Duke raised his second finger with dramatic emphasis: "Second, what your eyes perceive isn’t necessarily reality. And rember—there is only one absolute truth!"
After Duke finished delivering this declaration with theatrical conviction, he internally recoiled in horror and berated himself: "By the Light, that was dangerously close! I nearly quoted the bloody Grim Reaper’s signature catchphrase!"
He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and released a weary sigh.
Wherever my shadow falls, people seem to perish in droves. Perhaps I truly am half a god of death incarnate.
Having completed his mont of self-deprecating reflection, Duke lifted his head with eyes blazing with fierce determination: "Very well, relay the supre order from your Alliance Commander—I hereby decree..."
On August 19th, in the 15th year since the Dark Portal’s catastrophic opening, the Alliance executed what appeared to outsiders as a spectacularly idiotic strategic blunder. The Scarlet Crusade’s main force, which had triumphantly arrived at Lordaeron’s northern coast with grand plans to reclaim the fallen capital, actually departed by ship after remaining there for rely one week.
Rumors circulated that Darkmaster Gandling’s massive undead army had marched deep into Silverpine Forest, creating a mortal threat to refugee evacuations from the Northshore Coast, forcing this desperate redeploynt southward.
This type of hasty troop repositioning represented the most fundantal taboo of military strategy—the kind of amateur mistake that would make seasoned generals weep with despair.
Not only did outsiders react with stunned disbelief, but even Alliance commanders were absolutely terrified by this apparent lunacy.
Whether it was the stalwart Magni or Turalyon, who had just arrived in the plague-infested Eastern Kingdoms, their initial reaction was such overwhelming shock that they nearly severed their own tongues in surprise.
Could this possibly be the sa Duke who had earned legendary status as a military genius without equal?
Saidan frowned deeply with concern: "Turalyon, shouldn’t we formally question our supre commander’s judgnt?"
Turalyon, now well past thirty years of age, had long shed his youthful impetuousness. Since embracing his role as a mature leader, he had developed far greater stability and preferred contemplating situations from multiple angles before acting.
After several minutes of intense deliberation, Turalyon shook his head with resolute conviction: "Absolutely not necessary. Consider this carefully—Duke recently returned and achieved such a magnificent victory while caught between the crushing pincers of both Scourge and orcish forces. This masterful tactical control proves beyond doubt that Duke remains our miraculous strategic genius. We must simply execute our assigned duties with unwavering faith."
Saidan shrugged with resigned acceptance: "Our defensive preparations are more than adequate. Before your arrival, I ordered complete repairs to the Northland Watchtower fortifications."
Turalyon stroked his beard thoughtfully: "Excellent. Now we must thoroughly examine every noble within our territory. Each aristocrat must submit to one of your sacred Exorcism spells. Should any prove to be Cult of the Damned infiltrators, the resulting chaos will be absolutely entertaining."
Saidan whistled with obvious delight: "Brilliant strategy!"
anwhile, in the magnificent halls of Ironforge, Magni observed the deeply worried Alexandros Mograine and smiled with unshakeable confidence: "I know Duke’s character intimately! My trust in him is absolute! He will never disappoint our expectations."
"Faith in Duke represents our only viable option," Mograine nodded with vigorous agreent.
The Alliance’s most powerful leaders unanimously supported Duke’s controversial decisions, but external faction leaders could no longer maintain their composure.
Southern Silverpine Forest had beco completely shrouded in supernatural terror.
The Scourge’s endless undead hordes ford a putrid ocean of decay that effortlessly subrged all Gilneas territory lying beyond the mighty Greymane Wall’s protection.
No humans or animals survived this apocalyptic onslaught—not even a single blade of grass could grow in the cursed wasteland.
Witnessing the once-magnificent Silverpine Forest transford into a blackened necropolis where even insects couldn’t survive, King Genn of Gilneas erupted into apoplectic rage through his magical scrying mirror: "Duke, you insufferable little bastard! Can’t your main forces move any faster than a drunken turtle?"
Gilneas Archmage Arugal bowed respectfully while delivering an uncomfortable reminder: "Your Majesty, we formally withdrew from the Alliance years ago. Commander Edmund bears absolutely no obligation to rescue Gilneas from its current predicant."
"SILENCE! I’m perfectly aware of our political situation!"
