"You are certainly an industrious man." The exhausted voice of the shopkeeper rang out in a gentle, calming manner. Like the final shot fired from the last cannon on Azeroth. A signal that the end of it all had come.

Packed in their crated were the multitudes of sets, insulated and ready to get shipped off to Northrend on the next icebreaker out. Fur lined every piece of armor they had been delivered from the equally industrious and efficient blacksmiths over in the Dwarven District. Made to fit with insulation to keep the soldiers from being chilled to the bone—though, it was almost certain that some would freeze to death anyhow. It was an inevitability that had to be accepted, and prevented as best they could.

The crates were stacked one on top of the other, their lids fastened by strong nails. Inside, the cargo was protected by tufts of hay to cushion the rolling of the seas or any other damage it might take while in transit. Next to the door was two open crates, their order being the one set apart from the orders made by the military. He would need help moving it all, but his sacrifice paid off. Everything was done.

"I can't thank you enough for your help, son. It's hard to find a good man who hasn't shipped off to fight with the Alliance." He commented, standing in front of a seated Archerus. A drying layer of sweat accented his features and glistened as he caught his breath, their work finally being done. "Perhaps it's a bit late, but my name is Elm. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Elm extended his hand to Archerus, to which the paladin replied by giving it a tired but firm shake. "My name is Archerus Truesteel, and the pleasure is mine," he released his hand and relaxed where he sat, looking up at him. "Why is it that your son decided to ship off to fight the war? Wouldn't he take into consideration that his father needed his help here, and that he'd be aiding in the war effort?"

Elm pulled an empty crate over to his short-lived assistant and flipped it over to sit down next to him. With the collar of his shirt he would wipe away the sweat on his face.

"I instigated him to do it. I did the same thing to my father back in the First War. Left our home in Northshire and joined the military. My then wife, Mira, protested with all of her will. She was pregnant with my son then and wanted me at home with her, which I could not blame her for wanting such, but I was too blinded by a sense of duty and glory to concede. As such, I shipped off. Stormwind was razed and we retreated into Lordaeron. I told my wife to escape to Lordaeron long before the Horde came and burned our forests, murdered our people and sacked our great capital."

"Haedrig was the name she gave him in my absence. She gave birth in Andorhal, but before I could reunite with my family, she passed due to complications with her health. I asked that he be passed on to a family that could raise him in my stead. He was given to the Wildhammer Dwarves. They taught him the strictures of strength and honor, how to master the nuances of the wild, to take pride in his work. I didn't see him until after the Third War, when we were reunited in Stormwind. He hardly believed that I was his father."

"Does he... resent you for letting him be raised by somebody else?"

"Those are questions that I ask myself every night. What I did, I did for my people. I did it to keep the two of them safe too, but it wasn't until after the dust settled that I realized what had happened." Elm replied, rubbing his chin in irritation. "Where do you come from, Archerus? I've never heard your family name before, and with how it sounds, I would figure you to be from Stromgarde."

"I was born and raised in Hearthglen. I intended to move to Lordaeron City, but our great prince changed that."

"Lordaeron?" Elm asked, tilting his head to the side as he listened, "You're a long way from home, son."

"I was rooted out by the Scarlet Crusade. They killed both of my parents when I refused to join with them. I intended to be a paladin of the Silver Hand and do right by my faith, but before I was given the chance to leave home and pursue that goal, everything collapsed around us."

"Many of the refugees who come here from the northern territories and spread word of the atrocities the Crusade commits against their own people for a meager justification such as not wanting to serve in the military. You are not the only one with a story like this, and you will not be the last. Not until somebody puts an end to the Scarlet Crusade. They hate anything nonhuman, as if they had fully adopted the sentiment of Admiral Proudmoore. That man took racism to extreme levels; how he remained a functioning member of the Alliance was beyond me."

"You seem to feel very strongly about the dealings of the Alliance, Elm," Archerus stated, though clearly not aiming to offend to be abrasive. "Perhaps you should reenter service to be with your son."

