"Well." Evelyn strode beside Ban, "That went better than it could have. You did wonderfully."

"I whined." He sighed, looking up into the darkened sky. "Like a puppy."

"Banastre. You were…just fine. You had a room full of people looking for an excuse to kill you, and you didn't give it to them."

"Thank you."

"For?"

"Being there."

She snorted. "Ban, with everything that's happened, you think that was rough? Being there is the easy part. Chasing after you because of the one time I wasn't there, that was the hard part."

"Hmmm." He shrugged, still keeping a cautious eye on the streets. It was late. Dark. This might be a decent area, but he hadn't survived this long coming home at odd hours without being wary. "You could have had quarters in the castle…."

"Charming." She retorted sarcastically. "No, thank you. That is a very scary king this place has. And we have a perfectly fine home here. And perfectly fine jobs here."

He chuckled, unlocking the door and stepping back to let her in. "What, don't find him appealing?"

"Not in the least bit. He's very growly." She narrowed her eyes and dropped her brows menacingly. "Bram was big enough, and that one is larger. Anyway, who'd want to be a queen? It's bad enough becoming nobility…"

"Which we aren't."

She lit the lamp in the hallway, staring at him while he secured the door behind him. Then she began to giggle, a wild, hilarious sound that Ban knew all too well. He was being teased; he just didn't see where it had come from. Or where it was going, for that matter. "Take your waistcoat off."

Well, he was going to do that anyway, it was not only his best, but it was his only. He did as he was told, hanging from a hook in the hallway. "And your shirt, as well."

"Evvvvveeeelllllllyyyyynnnn."

"Do it."

He shrugged, pulling it off. She stepped up, and traced a finger over his pack scar, her touch making him twitch and itch. "What's this, Banastre?"

"You know what it is." And he knew where she was going with this, now. And, like it or not, she was probably correct.

"Yes, I do. I'm wondering if you do. And then you offer to finance the Crown. What exactly do you think you're going to come out of this as, if we regain Gilneas?"

"That's not why…"

"Not why, but how." She noted, "Good night, Ban."

"Good night, Evelyn."

"There are Gilnean guards in the city." Carther began, and Ban sighed, locking down the final computation before glancing at him. He'd promised, and now, it was time to give it up. Genn was here. Varian knew. Today they began the base planning for the liberation of Gilneas. It would be out.

"So there are. Genn arrived last night." He spun the beads thoughtfully. "And you want to know."

"Banastre, I know you find it impertinent, but I felt I was very close to your family… It's not natural to have that many die. And I know it wasn't just your family… It was Gilneas."

"The worgen at Shadowfang…the Bloodfang… scaled the Wall, en masse. They flooded through the north, and swarmed the capital." The man sat, wordless. "They hit the night before Bram's wedding."

"I am…so sorry, Banastre."

"Bram was infected. I know now that he probably chased my father up into the rafters… and my father fell to his death. He was gone by the time I arrived on the scene. I came looking for them… Bram attacked me. I woke up on the floor, sometime later. Bram's body was next to me; I'd killed him…but not before he'd bitten me."

"What?"

"Bram afflicted me with the worgen curse. I was afflicted along with thousands of others who were bitten that night. Gilneas mourned when you were there…for our loss…and for those who died. My father. Bram. My mother and my aunt. Only Evelyn made it out."

"Ban, boy, don't be silly. You're not…"

"I'm not what? Worgen? Are you so certain?"

"I'm not so certain you haven't lost your mind."

Ban flicked his gaze around the office. The door was securely closed, the shades drawn against the heat. He sighed, pushed away from the desk, and changed, ending the motion with a flourishing bow. "I may have lost that as well, Mister Carther. But I am still certain I am worgen."

"You're…worgen…but you're not."

"I'm a Gilnean worgen. The end result of a great attempt to bring us back to ourselves. With such a large percentage of our population lost to this, including Genn, those who were left threw themselves into controlling us until there was a cure."

"Genn? The leadership of Gilneas is…?" The man was reduced to a vague wave in Ban's direction, and Ban responded with another graceful, twirling bow, exulting in his own power and precision. It shouldn't feel that right, that good…

"Huh. That's something you don't see every day. But you're…fine…like this?"

"I am."

