"What exactly happened? Are you not joining the expedition?" Uther asked with a frown.
"The evil forces in Northrend are stirring. Once our rear is empty, they will not hesitate to gnaw at the flesh and blood of our world." Arthas tapped the wooden round table rhythmically, his heart not as calm as he appeared. "Do you still remember the darkness in Tir's Tomb?"
"How could I forget... That was one of the most terrifying things I've ever seen in my life." Uther sighed, "Are there similar things in the North too?"
"To be precise, Northrend is the origin of the monster in Tir's Tomb," Arthas explained simply. "There is a city left behind by the Creator Titans, and imprisoned within it are the masters of the Dark Empire from ancient times, the Old Gods."
"If that's truly the case, I think it would be better to pause the opening of the Dark Portal and direct our efforts towards Northrend instead," Mograine stated. "Otherwise, if we're attacked from both sides, even if the Alliance's current strength far surpasses what it once was, we would still pay an extremely heavy price."
The Alliance high-ranking officials attending the meeting nodded in agreement. In the eyes of most, the control over the Dark Portal always rested with Azeroth. As long as they didn't open the door, Draenor, or Outland as it was called, no longer had the ability to open the portal.
Arthas, however, shook his head. "The arrow is on the string; it must be fired. The army has already set up camp in the Blasted Lands and accumulated various supplies. They are preparing to face the enemies on the other side of the Dark Portal, not an evil god in a Titan city.
Moreover, dealing with the Old Gods does not require an army. In other words, an army is useless. The Old Gods are omnipresent; they... delve deep into the mind..."
As if whispers from the abyss echoed at this moment, the atmosphere in the conference room suddenly became chilling. The Alliance high-ranking officials looked out the window in astonishment, seeing the ripples on the surface of Lordamere Lake. A terrifying, sun-obscuring shadow broke through the water, even blocking the sun's light.
Twisted, writhing fleshy tentacles swayed in a bizarre manner, easily smashing boats on the lake and structures on the dock into splinters, raising a sky full of wood shards and dust.
Fires, screams, and wails entered everyone's minds. The raging flames amidst the ruins were the only light beneath the sky-shrouding dark tentacles.
The Alliance high-ranking officials attending the meeting had sweat on their foreheads, and their hands instinctively reached for where they usually hung their weapons, seeking reassurance.
Fortunately, Arthas cleared his throat, and Jaina dispelled the illusion spell. She held a jar containing a piece of tissue taken from Zakas's remains.
"Do you all understand? This is just a similar magical effect researched by Dalaran. The power and influence of the Old Gods are even more evil, more terrifying, and more pervasive than this. Armies alone cannot stop them."
However, those present were not easily intimidated. Even after witnessing a terrifying glimpse of the Old Gods, some still raised questions: "But, Prince, all Old Gods should have their own armies of servants. Although the Old Gods themselves cannot be defeated by an army, the sheer number of their minions requires a powerful armed force to contain them."
The speaker was Shandris Feathermoon, the representative of the Night Elves. They had once fought the Qiraji. Although they had never faced the Old Gods themselves, they were among the representatives present who understood the Old Gods the most.
"The Ancient God in Northrend has no servants," Arthas replied. "He was once the strongest among the living Old Gods, so the Titans gave him 'special care.' He was imprisoned in the most secure prison. Although he has now broken through part of the prison, he hasn't had time to rebuild his empire.
Moreover, I am not fighting alone—in the battle of Blackrock Mountain, we not only defeated the Elemental Lord but also slew the evil master of Blackrock Spire, whose true identity was a Black Dragon.
In the battle, we also rescued and assisted injured Red Dragon warriors, so the Dragons will stand with us."
"So, the Prince of Lordaeron is going to venture alone, with a group of Dragons whose attitudes are unclear, to fight an enemy we don't understand? Ridiculous! I absolutely do not agree with this. I will personally go and explain it clearly to Terenas."
A scolding voice, tinged with anger and resentment, interrupted Arthas. A tall man abruptly stood up from his seat, unceremoniously turned and walked away, leaving behind a very harsh remark.
No one in the room spoke, and no one tried to stop him, as they watched the man leave.
Jaina's expression was a bit awkward, but she didn't try to stop the departing man either. She stood beside Arthas, somewhat helplessly rubbing her forehead, and sighed softly, "Oh... Father..."
