to distribute your goods Ironforge will be able to reach out to the entire known world.”

“And perhaps beyond it,” Mister Greenvale pointed out. “While none of our ships have been able to explore beyond the Great Sea I believe that with your help we can make that miraculous achievement.

Now they had his support, Dale thought. Something that had drawn humans and dwarfs together, often more closely than the High Elves, was their shared desire to explore. Thraron’s eyes lit up at the idea of discovery and the prospect of an adventure. And the young prince had to admit that he was also excited about something like that. The idea of being able to go beyond the Great Sea and search for unknown lands was the stuff that dreams were made of.

As the tour continued the group passed by Archbishop Romani’s prayer meeting; well, outdoor concert might have been more appropriate. Something that Dale had always liked about Romani was that he believed the Light found people best when they made a joyful noise. It was a sharp contrast to the Holier than thou attitude that most of the Light’s bishops held. Sure enough while Romani was busy leading a large congregation in song there were a few bishops standing to the side grimacing at the entire thing as though it were a disgrace. But they were in the decided minority here in the lands of Azeroth, Dale thought with a smile. Several hundred people were singing along with the Archbishop.

A bit further away there were more merchants who were taking advantage of the festive attitude in the town to ply their wares or trade. One of them in particular was purchasing old pieces of junk in exchange for gems. At first Dale couldn’t see why but then he realized that the goods he was buying were keepsakes that looked like junk but likely had great value to the people who owned them. And therefor might be resold as being valuable trinkets to collectors.

Three of the orphan boys that Dale had played with when he first came to Stormwind were debating whether or not to sell their resin disk toy.

“We could buy everyone new clothes,” one of the boys said.

“Or some new toys,” said another.

“I know, but,” the third boy, Bryan was the one who owned the disk and was clutching it tight in his hands. “My dad found it in the river. It’s the only thing I have left of my family.”

“I understand son,” the merchant spoke kindly. “You don’t need to make up your mind right away. I’ll be in town for a few days if you decide to part with it.” And then the merchant turned to the owner of the Pig and Whistle tavern; who was selling his big shiny hammer.

Bryan noticed Dale watching him and waved hello. The former prince waved back and called him over. He and his friends joined the traveling group and Dale had the orphans point out the different places and people around the town; giving the merchants a child’s view on the town. It made them smile to hear about the best places to find sweets or avoid their matron if they made her mad.

Speaking of which Dale had been hoping to see Kira today. She had given her charges permission to wander the town and play. It was a good mark in the towns favor that she trusted its people to look out for the children. But Dale was curious where she was. Regardless of how much she trusted the people in Stormwind Kira had always made a point of keeping an eye on them.

Something else caught Dale’s eye. One of the girls in Kira’s charge was talking frantically with Clint Lothar; the constable had been doing his rounds with a group of his men. Clint inclined his head at Dale and the former prince got the signal.

“If all of you will excuse me for a moment,” Dale bowed to the group and turned to Bryan, “I’m counting on you and your friends to keep these guys out of trouble, all right?”

“Deal,” Marin, Greenvale, and Silverbeard smiled as the boys started to act more like guards than guides. ‘That should keep them busy if this is something bad,’ Dale thought as he hurried to where Clint, Salir, and a dozen armed men were discretely moving.

The Stormwind Park was a ways away from where the festivities of the town were taking place. Kira, it turned out had been preparing the flower fields around the park by arranging them into patterns; a lion, a unicorn, a few others. Clint told Dale that Kira and Marin had planned for the visiting guests to come to the park later in the evening to rest and enjoy a quiet meal outdoors after their day of wandering about the town. From the looks of things she had the park well in order; aside from the men who were accosting her and a group of her charges.

Most of them looked like hired muscle but their leader definitely stood out. Arden Rovren, the Wyrmbane Order member that Dale had helped rescue from the troll raiding party was glaring daggers at Kira. At least he was until he realized that Clint and his men were surrounding him and his people; and when he saw Dale and Salir reaching for their weapons.

“Wait,” Clint told the two nobles with a scowl and then walked between Arden and Kira. While he moved Dale noticed that Nicole had been standing next to Kira; the young woman dressed to look like cleric gave him a subtle wink. That relieved the former prince. Say what you want to about Nicole but Dale had noticed that when she choose to protect someone nothing would touch them.

“You have one minute to explain why you’re threatening this woman and the children under her care,” Clint had drawn a short war hammer from his side as he spoke to Arden and his thugs. “Fail to do so and we start hurting you.”

Arden regained his composure but kept an eye on the hammer. “The children are in no danger from us. In fact we are protecting them. Protecting them from the monster that has been lying to them about her true existence.”

Dale looked from Kira to Arden, glaring from behind his helmet visor. “You think Kira is a dragon?”

“I understand your reluctance to believe it Prince Thoradin,” the Wyrmbane member said with a slight bow, “but it is my experience that evil beings often wear a pretty face when seeking to distract from their objectives.”

“I don’t care what she looks like,” the former princes outburst caused him to receive several incredulous looks and one outright smirk from Nicole. “I mean…”

“He means look at her actions,” Salir cut him off, and gave him a smirk of his own as he did. “She is the matron of an orphanage who has gone out of her way to make life better for her charges and her community. Would you call someone like that evil?”

“I can prove my claim if you will allow me,” Arden told them and held an ornate box out for all to see. He opened the box and took out…

“That’s a feather,” Nicole blurted out. She and Kira looked at each other with raised eyebrows and then at the large fluffy object in Mister Rovren’s hand. “What are going to do with it? Tickle her nose and see if she sneezes fire?”

“This holy relic has revealed the existence of many evil creatures,” he proclaimed with a flourish. “And once it has demonstrated that woman’s true nature you will all understand the necessity of our order.”

Constable Lothar had heard enough. With a gesture his officers stepped forward and bound the hands of Arden’s men; they weren’t stupid enough to resist or maybe they also thought Arden was crazy. The Wyrmbane member looked surprised as he was lead away from the park and towards the docks; about to be sent back to Lordaeron on the first ship that would bare him.

“Sorry about that Kira,” Clint told her with a bow and left to attend to his duties.

“It’s alright,” Kira released a sigh, “I’m just glad he wasn’t here to hurt the children.”

Arden had dropped the feather when he was taken away. Nicole picked it up and immediately used it tickle Kira’s nose. She sneezed and bated the feather away but that was it. Nicole then promptly used the feather to tickle the nose of everyone there, including Dale when she lifted his visor, causing everyone to sneeze.

“Well, either everyone here is actually a dragon,” she said then looked away from the others as she sneezed, “including me. Or the only thing this feather proves is that the Wyrmbane are nuts.”

“Which we already knew they were,” the young Trollbane smiled.

“Yeah,” Dale was starting see a down side to wearing a helmet all the time; his nose still itched.

“It’s part of who they are,” Kira said with a shrug. “Some people just can’t be happy unless they have an enemy to fight. So they look for one. And if they can’t find one they invent one.”

“I’d feel more sympathetic if they weren’t trying to kill innocent people,” the former prince told her.

“I know,” the matron had walked over and put her arm through his. The young man was startled, albeit happy, as she led him away from the park. “Let’s go see what the town is up to.”

Ignoring the smirks from his two friends Dale and Kira walked into the port town to find that the prayer meeting had ended. The Archbishop was happily going from inn to inn and bringing his flock with him. They were still singing in several of the taverns but Dale noted that their songs were now less spiritual and more alcoholic. Something the towns dwarf guests were more than happy to join them on.

Nicole had given the feather to the girls who had been hiding behind Kira and the kids were having fun running up to people, making them sneeze, and then running away. In her Erin disguise, Nicole gave Kira an innocent shrug as the matron started to reprimand the girls behavior. Kira didn’t seem to buy Nicole’s act at all; nor did she seem angry at her beyond shaking her head.

One of the girls intended targets was Archbishop Romani who caught them at it before they could make him sneeze and gave a hearty laugh when he saw the feather.

“I remember this thing,” the Archbishop pointed to the feather. “One of my more pompous colleagues in Lordaeron blessed this to reveal people’s true natures.”

“All it does it make people sneeze,” one of the girls told him.

“I never said it actually worked.” The Archbishop blew his nose when another of the girls caught him by surprise. He laughed it off and shooed her and her friends away with his walking staff.

“I realize the Wyrmbane are crazy,” Nicole asked in fake innocent voice, “but do they really believe that a feather could reveal a dragons identity?”

Before Romani could answer a jet of flame barely missed him. Following the trail of smoke the shocked onlookers turned to the merchant who had been buying trinkets; and the feather that had tickled his nose that had been reduced to ashes. The merchant’s eyes glowed with power as he looked at the girls before him; they were so scared that it didn’t look like they could breath.

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter 15 Those Who Fear the Darkness

“Well,” the merchant’s voice became much deeper as his skin became scales, “so much for the easy way.”

Though fighting against the initial shock Dale ran forward and put himself between the girls and the man who was quickly transforming into a dragon. The merchant’s body became engulfed in flames as he grew larger. A massive clawed hand reached out of the flames and slammed in front of the former prince. Another moment and a full grown drake appeared through the fire.

It towered over Dale and the girls. Its irregular and sharpened scales looked as though someone had been pouring blackened metal onto its body. Its wings unfurled causing a gust of wind that sent several people back. But it did not attack. Instead it raised its head and…

“ACHOOO!” the sneeze included another jet of flame that went straight up into the afternoon sky. The dragon then wiped its nose with one of his wings and looked back down. “Sorry about that. I really didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I believe you,” Dale said quickly as he looked around the town. They were pretty much in the center of Stormwind, where the dirt road from the harbor meets with the main rows of inns and taverns. People were hurrying out of the way as Clint and his guards, and virtually everyone in town who owned a weapon, were rushing into the area. Despite the looks of alarm no one seemed to panic. This was, considering a black dragon had just appeared in the middle of town, remarkable to say the least. “So what happens now? I don’t suppose you would like to just leave?”

