Arthas actually told me to come in person, but there are still many things that need to be dealt with in Stormwind. And that guy himself ran off to Northrend?
Varian shook his head. He was truly too busy, not even having time to spend with his wife and children. But he had promised Arthas he would help him with a few things, and since this was primarily an alliance, it wasn't impossible for him to go as a representative.
Jaina leaned against her staff on the bridge, facing the somewhat salty sea breeze, lost in thought.
"Jaina?"
"Ah!? I'm so sorry, Varian, I was a bit distracted," Jaina replied apologetically.
"I guess you must be thinking of someone," Varian said somewhat teasingly. He really wanted to find an opportunity to give Arthas a hard time. "He's really irresponsible, running off and leaving us to deal with his troubles."
"I don't know either, but truthfully, I have many questions about Arthas's actions this time," Jaina surprisingly didn't refute, but quietly stated her thoughts. "You should know, Northrend isn't a good place."
"Jaina's right about Northrend. That place is colder than Dun Morogh, and it's full of fierce beasts, and even a bunch of dragons I've never seen," Muradin said, leaning on the railing as he walked to the side. After so many sea voyages, he still wasn't quite used to the feeling of being on a ship.
"Alas... these are all secondary, Muradin," Jaina sighed. "In the Kirin Tor's archives, information about Northrend can basically be summarized in a few words."
"Such as?" Varian also became interested. As a king, he had far fewer adventuring experiences than Muradin and Jaina.
"Dangerous, cold, and eerie. I've even heard of mages witnessing dragons there. Not even the Kirin Tor's most elite mages are willing to stay a day in that frigid land."
Muradin nodded, "Jaina's right. I went there once with a few old friends—we almost all disappeared in the ice and snow."
"Can you tell me about your experiences? You know, I was crowned king when I was a teenager, so I haven't had much experience with adventures outside. At most, I've hunted in the suburbs of Lordaeron and Stormwind," Varian hoped their stories could bring some fun to this boring journey.
"Of course! Adventures are meant to be shared, but Jaina has probably only read about it in books, never truly stood on the snowfields of the far north."
Jaina nodded. Although she had some understanding, she had never personally been to that place.
"Then let's start from when we landed—as soon as we got ashore, before we even found a place to set up camp, we were attacked by Naga..."
...
"Prince Arthas, look there." Sassarian handed the telescope in his hand to Arthas. "I've never seen architecture like that—is that what we're looking for?"
"That's an ancient Elf ruin, boy!" Brann was the first to speak boisterously. His personal telescope was much better than the Lordaeron standard issue. "Legend has it that in ancient times, the rulers of this continent were Elves. We can still glimpse a corner of the glory of their ancient empire."
"Elves? Are they the Quel'dorei of Quel'Thalas?" Sassarian was just a farm boy before becoming a soldier, so he didn't know much about these secrets.
"To be precise, the original owners of these ruins are the ancestors of the current High Elves," Arthas took the telescope and saw a large number of marble buildings covered with seaweed and starfish along the coastline. Many seabirds and penguins stood on these white "rocks."
Brann swept his telescope around, muttering, "Such a large-scale Elf ruin complex is truly rare in the Eastern Kingdoms—Arthas, how about we..."
"Don't even think about it."
Arthas immediately dispelled Brann's wild idea. "Look carefully at what else is on the beach besides penguins and seagulls."
"Ha, what else could there be? Sea snakes, perhaps—by Ironforge! Are there accursed Naga in these places too?! Do they spawn everywhere like Trolls?! Hasn't this cold weather frozen them to death?!"
Brann spat. Naga, these dangerous intelligent creatures from the seabed, often came to the coastline. For creatures on land, the physically strong and magic-wielding Naga were a catastrophic presence.
At the same time, Naga were one of Brann's most hated things—they were difficult to deal with, very difficult, and would make the risk factor during exploration skyrocket.
"Alright, Brann, you said you wouldn't cause me trouble. If we really provoke that group of Naga, it'll be enough to give our small group a hard time." Arthas didn't want to provoke these dangerous amphibious creatures. The task he had to do this time was already dangerous enough.