Genn wasn’t the only leader experiencing crushing despair.
Upon receiving intelligence that Duke was leading his primary forces away from Quel’Thalas’s endangered borders, Sun King Anasterian exploded with such volcanic fury that he incinerated the exquisite wine goblet in his grasp—a masterpiece crafted from pure gold and encrusted with priceless gemstones—using raw magical flas.
This devastating news left Prince Kael’thas, who had been desperately attempting to reason with his father, completely speechless with shock.
Absolutely pure fire elental energy coursed through the Sun King’s ancient palms, lting the final traces of precious tal between his fingers into molten droplets.
After several tense monts, the Sun King spoke with venomous bitterness: "My naive child, didn’t you previously accuse of despicable manipulation? How I shalessly exploited Sylvanas’s patriotic devotion and leveraged Duke’s personal relationships to coerce Duke—who wields supre authority within the Alliance—into defending Quel’Thalas against the undead threat?"
Kael’thas remained frozen in stunned silence.
"Now you witness the harsh reality, don’t you? No genuine saints exist anywhere in this rciless world. Ultimately, Edmund Duke—the celebrated hero of the first two Dark Portal Wars—proves himself rely another human who prioritizes his race’s interests above all other considerations. He never possessed any authentic desire to assist our high elven civilization."
When the Sun King delivered this crushing verdict, Kael’thas finally found the courage to interrupt his father’s tirade: "That’s because Quel’Thalas abandoned the Alliance completely! The Alliance bears absolutely no obligation to defend us! Even if Duke returned with his entire army, you have never expressed the slightest willingness to rejoin their coalition..."
Anasterian’s rage reached explosive proportions. He struck Kael’thas’s ornate shoulder armor with his magnificent royal scepter. Although the blow caused no physical pain, the humiliating impact made Kael’thas feel utterly degraded—high elves traditionally employed such disciplinary thods only when elders corrected misbehaving children.
But Kael’thas had already lived for over one thousand years...
This ant his father refused to acknowledge him as a fully mature adult elf!
The Sun King’s thunderous roar shook the entire inner palace to its foundations: "My foolishly idealistic child! Listen with absolute attention! No self-respecting elf would willingly submit to an Alliance that demands noble elves bow before human authority! Your illustrious ancestor Dath’Remar Sunstrider didn’t establish our glorious kingdom on this continent so that high elves could beco servile human lackeys! You desire Alliance mbership? Certainly! But Quel’Thalas must assu supre leadership!"
Kael’thas felt his world collapse entirely. He simply couldn’t reconcile this bitter, xenophobic monarch with the legendary troll-slaying hero who, 2,800 years ago, had personally announced alliance with humans, secured their military assistance, and ultimately defeated the trolls to claim Quel’Thalas as the high elves’ eternal holand.
The Sun King continued battering Kael’thas’s shoulder with his scepter, each crushing impact forcing the prince to sink lower into a humiliating half-kneel: "Open your willfully blind eyes, my impossibly naive son! Contemplate the sacred significance of this elven throne! Only the high elves’ pure bloodline heritage possesses true aning. Indeed, under the most extre circumstances, only the Sunstrider dynasty’s continuation represents our sole purpose for existing in this world. Since our royal house elevated Sylvanas from obscurity, she bears the sacred obligation to die for the Sunstrider family’s glory. After all, the entire Windrunner clan consists of treacherous oath-breakers, and forcing traitors to pay with their worthless lives represents perfect justice."
WHAT!?
Such utterly selfish, monstrous reasoning...
Could this truly be his beloved father speaking?
Kael’thas felt as though lightning had struck him directly, completely obliterating his ability to form coherent thoughts.
Apparently recognizing that his discipline had beco excessively harsh, Anasterian finally softened his tone slightly and patted his son’s shoulder with mock gentleness.
"Naturally, as a magnanimous and rciful sovereign, I possess boundless generosity! Since Sylvanas returned to Quel’Thalas voluntarily, I won’t deliberately target her for assassination or intentionally send her on suicide missions. I’ll rely assign her to frontline combat duties. Should she perish in battle, it will simply prove her fundantal incompetence or catastrophically poor fortune. However, if she accumulates sufficient military achievents, I might graciously consider promoting her to Ranger-General rank, allowing her to occupy the sa prestigious position her sister once held..."
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