“Tempting,” the dragon spoke with voice that was silky, deep, and immensely powerful. “But I think not. I came here to acquire something. And WE are not leaving until we find it.”

Before Dale could ask what the dragon meant several people screamed. Around the town different travelers and merchants changed form before everyone’s eyes. Most became dragonkin, large reptilian creatures that looked either like a horse with the head of a dragon and the torso of a human or stood on two legs. Another three were black drakes who walked by the buildings and sneered at the people inside as they passed.

Dale attempted to keep the horror show from getting to him when a sound could be heard over head. He looked up just in time to see another group of drakes carrying several large metal chain nets. They dropped them on the people outside the buildings trapping them in place. One fell on Dale and he felt the chains land on his armor with a thud knocking him to the ground. The former prince had enough room that he could look around and saw that Clint and his officers were trapped; as were Marin and her guests and Salir, Nicole, and Kira. In fact he did not see a single person who was not either pinned under a net or hiding inside a building.

“Now that we have your attention there is the matter of our business here,” the dragon who had been a merchant called out to the town. “I promise that if you cooperate you have nothing to fear.”

“The promise of the Black Dragon Flight is worthless,” Dale looked to see Forin Silverbeard attempt to stand up and fail. “Your kind made a pact with the Dark Iron clan in exchange for slaves. They kept their part of the bargain by raidin these folks. You turned on em and stole some o the Dark Iron’s lands instead o keepin your word.”

The dragon merchant laughed. “Is a Bronzebeard dwarf really complaining about how another clan is treated? Your kind would sell their brothers for a pint of ale rather than work alongside each other.”

Forin responded with a curse in his peoples tongue that didn’t have a translation in Common. The dragon’s eyes narrowed and he reached under the net to pick the dwarf up by his ankle. “I see we have a volunteer for an example of why you shouldn’t insult a dragon.”

Dale braced himself then pushed off from the ground and jumped out from under the net. The former princes sword, Sunheart, slashed at the dragon’s claws and cut through the scales and its hand. The dragon merchant dropped Forin in pain and shock. Dale caught the dwarf before he hit the ground and readied himself to fight; or at least as ready as he could be against dragons and dragonkin.

“How are you able to stand,” the dragon merchant demanded. “We placed a powerful enchantment on those nets to subdue all physical and magical strength.” The former prince did not answer. But he did give a silent thanks to dwarf smiths and elven magi who had made the armor he wore.

“There are more kinds of strength than magic and muscle,” the voice that called out did so from behind one of the drakes.

The black dragon jumped into the air as if it had been stung and Archbishop Romani ran under it. Calling upon the Light the Archbishop sent a burst of energy sky ward that knocked the drake out of the air and sent it crashing back to the ground. Two of the dragonkin charged the old man swinging heavy axes as they did. Neither of them got close. Dale sprinted forward and with one sweep took both of their heads from behind. The Archbishop rushed past him smiling and he brought his staff against the throat of another dragonkin that had been charging Dale. Three quick strikes with his light infused staff and the creature was on the ground twitching for breath.

“As my young friend asked,” Romani looked into the eyes of the dragons without despair, “Isn’t it time for you to leave?”

“Not just yet,” a deep voice spoke from one of the tavern doors. Walking into the open was a man who looked to be in his thirties or forties with dark hair and menacing eyes.

“My apologies sir,” Romani spoke politely as a shimmering wall of energy encircled the Archbishop. “But if you mean to harm these people I must insist that you leave.”

“I accept your apologies,” the new comer gave a bow as he spoke and lunged forward shoving his hand through the energy and through the Archbishops chest to pierce out of his back. Several people screamed as the new comer pulled his hand out dripping from the old man’s blood. “But I cannot guarantee the safety of these people if they keep fighting my minions.”

Mouth opened Dale watched the Archbishop fall to the ground lifeless. His mind stuck between not being able to process what just happened and wanting to charge at the being who didn’t even bother to shake Romani’s blood off his hand. The new comer eyed Dale with an expression that the young former prince thought was a mix of arrogance and contempt; as if he were looking at an annoying insect about to be stepped on.

“My name is Deathwing,” the new comer called out in a voice that everyone in the town heard with crystal clarity. “For those of you who do not know me I am the master of the Black Dragon Flight.” Several people had already been trying to move away from him even with the chain nets covering them. No one could blame them. Deathwing was the most infamous dragon in the history of the world. Cities fell at his whim. Wars started or stopped depending on his mood. Catastrophes and violence were as associated with his name as breathing was associated with lungs. “I am not here for my health nor to waste my time on amusements. I am here to retrieve something that belongs to me that is in this town. Bralgalion, which of these humans has what is mine?”

The dragon merchant scanned the humans trapped beneath the nets for a few moments. Then he pointed one of his wicked claws at Bryan. The boy was trembling but was doing his best to put himself between the dragon and Marin. This seemed to amuse Bralgalion as he lifted the net and dragged the child out. Marin and at least one of the merchants attempted to stop the dragon but the net fell on them before they could reach him. Dale took a step forward but Deathwing pointed his bloodied hand at another group beneath a net and made fist. Several dragonkin stepped next to the net and readied their axes. Dale took a step back, grinding his teeth as he did, and Deathwing, in his human guise, gave another gesture that stopped his minions.

“Set him down and allow him to stand on his own,” Bryan was dropped onto the dirt road and scrambled to his feet. He glared at Deathwing between his shivers. The Aspect of Death looked over the boy from a distance. “You are carrying something in your right pocket. Take it out.”

Bryan complied and pulled the resin disk toy from his pocket. Deathwing stared at the object with an intensity that might have set it on fire. The dragon pulled his eyes away to look Bryan in the face. “You do not know what you’re carrying do you.”

“It’s a toy my dad found in the river.” The boy was still shaking but he kept his eyes fixed on Deathwing’s face. The dragon smiled at the attempt at bravery.

“But I understand that it is precious to you. A family heirloom is not something that is easy to part with. Bralgalion offered to trade gems in exchange for such items. I offer ten times your weight in gold and jewels for it.”

The orphan didn’t move. But looked from Deathwing to the Archbishop’s body and shook his head.

The disguised dragon sighed. “Then I shall enhance my offer. Return my property and I will not only give the payment I proposed but shall leave this place and its people untouched. Agreed?”

Bryan looked around the town, swallowed hard, and held out the disk.

“Wise decision,” Deathwing gestured to one of the dragonkin and the creature strode forward to take the offered disk.

And when the dragonkin grasped it he let out a shriek of pain. Energy that resembled lightning arced out from the disk and surged through the creature causing it to collapse on the ground. It convulsed for another moment and then stopped moving.

As shocked as Dale felt about the whole situation Bryan looked close to panic after the dragonkin stopped moving. “I didn’t, I mean, I don’t know how…”

“I know,” the Aspect told him and held his chin in thought. He stared at the disk for several minutes before speaking again. “Well played druid.” Deathwing grinned at the boys confused face. “My property was stolen from me by a druid of considerable power. In order to hide it from me he sealed it within a wood resin and cast it into the sea. It seems that he set other safe guards in place. Should any of my flight attempt to take it the energy would destroy us. I’m not certain even I could hold it until the seal is broken.”

The human disguised dragon thought in silence for another few minutes; everyone one of which felt like a year. When he was done he let out a laugh that sent a shiver up Dale’s back. Bryan shook and swallowed; clutching the disk with white knuckled hands.

“I’m afraid I must amend my offer again boy. I ask that you carry your disk with us to our home. Once it is there and once its seal has been broken you will be released.”

“Take me instead,” Kira had practically screamed it. Dale caught her eye and realized she knew exactly what she was offering; and exactly what would become of her if she went with Deathwing. “There is no need to hurt anyone else. I will go with you and carry your property in Bryan’s place.”

“My offer is for the boy alone,” Deathwing said with a scowl and gave the matron a look of contempt. “If I wanted a self-righteous preacher around I would have spared your Archbishop.” He paused for a moment then turned his gaze back to Bryan. “It seems I am losing my temper; that can be unhealthy for your friends and neighbors. So, Bryan, do we have a deal or not?”

The boy locked eyes with the two boys he always played with, then passed to Kira, then he swallowed hard again and nodded his head. Deathwing gestured to another of his henchmen who began to chant in a strange language. A moment later a dark hole began to appear; growing larger until it was big enough for a large man to pass through. Bryan, with two dragonkin walking in front and behind, walked through the hole in space and vanished.

“So are you leaving now?” Forin growled from beside Dale as the portal disappeared.

Deathwing looked at the dwarf and smirked. “I always keep my bargains. I will give him the gold and jewels I promised. But since he did not ask how exactly I will give him those gold and jewels I am considering pouring them down his throat or perhaps tying them to his legs and then dropping him from the top of Blackrock Mountain.”

Kira gave an outraged yell and made effort to lunge at the Aspect. Even with the chain net she took several steps before Bralgalion pinned her net to the ground; making sure not to actually touch her as he did. Dale had to use every bit of will power he could but he did not attack. He looked about attempting to find some way to fight back that wouldn’t get someone else killed in the process. He couldn’t find anything and gritted his teeth as Deathwing laughed again.

“I promised to leave this place untouched. Of course,” his eyes blazed with power and a furious red light began to glow from inside his mouth, “a dragon doesn’t exactly have to touch someone in order to kill them. Now, lets play a fun game shall we? I wouldn’t want all of you to be stuck out at night with nothing to keep the shadows away. So, let’s find out how long your bodies can burn.”

