After Thrall and Grommash Hellscream led their people back to their lumber camp, Arthas and Varian left Ashenvale and set up camp at the border of the Barrens and Ashenvale.
It was very troublesome to choose a location in the forest large enough for thousands of people to camp, and it would inevitably lead to conflicts with the Night Elves and their allies.
Furthermore, Arthas did not want the Alliance army to suffer the first attack from the demons.
He was very sure that Mannoroth and a large number of Burning Legion minions were hidden in a certain canyon in the southern forests and mountains of Ashenvale. However, with the current number of Alliance troops, challenging a location that was very likely to become the main base of the Burning Legion's arrival would undoubtedly result in extremely heavy casualties.
Moreover, there was only one passage at the border of Ashenvale and the Barrens, and controlling this road would provide them with many advantages.
However, Varian noticed that Arthas did not seem to be in a good mood.
"What's wrong? Are you feeling awkward because you helped the orcs?"
Arthas spread out a map of Ashenvale on the table in the war room, and sighed deeply, "Helping the orcs is also helping ourselves. I just feel that some things might be unstoppable."
After multiple failed attempts to thwart the Burning Legion's plans, history, despite changing, had returned to the outcome of the Burning Legion's arrival.
This couldn't help but make Arthas feel quite disheartened and dejected. He gradually came to realize a fact: even if he knew the Burning Legion's possible actions, his more than ten years of planning and schemes could not strike a blow against the Legion's millennia of perseverance.
Therefore, in fact, Arthas had already anticipated that the Burning Legion's arrival was almost an inevitable outcome a long time ago, but its current development still made him feel somewhat frustrated.
He regained his composure, allowing himself to return to a normal state of mind, "Our scouts have already conducted reconnaissance on the southern end of Ashenvale, and the results are the kind we least wanted to see."
Arthas's finger pointed to a blackened area on the map. It was originally a lush, picturesque valley with clear mountains and beautiful waters, but the Alliance scouts discovered that it had been polluted by extremely evil and corrupt forces.
The death of the Forest God had made the Night Elves blind with rage; they hadn't even noticed that their own doorstep had been infiltrated by demons.
"Mannoroth is very likely to be lurking there with his demon army."
Varian gazed at the area Arthas was pointing to, resting his right hand on his chin, and asked, "One thing is very strange..."
"You noticed it too?"
Varian hesitated for a moment, then nodded, "According to Grommash Hellscream, the chieftain of the Warsong Clan, Mannoroth's strength is overwhelmingly terrifying, and his personality is arrogant and conceited. What could make such a demon officer willing to hole up in a canyon?"
"It means there must be some important reason for him to guard that place," Arthas continued Varian's thought.
Arthas already had a preliminary guess. Mannoroth was highly unlikely to follow Tichondrius's commands, and Tichondrius himself had not appeared in the plans against the orcs.
However, with the Pit Lord's brain, filled with violence and slaughter, being able to use insidious tricks to make the orcs and Elves fight each other, Arthas simply did not believe that there were no instructions from Tichondrius.
There was only one possibility for Tichondrius not to be acting in Ashenvale: that he had something more important to do, so he reached an agreement with Mannoroth, letting the Pit Lord guard the base while he went somewhere else.
But just as Arthas and Varian were speculating and discussing Mannoroth's actions, Muradin pulled open the tent flap, his expression grave.
He held a scroll of intelligence in his hand, "Lads, we have trouble."
...
After Jaina finished reading the magical letter in her hand, she had not yet recovered from the shocking news. After a while, Jaina was roused by the knocking at her assistant's door.
"Lady Proudmoore, for dinner tonight, would you like..."
"Never mind dinner for now," Jaina interrupted her assistant, quickly wrote a letter with a quill, and stamped it with the seal of Kul Tiras, "Have someone deliver this letter to my father."
Hearing Jaina's tone, the assistant quickly took the letter, left the mage tower, and handed the envelope to the messenger responsible for delivery.
After she left, Jaina immediately picked up her pen again to write another letter. This time, she stamped it with the seal of Dalaran, and a light blue Arcane glow flickered on the yellowish parchment.
Jaina snapped her fingers, and blue Arcane flames ignited the envelope. The letter quickly disappeared before her, and her teacher, Antonidas, the Archmage of Dalaran, should receive the letter soon.
As for the last letter, Jaina deliberated repeatedly, finally writing it, then reading and revising it several times, and stamping it with the Royal Emblem of Lordaeron that Arthas had given her.
After leaving this letter on the table, Jaina stood up and walked to the window of the mage tower, looking out at the boundless, calm sea outside Theramore. However, the slightly gloomy clouds in the distance seemed to portend the coming of a storm.
...
"Sir Uther, you have a letter."
The attendant placed a letter sealed with the Royal Seal of Lordaeron before Lightbringer. Uther temporarily put down his other documents and picked up the letter.
Unfolding the parchment, Uther began to read the contents of the letter line by line, word by word. However, with each line he read, Uther's brow furrowed a little tighter.
The content of the letter was very brief, but it made Uther feel a sense of heaviness he had never experienced before.
The sender was the supreme King of Lordaeron, Terenas Menethil. In the letter, the King only mentioned in a few words: the war in Kalimdor was urgent, and he hoped Uther could quickly gather the Paladin of the Silver Hand, to be ready to depart for Kalimdor at any time.
Uther also knew that Arthas had set off from Lordaeron some time ago to Kalimdor to secure more interests and allies for Lordaeron and for the Alliance, but it had only been a short time since he left, and an emergency had already arisen there.
It seemed... Arthas and his companions had discovered a very serious situation there.
The Paladin of the Silver Hand was one of the symbols of Lordaeron, and also an important military force of Lordaeron. They almost never left the mainland of Lordaeron, unless there was a danger that threatened the entire human world.
So the message from Arthas was very clear: the current crisis in Kalimdor would not only affect the lives there but would also spread to all of Azeroth, and no one could remain aloof from this unknown disaster.
Lightbringer slapped the letter on the table, slowly stood up, picked up his coat from a nearby chair, put it on, and smoothed his slightly graying short hair. He cast his gaze upon the portrait on the wall of his study, which was a portrait of his teacher, Alonsus Faol.
"May the Holy Light forever protect us."