A/N: As always, thank you for your continued patience and readership! Check out my notes at the end of the chapter for some musings about this particular installment.
Also, I've put up two cool things for your enjoyment: A Formspring account where you can submit any question you'd like in regard to my stories or me, and a forum for Sirens of Azeroth, where you can post questions, discussions, thoughts, or whatever about the story. Links to both can be found on my author page. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 21: The Lion's Ball
To the disappointment of the denizens of Stormwind, more specifically those that were to attend the royal ball, the weather had no concern for the lavish event that was to occur that evening. The dreary, overcast sky that had remained from the day before darkened into a metallic gray hue faintly tinged with a sickly shade of green. Annoyingly so, the light drizzle that had been consistent since the prior afternoon only strengthened to a steady rain heavy enough to wet, but not drench. The chilly air carried with it a faintly foul smell like ozone and discarded rubbish, blowing in howling gusts through the quarters.
Despite the weather and the lethargic atmosphere that continued to blanket the city heavily, when night fell and the lamps lining the slick cobblestone streets illuminated the dreary darkness, there was a bustling amount of activity. Nobility from the territories of the Elwynn Forest and beyond had been arriving in horse drawn carriages since the evening before, flocking to the warm and cozy establishments of eager innkeepers. Those hailing from much farther away—like the night elf leaders of Darnassus, the dwarves and gnomes of Ironforge, and the draenei of Azuremyst Isle—utilized quicker, more efficient means of travel. The magi in the Mage Quarter were just as busy as the gnomish engineers that ran the Deeprun Tram; portals were being opened every few minutes while the mechanical wagons of the tram carried passengers between Stormwind and Ironforge as often as possible.
By the time the humungous city clock struck the sixth hour of the day, the attendees of the Lion's Ball had begun to flock toward Stormwind Keep by foot, carriage, and horse. They wore heavy traveling cloaks or used magical means to shield themselves from the rain, grateful for the covered walkway that extended out from the entrance to the Keep. Armored guards flanked both sides while a pair of scribes at the front checked the identities of the guests against the list of attendees. Security was to be heavily enforced that evening; after the treachery that surrounded the king's absence and impersonation, every precaution would be taken.
In a small building on the canal's banks not far from the Keep, its doorway marked with the crimson banner of the Steamwheedle Cartel's ARed Rose, the Red Thorns waited patiently in the dry warmth for their patrons. Even before their arrival in Stormwind, interested men had been inquiring about the availability of the beauties of Azeroth for the king's homecoming ball. Acting on Madame Bella's behalf while she was still away in Mulgore with the courtesans of the Horde, Raezel, with Allison the innkeeper's help, had many responsibilities and preparations to tend to.
The morning and afternoon prior to the ball was no less busy for the Red Thorns. Not even an hour after dawn, Allison's cheerful voice rang out in the girls' rooms, rousing them from their sleep. It was with great reluctance that they all dressed and headed downstairs into the common room of the inn.
"Why are we up so early?" Leyla asked with a yawn, rubbing her glowing eyes with a frown. "I don't think I'll look very attractive tonight with dark circles under my eyes."
"It's time for class!" Cara piped, her sunny disposition not at all affected by the early hour or the damp weather.
"Class?" the night elf repeated, hitching a brow. "What sort of class?"
"A refresher course, you could call it," Issha answered. "We need to brush up on the more refined points of being a courtesan. It's not the same as dancing half naked in Booty Bay and entertaining men in taverns."
"Events like the Lion's Ball are what being a Red Thorn is really all about," Van said excitedly, pulling her cloak over her head as they walked out of the warm interior of the inn into the cold, wet streets of the city. "It's a test of our ability to mix and mingle with the highest of high society, so to speak."
"And it's not all looking pretty, smiling, and laughing," her sister continued. "You'll be expected to chime in when people start talking about politics and who's who in this faction and that."
"Most likely, the big topic will be the king, of course. Did you know that, while he was missing, he was a gladiator-slave owned by an orc?"
Leyla blinked, incredulous. "No, I…really?"
Cara chuckled with a nod. "It's true. Well, supposedly. As soon as he returned and defeated that wicked Prestor woman who was really a dragon in disguise and the cause of his disappearance, there were all sorts of rumors about where he had been and what he had done."
"But that one is true," Van said sagely with a nod. "One of our head officers in SI:7 confirmed that. It's where he got his orcish name—Lo'gosh, or 'ghost wolf'—from."
"Though you didn't hear that from us," Issha murmured with a shifty-eyed look.
Rolling her eyes with a chuckle, Cara looked purposely at Leyla. "Point is, the nobility use gatherings like balls as an opportunity to gossip, and if you're on the arm of some nobleman or find yourself in a group of chattering noblewomen, you'll be expected not only to chitchat along, but to offer tidbits of information they may not have known before."
Frowning pensively, Leyla pursed her lips. "Me? But, why? I mean were just—well, why should we know such things?"
"Because, Leyla, as a courtesan, you're expected to mix with all circles of society," the woman answered with a smirk. "Like Madame Bella and Raezel have said all along, we're more than pretty faces."
"We get paid to entertain," Van continued, holding up a stubby finger. "And that doesn't always mean shaking your hips or showing off your assets. We're conversationalists too. I'm sure you've experienced that people enjoy talking just as much as they like ogling you. And sometimes they need it, whether it's just to get something off their chest or relax by gossiping about current events."