Deathwing inhaled deeply and Dale braced himself to strike.

And the world erupted in light. At first Dale thought that the light had come from Deathwing but the disguised dragon looked just as shocked as the former prince. From behind the Aspect and with obvious effort Archbishop Romani stood up. The old man’s face burned as he glared at Deathwing. A drake who hovered near the Archbishop backed away in a state of shock and horror. The light began to fade a little and Romani’s hand almost slipped off his staff but he held his ground.

“Those who fear the darkness, have never seen what the Light can truly do.”

The Archbishop swung his staff. As he did the light dispersed even more. When his staff struck Deathwing it exploded with such blinding power that Deathwing was thrown away from the town. Dale braced himself, but the shock wave of light passed right through him without harming him. The chain nets tore apart releasing most of the towns people and those drakes and dragonkin who hadn’t gone for cover within a building were also thrown away as if an invisible hand had struck them. Exhausted and spent the Archbishop fell to the ground again; never to rise a second time.

……………………………………………………………………..

Deathwing was not sure how far he had been thrown at first. The surprise that a human could throw him at all, even with magic, was still palpable. It took him a moment to rise. His human form was lighter than his true form of course but even in his weakened state he protected himself with powerful wards. That a human on deaths door could be capable of striking him in such a way should have been impossible. And yet it had happened. Looking out from the crater he had made upon landing Deathwing noted that he had been flung far from Stormwind; somewhere in the coastal ranges before the Lion’s Forest.

“Incredible,” the aspect said aloud. “Well done old man. Though I’m sure the effort to attack me like that at all would have killed him even if he were in peak health. That he could do send me so far when he was dying is truly impressive. I…”

He was going to say more but a sharp pain distracted him. Deathwing had clenched his fist only for his hand to hurt. Lifting his disguised hand up he saw something that made Deathwing lose the breath in his lungs. Blood. His own blood was dripping from a wound in his palm. The dragons eyes grew wider and glowed with anger. I was shielding myself, he thought. And yet a mere mortal about to become one with the dust was able to wound me. If I hadn’t shielded myself then…. I would have died. To a mere, insignificant, pathetic, mortal.

The fallen aspects blood dripped onto the stone; each drop causing the rock to burn away a little more. It was not unheard of for mortals to slay dragons. But Deathwing was an aspect. A mortal shouldn’t even be able to scratch him let along draw his blood. Did this mean that the humans were growing stronger? Strong enough to challenge the dragon flights? Strong enough to replace Deathwing in the eyes of his masters?

The ground began to tremble with Deathwings rage. Despite the pain the dragon clenched his fist and cauterized the wound by gathering fire his hand. The fire grew from his fist and encircled him. Using the flames as a catalyst to speed his transformation Deathwing shed his human guise and returned to what he was. The aspect of Death. The winged bringer of death to all. A great black dragon larger than other whose body rippled with power. He gazed from his crater towards where Stormwind stood. A collection of huts that couldn’t withstand a breeze; let alone him. And yet one of its people had dared to draw his blood.

“COME!” Deathwing commanded. “MY FLIGHT! COME TO STORMWIND! BURN THEM! BURN THEM ALL!”

Launching himself into the air the dragon soared away towards his lair. Once his prize was freed from its seal he need never fear pain again. And Stormwind would not be the only collection of huts to burn.

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter 16: Fight and Flight

Though many ears were still ringing from when the Aspect had bellowed his command the people of Stormwind were focused on the body that lay before them. Several of the bishops and priests who had been present for Romani’s prayer meeting were attempting healing spells. Several attempts passed before Bishop Roberts reluctantly had them stop.

“He put his entire being into that last strike,” Roberts’s voice was hoarse from grief. “I doubt anyone could be revived after giving that much of themselves to an attack.”

Dale didn’t blame Roberts for being choked up; the former prince was fighting back tears as well. If Dale’s uncle had been the head of the Arathi Empire Archbishop Romani had been its heart. And in the southern colonies Romani had been the one who had held the people together more than anything.

The town was in a state of shock that was only beginning to fully set in. Most of the people who had been trapped under the chain nets where free but a few remained. Unfortunately removing them was not easy, as the chains had been driven into the ground. Kira was waiting patiently but the look on her face was dark to say the least. Considering that one of her charges had willingly gone to Deathwing’s lair it was a wonder she hadn’t tried to bite her way out of the net.

Nicole was near the net covering Kira and was attempting to dig out the chains that had snuck into the ground. The disguised cleric also had a grim look on her face that broke the non-magical illusion that masked her appearance. But if anyone other than Dale noticed it wasn’t said out loud. Also, from the look on her face, the young man didn’t think it wise to talk to her about anything. So instead the former prince knelt down and starting digging up another part of the chain net. The two of them were so occupied with their thoughts and the task they had set for themselves that they barely noticed the sound of wings overhead.

“Dale Erin MOVE!”

Salir’s shout had gotten through their malaise and two quickly backed away from the net. Just in time to avoid a black drake slamming down where they had been moments before. From the look of its scales Dale thought it might be Bralgalion; though he wasn’t sure since dragons tend to look alike to humans. Regardless the drake was not alone as a number of dragonkin emerged from the inns they had taken shelter in when the Archbishop had made his last stand. Dale had drawn Sunheart and Nicole had drawn two knifes from her robes. Salir had rushed forward wielding a claymore. Clint had his war hammer in one hand and held a sword in the other. But the dragon did not seem to notice. Instead his eyes were fixed on the Archbishops body.

The dragon who had impersonated a merchant laughed at Romani’s corpse in a voice that was more than half manic. “So he’s gone then. Oh well, guess he won’t be here for the real show.”

“You have what you wanted so what are you talking about?” Dale attempted to kept Kira in sight as he spoke. Bralgalion had his claws on the chain net but did not seem to notice nor care that Kira had managed to avoid being stepped on.

Bralgalion walked towards Dale and Nicole as he spoke. “I’m sure you heard it. Deathwing’s command. He has called the Black Dragon Flight. We were already gathering; awaiting his order to strike. Originally we were to strike at all of the settlements within the Lion’s forest. We convinced the Gurubashi trolls to raid you early; which meant that your people sought shelter within the castles and larger settlements in these lands. Which of course meant fewer targets for us. But now things have changed. Our master has commanded that we strike Stormwind first and reduce this place to ash.”

Salir and Clint had come to stand with Dale and Nicole. Constable Lothar held the dragon’s gaze evenly as he asked, “When you say we what do you mean? Are you saying a part of the dragon flight?”

“Not a part of it. All of it. In three days the entire Black Dragon Flight will be here.”

Dale almost dropped his sword. In the history of the human race a dragon flight had only assembled in force only a handful of times, to Dale’s knowledge. And each time something very bad happened to everyone involved. And of all the dragon flights the Black Dragon Flight was the most aggressive and violent. When they came, people died; usually a lot of them.

“Make peace with your Light mortals,” Bralgalion cried. “The Aspect of Death has found you wanting. And your time will end.” As the dragon laughed his eyes glowed brighter; and seemed to grow more wild.

And then a rock hit the dragon in the eye. The dragon roared, out of surprise more than pain, and searched for where the rock came. Dale followed its gaze until he saw one of the waitresses from the Blue Recluse. A series of stones were flying around her hand. They were spinning faster and starting to glow bright red. With a yell she cast the stones at the dragon and they slammed into the drakes head. The dragons scales were too thick for the stones to hurt it but the stones had become so hot that they were melting when they struck; and the molten stone got into the dragons eyes.

As the dragon was roaring in pain the dragonkin attempted to retaliate against the mage. At least the few of them that were left. As the waitress mage had attacked others in the town had struck as well. Clint Lothar’s deputies were well armed and struck quickly. The remaining dragonkin didn’t last long either as Clint and Salir took out a pair, Nicole killed three so quickly their bodies hadn’t finished falling, leaving Dale with two that he slew with two sweeps.

A rush of wind and the sound of scrapping metal told Dale that Bralgalion was taking flight. The former prince was resigned to let him go and sheathed his sword. At least he was until he saw that caught in the drakes talons was the net Kira was trapped in. Without thinking Dale and Constable Lothar caught a piece of the net. But neither of them counted on how strong the dragon was as they both were lifted off the ground. In moments they were so far up that the people below looked like ants. In another few heart beats the quartet were speeding over the forest and heading North, towards the mountains. If he wasn’t worried about Clint and Kira dying from a fall, not to mention himself, Dale would have felt exhilarated at being able to fly. The constable reached for a better hold on the net and the pull caught the drakes attention.

“First time flyers eh? Let’s see how well you handle it.”

The drake dropped down and then swooped up into a fast loop. Dale and Clint held on tight and prayed; about all they could do. Kira was secure, trapped within the net, but she shut her eyes against the wind. Following the first loop Bralgalion spiraled through the air so quickly that Dale almost lost his grip on the metal chain net.

“Such determination! Well done little ones. Now, how about a trip to the woods?”

The black dragon flew through the top branches of the trees; swerving so abruptly that the former prince was shocked at the reaction time. The branches were growing thicker as they moved further North and the leafs were changing to needles. With Dale’s armor he was safe. Clint was not. A wild swerve and a large branch caught the constable across the arm and caused him to lose his grip. Dale didn’t see him hit the ground through the branches but at this speed and this height he knew it wouldn’t matter.

“Is it lighter back there? Too bad. Well, hope those of you who are left like rocks; they’re next.

