The Argent Tournament
Alakaia, Dazze, and Lucian were resting in Dalaran when the hippogryph rider landed. The beast screeched and flapped its bronze and white wings, stirring up dust from the cobblestone streets. The wind nearly blew a ragged map out of Alakaia's hands.
"Easy there, man!" she yelled to the rider. "I'm trying to read this!"
"Apologies, ma'am, but I have an urgent message from Stormwind." The rider held a great lance in his right hand, a pennant of black and silver with a yellow sun in the center tied to its shaft. He reached into his knapsack and produced a rolled scroll, the Lion of Stormwind pressed into the gold wax.
"Stormwind?" Lucian said, not looking up from sharpening his axe.
"Yes, sir, straight from His Royal Majesty King Varian himself, sir. He insisted that I pass on this invitation to you." He offered the scroll, looking from man to woman to Worgen.
"Invitation?" Alakaia questioned.
"Let's see it then, shall we?" Dazze strode forward and took the scroll, breaking the wax with one finger. His eyes flitted over the page as he began to read. His countenance shifted from a look of interest to astonishment.
"The king is holding a tournament in Icecrown, and all Veterans are required to be there to compete in His Majesty's honor for the glory of the Alliance," Dazze summarized.
"A tournament in Icecrown?" Lucian growled. "Has he gone mad? That is the Lich King's realm! Might as well knock on Icecrown Citadel's doors and say, 'Here we are, Lich King! We've brought you a whole army of Veterans ripe for brainwashing!'"
Alakaia smacked her brother, her metal gauntlet ringing on his plate covered shoulder. Lucian glared at her but went silent.
"It is not my business to discuss His Majesty's purposes. The tournament will be held in two weeks time. You three will be in attendance, or be branded deserters and traitors. Good day." The hippogryph reared back on its equine legs and screeched, leaping into the air, the wind of its passing whistling through their helmets and tearing at the invitation in Dazze's hands.
"Cheeky, isn't he?" Dazze finally said, pocketing the paper.
"My first tournament! I can hardly stand the wait!" Alakaia said, leaping to her feet and pumping her fists in the air.
"Don't know why you're all excited," Lucian grumbled. "It's a perfect trap if I ever did see one."
"The king wouldn't trap his own subjects," Dazze said, hooking his fingers behind his belt. Lucian turned his glowing yellow eyes on the paladin. Dazze continued, "The way I see it, this is spit in the face of the Lich King himself. We dare to have a tournament in his very courtyard. We dare to have festivities in the very face of death. Why? Because we do not fear him." Dazze jabbed his finger at the worgen on the last four words for emphasis. Lucian batted his hand away.
"Daring or not, it's a foolish maneuver and if I had my way I would not be part of it. And neither would you," he said to Alakaia, who was dancing in the street. She stopped so abruptly she nearly fell.
"I can take care of myself, thank you very much," Alakaia snorted, sticking her nose in the air. As she took a step, Lucian extended the handle of his axe and swept her feet out from under her. Alakaia landed on the violet cobblestones with a loud clang. Dazze chuckled and Alakaia glared at her brother, who had gone right back to sharpening his axe.
"Well, if we are to participate in this tournament, we best make our departure soon. I for one would not like to ruin my reputation out of fear," Dazze said. Lucian sighed and finally stood, sheathing his axe.
"Let's get this over with," he grumbled.
The Argent Tournament was in the northeasternmost part of Icecrown, just past Sindragosa's Fall, the former resting place of the great Frost Queen. There was a main coliseum where groups of five champions would test themselves physically and spiritually to see if they were fit to join the crusade against the Lich King. Two smaller pavilions were set up north and south of the main pavilion; the southern one for Horde champions, and the northern one for Alliance champions. The trio made for the blue pavilion, passing champions on horseback heading for the jousting arena.