"It's alright, Jaina, I can understand the Naval Commander's difficulties," Arthas also showed a rare expression of helplessness.
The man who left was King Daelin Proudmoore of Kul Tiras, the Naval Commander, and Jaina's father.
"Ever since my brother sacrificed himself, Father hasn't been able to escape from those terrible nightmares—he has always hated the orcs, and those Dragons," Jaina sighed softly. "I'm very sorry that you had to witness such a rude scene."
Although the Red Dragons' attack on the Kul Tiras fleet was out of necessity, the undeniable fact remained that the killers of Daelin's eldest son were these Red Dragons.
Thoras stepped in at this moment to smooth things over. "Don't worry about it, Jaina. I believe Daelin's anger is only temporary; he will calm down soon. Let's get back to business, regarding what Arthas said about those evil gods."
"The Kaldorei support the Prince's actions," Shandris said, although she wasn't entirely clear about the cause of the recent dispute, and it didn't concern the Night Elves. She focused more on the matter itself. "The threat of the Old Gods cannot be ignored, and the Dragons are also relatively reliable allies. The Kaldorei have some say in this matter."
"Dalaran concurs."
This time, Dalaran's representative was a High Elf mage unfamiliar to some. He smiled and nodded to Arthas, stating his opinion: "We have studied the materials Lady Proudmoore brought back. It is indeed a very terrifying dark presence. If it weren't for the imminent opening of the Dark Portal, it might indeed be our primary threat."
"Alterac also has no objection." Ilucia very simply gave up.
"The Dwarves also have no objection," Muradin's booming voice rang out. "I trust young Arthas's decision; he has never disappointed us—it's just a pity I have to command the Dwarf expedition and won't be able to personally see that legendary Titan city."
"Stromgarde... also agrees," Thoras mused for a moment. "We have been preparing for the expedition to Draenor for a long time. Giving up now would mean all our efforts were in vain. Moreover, many of our outstanding talents might be trapped in Draenor. If we can rescue them, it would also contribute to our cause."
"Gilneas approves."
"Stormwind approves."
"Gnomeregan supports our good friends."
"The Tauren tribe supports the opinions of our Alliance friends."
Arthas looked around, nodding slightly. "Lordaeron approves. So the final result is Kul Tiras opposes, the High Elves abstain, and all other attending representatives agree to this decision. I declare that the expedition will proceed as planned, and I will be responsible for all actions concerning Northrend."
"I need to talk to my father, lest he do something irrational." Jaina stood on her tiptoes and lightly kissed Arthas's cheek. She was somewhat worried about her father; even after many years, Daelin had not been able to completely overcome the pain of losing his son.
"Go, Jaina. If necessary, you can contact me at any time." Arthas held Jaina's hand, whispered a few words of instruction, and watched her leave the embassy.
"Cough, cough."
A brief and feigned cough interrupted Arthas's gaze. He casually said, "Bolvar, there's no need to remind me in such a way. I know you're here."
"Alright, I just felt a bit abrupt," Bolvar stood to the side, also glancing in the direction Jaina had left. "I hope Lady Proudmoore succeeds. I really don't want the Naval Commander to refuse to participate in this expedition."
Kul Tiras's fleet was responsible for transport and sea defense. If Daelin's fleet was absent, the situation for the Stormwind soldiers, who would be the spearhead, would not be good.
"It seems you still don't understand Daelin," Arthas said. "He loves his family very much. Drak's death was a huge blow to him, even far exceeding the impact of losing several fleets."
"That also means that in most cases, he can listen to his precious daughter," Bolvar interjected, but was made uncomfortable by Arthas's gaze.
"It seems I have to take back what I just said," Arthas smiled slightly at Bolvar. "However, the Grand Duke of Stormwind coming all the way to Lordaeron shouldn't just be to attend a pre-war meeting, right?"
Due to Varian's trust in him and his own outstanding abilities, Bolvar's duties in the Stormwind Kingdom were quite heavy. Moreover, with a major war imminent, he should have been at the Blasted Lands front line, not in an embassy in the rear.
His long journey to Lordaeron to find him must be for something important.
"The most annoying thing about you is that it seems like no one has any secrets in front of you," Bolvar sighed unamusedly, half-jokingly saying, "I really should go back and clean up SI:7 properly to see if they've been infiltrated like a sieve."