Dale risked a look ahead to see the mountains growing larger as the flight continued. He also saw that Kira was pulling at the net; as if she was attempting to get out. The former prince attempted to tell her to stop but something unexpected stopped him. As Bralgalio swerved again Dale caught his foot on a loop in a branch that pulled him off the net. He was able to stop his momentum by grabbing any nearby branch but not before dropping several feet. Dale hung there grasping at the upper branches of the trees with his hands and watched as the black dragon rose out of the tree line. Kira continued to rip at the net and, even from a distance, Dale watched as the net gave way; and the matron fell.

Horrified at the prospect of losing another person he had come to know but unable to do anything about it Dale watched Kira fall. Bralgalion circled back around with his mouth open wide; either to breath fire or to attempt to eat Kira in midair. Dale bit his lip to keep himself from yelling, as he couldn’t do anything but watch while a flash of fire engulfed Kira.

And from the fire emerged a second dragon. At first Dale couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This second dragon was too large to be a drake. Unlike Bralgalion this one’s scales shimmered a brilliant red that seemed to glow of their own accord. The black drake looked as surprised as Dale felt at this new and much more serious foe. The animosity between the red and black dragon flights was so famous that even Dale was very familiar with it. If the black flight were destroyers the red flight were protectors.

The red dragon circled around and struck Bralgalion across his muzzle with its tail. The black drake ignored the strike and snapped at the tail. A furious battle of fire, claws, and fangs followed with the red and black dragons attempting to knock the other out of the sky. Trees had their tops snapped and flung away or set ablaze from the air bound duel.

The force from the battle almost caused Dale to lose his grip and fall to the ground. Though he didn’t want to take his eyes away he knew he had to get to get down before he fell down. It took several minutes but Dale was able to inch to a tree trunk and climb to the forest floor. In the time it took him to get down the pair had had inflicted brutal wounds on each other. The red had a long gash on its front leg and its back. Bralgalion’s wounds at first looked minor but Dale realized quickly that the drake was in greater danger; the black dragon’s wings looked in tatters and were barely holding it aloft. Another burst from the reds mouth tore through membranes and Bralgalion began to fall.

But the drake wasn’t going to die easily. He snapped again at the reds tail and this time caught it in his jaws. The red dragon roared as it too was dragged down the two disappearing in the distance. A loud crash told Dale when they hit the ground.

The former prince wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know if either of the dragon’s had survived. He wasn’t even sure what had happened to Kira. The only possible explanation that came to him was that she had been the red dragon. That left many questions that made his head hurt. Well, he thought, one way to find out. Dale started walking towards where the dragons had crashed and hoped for the best.

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter 17 The Lion of the Woods

In spite of the common conception of Gnoll’s as thieves, scavengers, and raiders to outsiders, in their own packs they were very close knit and caring communities. So when the younglings of a Gnoll who tinkered with the human magic of growing things in the ground went to search for him the entire pack set out as well. They found what was left of him discarded by a cliff. Gnoll’s had no belief’s about what to do with their dead. Sometimes they would even eat their dead if there was no other food to be found. The younglings of the pack wanted to bury him, returning him to the earth he worked so hard, and set to work digging a grave.

A swift movement caught their attention. At first the young Gnoll’s did not see what was coming. When they did, they dropped to their knees and pressed their muzzles to the dirt. The form that passed them was large and cast a shadow over the small ones bowing to it. The younglings did not fully understand what kind of creature it was but all beings with ties to these lands had ingrained within them the knowledge of certain things to respect; and this creature was very high on that list.

The beast approached the younglings sire and sniffed the air. With a swipe of its paw it finished the grave the younglings were digging and gently batted the fallen into the hole. The creature raised its head and sniffed the air again; searching for a scent. A distant crash caused the young ones to squirm and the beast to growl. It bared its fangs as it found the scent it was searching for. With a grace impressive for its size the form bounded away from the Dagger Hills, leapt across the river, and disappeared into the forest.

The terrain was becoming increasingly rocky as Dale made his way through the woods. He knew that Bralgalion had been flying north so that meant he was probably near the Khaz Modan mountain ranges. Dale had never been to the homeland of the Dwarf’s but he had always wanted to see it. Their great city, Ironforge, was built into a snow-covered mountain and was the talk of every merchant who had ever been there. The lack of the snow on the ground told Dale that he was not that far North; in fact, he was still in the Elwynn’s forest where it met the mountains.

It took another hour of hiking uphill before he found the crash site. Bralgalion had landed back first onto the trees. Judging from the large trunk impaling the drake’s chest, Dale felt confident that he was dead. There was no sign of the red dragon. However, a small form in a simple red dress was lying on the ground attempting to sit next to an outcrop of rock. As Dale got closer, he saw that Kira was holding her left arm attempting to stop it from bleeding.

The matron looked up as Dale came into the cleared space. The air between them was awkward to say the least.

“So,” Dale started, “Your last name is Straza, right?”

Kira smiled her warm, kind, smile, “You know to be fair. No one actually asked me if I was a dragon.”

They both burst out laughing. “So that feather didn’t work on red dragons?”

“That silly thing shouldn’t have worked at all,” Kira was brushing away a few tears as she laughed. “I think from Bralgalion’s voice he just had a cold.”

It was another few moments before they stopped laughing. Dale looked out at the forest. “Do you think Clint might have survived?”

“No,” the matron was very solemn, “At that height and that speed I’m actually surprised you survived even with armor.”

“Right,” Dale knelt next to Kira and looked over her arm. The bleeding had stopped thanks to whatever spell she used to heal herself but it was clear from the way she was holding it and her back that she should not be moving. “Not to pry, and don’t get me wrong I like this look, but why aren’t you in your true form? Wouldn’t you be more comfortable?”

“It actually takes less effort to be in mortal form rather than our true form for dragons. In either form, wounds would not disappear but I have found that injuries are easier to heal while in human form. Or maybe I’ve been in human form for so long that I’m just more comfortable like this,” she said with a shrug and winced.

“Why would a red dragon be in Stormwind anyway? I’d think the red flight would want to keep an eye on the larger cities if they are checking up on humans.”

“What makes you think a few of us aren’t in your cities,” Kira said gently. “Our queen, Alexstraza, has been interested in humans for some time. She thinks that humanity has the potential to be something great; or something terrible. She sent several of our flight to keep watch on all of the different human settlements, not to interfere, just to observe.”

“Was becoming a matron part of your plan?”

“Not at first. But I saw children in need and I was able to help. So I choose to help.”

Dale had a playful thought. “Well, I’m guessing that now isn’t the right time to ask you out?”

Kira’s face turned slightly red and she looked away from him. “Ah, well. I am flattered. Really I am. But I don’t date people who are younger than me; by a few thousand years,” she added under her breath.

“Thought so,” the former prince said with a resigned sigh. Shot down in flames by a dragon, he thought, ironic. “I guess that song about the Mad Mage Reggie wasn’t true after all.”

“Oh no it is,” Kira’s face was still red, matching her hair, but she was smiling. “Personal relationships between dragons and other races usually do not end well for either party so such relationships have become taboo among dragons. But the green flight has always been very open minded about how they interact with other races. At least for Reggie and Varsera it was a happy story.”

Dale wanted to keep up a pleasant conversation but the events of the day demanded otherwise. “Why would Deathwing care about a toy?”

The red dragon in human form lost her smile; to be replaced by a determined look. “I knew that that disk had magical qualities but I thought it was because of the strong tie that Brian had to it because of his family. I never suspected it would draw Deathwing. There is really only one thing I can think of that would do that. Have you ever heard of the Dragon Soul?”

Dale thought for a moment trying to remember stories about magical talismans; there were a lot of them. “It doesn’t sound familiar sorry.”

The matron smiled kindly again but her eyes remained hard. “The Dragon Soul is the most powerful weapon ever forged on this world. A small gold disk infused with the power of all five of the dragon flights. It was made during the War of the Ancients to turn the tide against a vast demon army. It worked horrifyingly well. At least it did until Neltharion, now called Deathwing, betrayed the rest of the flights and turned the weapon against us. The blue dragon flight was all but wiped out and the rest have never fully recovered.

By the end of the war, the Dragon Soul was taken from Deathwing. Believing that it was too dangerous for anyone to use it was cast away to a place no one would ever find it again. One of the most powerful beings alive, the Arch Druid of a people called Night Elves, used his power to seal the disk as best he could to prevent Deathwing from finding it. Now that I think about it sealing it within a wood resin was a good means of preventing the betrayer from finding the disk. The natural energies of the resin would block out most of what he could sense from the Dragon Soul. Otherwise the energy from the disk would be something he could track. How he found it here I don’t know.”

The former prince listened and assessed. This ancient weapon, thing, worried him. “What kind of damage could he do with this thing?”

“He could wipe out this entire forest in minutes. Or less.”

A movement through the forest caught Dale’s attention. Something was coming towards them through the trees. Something that was moving fast and was big. The former prince leapt to his feet and drew his sword.

Coming out of the trees was the largest lion Dale had ever seen; easily twice the size of a large horse. Its mane and body fur were pure gold as were its brilliant glowing eyes. The eyes were intimidating but not as intimidating as the fangs that were being bared.

A hand grasped Dale’s sword arm and the former prince looked to see Kira standing next to him.

“Get down. Do as I do.”

The dragon in human form knelt to her knees and bowed her head. Dale was reluctant to expose his neck or drop his guard with this giant lion but did as asked. The gold beast walked towards them and sniffed the air causing Dale to sweat a bit. With gentle effort, the lion used its head to push both the people before it to their feet.

“The golden kings are very proud and demand respect. But if they are given respect they will return it.”

Kira placed a hand on her heart and then placed a hand on the lions muzzle. The lion lowered its head and sank into what was clearly a bow of its own.

“I guess this means the Elwynn were right,” Dale found himself in awe of the being before him that was most certainly not a beast.

“Right about there being powerful lion of the woods. Wrong about that lion still being alive. Our friend here is one the lions heirs.”

