Chapter Three

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"Be without fear in the face of your enemies. Be brave and upright that God may love thee. Speak the Truth. Even if it leads to your Death. Safeguard the helpless. That is your oath,"

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Sir Draconius Esteban Malfoy nee Gregory the second chance of the blonde Ponce of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy; massaged his head for the hundredth time resisting the urge to swipe it over his blonde hair. As tired and bone-weary he is right now, he'll rather saw his own foot than damage his waxed-perfectly combed hair. Damn his future life for being obsessed over such trivialities.

Born as the second son of Hofftrag Gregory of Spain, a local lord which owned one of the more "argued" cocaine plantations. Draco had always been the spare while his arrogant ponce of a brother is the heir. Of course being wise enough to know that his future would be ruined with the black dealings of his family once exposed (which he is certain that would happen with his idiot brother unable to keep a secret once he's lord), Draco renounced his name and joined the Crusade as one of lord Balian's squire, the lord of Ibelyn. With his outstanding education both in his past life and present, and being trained by his father to be one of the best liars, Draco quickly rose through the ranks to be the official scribe of the Templars once he's knighted. With all his wit and cunning guile though on aiding the Grandmaster Harrold on his personal crusade to protect the lesser folk of the world, Draco had not been spared when he met the executioner's axe when the city of Acre has fallen.

Even on his second or third chance, he can still remember the blasted thing slicing his neck.

Rubbing the aforementioned part of his anatomy that shared the pleasure of the Executioner's axe, Draco can't help but grimace as he focused his attention on the small mountain of paperwork and ledgers that filled the desk of his commandeered tent. Being the scribe of the Templars had its perks after all.

As much as he's annoyed of the job of being the scribe and secretary at the same time, Draco can't help but both hate and love it. Paperwork maybe a major liability for those in power, but once endured, can be a great asset. Being the one in charge of all this gives Draco an inherent knowledge of everything with very little passing his inquisitive eyes.

However right now, let's just say that the reports he is getting is daunting. Not bad, just daunting.

Thirty thousand men and women are currently under his watch waiting for him being second-in-command, the same as Neville, which is Harrold's heir in case he got himself killed with his scouting expeditions. Draco had his work cut out for him.

He leaned back on his chair as he mentally arrayed the leaders of the people that are given a second chance.

Right now there are currently four knight orders with them which can be "fully trusted" according to Harrold. The Templars which is his knight order able to field six hundred knights at the moment. The Hospitallers which had a number of eight hundred. The Black Knights who are the champions of justice in their previous lives before they are burnt for being "picky" by the corrupt kings. Right now though they can number two hundred. And the last is the fabled Green capes of the Teutonic Knights which are numbered in two thousand. The rest of the knights are either Orderless or simply confused about why they are reborn here.

As trusting as Harrold though, Draco did not like it without keeping an eye first at their banner men. Sure their Grandmaster had never left them down yet other than the final stand at Acre where thirty men held a force of two thousand on an alleyway, only to be betrayed by a fat merchant who let the enemy at the back of his store so that they would not "ruin his goods" but he would keep an open eye all the same.

However right now, he only trusted the people that he knew in his previous life being the blonde ponce. Currently they number only eight. First and foremost of course is his grandmaster, Harrold Potter, then Neville Longbottom the Templar Heir, Fred and George Weasley members of the Knights Hospitaller who wanted to change their last name to Walters or "Weadley" to make it sound more manly, Cedric Diggory, the heir of the Teutonic Knights, Daphne Greengrass the spymaster, and Fleur Delacour, the leader of the Rangers.

"My lord!"

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin to grab his sword as his tent entrance flapped open showing the scout master wearing her usual gray and blacks with knee high boots and long blonde flowing silvery hair. Heaven only knows how she became the spymaster with such an attracting sight. However something is off right now with her, because there is a-.

"Is that a miniature dragon at your neck Fleur?" Draco can't help but ask aloud eyeing the bluish nearly transparent creature curled around the girl's neck.