"Which you should be knowledgeable of, despite," Issha said with a serious nod.
With a faint blush, Leyla thought of Taye and the hours they had talked before they made love in his tent. Indeed, most of the men she had spent time with seemed content just enjoying the pleasure of her company and a good conversation. It was with some anxiety that she realized she would be mingling with human nobility as well as esteemed representatives of the other Alliance races. To be expected to hold their interest was a bit daunting; besides what rumors and gossip she had overheard during her time in Booty Bay and Ironforge and from the other Thorns, Leyla knew very little of the goings-on of Azeroth.
Hopefully, whatever "class" was planned for the day would remedy that. Allison, the innkeeper of the Gilded Rose, graciously offered her spacious and cozy home near Stormwind Keep for the Red Thorns and prepared a delicious spread of food and drink for them to enjoy. Yet the welcoming hospitality was not the only thing waiting for them.
"Leyla!" Amaru cried happily as soon as the elf stepped a foot in Allison's door. She grunted as the young draenei's arms flung around her neck to squeeze her firmly. "It is so good to see you again!"
Chuckling, Leyla hugged her back with a bit more reserved elation, though she was just as thrilled to see her. "Amaru! I wasn't sure when you'd be here. It's great to see you!"
"Oi, Ama, watch the tail!" Issha yelped, ducking under the excitedly swaying appendage into the room after Van.
The courtesan looked down and squealed at the sight of the two gnomish sisters. "Van! Issha! Hello to you too!"
Both twins yelped when they were pulled into a hearty hug and then abruptly let down so Amaru could embrace Cara. "You would think we hadn't seen her since last winter!" the freckled woman chuckled.
Leyla laughed as well, thought the sound was quickly cut off when Amaru clung to her once more. She clutched Leyla until the night elf made a small squeak and leaned back to hold her at arm's length, smiling brightly. "How have you been?! Oh, it feels like it has been so long since we've seen each other!"
Leyla smirked. "It's barely been three weeks," she replied fondly.
The draenei smiled softer, her glowing eyes misting a little. "I know. But after everything that happened to us and traveling together, I was beginning to miss you very much."
A deep bond had definitely formed between Leyla and Amaru since their harrowing experience in Blackrock Depths and it made her happier than she let on to see the draenei again. "I missed you very much, too, Ama," Leyla replied and squeezed her again before following the other Thorns into Allison's home. "How have you been? Did you come here with Norifl?"
Blushing faintly, Amaru bobbed her head and smiled wider. "I have been well, and yes, I did. Norfil, King Magni and the High Tinker are all meeting with the other leaders of the Alliance right now."
Her glowing eyes widening, Leyla gasped softly. "All of them are here?"
Amaru grinned excitedly and bobbed her head. "Norfil spoke much of this ball, how it is not just a celebration of the king's return, but a reuniting of all of the Alliance leaders. The king wants to very much reclaim the power he once had and begin, ah, discussions with the other leaders in regard to the wars they still fight with the Legion and the Horde." Tapping a finger against her chin, Amaru's brow furrowed. "I wonder if the Prophet will come. He is much too old to travel from the Exodar, I would think…"
The draenei's last words fell on deaf ears, as Leyla was consumed in a sudden disturbing thought. She hadn't even considered the fact the Alliance leaders would be attending the ball, but it made sense for them all to be present in support of the true king's homecoming. Which meant presumably that the High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind—if not Archdruid Fandral Staghelm as well—would also be there. While Leyla could count on one hand the number of times she had been in the archdruid's presence and he actually looked at her, she had met and spoken with High Priestess Tyrande often during her studies in the Temple of the Moon. Her mother, as a high ranking servitor of Elune, was a close associate of Tyrande's, and, thus, the High Priestess was fairly acquainted with the daughter of Mira Jadefern.
It was a pointless thing to fret over at the moment, Leyla told herself with a small breath, finding a seat at Allison's long dining table next to Cara and Amaru. In the throng of people that would be present at the ball, it was unlikely Tyrande would even notice Leyla let alone ever be within a few paces of her. Annoyed with the habit of stressing herself out unnecessarily, she resolved to push her worries aside and focus on preparing herself for the ball.
It wasn't that difficult to do at all, as Raezel and Allison kept the Thorns busy for the majority of the afternoon and the morning. Most of their time was spent discussing current events, specifically the king of Stormwind's return. They also reviewed proper human etiquette, practiced a formal, rather stiff dance called a waltz—during which Leyla stepped on Cara's feet no less than ten times—, and went over the names of all of the important figures among the Alliance that would most likely attend or be discussed at the Lion's Ball.
All of this information was still swimming in Leyla's head when, some hours later, she was walking beneath the canvas covered, blue carpeted pathway to the entrance of Stormwind Keep. The patrons that purchased the Red Thorns as their escorts had come to collect the women from Allison's home just before the ball, whisking the decadently dressed beauties away in carriages or by foot under the protective cover of umbrellas and magical shields.
Leyla was on the arm of a wealthy landowner and magi from Redridge named Thaler Lott, a man who was no taller than her shoulder, but did not seem at all bothered by their height or racial difference. Friendly, though a bit on the arrogant and long-winded side, he had a pudgy face and long graying hair that was balding at the top, his slightly round frame draped in regal velvet robes. It was with a dry inner smirk that the courtesan mused Darcen would be quite tickled to know his early prediction had come true. Fortunately, Thaler was tolerable enough and Leyla merely smiled, nodded, and occasionally laughed as he went on and on about his land, the businesses he oversaw, and how the orcs and gnolls in the mountains made life excitingly dangerous for a humble mage who just wanted to protect what he owned.