"My time to serve has long since passed, my boy. Here in my shop, I'm doing just fine. I can eat, have a drink at the tavern, keep my stock of furs high and have just enough money to pay my landlord. I have had my fill of adventure—now it's my time to settle down and let the young people enjoy their own adventures in the military." Elm replied, giving him a timid smile. He leaned to the right and dug into his pocket, retrieving a polished pewter flask. Uncapping it, the man put it to his lips and took a drink of the poison within. He released a satisfied sigh and offered it to Archerus.

While he remembered what happened the last time he drank, he took it anyway. He had been working all day, drinking little more than water and taking breaks when Elm said it was time to take a break. He deserved this. Putting it to his lips and taking a deeper pull than Elm had taken. The therapeutic sensation burned at the back of his throat, the alcohol far stronger than he had prepared for. It was something different; flavorful, but raw in a way that he could not explain. He enjoyed it thoroughly.

"What was in that, Elm?"

"Grain alcohol. The farmers in Elwynn have been making it for some time now. It's a hell of a homebrew, I'll tell you that much. That particular batch they brewed with cherries to give it that subtle flavor." Elm would accept back his flask from Archerus and screw the cap back on. "It dulls the edge better than anything I've ever drank."

Archerus smiled and looked to the floor, feeling the alcohol burn and soothe his throat as he sat with Elm. Outside the shop, the sun had set and the moon was rising. Old Town had settled into a sleepy state, but the echoes of hammers could still be heard in the district to the north. The dwarves were still hard at work; nothing out of the ordinary.

Elm pushed himself to his feet and rounded the counter to pull out a lockbox filled with gold that he had been paid over the past month or so. He would fill this pouch with a handful of gold and tie it shut, tossing it over the counter to his assistant. Archerus scrambled, but caught it and gave Elm a questioning look, a brow raised.

"You helped me get caught up, so it's only appropriate that I pay you for your work. I didn't count, but I assume it'll be enough." Elm explained, shutting, locking and stowing away the lockbox of gold.

"You don't have to pay me, Elm. I did it so that we had what we needed to head off to Northrend."

"You worked hard. It's probably the same amount that I paid my son, so it shouldn't cause too much of an issue. I owe it to you, anyhow. I don't know how much business I'd lose if I failed to fill this contract. The very thought frightens me!" Elm drew a deep breath and rounded the counter. "Let's get you back to your inn so that you can settle down. From what I recall, you've got a date with those two girls you did this for."

"I can't say I approve of polyamory, but if it suits your needs, then so be it. You do you."

Archerus sighed, pushed himself back to his feet and picked up one of the crates. Elm followed suit with the other and off they went.

The stars were particularly bright that night. He watched them as they passed through the empty and quiet streets. Regardless of how unfortunate the circumstances of their war and crusade might have been, the stars always shined. The candles in heaven were always lit for the preserving humans, so that they could look up and see that those bright beacons were still lit.

Stormwind's canals were also absent of any boats—piloted or docked, but the unimpeded and constant flow of the water calmed him. He could hear Elm just behind him, following with the second crate of their equipment, and they kept a brisk pace until they reached the calm inn they had taken shelter in the night before.

A step inside and they were met with the soft sounds of conversation and people retreating to their rooms for the night. Just as silently as they came in, Archerus gestured for Elm to follow him up the staircase to drop the crates off and go their separate ways. Luckily, he remembered to leave the door to his room unlocked when he departed last. Stepping in, he left his crate at the end of the bed and Elm followed suit.

The older man released a hard sigh and smiled, almost as if he was yet to catch his breath. "Thank you again, Archerus. Please, if you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Of course, Elm. Light bless you and goodnight."

"Light bless you." He said in parting, stepping back and showing himself out of the inn. He shut the door behind him and Archerus would spark the oil lamp sitting next to the bed, releasing a heavy yawn and rolling his shoulders.

The paladin would see when the light filled the room that there was a stack of clothes on the linens of the bed. A black, finely knit tunic, trousers, socks and a pair of long underwear. Everything that he needed to keep from freezing over in Northrend. He left it as it was, though, and instead turned his attention to his bag. It wasn't quite where he left it.

