The Military Quarter, the place where the breathing soldiers of the Scourge would train night and day to prove they were Death Knight Material. And if not, damnation would come either way. To be resurrected as a weapon of the Lich King or a simple mindless servant. And it was here the living members of the Scourge was placed with all the necessary equipment, beds and blankets was top priority, since it felt like winter most of the time. Even the fortress' only kitchen was stationed in the corner of the wing. Here, the trainees would have what they required to survive, while fighting for the Lich King's gift. Safe from the horrors of the Arachnid Quarter, shielded from the grotesque atrocities in the Construction wing and secure from the volatile fumes, which was characteristic to Plague Quarter. Still, from time to time, stupidity and young courage would lead them astray from the Military Quarter and they would just disappear, claimed by their home that was Naxxramas.
"Come on you manky bunch of livers" yelled the Baron, with much glee in his youthful voice. Baron Titus Rivendare was leaning against a big crate with weapon supplies, the mark of the Argent Dawn branded on the side. Accompanied by the pitiful, Sir Zeliek. Sitting atop the crate, Zeliek's golden-white plated boots were dangling over the edge. Rocking his legs from side to side, expressing his anxiety, about the newcomers. The feared horsemen were observing the training grounds, the few steps away would lead you to the lower level circle, surrounded by a stone-fence. Huge arachnid symbols covered the surface, and the ground was painted poisonous green. The new-bloods were in the middle of what they would call class, the teacher: a woman in black and blue iron. The two knights watched as the lesson unfolded. Some time afterwards the Baron's attention was captured by the two darkened shards; hovering over their holders, like a lucid prison, giving the illusion the crystals would be free if they wanted to. Small whispers came from the crystals, sometimes sobbing, then cries and sometimes laughter. Titus thought deeply about the purpose of the crystals again as many times before, but his wondering managed to manifest itself into words. "I know I've pained you with this question so many times already, but in all what was once good and righteous cou-" Rivendare was cut off by Zeliek's boot to the Baron's blue and white shoulder pad.
"How many times have I told you I do not know, Titus please, why would you not ask him, yourself." Zeliek tried avoiding the conversation by lying down on the crate, his armor screeching on the brown wood. He started to daydream the same fantasy that had roamed his thoughts for so long, the desire of a clean, quick death.
"It spoils the point, there is no sport in asking Razuvious and obtain the answer effortless." Titus shifted his footing to a more relaxing posture, crossing his arms. "Besides, we have all the time in the world at our fingertips, cant discover all the secrets of the place as once, can we now?" No answer met his pretentious question. Rivendare wrinkled his nose in slight anger. "You're such an awful companion. How long has it been since you died at the hands of your new Master?"
Zeliek's dreaming was ruined by the single memory of that day, the taste of ash and blood felling his mouth, he sighed. Zeliek clearing his throat "The day will come, when you and this cursed vessel of a fortress will burn in the cleansing fire of justice" Zeliek could hear his fellow rider sitting down, the metal hitting the floor and the capped back ramming the stolen crate.
Titus calmed down, watching a trainee getting decapitated by the blue iron maiden. He sniffed the scent of his blue scarf, letting the fumes of the past refilling his long-dead lungs. "And when that day comes, Justice will be hunting you as well."
"I'm prepared, are you?" Zeliek awaited the Barons response, hoping for the answer he was looking for. One word and he would be in peace, knowing his brother in arms would never allow him to die. Zeliek, Titus and the other horsemen shared affection in secrecy, which only came to live through insults and degrading jokes. It wasn't illegal to show feelings for another in the Scourge's upper ranks, but it was mostly seen as weakness. In the eyes of the Master, weakness leads to defeat, and defeat is unacceptable.
The Baron smirked, leaning his head back. Looking up to see the yellow-white boots dangling above him, he exhaled, causing his next word to be low and husky "Always…" nothing was said for several minutes, only faint battle roars was heard, coming from the training grounds, which most of the military occupants called the Dome. A whine was heard, and excuse made, a begging man pleaded for a second chance. The sound of a blade cutting through air, colliding with flesh and bone was heard, then everything went silent for a moment, and so the sounds of crossing swords and shouting suffocated the silence once more.
"Still, regarding those crystals, do you think it could be his wife and only child?"
"Hold your tongue" snapped Zeliek scowling.
With sinister eyes he continued his prattle "Just imagine the poor souls trapped inside, not even able to move…."