"Master Shaw's abilities should not be questioned. You should actually be more careful that his people don't overhear that remark."
"Heh heh, that guy is swamped right now. He has no time to inquire about noble gossip anymore." Bolvar was unfazed by Arthas's teasing.
Shaw? This guy's rank wasn't as high as his, and he couldn't beat him. Why would Bolvar need to worry about that?
But soon, the Grand Duke said seriously, "However, I did come this time with something I want to ask of you."
"If it's something I can help with, I will definitely do my best," Arthas readily agreed. He was always like that with friends.
"I want to find a qualified teacher in the path of the Holy Light for a junior."
"A teacher?" Arthas was a bit confused. The Grand Cathedral of Stormwind was also a good place for further study, and with Bolvar's resources, Stormwind might be a better choice.
Moreover, Bolvar himself was a powerful paladin and had studied in the Scarlet Crusade. Many knights of the Scarlet Crusade regarded him as a brother.
Under these conditions, Bolvar should have no need to come to him to find a reliable teacher.
As if seeing Arthas's doubt, Bolvar took a deep breath, slowed his tone, and said, "That fellow is a junior in my family. Her parents both died in the First Orcish Wars. She was still an infant then, and came north with me."
"She's from the Fartagen family?"
Arthas was somewhat surprised. The Stormwind Kingdom was severely damaged in the First Orcish Wars. Not only was its territory lost, but many noble aristocrats and generals were unwilling to abandon their homes and go into exile, and were buried in the sea of fire with Old Stormwind.
If it weren't for them covering the retreat for the fleeing people, perhaps few ships would have been able to leave Stormwind's harbor.
"The Fartagen family was once a thriving family…" Bolvar's face showed sorrow. As a great noble family that shared the fate of the kingdom, the Fartagen family did not disgrace themselves and fought resolutely until the last moment.
By his generation, there were very few descendants left with Fartagen blood.
"Moreover, because that child lost her parents at a young age, and I was busy following Sir Lothar and had no time to take care of her, I didn't expect her personality to become…"
Bolvar found it hard to explain. He pondered for a long time in Stormwind and finally decided to let his family's descendant stay away from the war in the Outlands for now. If that child kept following him, it probably wouldn't be good for her growth.
"So, a problem child?"
"No, not exactly a problem child," Bolvar replied. "She's just a bit… uh, prejudiced and precocious. It's hard for others to change the things and ideas she's set on."
The Grand Duke then showed a stiff smile, "She's been pestering me, wanting to join the expedition to Draenor, but she's not old enough to be on the battlefield yet, she's even only a few years older than Vancleef's little girl."
Arthas listened to the general situation, nodded, and responded, "Actually, she's still a problem child, but precociousness and prejudice aren't necessarily bad things in some aspects, at least when it comes to a determined faith."
"Yes, she's very sensitive to the Holy Light, a child blessed by the Holy Light, but because of that, I'm also worried that those dogmas will further strip away her human emotions—"
"Alright, alright, I understand. How about this, let me personally teach this child, how does that sound?" Arthas, seeing Bolvar preparing to continue his lengthy discourse, quickly interrupted him.
Bolvar was stunned for a moment. "You teach her… that doesn't seem bad—wait, you wouldn't take her to that godforsaken place, Northrend, would you?"
"How could I take a burdensome apprentice to a dangerous place?" Arthas retorted. "Don't worry, if it's really as you say, then I am indeed her best teacher."
Bolvar thought for a moment. Compared to those rigid, serious old-school Paladins and priests, perhaps Arthas, this young man, was indeed more suitable for his niece, and Arthas also seemed quite reliable.
"Alright, alright, I trust you. I'll have her report to you in a couple of days—you're still staying in Lordaeron these days, right?"
"I won't leave until the Guardian Dragons come for me."
Malygos sent word that there had been "some" disagreement within the Guardian Dragons. He needed some time to persuade his siblings, so it would be a while before the ambassador from the Dragon Legion arrived.
The Scourge was already marching towards Storm Peaks, but to avoid alerting Loken, this process would be relatively covert. Arthas's requirement was to stabilize the situation until the Dragon Legion's reinforcements arrived.
With this period of time, Arthas could also study how to break through Ulduar, that "iron lump," and the remaining time would be used to teach his apprentice.
