"You cannot seriously be considering this course of action, Varian!"
"While I respect your judgment Kallay, I must alone exercise my authority on this decision. You are a powerful mage, one of my strongest, but the fact of the matter is you are still young and inexperienced as a commander."
The King leaned forward across the table as his face took on a hard look, fierce eyes blazing brightly in the low light.
"You will obey me in this," he said in a voice that left no room for negotiation.
Kallay forced herself to look up from her clenched hands and meet his piercing gaze.
"Yes, your Majesty. As you command." she replied sadly.
As she got up to leave, Varian nodded abruptly and barked "Good. I'd hate to have to brand you traitor."
Robe crinkling, Kallay fled the keep with as much dignity as she could muster.
Zolaster sighed as he walked down the gloomy hall of the Royal Quarter. It was not the eery shadows from the wall sconces that bothered him, but rather the pervasive scent of rot and decay that floated on the air. Pulling his cloak closer around his broad shoulders Zolaster broke into a quick sprint that took him to enter a large ceilinged round room with a raised stone terrace in the center.
Upon reaching the terrace, Zolaster slowed his pace and walked up the narrow stone steps. Kneeling, he bowed his hooded head respectfully before the striking woman reclining in a throne made of humanoid skeletons.
"Ah, shadow walker you have come at last." she said, crossing her legs and sitting farther upright in her chair.
"My Lady, you have a mission for me." Zolaster asked softly. His eyes still cast downward.
"It is of upmost importance," Sylvanas answered "but it will take you deep within the confines of enemy territory."
"And as I am sure you understand, the Forsaken cannot be seen to have a role in this- you must be delicate."
Zolaster considered this for a minute.
"What is your will," he replied after the brief pause.
Sylvanas huffed angrily and rose fluidly. Pacing the length of the terrace she spat vehemently "Varian and his Stormwind dogs seek revenge on our people following recent events in Icecrown. Thrall, that useless tender-heart is too busy chasing human skirts in Dalaran to deal with the situation."
Zolaster looked up sharply.
"Surely the Alliance would not be so foolish as to strike here and now when the majority of their forces are tied up in Northrend," he said logically.
"We no longer can count on that!" Sylvanas said. Fury touching her dark features as she raged within, reminding Zolaster of a caged animal.
"Varian has long waiting to rid the Horde from the face of Azeroth. Damn Thrall and his pathetic attempts for unity. Now Varian has the perfect excuse to get the firepower of the other races behind him."
Looking down at Zolaster, Sylvanas said "Now shadow walker this is where I require your, unique talents. Stormwind has a new commander, a battlemage to be precise. My spies have not been able to determine her identity but they have been able to learn that she is a great threat to the Forsaken, specializing in the eradication of Undead."
"It seems that Varian intends for her to lead the strike against us."
Laughing slightly maniacally, Sylvanas reached within her tunic and produced a small scroll, stamped with the purple emblem of the Undercity. After handing it to Zolaster, she sank back onto her bony throne.
"We need not speak of this any more, you know what you must do" she said wearily, as if all her pervious energy had been instantly drained.
"Understood My Lady," Zolaster answered simply, tucking the small scroll against his chest.
Rising gracefully, he turned and walked down the narrow steps, long ears bouncing. Once reaching the long hallway, he sprinted out to the canals, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from the royal guards.
Pausing only the adjust the dark leather strap holding his sharp daggers to his hips, Zolaster allowed himself to think briefly about what he was about to do. Satisfied with the answer, Zolaster laughed softly. He mentally chided himself for even foolishly entertaining such thoughts. Afterall, it did not really matter- he left his soul behind a long time ago.