Zeliek's voice rouse with seething hatred, and sat upright upon the crate leaning forward to stare down his old friend. "I swear on the remains of my soul, I will end you myself before this war is over!" the words felt like boulders of pure contempt, howling down on Baron Rivendare, but he was satisfied with the result of a raging Zeliek. Even after so many months, Titus still found it amusing and did no attempt in hiding his bluish eyes which seemed infused with the joyfulness of a child, unwrapping its Christmas presents.
"Boys oh boys, don't kill each other just yet, let the up-coming siege do the dirty work" the statement was coming from the stairs with seducing might. Up rouse the black and blue knight, a helmet covered the graceful face that the two riders knew all too well.
As she drew closer, Zeliek jumped down from the crate. Landing with both boots, carelessly causing cracks on the floor.
She removed her helmet, and a neutral smile found its way to her lips. Standing in front of the two she asked with much anticipation "So, aren't you even going to ask?" eyeing the two.
Zeliek tried to reply first, but was overruled by the man standing beside him. "Well then, did the new-blood enjoy your prattling, Andria?" an untold smirk came behind the blue scarf, the Baron adjusted the scarf, so it wouldn't show. But she knew, it was a habit of his, not showing friendliness, by doing that exact thing.
She giggled slightly and looked at Zeliek, he was smiling too. "Yes my dear Titus, it was if they were spellbound, hanging on every word I spoke." As she spoke, she noticed a drop of blood on her forearm, and tried to wipe it away.
"Are we becoming clumsy, M'lady?" his arrogant glare piercing her forearm. She met his stare, and laughed with sarcasm, that only could have belonged to a noble of blood. "You would be wise regarding uncoordinated actions, you do recall when you first came here?" he went silent, his glare turned down, to see the small spiders on the floor.
"Remember the first time I decapitated your precious sword arm, and you were too weak to fulfill the Master's wishes, for weeks, waiting for the healing magic to take affect?" She took a step closer, putting all her weight in the right foot.
Head low, he managed a quick remark but powerless. He knew she was a better swordsmen than he, despite he begged to differ. He would deny it at every opportunity, to secure his fragile self esteem.
But she was not stopping. "I still wonder why you haven't invited me to dance, again. I'm sure if you try harder you wou-"
The proud Baron couldn't take it and snapped, his wall of vanity crumbling down inside his mind.
"Watch your whore-mouth, you cheating harlot!" he stood up and stormed off to the nearest entrance. In his wake, Zeliek and Andria was laughing. The laughter echoing throughout the training grounds. When Titus was aggravated he would naturally stride off to the huge balcony- north side of the necropolis. There he would look down, at the on-going battle between the minions of Naxxramas and Wintergarde-keep.
Titus was greeted by Razuvious at the entrance. He stopped and bowed slightly, before passing the taller man, and at the same time hiding his grimace behind his trusted scarf. The instructor walked past the two other riders of Naxxramas, asking bluntly. "Did you rip up old wounds again, or was it the story of how he saved Zeliek from Gluth?"
"First guess" replied Zeliek, obviously embarrassed, that Razuvious remembered the Gluth-incident.
The tall pale man just grunted and trot down the stairs, returning to the more familiar grounds. Way better than speaking with the Archlich.
"Lady Bleameaux, I am in dire need of your assistance."
She laid a hand on Zelieks shoulder looking him in the eyes, for what seemed like an eternity for Zeliek.
"Duty calls Zeliek, could you do me the favor and remedying our dear friend Titus?"
He hugged her tightly and watched as she disappeared down the stairs "Always, Andria. Always."
Razuvious snarled "They have to be ready in 2 weeks" Andria gave him a confused look. "Kel'thuzad's orders." Spoken nonchalantly
She wore a worried face, but said with a stern and straight tone "I understand. We must do it with haste. But all candidates that fail, will not have the chance to try again, I'm afraid."
The instructor scowled "Then get to work, the weakest shall serve as training dummies."
With a cruel smile and a quick draw of her sword, she called out for the trainees. Line by line, the strong men and women assembled in front of the two superiors.
As she started to speak, Razuvious looked over his shoulder, staring at the crystals. His scowl transformed itself to a saddened frown, sparkling with regret and degrading realization.
For a moment the crystals spoke to him, but he turned his back, as he did in the past.
They were foolish to seek me. They should have stayed in Heartglen, but I guess the master knew they would come along. At least, now we can suffer in eternity. Together, as a family.