The matron looked at Dale’s confused expression and explained. “Long ago these woods were home to an Ancient lion who roamed the world. He was friend to all, protector of all; save for those who played god. Alexstraza counted him a friend and ally as did many of the elder beings of our world. The Lion was one of the first of the Ancients to fight against the demons when they invaded. The enemy’s numbers were endless but the Lion was unrelenting. He slew hundreds, thousands, of foes with his fangs, claws, and even his roar could destroy the enemy.

Eventually the demons sent one of their lords to fight him. And the Lion slew it. Surprised the enemy sent another, stronger, lord to fight. And it too was slain. Finally, Archimonde, second in command to the legions master along with four other lords went to fight the Lion. The other four lords were killed but Archimonde struck a fatal blow to the Lion. However, even dying the Lion still gained a victory. His last roar echoed around the world and shook it to its foundation. It was so powerful that no demon, not even Archimonde, could set foot within the Lion’s forest. The roars effect remained well after the war and any being with foul intent who entered this place would be driven out; or even destroyed. Sadly over time the roar has lost much of its strength; like a ripple in a pond that eventually becomes unnoticeable. In a few years it will be nothing more than a faint memory.”

The former prince bit his lip. “While that’s interesting it doesn’t really help with Deathwing. I don’t suppose the other flights would be willing to help?”

“Willing certainly, but none of them are able to be of much help at the moment. They’re spread around the world attending to their various charges. Even if we could get word to the other Aspects it would take time to gather the flights; time we do not have.”

“Then,” Dale was trying to think fast and looked at the Golden King sitting before him, “what about the Lion’s roar? If it drove off demons could it keep Deathwing out?”

“As I said,” Kira didn’t sound frustrated, just sad, as she spoke, “the power of the Lion’s final roar is waning over time. It is now so faint that I’m not sure if it could awaken again. And even it could I do not know if could stop Deathwing or the Dragon Soul.”

The young man started to pace and tap his sword against his leg in a nervous fit. Almost everyone he held close was in Stormwind. The Elwynn and the Wyrnn would put up a fight but against a dragon flight their odds were grim. ‘There had to be some way to stop the attack,’ he thought. ‘Maybe if he could find some way to distract the Black Dragon Flight it could give his friends better odds. But what could distract a dragon flight that much? And what kind of distraction would even matter if Deathwing showed up with this Dragon Soul thing?’

Then a truly crazy thought came to him. “What would happen if Deathwing was killed?”

Kira was taken aback by that question, “Excuse me?”

“If someone were to kill Deathwing how would his flight react?”

The disguised dragon’s eyed were wide with shock. “Dale, Deathwing is one of the five Aspects. Empowered by Titans themselves. A mortal shouldn’t even joke about attempting to kill him.”

“How would his flight react,” Dale asked again; ignoring how insane he found the idea himself.

“Well,” Kira was exacerbated but gathered her thoughts, “I have no idea. They’d be shocked. Angry. Scared. Directionless. But Dale, no one has tried to kill one an Aspect since the War of the Ancients. And the ones who fought in that war were beings so much stronger than humans that your people would barely register next to them.”

The young man considered that, couldn’t think of a counter to it, and came up with the only response he could sum up. “Look, you know I’m not a particularly bright guy. And I’m probably stupid for even suggesting it. But if Deathwing can be killed or at least beaten wouldn’t that save everyone? I’m not going to lie, I’m pretty scared, but I’m going fight him; if I can find him that is.”

A push on Dale’s side let him know that the Golden King was trying to get his attention. The large lion was crouching down next to the former prince and inclining his majestic head.

“He’s offering to let you ride him,” Kira told Dale.

It was like mounting a horse without a saddle or stir ups; and Dale didn’t think it wise to put reins or a bit on a lion. But Dale was able to sit astride the lion securely enough. Looking to the matron, the young man saw that she looked nervous but resolved.

“I will need to rest before I attempt to travel. Our friend here can follow scents and should be able to track Deathwing to his lair,” Kira leaned to lion’s ear and whispered something. When she looked up she took a deep breath before she said continued, “If possible try to get the Dragon Soul. If you can take that away from Deathwing you might be able to distract him enough to keep him from joining the battle. Do not attempt to fight him directly.”

Thoradin’s heir smiled weakly, “Sorry, can’t promise that.”

“Do not fight Deathwing Dale,” Kira pleaded with him.

“If I beat him what do I get,” Dale asked with a grin.

“What?”

“If I beat Deathwing you go on a date with me, sounds good?”

“I, ah,” the red head stuttered.

“I’ll take that as a yes, bye,” Dale counted on the lion both listening in and having a sense of humor. He did.

Leaving a flustered looking Kira behind the Golden King raced away with a speed that forced Dale to hang onto the lion’s mane. In moments the pair of them had raced so far away that Kira would have no longer been visible even without the trees. The forest was racing by in a blur as the lion ran. Leaving Dale alone with his thoughts to consider just how enormous his task was; and just how difficult the approaching fight was going to be.

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter 18 We’re Not Made That Way

Stormwind had become an armed camp within a day of Archbishop Romani’s death. The civilians were being evacuated east, further into the woods, and escorted to the more secure holdings within the Elwynn’s forest. In their place hundreds of soldiers from the Wyrnn and the Elwynn families had come. Tiber noted that those being assembled of the two families set their camps apart from each other. ‘That would have to change if we’re going to survive,’ he thought. Against a foe like the Black Dragon Flight the two families couldn’t afford the luxury of conflict.

The lord of the Wyrnn had been near the border of the woods and the farmlands of Westfall, overseeing the construction of a bridge over the Nefereti River, when he heard of Archbishop Romani’s death. The death of the Archbishop had been bad enough but learning that a dragon flight was coming in force sent a chill down the lords spine. He sent summons to every vassal under his command to come to Stormwind with as many troops as they could muster. They answered his summons quickly and now a large force had been assembled.

And his troops were just a part of the host of the humans of the south had gathered. Ristinova had marshalled her forces as well adding to the massive army. Clint Lothar’s officers were very present and acted as a go between for the two families. Bishop Roberts was provisionally in charge of the clerics of Northshire and he had brought his colleagues to both minister the soldiers present and to providing healing; the later would surely be needed during and after the battle. Figure’s that stood out even among the mass of soldiers present were the Conjurors. Archmage Azora’s magi were examining the area with an academic interest that impressed Tiber. The Archmage himself had been examining the sky in different directions; why the lord did not know.

“My lord,” Tiber had been looking out from the door of the townhall and almost hadn’t heard Marin approach. “The meeting is about to start.”

He gave a nod and followed Marin back inside. Ristinova had gathered her vassals around an oval table with Tiber’s vassals on the other side; Marin had arranged to put Salir and Erin between the two groups to keep the peace. Fortunately both groups were more interested in the problem at hand than any personal issues; the prospect of fighting a dragon flight would do that to you.

“The drake who attacked the town said three days right,” Lescovar was examining a map of the surrounding area with his chin in his gauntleted hands. “It’s been more than that. So what are they waiting for?”

“He could have been mistaken; or lying,” Fordragon was readying a series of figures that would represent different forces.

“I think it’s something else,” Ristinova’s cold eyes were focused on a small group of islands a few miles from the town. “The drake said that their original plan was to strike at major settlements. To wipe out as many targets as possible. I think they are waiting until as many soldiers as possible are assembled. When they are sure that they can inflict maximum casualties they’ll strike. And since we haven’t seen any sign of the flight within the woods I think they’ve gathered here,” she pointed to the islands.

Tiber agreed. The dragonkin aside the water would not be much of an obstacle for the drake’s and full grown dragons within the Black Dragon Flight’s ranks. And given that the dragons were using some kind of portals to transport themselves it was likely that the dragonkin could use something similar.

“I can accept that the dragons believe they’re superior to us, but the arrogance they have in just waiting for us to gather is more than a little insulting.” No one disagreed with what Ristinova said, but Tiber did have something to say about it.

“We can deal with the dragonkin assuming their numbers aren’t too great. The drakes and dragons will be difficult to deal with. We can’t fly ourselves and arrows against dragon hide might as well be bee stings; if that. Things would be different if we could can get them on the ground and keep them there. Between crossbows, halberds, and heavy lances we can over power them.”

“We can use the same trick they did when they attacked,” Salir clenching and unclenching his fists but aside from that he didn’t let his frustration over the disappearance of his friend show. “The docks have plenty of fishing nets and we can rig up small catapults to launch them quickly enough.”

“A fishing net won’t do more than slow down a dragon for a few moments,” Tiber pointed out.

“A few moments is all we’ll need if we can get them on the ground,” Salir growled.

“We should evacuate the town.”

“The civilians have already been moved Erin,” Ristinova told her patiently.

“Nicole.”

“What?”

My name is Nicole.”

It was as though a cloak fell from the young cleric without her doing anything. Where the naïve and ackward young woman had stood now stood a warrior; every bit as strong as Ristinova. And the Lady of the Elwynn recognized her with a nod.

“And what I mean is that we should evacuate everyone from the town. Soldiers as well as civilians.”

“If we leave Stormwind the Dragon Flight will burn it to the ground,” Lescovar chipped in.

“That’s going to happen anyway,” Nicole pressed her point and drew a dagger from within her robes. “Wooden buildings might as well be flammable targets for a dragon. But if we move everyone into the forest around the town then we can have the Flight surrounded when they attack the town.”

Tiber watched her use her knife to direct where to move to where Nicole thought their forces could inflict the most damage. He agreed that the plan might work but something was missing. The Dragon Flight would be sure to notice if the town was empty or not. Though with the Conjuror’s aid they might be able to come up with a solution to that. The sound of running feet intruded before he could state anything though.