When he left his room after finishing that journal entry, he left his bag on the floor. When he returned, it was sitting on the bed and it was open. The first thing he did was sit down on the bed and rifle through it all, making sure everything was there. His gospel was still there and locked, his water skin, extra bandages and journal were still present. His journal, however, seemed to have been put away in a hurry. One of the pages had been caught in between the front and back, as if somebody had slammed it shut.

He pulled it from its place and crossed one leg over the other, opening it up to the last page he had written in. The writing was still intact, but there was something amiss. Where he had written Astraeah's name, and detailed all that troubled his mind, there were little spots of smudged ink. Upon further investigation by gently running his finger over it, he felt that it was damp. They were teardrops.

Archerus fixed the folded page in his journal and shut it. Almost immediately his head fell into his hands and he rubbed his eyes in complete and utter stress. He tarried very little, though, as a gentle knock could be heard on his door. Whoever it was on the other side knocked twice and in an undemanding manner. He assumed it wasn't whoever it was that had sifted through his bag and cried into his journal.

Letting his hands fall from his face, Archerus muddled through this despair and spoke out, "Come in." His voice was flat, but that could easily be mistaken for him being simply exhausted.

In stepped Astraeah, a cautionary smile on her lips as she shut the door behind her. Her eyes were fixed on the tired expression he wore and did what she could to soften it with her presence and the pleasantries that would follow.

"You worked hard today, Archerus. We were hoping that you'd be done before dark, but we were willing to wait. It meant we had time to prepare to leave tomorrow..." Astraeah folded her hands behind her back, the Scarlet stepping further into the room as her features would further be highlighted by the light of the one lamp that was lit. "Gwenhyfar brought your clothes, but she stayed in here for what felt like an hour. I don't know what she was doing, but when she came out, she seemed depressed. I couldn't figure what for."

"She was muddling through my journal. Reading my thoughts, delving into my secrets. She probably found more than she wanted to."

"What could she have found that would make her this way?"

"A phenomenon that my voice cannot articulate." Archerus turned his gaze up from the floor to the woman who stood before him, "Two phenomena."

Renn hummed to herself and looked down at her boots. She was still wearing the same clothes she wore when he found her in Ironforge, but he expected that much. She was pretty in them, nonetheless. She seemed to be affected by Gwenhyfar's sudden change of mood as well, which did not come at any surprise to Archerus.

"Then let's leave your phenomena behind for the night. Gwenhyfar ate earlier while I waited for you, and she has already gone to bed. It'll just be the two of us."

Archerus wasn't adverse to dinner alone with her. He just wished that the circumstances of their dinner were different. Pulling the small bag of gold out of his pocket, he would stand and gesture for her to lead the way. He wasn't quite presentable for dinner and certainly needed to bathe before bed, but he was too hungry to care at that particular moment. Astraeah led him down to the bar and ordered for the both of them.

Flank steaks and wine. Just what he had ordered for the two of them in Ironforge when he bought her safety from the peeved barkeeper. Just as soon as she placed the order, their drinks had been delivered, but it would take a few more minutes as the meat cooked. Archerus took a seat next to her and took a heavy pull from his tankard. Almost immediately, his comrade raised her hand and put it on his shoulder.

"Take it easy. Nobody's going to take it away from you—there's no need to get rid of it all so quickly." Astraeah advised.

"It takes the edge off. I've been working nonstop since noon, and I wasn't given many breaks. He paid me at the very least, and our commission was completed, so there's nothing for me to complain about."

"You're not at work anymore. The very least you could do is try to relax now. We have a long journey ahead of us... We'll be on that ship for many days, it'll be cold, wet and miserable until we get to Northrend."

"Don't get me too excited." Archerus interjected, a smarmy smirk on his lips. Astraeah jabbed him in the side with her elbow as she'd take a sip from her tankard.