Upon entering the pavilion, the party added their names to the list of Stormwind champions and were fitted with lances. They were then led outside where a charger waited for each of them. A tired looking High Elf explained their training to them, during which Alakaia practically bounced up and down in anticipation. Dazze looked bored, and Lucian rolled his eyes. The Elf, having come to the end of his discourse, left the trio to their own devices. Alakaia practically leaped on to her charger, and the horse snorted and stamped, fueled by his rider's energy.
"I'm heading out!" Alakaia said, kicking her charger towards the training grounds.
Dazze leaped onto his charger and followed, leaving Lucian alone with his mount. The horse looked at him nervously, disturbed by his wolfish scent
"Come on, I can't be the only wolf you've ever seen," Lucian said, reaching out to stroke the horse's nose. The horse shied away and pulled back, nearly breaking the hitching post it was tied to. Lucian sighed; being a Worgen was both a blessing and a curse to him, but he'd be a servant of the Lich King before he let a simple charger keep him from his duty.
"Look, suck it up and get over it. I'm not going to eat you. You'd probably taste terrible anyways," Lucian said. He went to the horse's side and stepped into the stirrup. The horse snorted and tried to back away once more, but Lucian held the reins firmly and brought the beast under control. Gripping his lance, he followed after Dazze and his sister.
In the following weeks, the trio learned jousting and mounted combat. They battled Scourge, rescued kidnapped competitors, and sought out legendary weapons for their faction's head champions. Their proficiency in battle increased, and Alakaia's confidence grew with each completed mission. Dazze no longer doubted her loyalty, and in his last report to High Command he had confirmed she was indeed a true soldier and member of the Alliance. Lucian honed his skills, but still worried for his sister's safety. He couldn't shake the feeling that something dark was lurking around the corner, waiting to devour them all.
The Lich King watched the champions train and compete at the Argent Tournament and scoffed. "These children play with sticks and rocks. None of them will be a challenge." The souls within Frostmourne whispered to him, and he stroked the blade with a gloved finger to silence them. He returned his attention to his Oculus and saw that it was now night, and the three he had been watching were asleep. He reached out to the girl's mind, using the connection he had created at Scourgeholme to send her a vision
"Pleasant dreams, hero. Soon, all will bow to the one true king. Frostmourne hungers."
Alakaia sat up and looked around the tent. It was still dark out, and the Tournament grounds were quiet. She had been certain that someone was speaking to her. She shrugged and punched her thin pillow before burying down under the covers. She soon fell fast asleep.
Beaten and bloodied, she was dragged up ramparts of a great citadel towards an icy pinnacle. She blinked blood out of her eyes and her nose burned with the stench of death and fetid flesh. Where was she? Obviously it was a Scourge controlled citadel, but the two men dragging her between them were not Scourge, or they did not seem to be.
"Lucian? Dazze? Hey! What are you doing?" Alakaia said, finally recognizing her companions. Their eyes were glazed and they seemed not to hear her. They led her ever upwards. She struggled against them but their grips were firm. She began to drown in waves of terror when she realized where they were taking her.
"Stop, stop! Are you out of your mind? This isn't like you, either of you!" She snarled and swung back and forth, trying to free herself. She saw a platform just ahead with a icy glowing rune.
"Please, no, by the Light! Don't do this!" Alakaia said. The paladin and Worgen reached their destination and stopped. Alakaia put her feet underneath her and tried to push herself back, away from the rune. As one, the men threw her forwards onto the rune and Alakaia screamed. She was enveloped in ice for a brief moment before it crumbled away, shattering on the ground. She fell to her knees and coughed, panting in terror as her heart raced.
"On your knees, like you should be. I appreciate your enthusiasm," a familiar voice crooned to her.
Alakaia froze and her eyes grew wide, but she refused to look up at her captor.