"Then, well… Thank you for finally letting me know. Is there anything else I should know?"

"Yes." Ban shrank back into his human form, picking up a stylus. "I want to open the majority of my accounts to the Crown of Gilneas." If it was possible, the man appeared more stunned by those words than he had when Ban had exposed the change to him.

"Are you certain? That's a risky proposition… The benefits could be massive, but…"

"I am certain. Evelyn agrees. We are Gilneans, we back her liberation. Tooth, claw, and gold, if that's what it takes."

"I'm not certain Hannibal would agree with this, Banastre."

"My father is dead." Ban replied simplistically, "Bram is dead. I am it, Carther. My father never meant for me to have it, but this is how it is. Draw up the drafts."

"As you ask, Banastre."

The door opened, admitting Evelyn. She glanced at Carther, then nodded. "You told him."

"All of it, yes."

"Good. Genn sent summons for a meeting later with Varian and one of his generals... Wyrmbane."

"Halford Wyrmbane?" Carther demanded, and she nodded. "Very well, then. That means Varian is serious, he's giving you the best the Alliance has to offer… the 7th Legion. I feel a lot better about giving you those drafts now."

Never, in her life, had Evelyn Whittaker considered that she would be seated at a table, with a king on either side of her, seriously involved in an action to save Gilneas. She wasn't even one of the Royal pack…only a Royal Huntsman.

"A coastal landing is our only real option." Ban noted. "We're going to have to support Crowley and the liberation forces by coming overland up behind them."

"I have to agree." Halford Wyrmbane was yet another of these immense men that Stormwind seemed to produce, equipped with a huge presence and booming voice. Seated next to Ban, he served to make that one seem all the smaller and more fragile. "Losing Southshore hobbles our ability to effect a ground assault from north of the Wall. Sylvanas now has all the landing points north of Menethil Harbor that we could have staged from."

"All the more reason to take back Gilneas." Varian growled. "And Southshore."

"A foothold and push through Gilneas would make recovering Southshore easier, if there is indeed a concerted liberation force still working in Gilneas. And my reports back up Greymane's assertions… there is a group of worgen in and around Southshore, striking at Forsaken interests and fading back behind the Wall. If they don't control the peninsula completely, then yes, we should land in Gilneas."

Land in Gilneas. It sounded like a dream come true. She watched Ban, with his attention turned elsewhere, it was easy to do. Although he was surrounded by kings, generals, immense men, he seemed oddly at ease. He was focused, not afraid to show his arcane leanings by refining a map through magic. His memory was, as always, an intricate thing, and he'd set paws all over Gilneas. Combined with magic, it wove even Genn's maps into higher perfection.

"If we land over Duskhaven…" he rested a fingertip where the town had been, "We'll have immediate access to the roads. And we avoid scaling cliffs."

"So the land rises as you go north and east. Then I agree." Wyrmbane nodded. "We make a southwestern landing. Our first priority is to secure Gilneas, her capital." He dragged a blunted, calloused finger across Gilneas, toward the capital inked in the middle of the peninsula. "And provide relief for her defenders. We'll have to launch the mission from here…" He glanced in the direction of the docks, his hazel eyes clouded in thought. "Other than the defenders here…" He placed his thumb over the headlands, just south of the Wall, "Which I'm given as a couple of thousand Gilnean worgen…"

Evelyn was impressed, he almost said the phrase like he'd heard it for years and said it a thousand times before.

"…What forces does Gilneas bring? We bring the 7th Legion, and the night elves are already pledging more military support." That was the phrase that the man stumbled over, and half the table nodded warily at the words.

"We bring 10,000. Not counting Crowley's force."

Evelyn felt herself pale. That was stretching them to their absolute operational limits, but it was a matter of pride that they far outnumber the Alliance's forces. They needed help, not to have to done for them.

"So, Gilneas fields 12,000. The 7th brings three. The night elves have pledged two." Wyrmbane nodded before raising eyes to Varian, who had remained silent and measuring from his place at the head of the table. "Yes, your majesty. This is entirely doable. We can regain Gilneas, turn the Forsaken from their push to take all lands north of Thandol, secure an operational point to retake Southshore, and keep pressure away from Light's Hope and the rebuilding east."

"Good. Then we make preparations."