The Lion's Ball was held in the large, circular throne room in the very center of Stormwind Keep, its starkly white stone walls and high dome ceiling elegantly draped in royal blue banners and tapestries bearing the proud symbol of the roaring lion. Nobility, decorated military leaders, and other figures of importance from all of the Alliance races mingled together in chattering throngs. Leyla marveled at the number of Kaldorei there, towering over others in earth and green hued garments adorned with feathers, leaves, and flowers rather than jewels and sparkling embroidery. Despite their membership in the Alliance and presence in Storwmind, night elves—even their leaders—tried to stay out of human politics as much as possible. The return of the king was a momentous occasion to their faction, so perhaps it was not too unexpected so many notable Kaldorei were in attendance.
Still, when Leyla's eyes fell upon the radiant female night elf clad as always in ceremonial white, her stomach fluttered in nervous surprise. Any young Kaldorei female that had aspired to be a priestess at some point in her life admired Tyrande Whisperwind as the archetype of pious faith and profound wisdom. The sight of her familiar, beautiful face made a momentary pang of homesickness gnaw at Leyla's stomach, and she thought longingly of her mother.
"How wonderful to see your people's lovely priestess here!" Thaler whispered loudly next to Leyla, his small green eyes fixated on the night elf woman talking with the king of Stormwind and Thane Bronzebeard. "And Lady Proudmoore as well! It is rare to see either of them at these events."
Thaler's finger guided her stare to the blond mage standing next to King Wrynn, dwarfed by his armored and imposing bulk and the tall night elf across from her. Proudmoore was much smaller than Leyla imagined, yet carried herself with a quiet dignity and presence. She couldn't decide if the woman's placid expression was one of thoughtful observance or boredom.
"And of course with them is Thane Bronzebeard and that, ah, Metalfork or whatever the gnome king is called, if they even refer to him as a king. Oh! But there is Lord Farraday! I know him well! Come, come! Let us go say hello!"
And so for the first hour of the ball, Leyla was led from this group of landowners to another of businessmen, all acquaintances of Thaler Lott, some with a woman on their arm. For the most part, they talked about the economy of the Eastern Kingdoms and how difficult trade had become, topics Leyla had nothing to contribute to or any interest in. Thaler, or any of the other men, didn't seem to mind, as long as their pretty companions chuckled when appropriate and nodded in agreement ever so often.
Passively listening to the men talk gave Leyla the opportunity to glance curiously around, searching the many faces of those that occupied the royal hall for one she recognized. Ever so often, she'd see a Red Thorn doing the same as she, talking amongst a group of nobility, or in a private conversation at the tables where food was being served. She spied Amaru on the arm of Norfil Bronzebeard, speaking with a group of captivated dwarves and humans. Likewise, Raezel held the attentions of several men of military affiliations, their tunics embroidered with various factional emblems and shields. Even Cara had a gathering of noblewomen laughing at a joke.
And every time the tall figure of a night elf male appeared above the heads of others, Leyla's heart leaped and her stomach lurched. But it was never Azurian. She was beginning to wonder if he would even show. Once again, a disheartening yearning gnawed at her stomach and her ears drooped as she turned back toward Thaler and the other nobles, who were now debating whether or not the Dark Iron dwarves that were disrupting trade routes in Dun Morogh were actually made of iron or not. Here she was among the leaders and some of the most prestigious figures of the Alliance in the city that she had always dreamed of seeing, and she wasn't even feeling particularly excited. More than that, seeing the other courtesans conversing and entertaining those around them so effortlessly made Leyla feel as if she were failing at what Raezel and Allison had instructed them on all day. Not just pretty faces, she reminded herself. She didn't know anything about trade or commerce, but she'd be damned if she stood idly at Thaler's arm all night, smiling while inwardly moping and fretting.
"…and if that daughter of his really is carrying the child of the Dark Iron king, Thane Magni will have much more than disrupted Brewfest festivals to worry about."
Ears perking, Leyla's attention diverted back to the group Thaler had been conversing with for a while. They were talking about Moira, she realized with a little jolt of excitement and a brief affectionate thought of the princess. She wondered how she was doing…
"She must have been cursed," huffed one of the noblewomen, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "What woman would ever consider lying down with a…man made of iron?"
"From the reports I've heard from, they're stone, not iron," said a young dwarven priest, who looked much too pampered to have actually seen any sort of battle. "And a very trustworthy source of mine said that Thaurissan employed the help of an ice troll, ah, witch doctor to hex the princess and steal her away."
"Then that explains why the caravans have been attacked by both ice trolls and Dark Iron dwarves. They're in league with one another," Thaler concluded, nodding sagely.
"They actually aren't made of iron or stone. And Moira wasn't hexed."
The nobles' heads all swiveled in unison toward the night elf that had suddenly spoken up. Leyla's cheeks flushed a light pink, imagining that the defensiveness in her voice probably surprised them as much as the actual blurted statement did.
"Oh, you've…seen one?" one of the women, the owner of a wine shop, asked, her lifted nose and brow plainly revealing her dubiousness.