She only smiled brightly. "Yes, this is Peleus, my magic dragon," she touched the small animal's head who rubbed itself on her palm. "I found a family at the edge of the clearing looking ready to roast him when I intervened and saved his life," she then glared balefully at him. "I thought you ordered the people not to kill anything yet,"

"I did," scowled Draco remembering the meeting before Harrold left. Apparently some of the more hard headed ones still had the guts to disobey orders. He made a mental note to imprison someone the next time something like this occurs. It won't be good if they accidentally set off something on this magical land, not until they can build something that would protect them at least. "Don't worry I'll make an announcement later again to everyone not to kill anything that doesn't try to kill them first. But why are you here anyway Fleur? I suppose that it is not only because of your new friend yes?"

"No, its not," the beautiful gir's face shadowed, her dragon friend purring in an attempt to cheer her. "I came here to ask permission to take a team to find our Grandmaster. It is nearly midnight and the Striders that I posted two miles out on his direction haven't seen any hide or hair of him yet. I fear he is in trouble,"

Draco only snorted. "He's Harrold Fleur, he's always in trouble,"

"So is that a yes?"

The scribe only nodded in affirmation. "And take Sir Diggory with you and as much knights as you needed. Find our Grandmaster and bring him back...dead or alive,"

"He's alive Draco. I knew it," said Fleur comfortingly.

"I wish I could believe that," smiled the scribe ruelly. "I've worried for him ever since I had this position,"

"Awww, is that a bromance I smell Drakey?"

Draco still haven't finished his splutter halfway through when Fleur mockingly bowed and left the tent with a victorious smirk on her lips.

"Damned hot blonde," cursed the Malfoy as he returned to his papers, now with an added worry on his chest.

"By the angels! If that person kept me worrying all the time. At this rate my hair will go gray before I reach sixty," muttered Draco to himself trying and failing to focus on his ledgers.

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Arko'Narin is a simple person loving the simple things in life. She preferred to see the normal things that she wanted to wake up to every time she get off from her bed. The sound of waterfalls beside the glade that she lived in, the sound of birds on the morning, the feeling of the cold air of Ashenvale that did not bother her skin, and the daily face of Tyrande that met her every day to either keep her company or train her.

As a rule she never reacted nicely to what she didn't understand, not that there's many of them. She can still remember the rutting sounds that many of her sisters are making when she one day approached the nearby moonwell to bathe. When she peeked, she nearly went red seeing the Sentinels assigned to guard the glade touching and kissing one another. When she asked Tyrande about this, the older Night Elf merely blushed pink before waving her off telling her that she needed to grow up first before she explained again. Until now, Tyrande haven't told her yet.

But back to the fact, Arko' didn't completely understand why in the world are they bringing the two male "humans" back with them at the temple. She can't help but worry about Tyrande who is right now sitting at the middle of their boat talking to one of them as they sat at the opposite end. Arko' isn't fooled when Tyrande told her to sit at the prow of their small vessel. Despite the initial peace that she and the "human" had made when the fight between Arko' and him are stopped, Tyrande still won't risk her safety and would rather that she take the initial blow if in fact these "humans" are what they say they are.

It's a pity that Arko' can't understand them. She wanted to; but Tyrande vehemently refused to let him hit her with the translation spell since it "hurt" a lot. By Elune, Tyrande is treating her like a child. The young Night Elf is as curious of these metal covered-humanoids as she is wary. She's going to ask Tyrande again once they got a moment and once she's finished rowing this damnable boat.

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"You know this ropes isn't necessary right?" Harrold pointed out wiggling the tied bonds around his hand right now, the same as his squire who is sitting at his side.

Right now he is sitting on the most exotic and elegant boat that he has ever seen despite its small size. Back at Acre, ships and boats are mostly crude in their designs, mostly built to withstand the harsh storms that the journey between the port of Acre and Mereesa to Jerusalem or for war.

In fact Harrold would have called what they have now a date if not for the sleeping squire at his back and the student of Tyrande rowing the boat at her side. He had it all complete right now. An insanely gorgeous girl on scantily clad armor within reach in front of him, beautiful moon and night sky with stars. And a boat. What better time to make love? Neville would have laughed at him once he got wind that Harrold did not even tried to flirt.

