As the first golden rays of dawn pierced the sky over Southshore, the entire camp stirred to life. The quiet of yesterday's feast and the sorrow of bidding farewell to their homeland were replaced by a tense yet hopeful bustle.
Paladins conducted final inspections of the moorings connecting the zeppelins to the enchanted ships, while goblin engineers performed last-minute adjustments on the steam boilers. Lordaeron militias guided civilians in an orderly fashion into the five spatial magic ships suspended mid-air by the goblin zeppelins.
Princess Calia Menethil stood upon a makeshift high platform, with Uther, Rhodes, and Jaina standing side-by-side behind her. She had changed into a simple yet solemn Lordaeron blue outfit. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to deliver her final farewell address to her people.
"People of Lordaeron! I am Calia Menethil, the last bloodline of the Royal House of Menethil. First, allow me to offer my deepest apologies—apologies for the atrocities committed against you by my brother, Arthas." As Princess Calia finished speaking, she bowed ninety degrees to the entire assembly.
The clamor ceased instantly. Tens of thousands of eyes focused on her, offering their respect to the princess.
"Darkness once shrouded our home. The iron hooves of the undead trampled our beloved lands, and the ice of betrayal pierced our most trusted hearts. We lost our kin, our homes, and even—for a time—our hope.
We stood amidst the ruins of Lordaeron and witnessed a living hell; we fought off undead pursuers time and again on the road of exile. We took in homeless compatriots, and at the port of Southshore, we faced indifference and calculation, tasting the bitterness of abandonment." Calia's words resonated deeply with the crowd, who had endured immense suffering on their journey.
"But!" Calia's voice suddenly rose. "Look around us! Look at the Knights of the Silver Hand, who have bled and fought every step of the way, never ceasing their protection! Look at our Kul Tiran allies, who have shared our joys and sorrows and never left our side! Look at our friends from Dalaran, Quel'Thalas, Ironforge, and Gnomeregan, who chose to stand with us! We are not alone. We do not fight in isolation. I am proud of you, my people!"
"More importantly, look at yourselves! Every person standing here! You did not collapse in despair; you did not succumb to fear! You measured suffering with your feet, protected one another with your hands, and lit the path ahead with hope! It is your resilience that has brought us to this day! The Holy Light blesses us; it blesses Lordaeron. Today, we stand here not as refugees, but as pioneers! As pathfinders! As the architects of Lordaeron's future! The Light has not abandoned us; it has guided us toward a new direction—Kalimdor!"
Princess Calia turned sharply, pointing her hand toward the west, toward the vast and unknown Great Sea.
"There shall be our new home! A home far from the shadow of the Scourge, a home built with our own hands! A home that carries our remembrance of the fallen, our responsibility to the living, and our hope for the future!"
"I, Calia Menethil, in the name of the last bloodline of the Menethil family, swear to always be with you. We carry with us the will of Lordaeron, the thirst for freedom, and the conviction to rebuild our home
. My father once said that no king rules forever. Our family has ruled this kingdom with diligence and wisdom, never through sheer power. My people! The spirit of Lordaeron—unity, resilience, protection, and hope—will be eternal! It will merge into our blood and be etched into the depths of our souls!
Even as we cross the great ocean, Lordaeron has never truly perished; it lives in each of our hearts! One day, we shall return to this land that belongs to us with this spirit and in a stronger form! We shall seek vengeance against my brother Arthas—for Lordaeron! For the dead! For the living! For the future! I now declare: Set sail! Target: Our new home!"
Her final words struck like a thunderclap over the port, instantly igniting the blood of everyone present.
"For Lordaeron!" "For Her Highness!" "For the new home!" "For the Light!" "Depart!"
Rhodes watched this scene with great emotion. Sometimes, a terrifying upheaval can indeed change a person fundamentally, making them unrecognizable. Princess Calia had truly grown; she was no longer the frail princess hiding under her father's wing, but had become the spiritual leader of the people of Lordaeron. Her speech perfectly blended sorrow, anger, gratitude, and hope, igniting the soul-fire of this migration. While Rhodes and Jaina had helped draft the speech, it required true talent to deliver it with such passion.
"Board the ships!" Rhodes gave the final order.
Uther stood personally by the entrance of one magic ship, helping a staggering elder aboard. Paladins were scattered throughout, maintaining order and assisting the elderly, women, and children.
The busy figures of Renault, Darion, Gavinrad, and Ballador could be seen weaving through the crowd. Jaina guided the High Elf and Dalaran magi onto another vessel. The dwarven smiths and gnomes boarded a separate ship; this voyage included almost all races of the Alliance.
With four zeppelins hoisting each magic ship, the roar of the goblin steam engines grew deafening. Massive propellers began to spin at high speeds, creating powerful air currents. As the moorings tightened, the five spatial magic ships swayed slightly, lifted off the ground, and slowly ascended into the sky.
Inside the ships, the spatial expansion enchantments made the boarding process efficient. Despite the large number of refugees, the internal space was far more spacious than it appeared from the outside—it was like entering another world. Civilians found their places as directed, looking at these miraculous Titan creations with curiosity and trepidation.
Children were drawn to the novel environment, temporarily forgetting the sadness of departure, while mothers held their children tightly, whispering comforts. The wounded were placed in specialized areas under the care of priests and medical staff, while the remaining soldiers and paladins stood at the prows.
Rhodes stood at the edge of the flagship's deck (the largest of the five), overlooking the shrinking town of Southshore and the final group of paladins and militia staying behind—they would be responsible for receiving subsequent refugees and waiting for the follow-up Kul Tiran fleet.