Clearing her throat awkwardly, eyes flicking once to Thaler, who looked just as embarrassed as she, Leyla met stares with the woman and smiled thinly. "Actually, yes, I have," she replied, lifting her own chin a little. "And spoken to one. And Moira Bronzebeard as well. I met her."
The two women of the group exchanged glances and a nobleman snorted. "Spoken to one? Where?" he asked.
Leyla paused, knowing she had gotten herself into a claim she now couldn't back out of. "…in Blackrock Depths."
There was dead silence among the nobles, all of their faces set in various expressions of incredulity. The noblewomen looked awkwardly at one another once more while the men laughed weakly. Thaler's face flushed brighter and he covered his mouth to cough, eyes flitting down to his feet. Leyla was certain he was pondering if he could get a refund if he returned her early. Oh, Elune, why did she open her—
"Wait, wait," the priest spoke up with a waggle of his finger, his eyes widening under his bushy brows in surprise. "Someone told me that the Dark Iron dwarves had kidnapped two women from the gates of Ironforge. He was apart of the search party that went to find them in the Blackrock Mountains. Ye was one of them…?"
Swiftly, the faces of the nobles changed from disbelief to wary curiosity. Leyla couldn't help but grin at their widening eyes. "Yes, I was, as well as another courtesan who is a friend of mine," she replied with a nod, feeling emboldened by the shifting demeanors of the nobles. "We were kidnapped during Brewfest and taken into Blackrock Depths. Princess Moira was there and I met her."
The group collectively gasped and the women put their hands to their mouths, but it was obvious they were as intrigued by the admission as they were scandalized.
"Really?!" one of the women breathed, shuffling forward to eagerly get closer to the night elf. "They kidnapped you right in front of the city's gates?"
"What did they want with you?" asked a nobleman, forgetting the deviled egg in his fingers, which had stopped halfway to his lips.
Thaler's eyes had lifted from his feet and the magi now regarded Leyla as if the courtesan on his arm was the best investment of his lifetime. As the group of nobles turned into an audience hungry for a good story, Leyla swelled with pleased satisfaction. "Well…" she began, artfully dropping her voice lower, holding back a giggle when the nobles leaned in closer and their eyes widened even further. "It was a coincidence that we happened to be outside at the time they had chosen to steal the kegs being kept in the snow near the gates." She shrugged her feminine shoulders partly revealed from the low neckline of her gown. "What could be better to take back with stolen beer than a pair of beautiful women?"
"Heathens, the lot of them…" the nobleman with the deviled egg rasped, his eyes glinting greedily for tawdry details, nearly missing his lips as he absently tried to guide it to his mouth.
Instead of grinning, Leyla nodded and demurely blushed, lifting a hand to her mouth. "Thankfully, Moira Bronzebeard was there to keep us from immediate harm, and assured us that she would convince Emperor Thaurissan to let us leave. However, when the dwarves found out my friend Amaru—that very attractive draenei I'm sure you've seen on Norfil Bronzebeard's arm—was the prince's lover, they weren't so keen to release us…"
For the next half hour, Leyla held Thaler and the other nobles mesmerized by an abridged telling of her and Amaru's captivity in Blackrock Depths. They gasped in horror at the description of the flame-eyed, gray bodied dwarves and the wicked succubus that had treated them as slaves. When Leyla told how she wagered their freedom on a game of shots and carefully played seduction, they blushed and looked appropriately disgusted while their wolfish eyes revealed inner wanton glee and arousal. By the time she arrived at the exciting end of the tale that concluded with the confrontation between the Emperor and the prince who had to choose between his sister and his beloved Amaru, the crowd had even grown a little when those whose ears had twitched at the overheard gossip drifted closer to their circle.
"No wonder the king has been so mum about his daughter's disappearance," remarked one man, who was obviously a high ranking military officer from the number of medals pinned to his chest. "I had heard rumors that Thaurissan could use his half-blood child to gain political footing over Ironforge, but there were so many versions I didn't know what to believe!" His eyes narrowed and slathered indulgently over Leyla's face and bust. "To hear it from your own lips though, someone that was in that dreaded mountain. How astounding!"
"I would have never been able to recover so easily after such an awful experience," a woman cooed, putting a hand to her flushed face and shaking her head. "You poor thing!"
"Indeed, Lady Leyla is to be commended for being so strong of spirit and will," Thaler proclaimed with a nod the others quickly mimicked, his smile smug, pleased to have the center of the group's attention at his side.
Blushing with a coy fluttering of her eyes, Leyla chuckled softly and shook her head. "Oh, I just did what I thought I had to in order to escape with Amaru," she replied with the humility she was expected of. "You are all too kind and I only feel fortunate that—"
"Pardon me, my lady."
The heads of the group tuned to regard the man among them that had spoken over Leyla and stepped into the inner circle. She had no idea when the ranger had wandered over to her group, but there was Darcen Swift, grinning handsomely at Leyla, dressed in a long dark blue tunic. A small silver shield pinned to his chest bore the insignia of Stormwind's rangers.
"I apologize for interrupting," he said with a low bow. "But I was hoping I could steal this ravishing beauty away for a dance and a drink, perhaps." Darcen grinned a bit wider and winked at Thaler. "I promise I'll bring her back to you quickly so that she can regale you with another tale."