He had agreed to come with Tyrande after their introductions to their leader to establish "peace negotiations". Unfortunately that negotiations included a rope on his wrists though thankfully she didn't take his weapons away.

The beautiful Night Elf woman in front of him merely scowled darkly at his question though it didn't lessen her beauty one bit. "I've already told you human that it is for your own protection. My people are highly distrustful of outsiders, especially talking ones and if what you say is true that you had brought thirty thousand with you, the others won't take it well. My people have lived in solitude ever since the Great Vigil started for thousands of years keeping our homeland safe. Many won't like your presence and with it, the changes you might bring into our way of living. They would rather see you destroyed before you ever became a threat. Only the High Priestess can stop that from happening and prevent a possible fight between our peoples and stop the useless loss of life,"

"Great Vigil? What is that? And you really think of me highly don't you?" chuckled Harrold as he moved his bound arms on a more relaxed position making sure not to wake up his squire who had fallen asleep while sitting. "I mean how could little old me ever stand up against someone like you?"

To her credit, Tyrande only gave him a wry smile. "You've taken down a Furbolg alone. It would take usually five of us to take one down,"

"Ah so that's what it's called. And I didn't exactly take it down alone. I had you to help me right? And the arrow of your student and the crossbow bolt of my squire," pointed out Harrold.

"Be it as it may human," Tyrande waved him off. "Great deeds are recognized and your modesty about it on denial makes you look like a fool. I've seen you fight that thing. And I've seen you take it down alone. And don't deny it!" she cut off quickly as Harrold opened his mouth to protest.

"Alright, alright," Harrold raised his bound hand in surrender. "But that doesn't mean that I can also appreciate your skills. In my entire life I've fought different kinds of people from the frozen wastelands of my home to the beaches of the shore and the barren hot deserts. All of them have diverse fighting style, every group, every tribe. I've seen them all but I've never seen anyone fight so graceful and elegant as you do,"

"Graceful and elegant?" the Priestess rose an eyebrow.

"Well, it might also be called flexible but yeah, graceful and elegant. Even some of the best agile warriors I knew couldn't fight like that. I can barely keep up with you when we fought,"

"Still, that doesn't mean that I'd rather fight you if I can help it," spoke Tyrande looking at the distance where the open waters lie. "If the men you brought are half as good as you are, losses between our people are unavoidable. I do not doubt my race's fighting skills human. But I never ever underestimate a potential enemy. If I am right basing on you alone. Your people have the better equipment, better armor and discipline with the way your squire respects you. One swing of that overlarge pointy stick that you used to kill the Furbolg would cut any of us in half on one swing,"

"That's a bit overexaggerating isn't it?" to his surprise, Tyrande only laughed, her voice tinkling like crystal bells. Harrold instantly loved the sound of it.

"Don't coddle me human. We are barely covered as it is by our own armor. Tell me Harrold, do you really think that I would not be disemboweled if you cut me with that thing?" she gestured to his sword and then to her own scantily clad attire making the Grandmaster bite his cheek to control his blush as he got a good view of her body. He is immediately thankful that "little Harrold" down below is covered with his chain mail and leathers else he would have been thrown overboard by Tyrande for it making its presence known.

"Well uhh, I don't know," lied Harrold trying hard to focus at her face and not her breasts.

"Is there something wrong human?" asked Tyrande quite confused at his reaction.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," the Grandmaster of the Templar Order was suddenly horrified at how high his voice sounded.

"I don't want another war. Not that I've barely survived my first one. And I certainly don't want my sisters to suffer what I have suffered," Tyrande spoke morosely.

That thankfully snapped Harrold out of his daze.

"Sisters? How many?"

"I meant my people human," answered Tyrande with a small smile at his direction. "The Night Elves right now are composed of all females since the males have went to err..hibernation,"

"I-I see," blinked the Templar. He can't help but imagine a place with thousands of beauties like Tyrande without husbands. Its almost impossible to think that no male have come to claim treasures such as this. Harrold would bet his sword that if he is still at his old world, men would clamber over one another in haste if they ever heard of such a place.

"You're bleeding,"

"What?!"