********
"Why has the offensive against the Hall of Lightning and the Halls of Stone slowed down?" Ogrim asked Lothar, holding his battle hammer, which now had several more dents, with a puzzled expression.
At this moment, the Scourge's commander did not directly answer Ogrim's question, but instead retorted, "My old opponent, what are our losses in this war?"
Ogrim frowned slightly. As a meticulous Orc, he understood Lothar's unstated meaning, but he still answered directly, "The elite Scourge warriors haven't suffered too many losses. The constructs lack the ability to kill us completely; most are only temporarily incapacitated. But those mindless low-level undead... do you still care about them?"
"Lich King is different from us. Although he controls fearsome death magic, he is not one of the undead, and he is not here to cause chaos on Azeroth. This means he cannot, like the previous Lich King, wantonly slaughter the living beings of our world."
Lothar watched the endless undead army devour the constructs' positions and slowly said, "And this also limits a crucial channel for the Scourge's development. Perhaps we can slowly gather the deceased warriors and heroes over time, but right now, what we lack most is precisely time."
"So? What does he intend to do?" Ogrim asked, puzzled. "Some of those low-level cannon fodder don't even have souls; they are just bodies forcibly driven by necromancy. As long as they're not too damaged, we won't be lacking them for a while."
"Not lacking now doesn't mean not lacking later." Lothar shook his head helplessly. "Our enemies, coincidentally, are all inexhaustible, like locusts. Look, if it weren't for those dragons holding the line this time, these corrupted constructs would have been enough to give us a hard time."
Ogrim was silent for a moment, not wanting to listen to Lothar's riddles, and asked directly, "What does this have to do with us slowing down the offensive? The constructs are already at the end of their rope. If we apply more pressure, the scales of victory will quickly tip in our favor."
"You should also be aware that our victory or defeat here won't control the true situation. If that Dragon King and the Lich King lose, we will be powerless to stop the awakened Old Gods and his servants."
The soul fire in Lothar's eyes flickered, and he seemed to have made some decision before he spoke.
"So, he made a somewhat insane decision."
Ogrim suddenly felt a chill run down his spine—a tremor and unease from his soul. The wise former Warchief seemed to have a premonition that something ominous was about to happen.
"Are all you humans madmen?" Ogrim bared his teeth, practically squeezing the words from his throat. "I don't know what schemes you're plotting, but I'm very clear that if 'our King' fails, this world will probably be doomed."
"In the worst-case scenario, that's true, which is why he put a safeguard in place before he left." Lothar looked at the Halls of Stone, where half of a pillar had already been blasted away by the war. "If he and Malygos fail, Archaedas will erase everything with the creation engine."
Ogrim sharply turned his head to look into the depths of Ulduar. Within that unchanging Titan city, a fuse that could ignite the entire world was buried.
...
"Boom!"
Emerald-green lightning streaked across the sky of Hellfire Peninsula. Jaina sat on the top floor of the Honor Hold's mage tower, intently reading a document in her hand, with many similar scrolls and documents stacked beside her.
The coalition had expended considerable effort and finally established a foothold on Hellfire Peninsula. With supplies and manpower from Azeroth, Honor Hold was at last free from its previous awkward position and had begun to gradually launch an offensive against Hellfire Citadel.
On the top of the mage tower, many mages from Dalaran were busy; some were sorting through decades of unattended documents and information, while others were arranging various matters to assist the war effort.
Although the Fel Orcs had lost to the coalition in previous battles, their influence remained deeply rooted. As the coalition gradually took over the area from Dark Portal to Honor Hold, some of the Fel Orcs' forces were forced to relocate to the rear of Hellfire Citadel.
This also meant that the road connecting to Terokkar Forest was now monitored by more enemies, even though that path was already full of thorns and corrupted monsters.
According to Danath, a portion of the expeditionary force was still stationed in other areas of Outland, with a large part in Shattrath City. Now, the small path leading to Terokkar Forest was heavily guarded by the enemy, leaving only flying units as the last means of contact with Shattrath City.
However, this cursed place, Outland, was gradually being consumed by the Twisting Nether after the great explosion. Although it still retained some atmosphere capable of supporting life, above the clouds lay extreme Netherstorm, which could engulf any unfortunate soul flying in the sky at any moment.
Only the most elite Gryphon Riders could fly in this cursed sky, and even for them, death and injury were commonplace.