Leyla found herself blushing faintly, stifling a chuckle behind her hand as Thaler's small eyes flicked from Leyla, to the ranger's badge, and to Leyla again. "Oh, ah, well, of course," he replied congenially, though his eyes showed his reluctance. "By all means, er, if the lady wants to, that is."
Shifting his golden-hazel eyes to Leyla, the ranger lifted a brow at her in silent question. The courtesan grinned, stepped away from Thaler, and presented her hand. "I'd be delighted to, Darcen" she replied, hooding her glowing eyes, then glanced back at her audience. "I promise to return shortly."
With a quick, triumphant smirk, Darcen enclosed his fingers around Leyla's hand and led her away from her patron and the other nobles that murmured and sighed in disappointment. There was one section of the circular hall directly in front of the small band of musicians that had been reserved for dancing; Darcen took her to an open spot among the gathering of waltzing and swaying people.
"I had no idea you were beautiful and brave, Leyla," he commented, turning toward the night elf to put a hand at her hip and hold the other grasping hers at their side. "Though I'm not at all surprised. Now why didn't you didn't tell me at lunch yesterday you had been whisked away by Dark Iron dwarves? That's perfectly good lunch conversation."
Smirking, the courtesan put her hand on the ranger's shoulder and her feet followed his as he began to move in a simple two step waltz. "I was saving that story for another instance. Like this one," she replied. "Weren't you entertained enough by the bemoaning story of my ex-lover?"
Darcen laughed and his eyes softened. "You look absolutely stunning in that dress."
Leyla's blushed and her eyes briefly flitted down to the flowing, silken cerulean garment. "It was chosen by someone who has very good taste," she replied teasingly. "And is nearly wearing the same shade of blue as me."
Chuckling, Darcen shook his head, moving smoothly and gracefully with the night elf around the dance floor. "I have a bias toward that shade of blue, since it is the color we rangers wear. So I'm more than pleased you look stunning in it." His cheeks colored faintly. "I was hoping I would get a moment to steal you away. You owed me a dance."
The night elf's brow lifted and she snickered. "How so?"
"The dice game. Don't you remember? Had your charming draenei paladin not intruded, I would have won. And you did say 'Perhaps next time'."
Her own face coloring, Leyla's eyes hooded and she smiled. "So I did. And now you have your next time."
Dancing with Darcen only further uplifted Leyla's good mood, and despite her less than perfect grace when it came to waltzing, Darcen seemed to enjoy her company just as much. They talked further about her experience in Blackrock and Leyla asked about where Darcen's duties as a ranger had taken him. The human was good company and his playful, charming arrogance was not at all a turn-off as it initially had been.
"If I go fetch us something to drink, you won't get swayed away by another group of admirers, will you?" Darcen teased, releasing Leyla when the musicians paused to take a break.
Brushing a stray strand of hair away from her forehead, Leyla shook her head with a smile. "Not if you hurry," she replied, fluttering her eyelashes coquettishly.
With a faint blush and a grin, Darcen turned away, moving across the space of the dancing area to the tables where the wine casks and kegs were. The courtesan smiled to herself and shook her head, turning away to absently look toward the crowd, her eyes caught momentarily by a few armored soldiers briskly moving around the room with swift intention. Their hurried steps and agitated expressions looked out of place among the relaxed crowd. Leyla's brows knitted together as she watched them.
"Your human companion seems quite smitten with you. I suppose, being in the city for a while, there was no way you weren't going to catch someone's eye."
Turning abruptly and jumping a little in surprise, Leyla put a hand to her thudding heart, eyes fluttering wide as they looked up at the tall night elf. "Azurian!" she stammered, and quickly flushed, smiling in embarrassment. How long had he been watching? "Ah, please, don't misunderstand. Darcen is just a friend. I've only just met him."
Azurian's smile was gentle, but his disappointment was clear in his slightly hooded glowing eyes. Guilt stung at Leyla, though her subconscious quickly reminded her that she no longer was his lover and had not been for a long time. And Darcen really wasn't any more than a new friend. So why did Azurian seeing them together feel so wrong? "Forgive me," he said in Darnassian with a small chuckle. "I admittedly suffer a little from a once-lover's jealousy. But I saw you the other day with him, walking in the canals, and to see you here together, well…I assumed..."
Leyla flushed brighter as he trailed off and once again shook her head insistently. "Ah, no, no, there is nothing of the sort between us," she assured him shakily, the confidence that had been building inside her since she told the nobles her story quickly dissipating under Azurian's soft, handsome gaze.
"I was going to invite you to the ball myself, but when you did not meet me in the Park, I thought perhaps you decided you did not want to see me," he continued, and the obvious hurt in his tone was enough to make Leyla's ears droop and her chest tighten. His brows knitted together and he frowned gently. "Leyla…I do not wish for you to hold ill feelings toward me for what happened between us. You were…you still are very dear to me. You always will be. I apologize if our chance meeting has upset you."
His hand lifted and he brushed a lock of her hair behind her long ear, eliciting a small shudder from the courtesan and a brighter blush. "But, please…will you come with me somewhere private to talk? I…feel as if we need to."
Swallowing thickly as she felt her eyes mist, Leyla lowered her gaze and clutched her hands at her sides. "Yes…Azurian. We do need to talk," she replied in a nervous murmur. Her head lifted and she met his golden stare, her expression a little pleading. "But…there is much I need to tell you first and...it is not something I know you will find easy to understand, butI hope you will at least listen."
