The massive Kul Tiran fleet slowly glided into the port of Lordaeron City, the long-absent Lion banners unfurling proudly from the masts, drawing the eyes of every dockworker and soldier. When Princess Calia Menethil, escorted by the legendary Paladin Uther, stepped onto the gangplank and set foot on her long-lost homeland, deafening cheers erupted from the harbor.
"Long live Princess Calia!"
"Long live Lordaeron!"
"Welcome home, Your Highness!"
Countless citizens flooded the docks, eyes brimming with tears, waving makeshift cloth banners or simply their arms. Their voices were hoarse with emotion; the year of exile and the bitterness of being displaced finally dissolved into the joy of homecoming and hope for the future.
Rhodes led the Alliance generals forward. Looking at the travel-worn but resolute Princess, he felt a wave of profound emotion. He bowed slightly in a standard noble salute: "Welcome back, Princess Calia. Lordaeron is waiting for its Queen."
Calia looked at Rhodes, then at the faces behind him—familiar and new alike, yet all bearing expressions of iron resolve: Dathrohan, Old Mograine, and the generals who had stood tall in the face of peril. Her gaze returned to Rhodes, her eyes shimmering with a complex mix of gratitude, reliance, and the determination of one about to shoulder a heavy crown.
"Rhodes... and everyone, you have worked so hard. Thank you for everything." Calia's voice trembled with a choked sob, carrying across the harbor. "It was you who reclaimed our home! It was you who allowed the Menethil banner to fly over the capital once more! This achievement—no, this kindness—Lordaeron will never forget! You are true heroes. I am proud of you."
Standing behind her, Uther's gaze swept over the city walls. Though the scars were cruel, repairs had already begun. He saw the soldiers and citizens, exhausted but full of hope. When they left a year ago, there was only despair; now, hope had resurfaced. Uther stepped forward and clapped Rhodes heavily on the shoulder—words were unnecessary.
This young Regent had proved, through near-miraculous actions, that Uther's choice in Dalaran had been the right one. Protecting this young man, following him to Kalimdor, and fighting at Mount Hyjal—it was all the guidance of the Light.
"Your Highness, as Regent, this was my duty," Rhodes said with a smile. He had orchestrated this grand welcome specifically to boost her popularity before the coronation.
Calia nodded and stepped forward. She took Rhodes's face in her hands and kissed him, only pulling away after a moment. She leaned in to whisper a few words into his ear before pulling back with a smile. She then moved to greet the generals, specifically the Ashbringer and Dathrohan.
"I thank you, warriors of the Silver Hand. You have saved your country. I am proud of you," Uther added as he stepped forward. "You did what I, as your Grand Master, should have done."
"Don't say that, Uther," Old Mograine said, rising from his salute. "You had an even more vital task: protecting the Princess and the settlers in Kalimdor. Your mission was no less difficult than ours."
"Indeed," Dathrohan added. "You held back the pressure of those Dalaran mages single-handedly."
"I heard you taught those demons a lesson at Mount Hyjal and hunted them down afterward," the Ashbringer chuckled. "I wish I could have stood by your side then."
"Haha! And I wish I could have gone to Outland with you to see the Orcish homelands," Uther sighed. "When General Turalyon left all those years ago, I feared I'd never see them again."
The return of the Expedition was a cause for massive celebration, though the absence of Turalyon remained a poignant regret.
"The Light gave Lord Rhodes a revelation," Fairbanks interjected. "General Turalyon has been saved and will surely return soon."
In their hearts, Rhodes was now the avatar and spokesperson of the Light. Uther nodded, his trust in Rhodes absolute.
"I can promise you all: General Turalyon, Lady Alleria, and Magus Khadgar—all of them will return safely," Rhodes said firmly.
"We believe you, Rhodes," Calia said. "Now, let us enter. Let us return to the capital of Lordaeron."
After the grand ceremony, they returned to the palace. Though the throne room still bore scars of battle, it had been cleaned to restore its solemn dignity; the lingering fel and death energies were gone. A month had been enough for Rhodes to make the city look brand new.
That evening, a core council meeting was held in the deliberation hall. Calia listened to Rhodes's detailed reports on the reclamation, the return of the Expedition, and the alliances with the Blood Elves and Draenei.
"So, we have not only reclaimed the capital but also have Draenei allies from Outland and the support of Quel'Thalas?" Calia summarized. She welcomed the Draenei; like the Night Elves, they were a virtuous race, and their use of the Light made them easy for humans to accept.
"Yes, Your Highness," Rhodes confirmed. "Prince Kael'thas and his magi were a great help, and the Draenei Vindicators led by Akama are our solid shield. Furthermore, Archdruid Malfurion is personally helping us restore the land. Thanks to the Druids, our crops are growing so fast they are already ready for harvest. We no longer need to worry about food."
"Is that so? And here I brought enough grain with the fleet to feed everyone for two months," Calia smiled. "You are always one step ahead, Rhodes."
"It is my duty as Regent and Grand Marshal," he replied.
"I understand. Soon, as Queen of Lordaeron, I will formally commission you and write to King Varian of Stormwind," Calia declared. "I will inform him of the Expedition's return, the Draenei alliance, and your promotion. If possible, I will invite him to Lordaeron for a summit."
She knew that for Rhodes's position to be legitimate, it needed her royal decree and the recognition of Stormwind. However, she noted that Stormwind had been strangely silent over the past year—no aid, not even a messenger. She suspected internal trouble in the southern kingdom.
"I plan to travel to Stormwind personally," Rhodes said. "Many of the veterans I brought back are originally from Stormwind. I should speak with Varian."
Plus, Rhodes thought, I've gathered six Black Dragons over the last month. It's time to give a certain Black Dragon Princess a wake-up call. Maybe I'll even claim her as a mount to make up for all those failed raid runs back in my past life.
I just want to ride Onyxia... strictly as a mount, of course.
"If you're willing to go, then invite Varian and escort him here," Calia said. "However, there is one more thing. Grand Admiral Daelin Proudmoore visited Theramore recently. He sent a third of his fleet to escort us here. Before I left, I entrusted the defense of Theramore to him."
Rhodes's expression instantly soured. Are you kidding me? This is exactly how my father-in-law-to-be gets himself killed. How could you leave him in charge of defense? He is 100% going to start a war with the Orcs.
"Your Highness... it seems my trip to Stormwind might have to wait," Rhodes said grimly.
"Don't worry," Calia said, "the Admiral promised me he wouldn't initiate conflict with the Orcs."