Therefore, communication between Honor Hold and Shattrath City was often intermittent, without a fixed schedule. Danath had already sent scouts through the cloud sea to deliver messages to Shattrath, but he did not know when a reply would come.
The coalition naturally would not wait idly in Honor Hold, so besides eliminating Hellfire Citadel, opening a path to Shattrath City became an important agenda.
Now, two mages were arguing about this very topic beside Jaina.
"Damn it, you stupid Gnome, you don't understand the danger of opening a portal in this kind of space with just one coordinate—let alone a coordinate from twenty years ago, before Draenor exploded!" The Elf mage pointed at the Gnome mage's nose, who barely reached his thigh, and cursed loudly.
"Stupid?! No one dares to call the great Milhouse Manastorm a stupid Gnome! Even King Arthas praised my exquisite spellcasting skills!" Milhouse retorted mercilessly. "You pointy-eared Elves don't understand innovation at all. Even the engineers from my hometown dare to try a spatial teleporter, but you just want to wait for the right time!"
"You are simply a madman! If you really want to try, please open that death portal at least twenty kilometers away from Honor Hold. I don't want our fortress to be occupied by a bunch of strange void creatures, or simply explode into the sky with this shattered world!"
The Elf mage could no longer tolerate Milhouse's rudeness and bothered to argue with him no further. After a few grunts, he left. Milhouse, with the smug look of a victor, proudly held his head high, seemingly wanting to win the approval of his other colleagues.
However, those around him merely glanced at him before returning their attention to the tasks at hand—in recent days, similar arguments occurred almost constantly, and Milhouse was always involved.
Seeing that no one was paying attention to him, Milhouse turned his gaze to Jaina. He chuckled twice, rubbing his hands as he walked to Jaina's desk, and said flatteringly, "Miss Proudmoore, you see, my idea is definitely feasible. I wonder if you could support me with some mana crystals? I will do my best to try and set up a stable portal... Oh, not too much, just..."
"Mr. Manastorm, you should go to the logistics supervisor for this matter. I can't help you either," Jaina said with a headache.
This was not the first time Manastorm had come to her. At first, Jaina had half-heartedly allowed people to assist him, but a day later, when she learned that a small cliff north of Honor Hold had been torn to shreds by a spatial storm, she no longer dared to let Milhouse mess around.
After sending away the dejected Milhouse, the air behind Jaina gradually distorted, and slowly, a graceful figure emerged from the shadows.
Jaina put down the official document in her hand and turned to the newcomer. "Valeera, is something wrong?"
"Our scouts have confirmed that fel Orc soldiers are continuously pouring out of a place called the Blood Furnace within Hellfire Citadel. The accompanying mages believe there is a large fel factory inside."
Valeera handed a report to Jaina. "Although we haven't been able to fully infiltrate yet, those orcs don't seem to be too concerned with secrecy. We found the source of the fel blood—an Pit Lord imprisoned in an underground dungeon."
"Pit Lord?" Jaina's beautiful brows furrowed. Those Fel Orcs were actually treating an Pit Lord like a pig to endlessly extract fel blood. But how did they manage it? Logically, orcs who drank fel blood should be easily controlled by an Pit Lord.
"If the information from Honor Hold is correct, the imprisoned Pit Lord should be Magtheridon, the former overlord of Outland who was stationed here," Valeera softly reported their intelligence. "Although we don't know how the Fel Orcs captured him, as long as this Pit Lord is killed, the Fel Orcs will no longer have the ability to create new soldiers, and those orcs already infused with fel blood will become incredibly weak."
"I understand... but this matter still needs more detailed planning," Jaina knew how troublesome an Pit Lord could be, let alone a demon entrusted with a vital mission by the Burning Legion to monitor a world. Solving him was no simple task, especially with the heavy resistance of the fel Orc army.
Valeera, however, continued, "There's one more thing: we discovered a strange mark on some deceased high-ranking Fel Orcs."
With that, Valeera took out an evil sigil confined by magic and handed it to Jaina.
Jaina observed the mark very cautiously. Besides the fel energy emanating from it, the mark seemed to have nothing special... Wait!
"This looks like... some kind of pattern commonly used by the ancient Kaldorei?" Jaina was somewhat uncertain. Kaldorei civilization was too ancient and too isolated. Only after the Night Elves joined the Alliance did humans have the opportunity to learn more detailed knowledge of this ancient civilization.