Azurian frowned further in concern and he put his large hands at her shoulders. Leyla's heart leaped in her throat and her stomach tightened so fiercely with anxiety it ached. "Of course, Leyla," he murmured. "Anything you have to tell me, I will listen. I will always listen to you. I—"
"Leyla."
The voice that rasped so close behind her made the night elf jump and she twisted around to meet the Darcen's hazel-eyed stare. "Darcen!" she exclaimed before she could contain her volume. Flushing immediately, standing between her ex-lover and the human she had been dancing with just moments ago, she noted the slightly agitated expression on his face. "Ah, is everything—"
"Leyla, listen to me, and I want you to do as I say very calmly and very quickly," the ranger said under his breath. His tone was brusque in a way that was unnerving to the night elf, as were his seriously narrowed eyes. There was something in them that only made his words more unsettling. "Come with me. Now." His hard eyes lifted briefly to regard Azurian. "Excuse us."
The courtesan balked when the ranger took her wrist almost roughly and tugged her away from the druid she had been talking to. Casting a brief glance over her shoulder to a bewildered Azurian, Leyla looked at the back of Darcen's blond head with knitted brows and wide eyes. "Darcen, what's wrong? Where are we going? What—"
"What are you doing with her?" Azurian demanded in Common, his barely calm voice laced with anger, following close after Leyla and the human. Darcen didn't seem to notice or care about the tall, antlered night elf behind them, too intent on pulling Leyla to wherever he was going and hastily.
"Darcen! Stop it! Where are we going?!" she demanded, tugging at his fingers, more frightened by his abrupt, harried demeanor than his rough treatment.
Azurian growled with a timbre in his voice that sounded bestial, quickening his steps to wheel in front of Darcen, halting them both. "Human, if you don't let her go this instant—"
The scream had been made in the distance, but its shrieking, chilling sound reverberated up the halls of Stormwind Keep and echoed in the circular chamber of the Royal Hall as if the screamer had been inside its walls. The wail seemed to have a magical effect over the chattering, energetic crowd, silencing them with a collectively inhaled gasp of alarm. Yet not even that shrill, piercing cry was as abruptly frightening as the single word that was bellowed loud enough for all in the main chambers of the Keep to hear:
"SCOURGE!"
The hall went from a stunned, tense silence, to a frenetic panic in a matter of seconds. Those that had been dancing and casually milling about were now running, pushing, and scrambling desperately down the wide corridor leading to the castle's doors, in their panic not realizing that they could be less safe outside the walls of Stormwind Keep.
"Order! Order!" shouted some of the guards, pushing against the swarm desperately.
"Soldiers! To the front gates to protect our city!" the booming voice of King Wrynn called over the shouts and screams of his terrified citizens, bringing some momentary sanity and focus. "My people, to your homes, immediately, or join us in defense of Stormwind!"
The hall erupted in a clamor of movement again, this time with more purpose and direction. Civilians were ushered out of the Keep and urged toward their homes while those capable of fighting went to arm themselves and join in the battle. King Wrynn, the mage leader of Theramore, the High Priestess of Darnassus, the Thane of Ironforge, and the High Tinker of the gnomes were following them, their own weapons at the ready, rushing to stand beside Storwmind's denizens in her defense.
"I've got to go, Leyla," Darcen said hurriedly, squeezing the night elf's hand. His lips quirked into a smile that was meant to be comforting. "Go down the hall to the kitchens. There is a hidden passageway through the cellar that will take you through tunnels beneath the canals. Stay down there, or find a residence to stay in."
The night elf opened her mouth, croaking when she didn't know what to say in her moment of stunned fright, but Darcen was already moving away, swallowed by the leaving throng of people. Everyone was moving so quickly; it was like a blur around her. What was going on?
"We must aid them," Azurian said in gruff Darnassian. His narrowed glowing eyes beneath his furrowed brows met Leyla's and he began striding forward, his large, tall body making it easy to make a path through the crowd. Yet when the other night elf did not follow, the druid turned around, frowning. "They'll need healers, Leyla. Aren't you coming?"
Now it wasn't only her tongue that was frozen, but her whole body as well, rooted to the floor, trembling faintly from sheer shock. "A-Azurian…"she managed to stammer, but her voice was so low she doubted he could even hear him. What could she tell him? That she would be worthless to him in battle? To any other requiring a potentially life saving spell? She felt as helpless and as useless. What could a courtesan with no skills do to save anyone, let alone herself, against the Scourge? "Azurian, I can't—"
"You'll get trampled if you go that way, little elf. Best to take a more indirect route."
Raezel was suddenly at her side, Van and Issha both with her. "We need to leave, Leyla, now," the woman told her, her dark green eyes serious and narrowed. "There is no time to dawdle here."
Ears flattening and brow furrowing pensively, the night elf looked between the other three courtesans and to the druid still waiting expectantly. Her glowing eyes met Azurian's and Leyla could see in the change of his expression that he knew she would not be going with him. With a disappointed, sad frown, the druid turned away and, in a burst of smoke and light, shape-shifted into a roaring spotted cat that sped swiftly out of the Keep.
"I found Amaru," Cara panted, running toward the group with them hem of her gown gathered in her hands above her knees. The draenei was behind her, both women looking frazzled and ashen with panic.
"Leyla!" Amaru cried, rushing to the other courtesan to embrace her. With glossy, fear-stricken eyes she looked to the dark skinned woman. "Raezel, the Lich King is attacking the city, isn't he?"