“A dragon is approaching!” One of the Wyrnn’s soldiers called as he ran into the room.

“From the sea,” Fordragon demanded.

“No, sir, from the forest.”

The war council raced outside to see their troops forming ranks with clerics and magi interwoven among them. The approaching dragon was indeed coming from the forest. And to Tiber it looked as though it was carrying something in one of its hind legs. Several archers and crossbowmen advanced as the dragon came closer into range; close enough for Tiber to see what color the dragon was.

“HOLD YOUR FIRE,” the lord of the Wyrnn ordered.

The red dragon circled the army before coming closer to the ground. First, it gently set what it carried down; a body. As Tiber ran to investigate he saw that it Constable Lothar and closed his eyes to give a brief prayer for the dead. The fire briefly engulfed the dragon as it settled onto the ground itself. When it touched down and the flames cleared away Kira staggered forward. It looked as though it was taking all of her effort to due so but she walked toward the war council; ignoring the open mouths of most of the soldiers making room for her as she walked.

“We need to talk.”

“The Dragon Soul,” Archmage Azora repeated what Kira had said. “That is what this is about? Yes, that would answer a great deal.”

“And Dale has gone to try and slay Deathwing on his own,” Salir slammed his fist into the townhall wall.

“Well, not completely alone,” Nicole was playing with one of her knifes as she looked at Kira. “Apparently he has a giant lion helping him get there.”

“Yes,” Kira bit her lip in frustration. She found Clint’s body as she flew North, hoping to find and convince Dale not to actually fight Deathwing. But Clint Lothar deserved to have his remains brought home and it was unlikely she could find Deathwing lair; and even more unlikely that in her condition she could fight.

Perhaps more importantly she knew she had to warn Stormwind. Kira knew that Tiber and Ristinova would come to defend the town. And they had to know what they were dealing with. With the Dragon Soul in Deathwing’s possession everyone needed to be warned. If only there were others of her Flight within the South, she thought. But there weren’t. Not now anyway. Most of her kin were across the sea in distance lands. It would take weeks, month’s perhaps, before they could come to help even if they were alerted to the danger. And so now she stood outside the townhall attempting to convince these people she had watched for so long to run for their lives.

“I know you have your pride as leaders to consider,” Kira looked at Ristinova and Tiber as she spoke, “but there is no shame in retreating. If you scatter your forces throughout the forest you have a chance to save as many people as you can. I know it’s not what you want to do…”

“That isn’t possible,” Ristinova cut her off. Kira almost took a step back from the glare on Lady Elwynn’s face. “The fact that Deathwing has a weapon that could destroy us all is all the more reason for us to make a stand here.”

“But…”

“For someone who’s likely been keeping watch on humans for centuries you don’t seem to understand us very well,” this time it was Lord Wyrnn who cut her off. “We’re not going to run from a fight just because it’s difficult. We’re not made that way.”

“Difficult,” Kira repeated, not believing what she was hearing. “This isn’t a gnoll pack with delusions of grandeur. The Black Dragon Flight is among the most powerful forces in the history of our world.”

“We understand that,” Tiber continued. “But where are we supposed to go? By your own words we know that this Dragon Soul could wipe out the entire forest in minutes. So if we’re going to die anyway then we might as well fight and take our chances.”

“And there are other things to consider,” Archmage Azora spoke with a quiet confidence that Kira didn’t think was unwarranted. “We all know what happens if we lose. But what happens if we win? No mortal army has ever defeated a Dragon Flight. If we win it will utterly change the balance of power in the world forever. And besides…”

The Archmage looked out one of the townhalls windows; to a recently dug grave.

“I do not hold the same belief’s as Archbishop Romani. It is unlikely that when my time comes I will be able to speak with him again.” The Archmage made a fist that caught a cold blue fire. His voice when he spoke next was an icy whisper. “Deathwing interrupted our conversations. I intend to make him and his Flight pay very dearly for that.”

And that was that. Nothing Kira could say would convince these people to run. And Tiber was correct; they had nowhere to run to. Chance or not, insane or not, they were going to fight. And in a way she could understand that desire to fight. Her Flight had been the guardians of life for longer than there had been a human race. To ask that other beings who shared the same desire should run was wrong; no matter how pragmatic it might be do so.

“Besides,” Ristinova interrupted Kira’s reverie, “Our chances are not as grim as you might think. The disagreements between the Elwynn and the Wyrnn caused us each to build up an army. Now that army stands together in common cause. The clerics of Northshire are lending their aid as are the Conjurors. No, Kira, we will not run. Instead we will fight. And when we win all will know that here in this place humanity changed forever. We will no longer be the protected. We will be the protectors. No matter what tide may come. No matter what storm might rage. No matter if the songs of war or the songs of peace are playing. Because some things must never fall there must be someone who will not fall. And, WE! WILL! NEVER! FALL!”

Allegiance’s were forgotten as Lady Elwynn finished her speech. The cheer that followed it echoed for miles. And was even heard by a human who was riding North to face a dragon.

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter 19 Some Run Away, Some Run In

The Golden King Dale rode was certainly fast. Traveling on foot or with a horse through the Khaz Modan Mountains could take months to get from place to place; or longer if a traveler ran into trouble. However, the lion had gone all the way to the mighty Black Rock Mountain, without a trail, in only a few days. Going around the mountain took another day. And settled under the North face of the mountain within a snow covered valley was the entrance to Deathwing’s lair.

The young prince wouldn’t have known it was there if the Golden King hadn’t brought him close enough to it. From a distance the entrance just looked like a small collection of hills. But if someone got close enough they would see that it was a deceptively big cave entrance; big enough that several dragons could easily pass through it.

Dale dismounted the Golden King as they approached the mouth of the cave. There were no guards that Dale could see but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. The Golden King sniffed the air, searching for any unseen foes. When he didn’t find any Dale took a deep breath and went inside.

An old question went through Dale’s mind as he and the lion went inside. ‘A building is on fire. Some people run away. Some people run in. Which do you choose?’ The obvious answer is that it’s dangerous to run into a burning building. But what if there are people still inside? So which do you choose? If you run you’ll live. If go you in you might die. But what if there is someone inside you can save? Archbishop Romani, Dale remembered, had argued that context in the metaphor was important but the lesson was equally important. The lesson being that it is ultimately a person’s choice to do something dangerous or not. And it is a person’s choice to way the consequences of that danger against something else. The young prince had answered, back then, that he would run in and put out the fire. The smile on the memory of Romani’s face gave Dale a sentimental feeling.

And here he was walking into a burning building again. Granted this one was a bit more dangerous than the metaphor Romani had presented him. Nonetheless, Dale gritted his teeth and kept walking into the lair. If Deathwing were killed it could save everyone. He had his sword, Sunheart, and he was wearing armor forged by joint effort of the Dwarves and Elves. He stood a chance, all be it a slim one, of winning this fight. At least he told himself that.

The inside of the lair was like a honeycomb made of stone; with interlinking passages twisting and turning throughout the cave that were smooth to the touch and fashioned with a builders knowledge. Fortunately, Dale could see clearly. Unfortunately, the reason Dale could see clearly was dangerous in itself; because instead of honey flowing throughout the comb there were small rivers and pools of molten lava.

With the Golden Kings nose leading on they found their way to a large central chamber. The inside was fashioned like a throne room with columns of stalagmites and stalactites closed together, like teeth, lining the walls. Lava glowed from within the walls and illuminated gems and precious metals embedded in the stone. In the middle of the room was a stone chair that was facing away from the entrance. Instead it faced the far wall where, set into a flowing shower of liquid rock, sat the Dragon Soul. Its protective resin was being slowly eaten away by the lava shower and Dale could see a brilliant gold light pulsing from within. But what was above the Dragon Soul made Dale almost loss his breath. It was an image, like a living tapestry, playing on the smooth stone; the image of a vast host of drakes and dragons descending on Stormwind from the sea.

“Oh,” a small voice squeaked. Dale looked to one of the side walls to see Bryan shivering and terrified but very much alive.

While watching the living image and the throne Dale made his way quickly to the boy. He was scared, obviously, but unhurt. Dale looked to the Golden King, who was waiting at the throne rooms entrance. The lion gave a nod of understanding and knelt down.

“Get on his back and get out of here,” the former prince whispered.

Bryan looked to the lion and then back to Dale and nodded. The boy ran quickly and quietly to the lion, who waited patiently, and climbed onto its back. With one bound the Golden King vanished down the corridor with Dale watching as the two of them went to safety.

“I haven’t paid him for his services yet,” the deep and powerful voice did not come from the throne. Standing next to the opposite wall clothed in a well tailored suit was the transformed dragon. In his human form Deathwing was a tall man, appearing to be in his mid-thirties, with dark hair and bright blood red eyes. And those eyes were fixed on the young former prince of Strom. “I promised him ten times his weight in gold and gems for bringing me my prize,” he gestured to the Dragon Soul. “I had planned to ‘shower’ him with it after we watched his home burn to ashes. I even made a chair for him to watch the events; for some reason he was nervous about sitting there.”

“Not exactly good with kids are you,” Dale did his best not to sound nervous.

Deathwing inclined his head as he considered the human in front of him. “From that tabard you are one of the two surviving princes of Strom. I thought your people would be in a civil war by now. I suppose I was mistaken. Why have you come here?”

“Well,” Dale attempted to think of a good way to say it and settled on just stating it out right. “I’m here to kill you.”

The Aspect gave a slight chuckle. Then he saw the look on Dale’s face. “You’re serious aren’t you?”

The prince nodded.

And Deathwing burst out laughing. He was laughing so hard that he almost fell and was holding his sides. It took the Aspect a few moments to compose himself enough to speak again.