Jaina had been busy with the Alliance's expeditionary war recently and had fallen behind in her research in this area, but she still felt that the patterns on the mark gave her a sense of déjà vu.
"Give this emblem to the Night Elf priestesses and see if they can glean any information from it."
With Jaina's soothing and persuasion, Daelin, though angry, did not make any further outrageous moves.
To avoid further irritating Daelin's sensitive spot about "losing his son," Arthas did not go to explain to Daelin, because he would most likely just see the Naval Commander's sour face.
Daelin always had a grim expression when it came to dragons and orcs; if it weren't so difficult to trouble those dragons, Arthas believed that Kul Tiras's fleet would probably have already sailed to the waters near Dragonblight.
However, this Naval Commander was no longer content with just clearing the seas of the Blasted Lands; according to Jaina, he planned to lead his elite forces and unleash his fury upon the orcs of Outland.
Fel Orcs are beasts whose minds have been burned by demonic blood; if their blood could extinguish his father-in-law's rage, Arthas had no reason to stop him.
Compared to the potentially endless armies of Iron and Titan Guardians lurking in Ulduar, Outland was already a good place to train an army.
As for the remaining Legion remnants, already scattered by Illidan's forces, they posed no significant threat; before connecting with Kil'jaeden, the demonic resistance throughout Outland would not be very strong, nor would it be concentrated along the Alliance's advance routes.
"Knock, knock—"
A knock sounded, and Arthas, who was engrossed in studying the offensive and defensive points of Storm Peaks and Ulduar, didn't even lift his head, simply saying, "Come in."
After the door was pushed open, the newcomer seemed about to speak, but stopped when he saw Arthas working at his desk. Arthas then said, "I apologize, please wait a minute or two for me. Feel free to find a seat anywhere, and if you'd like something to drink, just tell the attendant outside. Please make yourself comfortable."
After a quick sketch on the strategic map, Arthas frowned, examining his notes and annotations—the terrain of Storm Peaks was far more exaggerated than depicted on the map. Even with the characteristics of the Scourge, it would be difficult to gain an advantage against Loken.
Besides the naxxanar serving as a teleportation hub, the only path to Storm Peaks was through Crystalsong Forest. Even upon entering Storm Peaks, the drastic elevation changes and continuous mountain ranges were enough to deter any mortal army.
Even entering the peaks from the mountain path of Crystalsong Forest, all that met the eye were boundless snowfields and towering, cloud-piercing ridges, making it difficult to even find a path to continue deeper into Storm Peaks.
The Great Sundering ten thousand years ago altered most of Azeroth's landscape, including Storm Peaks where Ulduar is located. The once magnificent Titan steps no longer exist, and their remaining fragments are covered by cold wind and snow within the mountains of Northrend.
Arthas looked at the map, which he had scribbled all over, and sighed. This was undoubtedly the most difficult battle he had faced in many years; even facing Archimonde on Mount Hyjal, he had never felt so powerless.
"Titans… Guardians… you really left me a tough problem."
Arthas suppressed his chaotic thoughts, then lifted his head and scanned forward.
"Excuse me for the delay, you are—uh?"
The Prince's handsome face showed a look of surprise. Why didn't he see anyone in his line of sight?
"Prince, I am here."
Following the voice, Arthas saw a petite figure that seemed somewhat at odds with the rather cool and elegant voice. Long, light-gold hair was coiled into a very classical bun at the back of her head, and a blue ribbon with gold patterns hung down. She stared at Arthas with a pair of emerald-like eyes.
The petite beauty stood up and gave Arthas a knight's salute.
"Greetings. I am an apprentice knight sent by Grand Duke Bolvar Fordragon of Stormwind to study."
Arthas scrutinized the lady in front of him—no, he should say girl. At least in appearance, she was indeed only a fifteen or sixteen-year-old maiden, and even shorter than most girls.
He vaguely remembered that Jaina was quite a bit taller than the girl in front of him at that age. Could it be that Bolvar hadn't even ensured the most basic nutrition for the child?
"Apprentice knight? If you refer to yourself that way, it seems you've gained Bolvar's approval?" Arthas cast aside those baseless thoughts and asked a question instead.
"Yes," the girl replied concisely. Even facing Arthas, she seemed to have nothing more to say.