"We don't know that, Amaru," the eldest courtesan said sternly. "But we all need to stay calm. Being frantic will not help our situation."
"Where in the name of the Light did you two get weapons?" Cara asked the two gnomes, blinking at the long blades they held.
"We're rogues, honey," Issha said with a smirk.
"We never go any where without something sharp," Van continued, twirling her dagger.
"Bodices are actually great for hiding artillery. I've got a whole set of throwing blades hidden between my rack and my—"
"This is not the time for that," Raezel interjected, the glare of her eyes enough to refocus the twins. "If the Scourge are attacking, they'll need everyone they can get outside the city's walls. You go on ahead."
"Aye aye, gold leader!" Van said, bringing a dagger wielding hand to her forehead in a quick salute. "You all get goin'! C'mon, sis!"
"Be careful!" Amaru called after the two rogues who moved swiftly into the throng of fleeing civilians and soldiers rushing to defend them.
"Raezel, a ranger told me there is a passageway in the kitchens we can take to get to the canals," Leyla managed to say hastily despite the shivering of her body and the thickness of her tongue. "I think it can take us above them as well."
The woman nodded in reply. "They lead to Old Town as well, if I can recall. That's where we need to go."
"We can't stay here?" asked Amaru, nearly in tears.
The paladin frowned grimly. "Not if the Scourge are heading where I think they are."
The kitchens were abandoned when Raezel ushered the three courtesans into them, the smell of searing meats still thick in the air, partially finished dishes that had not yet been served to the patrons of the Lion's Ball abandoned on the countertops. They walked quickly down the stairway to the cellars where shelves of dusty barrels and casks of wine, mead, and other spirits lined the stone walls.
"Wait," Raezel commanded with a lift of her hand, leaving the courtesans at the stairs and approaching the barrels. One by one, she peered around the edges of the large containers, rapped her knuckles against their sealed fronts, and moved on to the next to repeat
"Ah, here." With a grunt, Raezel pushed her shoulder against a barrel of wine that moved much too easily to be full. Behind it there was a small hidden door.
"This all looks much too familiar," Leyla commented with a faint smirk that was meant to be lighthearted, looking over at Amaru. Even though the draenei returned her smile with a very brief one of her own, her face reflected the anxiety that came with recalling the last and very recent time they found themselves trying to escape from danger through hidden passage and walls.
"We never enjoyed this much dramatic adventure before you joined, Leyla," Raezel chuckled thinly ahead of them. She looked quickly over her shoulder and gave the night elf a small grin. "I'm afraid you've gotten quite a different experience being a courtesan than most of our other girls have."
She knew the comment was meant to lighten the gravity of the situation, but all the same Leyla felt some bit of guilt. It wasn't her fault the Scourge were attacking Stormwind, she knew, just as it hadn't been her fault that she and Amaru had been kidnapped by the Dark Iron dwarves. All the same, she once again found herself in the role of the proverbial damsel in distress, which was all too distressing enough.
The hidden door in the kitchen's cellar led to darkened stairs and passageways that, above which the faint sounds of rushing water and tromping footsteps echoed. Despite the darkness, Raezel never faltered in her steps, constantly moving through the narrow, damply stale corridors, one hand clenching Leyla's while the night elf gripped Amaru's, who guided Cara. Ever so often, the faint, distant noise of clanging metal, an inhumane bellow or snarl, or a pained howl of agony startled the women. It was more frightening to imagine what was happening above when their eyes could see nothing rather than be a witness to the battle being fought in the city.
Thankfully the journey through the passageways was a short one, ending at ascending steps illuminated by the light streaming down through a grate above. With a bit of effort from all four of them, the courtesans removed the heavy cover from the manhole, pushing it aside, and climbed out of the floor of a canal tunnel.
Besides the distant sounds of battle, Old Town was eerily quiet, the Scourge having not yet reached the inner areas of the city. Yet their stench hung heavily in the air, carried by howling winds and the heavy rains that poured from the sickly green tinted sky, now darker and more ominous than it had been just an hour or so before. Sporadically, a fleeing citizen or two would scramble across the street to fling themselves behind the door of a residence. The disconcerting silence that was still filled with panic closed around them, overbearing and nearly choking. Leyla's hands were white knuckled, closed around the ring and pendant at her throat, ears twitching at every faraway sound and from the near painful pulsing of her hammering heart.
Soaked to their skin, dresses weighted with water, Raezel finally brought the three courtesans to a home in the residential area of Old Town, the drapes of the windows drawn and lined with dust and cobwebs. She drew a key from the folds of her drenched dress, hastily used it to unlock the door, and hurriedly ushered the women inside before shutting and securing it. The residence was of a modestly spacious size suited for a small family with simple furnishings. There was a layer of dust on the table tops and the floor and the hearth was empty of leftover soot or old wood. If the residence was Raezel's, it wasn't surprising that it looked as if it had been uninhabited for some time.
The woman moved with familiarity through the home, leading Leyla, Amaru, and Cara to a pantry room devoid of food save for a few bags of grain and a jar or two of some pickled vegetables. A slightly tattered canvas draping hung at the rear of the space, concealing a second door revealed when Raezel swept the cloth aside and fitted her key into the lock.
