The wind whipped the long coat that covered my shoulders, and I watched with relief as the port of Theramore loomed on the horizon. The journey had been a true ordeal for a city dweller like me. The sailors cheerfully mocked the significant gurgles that accompanied my arguments during the long discussions we had on deck.
The first part of the journey had been quite calm, though. We had carefully avoided embarking at Booty Bay, Lord Themo having limited trust in the Goblins’ oaths of silence.
We had followed the coastline to Menethil Harbor, and a brief stop to resupply in the grand Dwarven city of Ironforge allowed me to observe the gigantism of Dwarven works… Quite a paradox for a people taller than wide.
The group had grown with the addition of a few brave Dwarven warriors. However, their valor in the taverns of our stops was the only thing I had witnessed during our journey. The few skirmishes with the Blackrock Orcs were insignificant… Our scouts had taken great care to avoid the hotspots of the territory.
The boat journey was now nearing its end. Of the 200 ships hired by Lord Themo, we lost only four … two of which were due to a huge navigational error by one of our Dwarven captains. I’ve always known that beings who don’t surpass the navigation mark shouldn’t be in charge of a fleet.
No sooner had we docked at the port of Theramore than the fort’s quartermaster greeted us with extravagant bows and fanfares. As if Orc spies needed more proof of our arrival.
The approximately 5,000 men, Dwarves, and Gnomes that made up our motley crew began stacking various supply crates at the city gates, some of them, the more experienced ones, were already sharpening weapons.
While everyone worked to prepare for the long journey ahead, which would lead us to the Barrens, I was summoned to transport my lord’s weapons to the fort.
As I crossed the small community, I was surprised to notice that many soldiers had the glazed, tired eyes, and numerous bandages covered their arms or skulls. The war had truly begun, and it didn’t seem like it was going to end anytime soon.
The war council was composed of Lord Themo, his financial advisor Reihnard, Captain Deros of the Paladins, and Ulrak the Dwarf, who was tasked with replacing the quartermaster of the southern Barrens mines.
Lord Themo, who had been bent over the scouts’ report for over two hours, suddenly spoke as he closed the ledger.
— Very well, very well, I believe we must no longer hesitate. We must strike quickly and hard! The Orcs must understand that one does not defy the Alliance with impunity.
— Allow me to express some reservations, my lord.
— By all means, Lord Deros…
— We have only just landed, and our men have not yet fully recovered from our crossing.
The look he cast at me while I was writing the report seemed a bit exaggerated. Many of his own Paladins had lost their lunch far more often than I had during this journey. However, he continued.
— Moreover, we are on Horde territory. We do not know if these attacks are the work of an isolated faction or if all of Kalimdor has risen against our holy authority.
— Uh … aren’t we supposed to be their allies and not their masters?
— What difference does that make? Do you honestly believe we are making pacts with beasts? Don’t be an idealist, Ulrak.
— Grumpf… I hope you don’t view our alliance in the same light.
— Come, come, gentlemen, let’s remain courteous and civilized. Just because we are on barbarian lands doesn’t mean we should behave like one.
— We could use this pseudo-alliance as long as it’s not openly broken to study our enemies.
Reihnard’s nasal voice had this almost unique ability to embody treachery and vice. Few words were spoken by this farmer’s son, yet he had skillfully navigated the game by trading many goods that didn’t necessarily belong to him… Some even claimed he sourced directly from the reserves of the Defias and the Red Dawn. These advantages had more than sufficed to make him an indispensable figure in Lord Themo’s circle.
— And what do you propose, Reihnard?
— Let’s send a diplomatic mission… It will save us time, and we’ll know exactly who we’re dealing with.
— If it comes back alive…
— Come now, Duros, we are allies, and nothing prevents you from sending a few of your paladins to escort this messenger.
— Find the messenger first, and then I’ll think about his escort later.
Pondering, Lord Themo considered all the possibilities.