The KalDorei merely growled ferally. "Your wound, the one you received from the bear. It's bleeding again," she said looking at his side which is throbbing now that she mentioned it. Harrold had no idea why, but it seems that taking off to sea had inflamed the scabs that he put there before he agreed on going with her.

"Don't worry, I'll handle this one," spoke Harrold trying to cover the wound with his chain mail and padded leather beneath to keep the blood from rivuleting down the boat.

"No!" snapped Tyrande. "I'll handle this one Harrold. Lay down at my lap and I'll fix it," she commanded sternly patting her lap.

The Templar Grandmaster had no idea what made his cheeks heat up. The fact that she had called him by his name for the first time or the fact that he just got a clear invitation on laying down on the sexy mile long luscious legs that he had ever seen.

"I-I think that would be a very bad idea," stammered Harrold nearly stumbling as he backed off from her on his seat. "I am a Knight my lady. I, well I ahem... It's in my code of ethics not to touch a lady like yourself in a malicious way," he finally stated.

Harrold never knew anyone could do it successfully, but Tyrande's eyebrows literally disappeared at the top of her long hair as her silver eyes widened in surprise. He can't help but fidget his foot back and forth as silence permeated the area and finally the KalDorei woman covered her lips and burst into uncontrolled giggling followed by the demands of her younger companion, obviously asking what she is laughing about.

"Great, now I'm a laughingstock," thought Harrold to herself as the two whispered among one another before the younger one too burst into her own set of giggles making the back of the Templar Grandmaster's ears heat up at their reactions.

Tyrande must have taken pity for him, for she regained control of herself after a few minutes. "Not to insult your uhmm...code, human. But I didn't mean anything "malicious"," she specifically stressed the word. "By my invitation. I'm intending to help you and the only way I can, is if you lay yourself at my lap. I promise that it will not hurt...much,"

"So it's back to human now," Harrold mentally mourned as he willed his limbs to move towards her. He really wanted to tell her that he is not worried about her doing something malicious to him, but rather he thinking something malicious about her. Why did she have to be so damned beautiful anyway?

Carefully following her instructions, Harrold gingerly as possible laid down his head at her legs. Immediately the smell of nature pervaded his senses and he nearly moaned in pleasure feeling the nape of his neck made contact with her bare skin. Being a Knight that kept his oaths, Harrold had very little contact with a woman's skin. The best he had was with his wet nurse since his mother died, and he can barely even remember that. As for Tyrande, she is warm, too warm and soft. More warmer than the normal human.

"Now lay at your side human so I can get a look at those scratches," ordered Tyrande in an amused tone, obviously aware of how stiff his body is as he lay there.

Harrold complied trying not to look at Arko's face who looked as if Harrold had just ripped her favorite teddy bear's toy, burned it and returned it to her to gloat. Following Tyrande's orders, Harrold moved at his side getting a perfect view of Tyrande's bare navel. He'd never seen anything so well...kiss-worthy skin. She had some abs, but only a little, proof that she is a fighter but also maintaining her beauty as a woman. "Little Harry" is struggling with all its might to pop out in his pants and Harrold fervently prayed that Tyrande won't notice the struggle on his breeches. He could feel her fingers moving the chain mail aside and leather as she checked the wound gently.

"It's ugly alright," said Tyrande and Harrold knew that her face is grimacing from above him. "It would be painful for you if I work with it and you need to sleep else you'll faint,"

"What?!" snapped Harrold nearly standing up if he's not worried that his head will hit her bosom as she leaned on his wound shadowing his face with her body, her skin an inch from the tip of his nose as she examined it even more.

"It's really deep, and don't worry. I do not plan to throw you overboard," chuckled Tyrande unaware of the effect she is having at the young man who is sweating bullets, the urge to touch her body rising. "Now listen to my voice,"

"Voice?" squeaked Harrold too late as he then heard the most beautiful music his ears had heard until now.