"I told you it was only a matter of time before you would find yourself here," the Lich King said. Alakaia risked a glance upwards to see her surroundings. She was on the edge of a great icy platform, facing the Frozen Throne. The Lich King sat upon the throne, resting Frostmourne against his right leg. She glanced to the teleportation rune which she had been forced to use; it no longer shone and she suspected she could not use it to return.
"I must thank your companions later," the Lich King said. He stroked his blade with an index finger as he gazed at Alakaia.
"They are your slaves. You have no need to thank them," Alakaia said.
The Lich King laughed. "Ah, not quite. They are simply entranced, and once they are freed they will return to their normal selves, quite aware that they just delivered one of their own to the slaughter." He stood, gripping Frostmourne in his right hand.
"You can kill me, but I will never serve you," Alakaia whispered. She was still kneeling, eyes fixed on the icy floor of the chamber.
"Little warrior, you have a choice to make. Choose to serve me, and I will reward you with more power than you can imagine. Or, choose the hero's path, and when I am done with you, you will beg to serve me."
"Never," Alakaia said.
"Persistence or stupidity? It matters not. You shall serve your king in life, or death." The Lich King approached Alakaia. His boots clanged against the icy floor, the noise echoing around the throne room. Alakaia closed her eyes and bowed her head, exposing her neck to her executioner.
"Light save me," she said.
The Lich King hesitated. Then he guffawed. "The Light? On this sacred ground of the Scourge, you invoke the Light?" He shook his head. "The Light will abandon you, hero, just as it did me."
Alakaia shuddered. She could hear the souls trapped within Frostmourne whispering, crying, begging for relief. The thought of joining the damned souls froze her thoughts and her breathing became ragged.
The Lich King raised the blade above his head. "As you will see, in the end, you will all serve me!" He brought the blade down, and Alakaia shook, bracing for the agony of cold metal biting into her flesh-
A tournament bugle pulled Alakaia out of her dreams. She was drenched in sweat and she had thrown her blankets from her bed. Her head throbbed painfully and she groaned. Lucian appeared at the entrance to her tent. "Overslept, did you? You better hurry. King Varian and Highlord Tirion are here."
Alakaia sat up. "Why have they come?"
Lucian shook his head. "Not sure. They said something about a Trial of the Champion that is to be held in the main coliseum. Prepare yourself. Meet me at the coliseum as soon as you can."
"I bet it's nothing, just a big show for the nobility," Dazze said. The paladin had come from his tent wearing a new Argent Crusade tabard. No doubt he wished to impress the Highlord, as he was the leader of Dazze's order.
"I had this crazy nightmare last night," Alakaia said, rubbing her temple and grimacing.
"Nightmare? What, are you a babe still in swaddling? Dreams don't mean anything. Focus on the waking world. That task is hard enough," Dazze said. He snorted and hefted his great warhammer onto his shoulder."
"This wasn't a normal nightmare, though," Alakaia said. "It felt too real."
"Many of my dreams feel real, too," Lucian said. "And then I wake up. It's nothing to worry about."
"But I feel like I need to worry about this, like it's a message, a warning-"
"Look, we've been in training for three months now, and we finally get a chance to compete in this tournament. Maybe earn a promotion. I'm not going to stand around wasting my time dabbling in nightmares, and you shouldn't either," Dazze said. He turned and headed off in the direction of the coliseum.
"Coming?" Lucian said.
"I'm not going to dismiss this like it never happened. I saw some dark things. What if it was a vision?" Alakaia stood and began strapping on her armor.
"A vision? You're no farseer. You've been working too hard and not getting enough sleep, and the pressure is getting to you. Don't worry. You'll be fine."
"Yes, I've heard that before," Alakaia muttered.
"Oh, come on. The tournament will be over by the time you're finished dressing!" Lucian let the tent flap fall back into place, and Alakaia could hear his padded feet crunching in the snow. She fastened the last strap of her armor and placed her helm over her head. The words of the Lich King lingered in her mind. The Light will abandon you, hero, just as it did me.
"We'll see about that," she said.