The innkeeper would soon come and deliver their meal to them. Two extra bowls came as well with stewed potatoes and a dash of finely ground pepper over the top. Archerus had not seen a meal that looked so close to what his mother used to make in some time, and he spent a few moments reminiscing memories of a time that had long since passed. Before too much longer, he could hear the scrape of a knife against the smooth stone plate. Astraeah had already begun eating, but the first strip that she cut off she offered to him.

Sure, their cuts were equal in size and thickness and it struck him as odd, but it would be rude to deny her gesture. Leaning over, and opening his mouth, he let her deliver the little bit of meat into his starving maw. Without even acknowledging her gesture, he devoured the beef and savored the smoky flavor. She chuckled and began to cut off another strip, this time for herself. When she would pick her head up to see if her comrade was eating, she would see that he returned her gesture with a bit more generous of a cut of his meal.

A slight blush tinted the cheeks of the paladin as she would mimic his movements, pulling it off his fork and chewing away on it. Her mannerism was impeccable, demonstrating that despite the intense and fanatical indoctrination of the Scarlet Crusade, she retained the teachings of her father. Almost in silence, they continued to eat. Both seemed to be suspended both in hunger and in silent thought. Mulling over their romantic gestures, perhaps.

Slowly but surely, their dinners disappeared from the plates they were presented and four tankards of wine passed from their spot at the bar. Between the two of them, of course—not each. Their tab was paid just as soon as the last round of drinks was finished.

The alcohol seemingly had no affect on either of them, but the therapeutic burn certainly helped Archerus cope with some of the thoughts that ran through his head. Whether they be calming or troubling. The bar emptied of patrons besides the two of them, and before much longer, they would resolve to abandon the bar as well. But not to their rooms.

"The night is still young, and I would like to watch the ships come in to port. Take a walk with me, won't you?" Archerus asked, pushing himself from his seat and extending his hand for her to take. "Besides, those stools will kill your back. It might be good to take a walk before bed."

Astraeah looked at her feet, but soon looked back up to him and put her smaller, but still strong hand in his. Her dainty digits wrapped around his and slid off the stool as the two of them would proceed out into the street. The moon hung over their heads and lit their path as they walked together, keeping a slow and steady pace.

They were very clearly in no rush and took every opportunity to stop and stare down into the canals. The moonlight hit the water in just the right way, making every ripple of the current a beautiful sight. There was very little that could make this night much better than spending a little bit of time like this.

Their goal was evident, though, as they would step off in the direction of the harbor. They would not go down to the harbor, though, and instead would take in the sight of the ships coming into port. Icebreakers and trade ships from Menethil. Ships from Theramore bearing their colors as well.

"We're five-hundred miles from our home, yet I haven't felt this much at home since well before Arthas returned." Astraeah commented, staring out at the rolling waves and the glimmer of the moonlight on its surface, "I have always wanted to see the ocean, but father kept me at home in Stratholme."

"I only ever saw it in paintings and read about it in books." Archerus replied, "I wouldn't trade the sight and majesty of it for a hill of gold."

The great clocktower rang, signaling the passing of the hour. They needed to head back soon if they intended to get a suitable amount of sleep before they would depart. Archerus turned to Astraeah and placed his idle hand on her shoulder to grab her attention. When she would turn her attention to him, he would be able to see that elegant smile. The moon shined down upon the two of them, highlighting her eyes and they shimmered brilliantly in its light.

His hand remained in hers as he would step forward, lean down and press a gentle kiss upon her lips. Nothing too forward and quite chaste, but it was enough. She squeezed his hand and just for a brief moment she held a surprised look in her eyes, but that disappeared in seconds. Without reluctance, the peaceful moment was savored by both, and the kiss quickly became mutual.

It was a moment of isolated elegance and serenity. Both had lost it all, but still they stood. Despite the grievances of his close friend, it would appear as if Archerus was adamant in pursing a romance. There was so much he didn't know, and many secrets he could do without knowing. But for this moment—and perhaps only this moment—the two savored piece.

The moon looked as if it had turned a shade of gold, and the sounds of the crashing waves accented the sound of their kiss ending, only to begin again.