"O drasi

Si Nashanoi

Quel'dorei

Nordrassill

Eoplei matodei

Anu ratore

A-a-a-a Essi-i-i

Selunorei

Si, oshanorei

Si, shanodo

A-a-a-a A-a-a-a-a

A-a-a-a Essi-i"

Despite his efforts on keeping his eyes open, the Grandmaster of the Templar Order felt his eyelids getting heavier by the second. The last thing that he saw before Oblivion was the beautiful face of the singer, looking at her with those beautiful silver-blue eyes.

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Tyrande watched silently as she finished the last of her song, her patient drifting off as he then shamelessly nuzzled the skin on her stomach making the Night Elf giggle as the "knight" laid a small kiss there before snoring off.

Despite her wariness about this person because of the strength and the power that he is wielding, Tyrande can't help but be curious about him. Everything about him is different. From the color of skin, to the way he dresses, and to the way he wields his weapon. Heck, even the way that his hair is cut intrigued the Night Elven Priestess.

"You like him don't you my lady?" the neutral voice of her student spoke a bit accusingly making Tyrande look at her not surprised that she is scowling.

"I don't Arko'. I just find him fascinating. It's not everyday that we get to meet a different kind of people that don't want to kill us," said Tyrande looking back at her sleeping patient before taking one of the leaves that is attached to her armor, crushing it on her palm. The feeling of its sap immediately made itself well known on her skin and Tyrande pressed her hand on the wound muttering the healing incantation that Priestesses learn on the temple.

"We should dump them overboard my lady. They are a danger to us and our people," said Arko' morosely. "It's better that we get rid of them now than they turn against us later,"

"Don't tell me you believed that Arko'," Tyrande replied looking quite shocked of the coldness of her beloved student. "This person saved your life. He risked his so that you can live. If he didn't interfere Arko', that Furbolg would be munching on your guts on the forest floor right now. At least have some decency on the one that saved you,"

"Don't you think I don't know that?!" hissed the younger elf. "I'm not saying that I'm not grateful, for I know that I am. I'm worried about what will they bring to our world Tyra! I'm worried that they might turn against us like the stories you told me about Neltharion who betrayed the other Aspects, acting like he cared at first before crippling them all with one betrayal. I don't want to see you get killed Tyra! This person alone almost defeated you, one of the very best of those who fought against Azshara. How would we fare if we have to deal with thirty thousand more of them.? We would be slaughtered Tyra and I, I don't want that. By Elune, I don't want that,"

Tyrande remained silent and impassive as she let her apprentice pour her heart out. Now she knew why Arko' was acting like this. Arko' may not know it, but Tyrande have always knew how to read her emotions like a book.

Sighing to herself, the moon priestess made sure that the paste is drying correctly at Harrold's wounds before placing the human back to the side of his squire gently still sleeping. Once secured, Tyrande went and bent down to kneel looking at the fearful face of her student who had stopped rowing,

"You're afraid," she stated simply.

Arko' only raised her head up to her before nodding slowly in affirmation at the Priestess' words.

"You're not afraid of them Arko'. You're afraid of what might happen because of their presence. I know that deep inside, you are as intrigued as I am about them. Do not entertain such negative thoughts Arko'. If they wanted us dead, they would have left you to die already at the hands of that Furbolg and they would never have agreed to be tied up to be brought before the High Priestess,"

"But that isn't a guarantee that they would not betray us Tyra," pointed out the younger elf. "What would we do if they do turn their swords against us?"

Tyrande only sighed tiredly. As much as she hated to admit it, Arko' had some valid points. One of the most loathful things that her people hate is treason. That fear has exponentially tripled during the first war, the betrayal of the Highborne and finally the betrayal of Neltharion. If these "human" species became a traitor in some way, Tyrande would be the one held accountable since she had been the one who made the decision to initiate first contact between Night Elven leadership and "human". She would be drawn, quartered and executed, if that ever happen. Arko' only worried for her, and Tyrande understand that. In fact it warmed her heart that the young elf cared for her that much.