“Do I need to explain how absurd it is that you would even suggest such a thing? Why you are doing… oh wait. You’re doing this to impress a girl aren’t you?”

Not exactly true, but then not exactly untrue, Dale thought, “Well you have to admit slaying an Aspect would do that.”

“I can appreciate that,” Deathwing strode forward. “But you should cut yourself a break. Just get her some flowers, take her to dinner, no need to get yourself killed.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Dale braced himself and put a hand on his sword, “but there is also the little matter of beating you and saving the world. That’s probably a cliché to you after all these years.”

The disguised dragon smirked. “It’s a fine line between cliché and classic. But if your goal is to stop the attack on Stormwind, as you can see, its already too late for that.”

He pointed to the living image as the dragons darted towards the town. In one pass they set the wooden buildings ablaze. Another moment and dark portals began to appear towards the outskirts. From those portals charged ranks of armed and armored dragonkin. They threw themselves into the burning town as people fled from them in terror. ‘Why didn’t they evacuate the civilians,’ Dale thought.

The answer came when one of the dragonkin brought an axe down onto a woman. And the woman vanished like a breath of air. The living image showed that every potential victim of the dragon flight simply vanished when attacked.

“A modified version of mirror image spells,” Deathwing said without concern. “Simple, but clever. I suppose Flominarian has been a bit to out of practice to notice. Oh, he’s one of my elder sons’, that’s him there,” Deathwing pointed out for Dale a large black dragon with what looked like burn marks on its wings. “I entrusted him with destroying your quaint little collection of huts. Let’s see how he deals with this change in circumstance.”

There was no sound from the living image but it looked as though Flominarian bellowed a command that was immediately followed. The drakes and dragons flew in a twister like pattern over the town and began to rake the edge of the forest with fire. And the fire vanished in places as if it had hit a wall of ice. Launching from the woods nets burst forth and caught many of the flyers from the sky. The dragonkin rushed forward to aid them and get the nets off.

Charging from the trees on the three sides facing the town came mounted knights and horse archers. The knights crashed through the dragonkin, scattering their ranks, and slaughtering a good number of them. The horse archers aimed for the drakes and dragons still in the air; only one fell from the barrage. The riders turned and withdrew back to the woods with several drakes and dragons in pursuit. Flominarian must have recognized the trap and gave another order; but it was too late. More nets sprang from the woods and brought the flyers to the ground. Coming on foot were ranks of soldiers with pikes and halbards to impale the downed enemies. In moments, it was all over and the soldiers formed new ranks to meet a charge from the dragonkin.

The dragonkin hit the combined pike and shield wall with tremendous force but the human troops held their ground and did not break formation. From behind their lines archers and crossbowmen launched barrages into the dragonkin that left dozens dead and many times that wounded. The dragons and drakes still in the air came to assist but a new barrage rose to meet them. Not nets this time but bolts of energy. These arcane missiles lanced out and blasted the dragon flight and though they did not kill any of the dragons it interrupted their attack and stopped them from aiding their allies on the ground.

“I’ll give your friends credit,” Deathwing’s voice was still confident but Dale noted some new tone to it; whatever it was it was not nervousness. “They are putting up a good fight. But the outcome is in no doubt. They can’t keep up this kind of attack from long and my Flight will outlast them.”

The living image showed that another, even larger, wave of drakes and dragonkin were pouring onto the battlefield that was the ruins of the burned town. Dale had had enough of waiting. He tensed himself as he prepared to strike. The Aspect must have sensed him tense because the disguised dragon leapt back to just before his throne. He gave the young prince an amused look as Dale drew his sword and assumed a fighting stance.

“To thank you for making me laugh earlier I’ll give you a sporting chance. I will remain in human form to fight you until my Flight has destroyed this Stormwind Army.”

Dale snorted, “No offense, but do you really think you can take me without armor or a weapon?”

“Good point,” Deathwing sneered and held his arms open. Coming from the walls bits of metal flew towards the human formed dragon. They fitted together on his body and with a red flare fused into a suit of plate armor. One of the stalagmites dropped from the ceiling and hit the ground with enough force to shatter. Within the remains of the fallen rock was a perfectly formed, and vicious looking, war hammer; that flew into Deathwing’s waiting hand.

‘Ready when you are,” the Aspect arrogantly declared.

Putting his whole attention on the fight in front of him, Dale charged. Deathwing quickly proved to be to no slouch at fighting in his human guise and the Aspect used the haft of his mace to block a slash from Dale’s sword. Physical strength was definitely not something Dale could rely on in this fight so Dale did not attempt to overpower Deathwing’s block. Instead, the young prince circled around the Aspect to attempt a shot at his back. But if his foe would not let him slash at his front he certainly wouldn’t allow a strike at his back. In spite of his armor, Deathwing turned and swung his mace in a wide arc. The sweep missed Dale but shattered the throne Deathwing had created. Ignoring the destruction the pair continued to fight.

‘Keep moving,’ Dale silently recited Brewden’s lessons as he fought, ‘never stop thinking, never stop planning, never underestimate, never overestimate, above all keep moving.’

The Aspect of death attempted to keep up but in his human guise he just didn’t have the speed. Dale was able to land several hits against his enemies armor; sending chips of it flying off. But none of them were solid enough to do more than that. If the fight continued at this pace either Deathwing would get lucky and hit him with the mace or he’d get bored and turn into his true form. Dale wasn’t sure he’d survive if either of those things happened.

‘Never overestimate.’

Fortunately that wasn’t Dale’s plan. If he could get to the Dragon Soul it might throw Deathwing off his game; that’s what Kira had told him. So Dale was attempting to inch his way to the disk being bathed in lava; being careful not to go to fast and risk alerting the Aspect. It wasn’t working. The room was either too big or Deathwing was using his power over earth to make it larger because Dale couldn’t seem to get closer.

‘Never stop planning.’

If he couldn’t get to the Dragon Soul directly that meant he had to find another means to get to it; or maybe destroy it. He couldn’t think of a way to do so covertly so the young prince scooped up some of the shards of Deathwing’s armor and hurled them at the disk. The shards burned to ashes before they got close.

“I would remind you that you’re not the first person to try and take my prize,” Deathwing’s voice was both a sneer and a growl. “I try not to make the same mistakes twice so I took some precautions. You understand?”

After avoiding another strike from the mace Dale growled back, “Oh sure, you get one thief taking your stuff and you over compensate with security. I’m surprised you didn’t get a big guard dog to go with it.”

“I did,” Deathwing blocked with his mace as Dale thrust at his midsection. “But the barking at all hours was annoying so I ate him.”

‘Never stop thinking.’

With no other alternatives Dale focused on Deathwing himself. The armor the Aspect wore looked intimidating but in reality it was it was not very durable in direct combat; which was why he keep blocking with the mace instead of taking the hits. So instead of distracting movements and glancing blows Dale shifted to more serious strikes. All armor, no matter how strong, has its weak points.

Dale rained down slashes and strikes against Deathwing and the Aspect started to stagger back from assault. His speed just wasn’t enough to keep up and Dale found an opening. Deathwing had lowered his mace to try to counter the strikes and Dale swept the weapon out of his opponents hands and struck a blow across Deathwing’s chest. The blow was strong enough that it sent the dragon in human form to the ground. Dale stood over the aspect with his sword pointed at Deathwing’s throat; which was starting to glow red.

‘Never stop moving.’

The young prince dodged left to avoid a jet of flame from Deathwing’s human mouth. Deathwing turned his head, tracking the princes movements, and the fire ignited parts of the floor that it struck. After a few moments Dale had gotten a good distance away and Deathwing stopped his flame attack.

“I commend you, human,” Deathwing gave Dale a slight bow. “Were I mortal I believe you would actually be able to kill. Unfortunately, our time has come to an end.”

With that he pointed at the far wall. At first Dale thought he meant the battle, but the Stormwind Army and the Black Dragon Flight were still fighting. Beneath the living image on the stone wall the lava flow surrounding the resin disk had stopped flowing. And the Dragon Soul was exposed. It glowed with a radiant gold light that Dale found beautiful. At the same time though, Dale could feel something else coming from the ancient weapon; something vile.

“With this,” Deathwing held out a hand and the Dragon Soul lifted up and gently flew into his waiting hands, “all of the troubles your people have becomes meaningless to me. And my interest in playing with evaporates.”

The dragon in human guise cradled the gold disk as though it were an infant. The look in Deathwings eyes also seemed to change. Before his eyes had seemed calculating, clever, even a bit comical. Now, Dale wasn’t sure how to describe the way Deathwing’s eyes looked.

“Now,” Deathwing’s eyes were glowing even brighter and focused on the prince with an intensity that made Dale take a step back, “why don’t I go to Stormwind and show your people what all the fuss is about. It could be fun. For a few moments at least.”

With that fire engulfed the Aspect. A towering inferno rose to the top of the large room. Instead of dissipating, as it had with other dragons Dale had seen transform, it expanded out in a wave and slammed into Dale with tremendous force. The runes over Dale’s armor glowed and whatever magic was imbued with the armor allowed him to stay on his feet. When he was out of the inferno, Dale stood before the Aspect of the Black Dragon Flight.

In addition to being at least five times larger than any of the other dragons Dale had seen Deathwing’s body seemed to ripple power. At the same time it looked as though there were cracks in many of Deathwing’s scales. Beneath those cracks it looked as though molten lava glowed and smoked. Huge metal plates were attached to much of the Aspects body; as though he was so strong that that he needed help keeping all of his power contained.

“Thank you again for the entertainment young prince,” Deathwing’s wings unfurled and filled the room from end to end. “And goodbye.”

Without another word Deathwing launched himself into ceiling which exploded outward.