"Okay, but you have to let me mark it on the map first. After I'm done helping you with the main business, I'll come back here to see what good treasures are waiting for me." Brann, riding his mountain goat mount, was writing and drawing on a map.
"Then it's up to you."
Unable to resist Brann's persistent pleas, and just when the poor old Dwarf was about to cry on him, Arthas reluctantly agreed to let Brann come along, while also setting a rule for him: absolutely, absolutely do not cause trouble without permission.
Brann was not like his brother Muradin. When encountering dangerous things that could not be ascertained, Muradin was mostly cautious and observant. But Brann lived up to his name as an archaeologist; his best skill was, "Oh! Maybe I should press this button?"
The spirit of adventure burned fiercely in the heart of this third Bronzebeard brother. The most incomprehensible thing was that, in a sense, this guy was the luckiest of the three Bronzebeard brothers.
After all, he had stepped on so many "mines" and pulled so many "monsters," yet he could still run around full of vigor. As far as Arthas knew, there were only two such individuals in all of Azeroth.
And the other, "May the Azure Dragon guide you," was still a bit behind Brann.
"Prince Arthas, we are about to enter the snowfield. The scouts report that there are traces of undead activity deep in the snowfield," Sassarian reported the situation to his superior.
Arthas nodded, indicating, "Pass down the order, find a place to set up camp, and thoroughly investigate the situation of the undead positions. Do not venture in rashly."
"Speaking of setting up camp, I'm good at that. How about I help you choose an excellent campsite?" Brann eagerly wanted to show off his skills.
"No, Brann, thank you for your kind offer, but the scouts from Daggercap Bay Fortress have been exploring this snowfield for several years. They know where to provide us with safe shelter."
Arthas tactfully refused Brann's suggestion—he didn't want Brann to help his troops choose a stationed location, as that might very well lead them to build their camp right on top of a Nerubian lair.
Some things, you just have to believe, this world is just that strange.
After an hour of setting up a temporary camp, Arthas sat in his tent, carefully reviewing the map drawn by the scouts.
He already had a general plan in mind: once Mal'Ganis's location was determined, he could begin his operation.
...
Brann Bronzebeard quietly crept to Arthas's tent. He actually had something he wanted to say but hadn't found the opportunity, lest the Prince Arthas's subordinates think he was misleading Arthas.
The Dwarf explorer tiptoed into the tent. Before he could even speak, he heard Arthas say, "Brann, if you're looking for me, there's no need to be so sneaky."
"I just didn't want everyone to know," Brann awkwardly rubbed the back of his head—how could this paladin's senses be even sharper than an Elf ranger's?
"Is there something specific you came to see me about?" Arthas casually pulled up a chair for Brann, then leaned over the sandbox and map again.
"Aren't you here in Northrend to hunt down a vile demon? I was thinking I have some information that might be useful to you."
Arthas's movements paused. He looked up at Brann. "What information?"
"Actually, I didn't get it myself. It was when Muradin came to Northrend last time; they also encountered Trolls and undead then. By chance, they captured a Troll priest who could speak Dwarven," Brann explained. "From that Troll, they got some information—about a powerful weapon."
Arthas raised an eyebrow: By chance? He didn't quite believe it was by chance.
"That Troll said that in an ancient cave somewhere in this land, a powerful artifact is buried. This might be the key to your victory against the demon, wouldn't it?" Brann chuckled twice. "Your warhammer, isn't it broken? I thought maybe with a handy weapon, you could defeat that Nathre-something."
"Nathrezim," Arthas corrected. After hearing Brann's description, he joked, "I think you're telling me this because you want to see an ancient artifact, aren't you?"
Brann's words faltered. Caught red-handed by Arthas, he simply didn't care anymore. "You could say that, yes, but what I said also makes sense, doesn't it? I'll take you to that place to see. Maybe we'll find the decisive weapon?"
Arthas chuckled and shook his head. "That's a trap, Brann. It was set by that Nathrezim and his accomplices."
"Ah?"