— Hmm… A soldier would be poorly received, and a member of my administration would be taken as an insult. Warriors speak to warriors. We need someone who is close to me and, at the same time, cannot jeopardize this expedition.
— I can go!! Ulrak shouted.
— Sorry to contradict you, Reihnard replied, but your presence is needed more than ever … and I don’t think Dwarven diplomacy is fit to deal with these Orc monsters.
— You think I’m an idiot?!
— Far from it, my lord, but we all know your pride, and we don’t want these barbaric Orcs to interpret your courage as an insult.
— Hmph… I’m not afraid of these monsters.
— Anyway, your presence is required by my side for more … personal matters.
— And your page?
— WHAT?!!
I didn’t realise immediately that my astonishment had made its way out of my mouth. But the glare from my lord and master hit me like an icy blade on the back of my neck. The look, or perhaps the slight smile that began to form at the corner of his lips—who knows?—had the chilling effect of a storm’s approach.
— Come on, Arthus, here’s an unexpected chance to be knighted. A unique opportunity.
— Indeed, added Duros. The page represents you directly, and his absence … well, it won’t slow down the preparations.
— I… I … but I don’t speak their language, and I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say to them.
Here were my arguments, and now that I think about it, I really didn’t miss my calling as … a victim.
— It doesn’t matter!! Your role will be to simply observe the beasts; you won’t have to speak much. I’ll write a letter of courtesy. That will calm them while we prepare to massacre them… And don’t worry, my young friend, I wouldn’t want to lose your valuable presence by my side.
Was that supposed to reassure me?
— So be it!! Arthus, prepare yourself, put on your beautiful shiny new armour, and go carry the banner of my castle with pride.
— Should we consider an escort? asked Duros the Paladin.
— Of course!! I repeat, I don’t intend to part with Arthus. Captain, I charge you with ensuring his safety.
— Well, I can unfortunately only assign you two of my paladins, future Sir Arthus, but they are fine swords, and the risk of this mission remains minimal… You will act under the full respect of our… Alliance.
I almost expected to hear a demonic laugh punctuate that last sentence, as this news sounded like the death knell of my short and miserable existence. Even the possibility of becoming a knight seemed rather bleak… Maybe they’d hold a posthumous knighthood ceremony … but with which body?
The hurricane of emotions that raged in my mind was nothing compared to what awaited me afterward. I didn’t even notice the meeting continued as I exited the council room.
The news spread like wildfire from a gnome experiment. A messenger was leaving to negotiate peace or at least a truce. Many of my tent-mates helped me prepare my pack. No one seemed to understand that the war had come with us and wouldn’t leave until it was sated with Orc and Tauren blood … or ours.
I even had the singular honor of being armed by a veteran soldier, Hartock, I think his name was. He even lent me a shiny steel bastard sword and a magnificent dagger with a pommel shaped like a roaring dragon.
— A gift I obtained during one of my campaigns against the undead. It’s always brought me luck, and you’ll need it on the journey. The Orcs aren’t the only dangers in this land.
— Have you been here before, Hartock?
— Yes, once to escort a supply convoy. Back then, it was more of a leisure mission.
— Yeah … the good old days…
— Look, lad, you’re not at much risk. The white flag and your escort guarantee a triumphant return among us.
— And will they guarantee the stopping of enemy axes?
— That, my boy, will be up to you to tell me.
The sight of the knights in armour making up my escort, as well as the magnificent black gelding my master had assigned to me, lifted my spirits. However, its name was far less glorious than the magnificent breastplate adorning its chest.
— Here, boy, his name’s Pâquerette, he’s the calmest of the horses we brought.
— Pâquerette? That doesn’t sound very knightly at all.
— You’re not a knight yet, young impudent, and I’ll remind you that this is the only horse even remotely rideable by a novice like you. Do you think falling off your saddle in front of the enemy makes you look more knightly?
— …
So, armed like a prince on a horse named after a flower, I presented myself in front of the drawbridge of Theramore. My escort was already ready and had been waiting for quite a while, judging by the scowls on their faces.