[Danseis-silver-hand (Danseis)]

Chapter 20 Holding Ones Breath

The rage of battle was in full force in the ruins of the port town. Tiber Wrynn commanded a shield wall against the Dragonkin of the Black Dragon Flight. The enemy had counted on the humans not being able to hold the line between the physical force of the dragonkin and the fire of the dragons in the sky. But the Elwynn and the Wrynn were holding their own by letting the enemy waste their energy against a shield wall protected by the magic’s of the conjurors. Meanwhile, Ristinova Elwynn led knights and horse archers around the open outskirts of the town either taking out stragglers or crashing through formations when needed. The dragons were having trouble giving a combined strike with the conjurors spraying arcane blasts and missiles into the air.

They were winning, Tiber thought as the dragonkin withdrew from another failed charge. By the grace of the Light they were actually winning this battle.

The dragonkin were spent. So many of them had died that the field before the town was covered in their bodies. More were still coming but their numbers were slowing. Tiber took that as a sign that either the Black Dragon Flight was running low on troops or that they were getting ready for something. Either way, Tiber felt confident that the momentum was still on his people’s side.

But there was a cost to this battle. Of the human soldiers who were present almost half were casualties. Fortunately they had more wounded than dead but losses were felt by the shield wall. The town of Stormwind itself was in ashes. Every building, even the stone town center, had been reduced to their foundation. The only part of the town that had survived was the park which, miraculously, had remained untouched. Kira, remaining in her human form, had joined Bishop Roberts in tending to the wounded at the park. With Salir, Nicole, and several other volunteers guarding them the shield wall could focus on the enemy.

Wounds will heal and buildings can be rebuilt, Tiber told himself. The important thing was that the people survive. And today he would help make sure of it.

The enemy ground troops had regrouped and were charging again at the shield wall. Tiber shouted an order to stand firm as the dragonkin ran, full speed, into the line. Rather than break under the onslaught of the heavy axes and strong arms the shield wall bent, just enough, to allow the dragonkin to think they would push through. Tiber allowed his troops to stay on the defensive for another moment; then ordered “ADVANCE!”

The front rank of soldiers pushed as one with their shields; sending the dragonkin back a step. The second rank thrust with their spears and halberds skewering those dragonkin who did not withdraw. As the spears withdrew the front rank took a long step forward, stabbed with their swords, and brought their shields back into formation. Archers, behind the shield wall peppered the enemy as they withdrew. In this way the human troops had been steadily pushing forward from the forest and were almost threw the town since early morning. The goal was simple, get to the portals where the dragonkin were still emerging and eliminate whatever magi were creating the holes in space; and they were almost there.

The dragons in the sky were continuing to circle the battlefield, spraying fire on any target they could find, but the Conjurors had made a strong defense against the flames the dragons wielded. On every shield in the shield wall they inscribed a powerful rune against fire. So when the dragons came to attack the shield wall would make a turtle and the fire was no more than a breeze against the shields. It had worked well aside from one pass were a formation did not move fast enough and the dragons set a column of men ablaze.

For an attack the Conjurors continued to hurl energy into the sky. Unfortunately the dragons were too agile and few of the attacks actually struck the dragons. And even if they did the damage was no more than an annoying bee sting. This pattern had been continuing throughout the whole day. Tiber allowed himself a small smile, he knew that the pattern was about to change.

The Conjurors all at once ceased their attacks. Tiber could see the sweat on their faces they had been fighting all day just like the rest of them after all. However, he also noted a look of triumph on their eyes as they looked up at the dragons.

The dragons had been flying around so much and the Conjurors had been throwing so many arcane strikes into the air the reality of what was happening hadn’t been clear. The energy the Conjurors had been throwing was not simply disappearing into the sky. They were instead filling the sky hanging in the air as though they were suspended in the wind.

For humans one bee sting was annoying, but a hundred could kill you. For the dragons the arcane blasts were nothing but bee stings; but there were now thousands of them in the air around them. Tiber wondered if a dragon could survive a hundred bee stings. From the look of panic on the faces of several dragons so did they.

Archmage Azora was going to give them a chance to find out. He raised his hands and clapped them together with a sound like thunder. As one the thousands of arcane bolts and missiles converged on the dragons from every direction. Ten dragons died instantly, their bodies exploding in arcane magic. Another twenty were blown into pieces that fell to the ground in bloody clumps. The dragon that apparently was the leader roared an order and the others attempted to flee from the storm of energy around them. Some made it out but others, including the leader were assaulted by so many arcane strikes that they fell from the sky and crashed onto the ground. And did not get up.

A cheer went up among the human troops and Tiber knew that this was the moment to break the enemy. He didn’t even need to order a charge the human troops were already rushing forward striking down the shocked dragonkin. With their masters either dead or fleeing the dragonkin ran back to the portals on the other side of the town. Or rather, to the ones that were left. Ristinova had led her cavalry around the enemy while everyone else was distracted by the arcane storm above. They caught the dragonkin magi by surprise and slaughtered dozens of them before any of the others could react.

Caught between the cavalry and the charging shield wall the dragonkin made a last stand. They fought bravely and slew several of Tiber and Ristinova’s troops before the last of them fell. The lord of the Wrynn let out an exhausted breath he didn’t know he had been holding as the victory cheers began. They had done it. They had defeated a Dragon Flight. And then the shadow of wings of eclipsed the sun.

Dale had to act quickly or be buried alive. With no other place to go than attempting to follow Deathwing the young prince sprinted forward. The dust of the explosion made it difficult to see but Dale thought he saw something move through the falling rocks. Without thinking he leapt and griped whatever was traveling so quickly up and was immediately pulled up through the dust and the falling rocks.

It was another few moments before Dale could see in front of him. When he could he realized that he was grasping Deathwing’s tail. Whether it was because Deathwing couldn’t feel it or didn’t care Dale was being pulled out of the death trap that was the exploding lair and into the sky along with the Aspect. Now in the sky Dale looked down to see that the lair was now completely exposed; leaving behind a cauldron of fire and molten rock in the wake of Deathwing’s emergence.

They were now moving south. Dale had a good grip but felt that he needed to get closer to Deathwing’s body. If he could strike at a wing, his spine, or even his eyes the young prince might be able to at least hurt him. He climbed carefully and slowly. As Dale did so the terrain sped beneath him. By the time he had reached Deathwing’s back they had reached the Elwynn’s forest. Feeling close to panic Dale began move faster and reached Deathwing’s upper back.

Then the dragon halted in midair. Dale had to almost hug onto Deathwing to keep from being thrown off by the sudden deceleration. When he was confident that he wasn’t about to fall off Dale risked a look over Deathwing’s shoulder to see. They had arrived at Stormwind; or rather the ruins of Stormwind. The destruction of the town was offset by another sight that took Dale a moment to accept. The Black Dragon Flight had been defeated. Tiber and Ristinova were cheering along with their troops at their victory. At least they were until someone looked up.

“Impressive effort for such small vermin,” Deathwing’s voice in his true form was so loud it almost hurt Dale’s ears to be this close. “A pity it was all for naught.”

Dale saw the Aspect raise an arm. In his right claw the Dragon Soul glowing even brighter than it had when it was first released. It glowed brighter and brighter. A burst of light shot from the disk and over the sea that sea for miles. When it hit the water the light exploded with such force that it sent a pillar of water, steam, and smoke into the sky and caused a tidal wave that slammed into the small harbor below the ruins of Stormwind; breaking it into splinters.

The Aspect brought the weapon around and pointed it at the army before him. On the ground something strange was happening. Blue energy arced like lightning across the ground and gathered at one point. The figure at the point the energy gathered thrust a hand at Deathwing and the energy shot at the Aspect. The Dragon Soul, instead of firing an attack, created a shield that absorbed the energy with ease. Laughing at the power he wielded, Deathwing dispersed the shield; and the Dragon Soul began to glow bright again.

Dale didn’t have time to think, only act. And so he launched himself over Deathwing’s shoulder at the claw holding the disk. The young prince swiped at the claw cutting into either a crack Deathwing’s armor or an old wound he did not know about. Shocked Deathwing almost lost his hold on the disk and it spun in his hand; still glowing brightly.

A beam of light shot from the Dragon Soul and caught Deathwing full in the chest. The shock wave of the explosion pushed Dale off the claw he was holding. Falling through the air Dale saw Deathwing’s tail flailing away. He caught on but the dragon was now falling from the sky towards the Seaside Mountains near Stormwind.

The young prince did not have a lot of time as the mountain came closer and closer. Timing not being as important as luck Dale leapt from Deathwing’s tail as best he could towards the face of a nearby mountain. He caught an outcrop of rock that crumbled at his touch; causing him to fall. To slow his decent Dale thrust his sword into the rock. But Dale was falling so fast that his decent did not slow enough. So, Dale tried something else. He withdrew his sword and attempted to slide down the mountain face. It would have worked better if the shear rock didn’t have large cliff outcrops. The young prince slammed into one, two, three before finally coming to a rest face first on the ground.

He didn’t know which part of his body hurt worse or if it all hurt together. On the other hand he knew he was lucky to be alive and attempted to move. If it weren’t for his armor Dale would have been in pieces from a landing like he had. But with effort Dale was able to push himself to his feet. He had held onto his sword and Sunheart was glowing hot in the afternoon sun.

Looking around Dale saw that he had fallen into onto a large cliff surrounded on all sides by mountains. He also saw that Deathwing had landed there as well almost two hundred yards away from the prince. The impact had dazed the Aspect as he was having trouble moving. Dale was distracted from the fallen dragon as he watched something gold roll away from the Aspect in the opposite direction from the prince. The Dragon Soul rolled towards the edge of the cliff and disappeared over the edge; disappearing into the sea.