Her childhood experiences had forged this personality. According to Bolvar, she had always been unyielding to anyone, focused solely on her goals and beliefs.
Although Bolvar had only symbolically given the girl the status of an apprentice knight, in reality, many official knights in the barracks were no match for her.
The Grand Duke worried that if he truly promoted her to a full knight, she might not hesitate to join the army on campaign.
And he didn't know where she got such monstrous strength; she looked delicate and lovely, yet she could even overturn horses. Combined with the swordsmanship she learned from her uncle Bolvar, her martial arts could be said to be unparalleled among ordinary soldiers.
However, seeing the emotions and expressions displayed by this young girl at her age, Arthas couldn't help but feel that Bolvar's parenting skills were probably nearing Ronin's luck.
Fortunately, he had sent Taelia to Boralus from a young age, otherwise Arthas might be facing not one, but two problem children now.
"You must know that I will be your teacher now, correct?" Arthas's voice was gentle, like autumn sunlight, able to warm hearts.
"Yes, you are an excellent paladin. The Grand Duke told me that following you would benefit me greatly," the girl stated formulaically.
"That's what Bolvar told you," Arthas said unhurriedly. "What about you? What do you think yourself? Are you dissatisfied with your uncle Bolvar's decision?"
A look of confusion appeared on the girl's face. "A soldier's duty is to obey orders, and members of the Fordragon family have always been the best soldiers and can become the best generals. Why should I be dissatisfied with the Grand Duke's command?"
Arthas nodded, then asked, "So what do you hope to learn?"
"I hope to learn everything that will benefit the revitalization of my family," the girl paused for a moment, revealing a barely perceptible hesitation for the first time, "and also how to uphold justice and eliminate evil."
Justice?
When Arthas heard that word, he sighed inwardly—he already roughly understood the concept the girl held in her heart. Compared to the belief in revitalizing her family, justice was truly a heavy topic.
Countless individuals have, or will, go astray because of the belief in "justice," including Arthas's own mentor, Uther the Lightbringer.
"Then let's reintroduce ourselves. I am Arthas Menethil, Paladin of the Silver Hand, and Crown Prince of Lordaeron."
"Tell me your name, paladin apprentice. You will be my first true apprentice." Arthas stood up and walked over to the girl.
Arthas, over two meters tall, stood robust and tall before the girl. She only reached Arthas's waist, like a miniature doll, but she showed no hesitation, looking up at Arthas and meeting his eyes without a trace of timidity.
"Artoria, Artoria Fordragon of Stormwind Kingdom."
On the Royal Training Grounds of Lordaeron, two figures, one tall and one short, wielded longswords, their iron blades reflecting a cold glint that blurred into a continuous streak of sword shadows with their rapid movements.
"When you strike, your footing must be stable, and your movements precise. Your strength is incredibly impressive, giving you a great advantage in ground combat, but you need to further improve your technique and proficiency to compensate for your height disadvantage."
Arthas swung his longsword, effortlessly intercepting every one of Artoria's attacks. Sparks even flew when their iron swords collided, showing how astonishingly strong both of them were.
Artoria's small body seemed to hide a Dragon, possessing superior strength and endurance, yet she also felt immense pressure when facing Arthas.
When sparring with the Knights and soldiers of Stormwind, although her shorter height put her at a disadvantage in reach, she could always defeat her opponents with her strength and agility.
However, when facing Arthas, an opponent whose strength and speed far surpassed hers, she felt somewhat outmatched.
She seriously thrust, dodged, and parried, searching for Arthas's weaknesses, but his impenetrable defense caused Artoria, with her more numerous movements, to break into a sweat.
"Clang—"
The crisp sound of steel clashing rang out. Artoria pursed her lips and looked down at the iron sword pressed against her neck. She had lost again.
Arthas withdrew his hand, his expression still very relaxed. Artoria's talent was astonishing, even surpassing Liadrin in close combat when she first came to him for training.
If it were the Liadrin from back then, without either of them using the Holy Light, Artoria would have had a chance to defeat Liadrin.
But once the Holy Light was used, the situation would instantly reverse, and Artoria wouldn't even be able to last thirty seconds against Liadrin.
Moreover, that High Priest's combat talent was not weak; she had just been focused on practicing divine spells and the Holy Light, not swordsmanship. But after systematic learning, she immediately made significant progress.