There was no cold storage behind the door, as would be expected, but a set of wooden stairs that led down into a surprisingly large, dark cellar that, when illuminated by the lamps Raezel lit, revealed an interior that looked like a small armory. There were two wooden armor dummies fully dressed in gleaming plate against one wall where mounted swords, daggers, and an enormous hammer hung above a small table covered by a large crimson banner. Next to the hammer there was a framed painted portrait of a family, all earth-tone skinned with dark eyes. An older couple wearing full armor stood behind a younger man and woman dressed in leather beneath white and red tabards. The bare light of the candles flickered across their stoic faces and Leyla squinted curiously at the younger green eyed, attractive woman in the painting.
"Do not go back above. Not until I return."
Raezel's serious tone pulled her attention away from the portrait. The woman had opened a thick, old chest in the corner of the room and removed a leather tunic and pants. She began stripping herself out of her soaked dress as she spoke to the courtesans. "I don't know how severe the attack is, but in the worst case, you do not need to be found."
Amaru was nearly weeping, tears streaming down her face, clinging still to Leyla's arm. Cara was obviously just as fearful, though her paled face was set in a determinedly calm scowl. "You'll come back soon, won't you?" she asked in a small voice that nearly broke.
Raezel's emerald eyes flitted up to Cara and she smiled as reassuringly as she could. "Of course," the paladin replied with a nod. She glanced at Leyla briefly to offer the same comforting expression before going to one of the dummies at the wall and stripping it of its armor. In a matter of minutes, Raezel was clad from head to toe in shining, heavy plate.
"I will put seals on the doors," she grunted while hefting the hammer from the wall, slinging it onto her pauldron protected shoulder with a clang of metal against metal. "It should stave off the Scourge if they make it to Old Town." Her smile returned, this time more of a confident grin. "But King Wrynn, the other leaders, and the Guard will not let that happen, I can assure you. This is just in case."
Still fretfully gripping the pendant and ring at her throat, Leyla watched Raezel quickly check the straps of her armor before turning to the door. "Raezel!" she found herself finally shouting, her voice having been caught in her throat from fear.
The paladin paused and met Leyla's eyes, her gaze softening at the sight of the tears there. "Be careful…" the night elf said, smiling with adoration for the woman that would risk her life to protect them and all of Stormwind City.
Grinning faintly, Raezel made a small salute before turning away and walking as briskly as she could in her heavy armor up the stairs. The door of the cellar closed, the lock clicked into place, and the small slivers of space in the frame flashed briefly with a gold light.
The silence after Raezel left was disconcerting and Cara cleared her throat, her feet echoing much too loudly on the cobblestone floor as she walked over to the draped table. "Gods, she could have left us with a damn blanket. We're soaked to the bone," the woman huffed, pulling the large square of woven cloth embroidered with a red flame from the table. "I hope she won't mind us using this. Oh, come now, Amaru. Don't cry. It'll be alright. Let's sit together and get warm."
Sniffling miserably and wiping her face, Amaru shuffled over to corner where Cara lowered herself. "I-I know," she stuttered softy. "They will not let the city fall. And Norfil, Raezel…they will not let the Scourge take Storwmind."
"That's right," Cara replied with a resolute nod. She drew her arm around Amaru when the draenei settled next to her, pulling her close under the warmth the banner provided. "This city has withstood orcs and everything else. And the king is back. The true king. Everything will be alright."
Sitting at the woman's other side, Leyla sighed, leaning against Cara under the draped, rough fabric, drawing her knees up to her chest and shivering faintly from the cold dampness of her wet dress. It was with desperate hope that she wanted Cara to be right, but grim realism that gave her doubt. Raezel, Azurian, and Darcen, much like many in the city of Stormwind, were skilled soldiers that would valiantly defend it from any foe. And the leaders of the Alliance, including the priestess of her own people were powerful. Yet the Scourge—always in her young, inexperienced mind a terrifying symbol of ruthless, relentless wickedness and death—were a formidable enemy themselves that had brought some of the most renowned heroes to their ends.
With a deep, slow breath, Leyla nodded and reached over to hug her arms around the two smaller females. "Yes, everything will be alright…"
Huddled beneath the banner of the Scarlet Crusade, the three courtesans clung to one another in silent fear and fervent hope, waiting.
A/N: My notes this time have mostly to do with the setting of this particular chapter. For those of you who played WoW right before the release of Wrath, you'll remember the Echoes of Doom patch that preceded it, during which the Scourge were attacking some of the capital cities, including Shattrath, Stormwind, and Orgrimmar. Necropolises floating above the city would spawn undead enemies. Tainted crates would spread the Plague disease. At Shattrath, you were even in danger of becoming a Scourge yourself. This chapter would take place at the beginning of that patch. I'm possibly exaggerating the magnitude of the attack on Stormwind, but I'm approaching the event not as an in-game one, but what would happen realistically. Hence possible discrepancies with the "canon".
Once again, this chapter refers heavily to events that occurred in the Warcraft comic, namely King Wrynn's return. The Lion's Ball isn't canon, of course, and wasn't in the comic, but it can be assumed that such an event would have happened, with the leaders coming to Stormwind to show their support for the king's return and whatnot. In regard to the canon time line, I am not completely sure how King Wrynn's return correlates with Echoes of Doom, but I assumed he would have been back just before then.
A random tidbit: Thaler Lott's name is a combination of the name of my guild's mage class leader and my boss's last name. See you in Chapter 22: The Paladin's Tale!