"Don't worry Arko'. We'll be careful and keep an eye on them if they ever turn traitor," reassured Tyrande before smirking to her protege. "Besides Arko', how do you think I would feel if I just dump such a glorious example of a fine specimen overboard without letting our sisters enjoy it first? You know that many of them will "appreciate" our guest,"

Arko's reddening face didn't fail to make Tyrande laugh as she returned sitting to watch their two "prisoners". Looking at the face of the sleeping knight, Tyrande can't help but wonder if he indeed is the enemy. Something inside her is telling that this "human" would affect not only the entire Night Elven race, but her most of all.

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Cedric Matthias Diggory, second life of the Hufflepuff champion, Cedric Diggory cursed again beneath his breath as he nearly lost the three scouts in front of him for the third time. He can't believe that despite the obvious color of the blonde hair of the Scout Commander, Fleur Delacour on the forests around them; he still managed to lost sight of the three riders who are looking for signs of the Grandmaster's trail.

He had been at the moment of finding his bedroll and take a well-deserved nap for organizing the largest Order they currently have when he was rudely pulled by the pretty blonde out of his stupor and told to find ten men with him and ride. Now with full armor and regalia of his ten best men of the Teutonic Knights, Cedric can't help but feel like a drunken ballerina on a battlefield as he and his men rode behind the scouts keeping an eye on them as they tried to search for their lost Grandmaster in the middle of the night.

Stopping his horse as he saw the three scouts poring over another patch of dirt, their gray and green cloaks nearly making them invisible on the naked eye, Cedric can't help but let off a large yawn as he slumped tiredly on his horse the same as his men.

Everywhere around him is dark, the island is dark and gloomy with all the trees though the world around him is brighter thanks to the stars shining brightly on the sky. How different is this place on Earth. Back at the old planet, the stars can barely be seen at all.

"They passed this way," Fleur's voice stopped him from nearly drooping off.

"What?" mumbled Cedric tiredly.

The blonde in front of him merely scowled through her hood. "The Grandmaster and his squire, they passed this way. If I'm right, they're heading on the river nearby. They might have stopped for water and that is the only logical place they can go anyway,"

"Lead on boss," yawned Cedric again barely acknowledging Fleur as the woman effortlessly rode on her own horse followed by the two scouts before riding off, nearly leaving them behind again.

The next hour is a blur for Cedric then. All he could remember on that ride was the image of tree after tree as they followed the scouts on barely seen dirt paths that without them, him and his knights would have lost already with all the zigzagging they were making. He remembered stopping at a river, listening to Fleur identify a rotting corpse of some kind of bear killed by a longsword and a crossbow bolt. He remembered riding again, following the agile scout leader until he finally reached the edge of a beach after an hour.

"They left the area," Fleur's voice sounded depressed.

"Whazzit? Yu Zaid?" mumbled Cedric nearly knocked out in tiredness on his steed.

"They're not alone," spoke the blonde, her hair flying on the winds of the shore with her cowl down. "They met someone and they left the island taking a ship,"

"I see," replied Cedric barely coherent as he almost had fallen asleep on his saddle.

"We need to go after them. Sir Diggory, we need to build a boat,"

"What?!"

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Alright. So that's that. Anyway thanks readers for the well, I guess support. Please Fav and Review. I've tried reading Warcraft Lore by the way and before I forgot, the time of my story is before Orgrim Doomhammer died. Someone told me that the Aspects would get involved for some reason. I just don't know how. And by the way, is Nordassil built on the same time as Teldrassil? hihi Need a little help, Warcraft supporters.

The Romance between Harrold and Tyrande isn't starting yet. Sure there is an attraction between the two. Harrold found Tyrande hot and sexy, and he respected her for her skills but no more than that. Tyrande finds Harrold intriguing and handsome and that's all. Sure she might flirt a bit, but that's expected. She had never seen a male ever since the start of the Long Vigil after all. As for who gave the knights a second chance? Well that's a mystery for now isn't it? hihihihi

PS: Many told me that my friends work on Newcomers is "shit". For my friend's sake, I've read the story and found it interesting. I don't understand what is wrong with it other than her grammatical error? Anyone please clear it to me?

And for the last time! I'm not giving up my FB Account! Don't review also if all you can review are insults or languages that I can't understand.

Yes, reminder. I never owned any of the previous stories. This is my first one. All those stories belong to Cassie and Cassie alone.