On closer inspection, they had nothing of knights about them except for their armour and steeds. Unshaven, their eyes still red from the previous night, these men were not the shining paragons one imagines when thinking of Paladins.
I later learned that Leroy and Silas were just ordinary knights who had been called upon to complete Lord Thémo’s elite group. As for virtue, they only knew the grace of finishing off their enemies, and light … well, they had none to speak of.
I had the joy of having my journey accompanied by crude jokes and lewd stories, each one boasting about them with pride and vanity. However, I had to admit they were somewhat effective. This duo had shown some competence during our journey in fighting the beasts and ogres of the marshes.
While we camped during the day to eat, an ogre made the mistake of trying to intimidate us in an attempt to steal our meal… I don’t know if it was the thought of losing their barrel of beer or the annoyance from the ogre’s monstrous howls, but the response was swift.
Leroy quickly rose with surprising agility for a man in armour, grabbed his spear, and planted himself in front of the ogre with determination. Meanwhile, Silas began circling the beast, sword raised and moving with feline grace.
The great peculiarities of ogres are their inability to think and their lack of awareness of traps. So, even though Silas’s swaying movements irritated the ogre to no end, it was Leroy’s spear that first caught its attention. The ogre lumbered forward, only to be met with Leroy’s circular dodge. When the ogre turned, it found itself with a bloody wound on the back of its thigh. Silas had already resumed his deadly circle around the beast, as though Leroy’s moves meant little to him. The second strike came faster, but instead of dodging, Leroy stepped forward and drove his spear into the ogre’s hip. The beast kneeled under the blow, and at that moment, I saw Silas leap into the air, come up behind the creature, and bury his sword in its neck. With a macabre gurgle and a spray of blood, the ogre collapsed to the ground.
Meanwhile, I hadn’t moved an inch. Sword in hand, I realised that a warrior’s effectiveness is worth far more than his titles and flamboyance. With a certain pride, I sat beside them to finish our meal, no more than two metres away from the bloodied carcass of the intruder.
The journey continued without further incident beyond what I’ve just described. My traveling companions were, for the most part, taciturn, and the disdain they showed toward me didn’t encourage me to start any conversations. We arrived at our destination five days later. The passage through the Sken Pass had been a bit tense, and Silas had kept us entertained with his numerous bawdy songs to lighten the mood. But I could still sense a certain tension gripping my companions as we neared the “allied” fort.
Heavy wooden palisades, sealed into the ground with tar and topped with archaic turrets, served as the fort’s ramparts. The gates were shut.
— Our little friends won’t be long in coming out, whispered Leroy.
But he wasn’t looking in the right direction. Indeed, sitting tall in his saddle, he was scanning the edge of the dark forest that bordered the northern side of the fort. I stayed puzzled by his behavior. There was nothing there, just the wind blowing sporadically between the gnarled branches of the half-dead trees.
— Announce us to these gentlemen, little man, they’re just waiting for that to come out.
Silas was also scanning the forest edge, but slightly farther east of our position, his hand hanging carelessly near the hilt of his sword.
— I … uh… I’m not just going to speak into thin air, am I?!
— Don’t worry, kid, they’re there.
— Uh … well … okay.
— I ASK FOR AN AUDIENCE WITH THE WARCHIEF IN THE NAME OF THE HYJAL ALLIANCE!!
Nothing. Not a sound. Long minutes passed, and I was preparing to make my second request when the gates started to creak open.
— Hmm… The Horde is cautious.
— Hmm, they must have checked if we had any surprises behind us.
As I turned around to remind them of a few basic courtesies, I was stunned to see that where before there had been nothing, numerous Orcs, Tauren, and Trolls were now standing, weapons in hand. I couldn’t have counted them. They stood motionless, weapons sheathed.
A little hesitant, I convinced myself that we were allies here, not prisoners. I dismounted and took my horse by the reins. My companions did the same, and we slowly walked toward the fort, which would mark our doom…
To be continued…