Calia and Uther stood beside him. Everyone cast a final look at the coastline that had carried so much pain and farewell; their eyes were complex, but ultimately settled into a gaze of determination.
Farewell, Lordaeron. We... will return.
"All zeppelins, begin ascent! Target: Kalimdor!" The voice of the goblin zeppelin commander, Grizby, came through the loudspeaker, filled with characteristic goblin excitement. "Time is money, dear passengers! Let's move! Welcome aboard Steamwheedle Cartel Airlines!"
Twenty goblin zeppelins increased their power simultaneously, emitting a deafening roar. The massive dirigibles dragged the five magic ships below them as they began a steady climb. Powerful winds whipped the hair and robes of those on deck.
Below, those staying behind—Renault Mograine, Sally, and others—led the remaining personnel in a crisp military salute. They watched as the fleet carrying the final sparks and hopes of Lordaeron rose into the high altitude, drifting further away until they became a string of tiny black dots merging between the blue sky and the boundless sea.
"Rhodes, how long do you think it will take for us to return? To return to our homeland?" Princess Calia asked, gazing at the distant horizon.
"Five years at most, and we will fight our way back. Within seven years, we will defeat Arthas," Rhodes said with a smile.
It was currently Year 20 of the Black Portal. By Year 25, Rhodes would lead them all back. Year 27 would be the time of Arthas's death.
"You really are an optimist, Rhodes. But you don't need to comfort me; I feel like we might never return," Princess Calia sighed. Lordaeron was currently in ruins, and the Scourge was so powerful—could they truly return?
"Princess Calia, and everyone else... actually, it is time I told you something," Rhodes said, stepping closer to the princess. Jaina, Uther, and the High Elf representative, Magister Capernia, were drawn by his voice and gathered around.
"What secret do you want to tell us, Rhodes?"
"This is what a Titan Watcher told me. In truth, the Scourge is merely a group of cannon fodder or a vanguard. Behind them lies an even more terrifying power. This terrifying force is called the Burning Legion.
They are the true masters of the Lich King and the masterminds behind Arthas's fall; that Dreadlord we saw is the best proof. The Burning Legion has never given up on invading our world. Even the Orcs crossing the Dark Portal twenty years ago was part of the Legion's plot."
Rhodes shared information about the Burning Legion with the group. Azeroth was not entirely ignorant of the Legion, so there was no need to wait for their arrival to speak of them.
"The Burning Legion? Our ancient records in Quel'Thalas do indeed mention these demons. It is said that ten thousand years ago, they once stepped into our world, only to be defeated by the denizens of Azeroth at the time. According to those records, the Dreadlords are indeed minions of the Burning Legion—extremely wicked demons," Capernia stated.
"My mentor also told me about the Burning Legion. And in Andorhal, we saw that Dreadlord with our own eyes; his name was Mal'Ganis," Jaina nodded. The High Elves and the mages of Dalaran knew of the Legion's existence; it was precisely to defend against them that the Guardian was established.
"Rhodes, where did you get this news? Is the Burning Legion truly behind the Scourge?" Uther asked, looking shocked.
"Exactly, Lord Uther. The Titan Watcher told me personally. This is also why I chose to lead everyone to Kalimdor. Even if the Titan Watcher helps us defeat the Scourge, the Burning Legion will launch an invasion afterward. To defeat the Burning Legion, our current strength is not enough. We need to integrate the power of both continents. Ten thousand years ago, the reason the Legion's invasion failed was because a powerful race stood against them. This race is called the Night Elves."
As he spoke, the expression of the High Elf magister changed suddenly. The term "Night Elf" was not foreign to them; in a sense, High Elves were a branch of the Night Elf people.
"Night Elves... what a distant term!" Capernia murmured.
Their ancestors were the nobility among the Night Elves—the Highborne who specialized in magical power.
The first Sunstrider King was unwilling to accept the Night Elves' abandonment of arcane magic, leading to a conflict with the Night Elf leaders, Malfurion Stormrage and Tyrande. Eventually, the ancestors led the High Elf nobility to the Eastern Kingdoms.
Because of this, they lost their immortality. To humans, elves might have long lifespans, but compared to their Night Elf kin, they were nothing. After the war ended, the Night Elves received the blessing of the Dragon Aspects, granting them eternal life—a truly immortal race.
"Rhodes, you mean... or rather, the great Titan Watcher means... we need the help of this Night Elf race, correct?" Princess Calia asked thoughtfully.
"Exactly, Your Highness. The Night Elves are a powerful race; every member is immortal. They are a transcendent race, protected by powerful Wild Gods.
This race is the key to defeating the Burning Legion," Rhodes said. Without the Guardian, the only way to kill Archimonde was to rely on the self-destruction of the Night Elves' World Tree.
"I never imagined the enemy we face is such a terrifying existence. Can we truly win?"
"Rest assured, Your Highness, Lord Uther. The Watcher will guide us, and the Light will guide us. We are not the only ones fighting the Burning Legion. In the future, we will have countless allies," Rhodes comforted them.
"I hope so, Rhodes. In that case, we must search for these Night Elves once we reach Kalimdor."
"Yes. I have already communicated with the goblins. They will send me to the Night Elf territories. First, we head to a place called Dustwallow Marsh," Rhodes said.
Over the next dozen days, everyone spent their time on the zeppelins. Life was somewhat monotonous. On the seventeenth day, they finally saw a coastline.