Now, Liadrin was already a qualified paladin, lacking only different practical combat experience—she would also participate in this expedition, under the name of the Silver Hand.
"Alright, take a break. During this time, you can practice the Seals and Blessings you've learned."
Arthas was about to elaborate on more key points, but his peripheral vision caught sight of an Elf standing on the outskirts of the training ground, so he changed his words and told Artoria to practice on her own.
"Yes, teacher."
Artoria picked up her iron sword and began to train her Holy Light usage skills. She also knew that she had reached a bottleneck in swordsmanship; to improve her strength, she had to refine the path of the Holy Light.
Arthas quickly walked to the edge of the training ground. He looked at the other party and greeted him, "Good morning, Krasus."
"Prince, you could have lectured your apprentice a bit longer," Krasus replied with a smile. He was the envoy sent by Dalaran a few days ago, but this time he had another identity.
"Lily's lessons can be postponed, but our matter cannot be delayed," Arthas said. "Is there any news?"
"Yes, after King Malygos's statement, representatives from the other Dragon Legions have all agreed to crusade against the Guardian of Ulduar," Krasus said, relaying the information he had received. "However, Queen Ysera and King Nozdormu will not participate, but instead send elite warriors from the Bronze Dragonflight and the Green Dragonflight."
"Understandable."
Arthas was not too surprised by this outcome, as Ysera and Nozdormu had special responsibilities, especially Ysera. The Emerald Dream, guarded by the Green Dragonflight, was actually fraught with danger.
Arthas planned to find an opportunity to deal with Xavius again. Their brief encounter with his projection in another timeline had given him some insight into Xavius's condition.
"However, Prince Arthas, I still have some concerns," Krasus sighed, his smile fading, replaced by a worried expression. "If the Guardians in Ulduar have all fallen, I fear even the Dragon Legion alone will find it difficult to resist."
"We have no choice. Mortal armies cannot overcome the terrain and climate of the Storm Peaks, but I will try to find a few reliable helpers. As for other allies... we don't have time to find them."
Arthas was also helpless. Yogg-Saron's movements were faster than he had imagined. Just in the few days of internal discussion among the Dragons, the Scourge had discovered that parts of Ulduar's ruins had already been activated.
"You mean no time, not none?" Krasus's eyes lit up. He noticed another key point. "Can you tell me who they are? Perhaps the Dragon Legion can help persuade them to join us."
"Odin and his Halls of Valor can be said to be the greatest help, but this Guardian is trapped in the Halls of Valor. To rescue him, we have to deal with the Witch Helya." Arthas had nothing to hide. Odin was indeed a helper, but he couldn't get out now.
"Uh... is there anything else?" Krasus also paused when he heard the name Helya. This Witch was not a minor character that could be dealt with casually; the Dragon Legion would have to pay a considerable price to defeat her.
"Yes, Neptulon the Tidehunter and Therazane the Earth Mother. These two Elemental Lords are not loyal to the Old Gods, and they have quite a grudge against the Titan Guardians. But what sufficient reasons or conditions do you have to make them step into such a dangerous place as Ulduar?"
Arthas spoke two more names, and Krasus was instantly speechless. Indeed, the Dragon Legion truly had no conditions that could move these two.
"Ulduar is a city of miracles. To try and crush this Titan relic head-on is wishful thinking, even with the Dragon Legion. My plan is not to directly confront the forces within Ulduar."
Arthas explained his plan, "The Undead and the Dragons should be able to tie up most of Loken's attention. If we can use this opportunity to rescue the Guardians who haven't completely fallen, perhaps things haven't deteriorated to an irreversible extent."
"You mean to penetrate deep into Ulduar without defeating the Iron Army and the Guardians? Is this... is this too risky?"
"We have no choice. Ulduar can be said to be impregnable, but fortunately, Yogg-Saron also provided us with an idea—the weakest part of a strong fortress or defense is often its interior."
"...I understand. I will convey this to the Dragon Army."
What Arthas had not said was that the reason he dared to propose such a plan was that Arthas was not afraid of the Guardians controlled by Yogg-Saron. These Titan constructs were not invincible.
He had never fully unleashed his power because it could cause too much destruction, but right now, this power had become the key to breaking the deadlock.
Yogg-Saron used all sorts of schemes and even paid attention to the direction of mortal kingdoms, but he could not know things that had never been known to anyone.