Marching out

Dawn stole on Alterac, rising over the snowy peaks, turning them from shapely lumps of darkness into a glorious array of peaks, shimmering golden as they took in the rays of the rising sun. Erich could not help but admire the morning each day he woke up. From his quarters, he had an excellent view of the mountains. A few moments of peace, where the world seemed to be still underneath the vast expanse of the sky. Those few moments were special because his mind was completely empty. He would feel like a child, at awe with the infinite horizons that stretched out before him. Then his daily slog of drilling the troops would begin.

Today, however was a special day. A delegation from the Alliance had arrived a few days ago, formally offering the Kingdom of Alterac a place back in the Alliance. Isiden Perenolde had been stately and measured when he had received it in his refurbished court. In his private study however, the man had hugged Erich and had thanked him for making it possible. His worth nightmare had proven to be false. A small test of loyalty was all the High King required to fully reinstate Alterac into the Alliance. Two thousand soldiers of Alterac would be needed to defend a distant kingdom called Theramore. In return the Alliance would help defend Alterac with three thousand soldiers.

Erich had said it was an excellent idea. They would be ready to depart as soon as he had finalised the companies of men that he wanted to pick. From that moment on, his life – and those of his underlings had been of dinners and meeting people, along with studying maps of Theramore and drill while he was sober. The fact that they would be fighting orcs had galvanised his men. Tilean or Imperial, the hatred for greenskins ran deep in their veins. They did not even seem to mind that they would be sailing for weeks, just as long as they were protecting humans from orcs, while getting paid for it. They might be mercenaries, but when all was said and done, killing Greenskins was a patriotic and civic duty for every one of them.

The three companies – or regiments as they were being called now in accordance with Imperial standards of state troop companies – were a mixed bunch. One of them, by far the best men and women he had trained were led by none other than Lorna Crowley. She was intelligent, and efficient and showed an amount of tactical flexibility and effectiveness that would have impressed even Kurt Helborg. The regiment, made up of Gilneans and a few Alterac peasants had the honour of being the first unit presented with their own own colours. A snarling wolf's head with crossed handguns made up the regimental standard of the First Gilnean Regiment.

The second regiment Erich had selected had been an Alterac one. Led by a diligent and obedient old veteran named Edward Morley, the soldiers had perfected their drill to an extent that would have made the Nuln Greatswords feel envious. Their regimental colour was a hawk, perched on the top of a snow capped mountain peak.

The third one had been the most curious of the bunch. Gilneans were not the only ones who had been trickling into the newly formed kingdom. A small groups of people had taken over the town of Strahnbrad which had been abandoned in favour of the capital. What had surprised Erich had been the fact that they were coming from the north. From what he had been told, the lands north of Alterac firmly belonged to the undead monsters like the forsaken. It would seem like much of Sylvania, the abominations kept humans as cattle to toy with. Scarcely better than beasts, they had kicked and screamed when Erich had led his splendid little army to retake the town. Their leader, a man with a wild mop of golden hair and armed with a mixture of chain and plate had come down to parley.

Erich had laid down the king's terms. Alterac was open to all who acknowledged the sovereign borders of the land, and pledged to serve house Perenolde while they lived there. He had noted with grim satisfaction that what fight that the people might have had had gone away when the promise of safety and shelter had been given to them. They were some of the last remaining humans of Lordaeron, who had been fighting the undead for years. Their fanaticism bordered on the macabre glee of witch hunters.

Isiden Perenolde was an amiable man. He promised to grant them the town of Strahnbrad if they swore to accept him as their ruler. In turn they would be under the aegis of the Alliance and have a chance of having farmland to till. It was enough to forsake their previous allegiances. They had belonged to an order called the Scarlet Crusade. Captain Dawnbreeze had been livid when she had heard that they too had been allowed into the nation. Still, warm bodies were warm bodies, and could be taxed or levied. By some strange twist of fate it would seem that Luigi shared more than a passing resemblance to the last prince of Lordaeron. It was therefore decided that he would be in charge of drilling them.

The third regiment that was to go to Theramore was a much more mixed force, with nearly half of them women. Their responsiveness was barely adequate, and they had the rather disturbing urge to charge in with their pikes instead of standing their ground and advancing in a co-ordinated manner. Their discipline however was impeccable, and they marched through the snow and mud without a single complaint even when Erich's mercenaries were grumbling. Their standard was a stylised L, pure white in colour on a background of scarlet.

This was the force with which Erich was to aid a certain Sorceress named Jaina Proudmoore in the defense of her realm. From what the ambassadors had told of her, she seemed like an uncommonly resourceful person. She had led much of the survivors of Lordaeron to establish a new polity across the water. Her city was the heart of the Alliance, where she had negotiated with the Night Elves and had welcomed them. It was also the single major port that the Alliance had on Kalimdor's east.

As far as the ambassadors knew, the orcs had not even begun to mobilize, but that meant nothing. Generations of experience fighting with the greenskins had taught the men of the old world that the orcs were like a force of nature. Supplies and timetables did not matter to them. When they were in the right frenzy for destruction, they would move as inexorably as the tides themselves. Time was off the essence. The plan for their deployment was straightforward. They were to march to Southshore, where several transport ships would ship them to the city of Theramore. Depending on the response of the greenskin Horde as the enemy was being referred to, they would either dig into the city or strike out for offensive battles.

Erich browsed over the maps that the ambassadors had given him one more time. The city of Theramore had been designed well. Unless there was a major naval blockade of the city, it would be impossible to starve the city into surrender. The walls were thick and had several heavy cannons mounted upon them, making the storming of the walls a long and bloody affair. Nor were they supposed to be the only soldiers there. Caledra had been joining him recently in his room to help him with military insignias and general questions. Erich rather enjoyed her presence and it was becoming harder to maintain an air of sternness with her.

Still, her knowledge was valuable. It seemed that Stormwind was sending an elite force – the Seventh Legion to help bolster the the ranks. From what Erich had seen so far of the Alliance's soldiers, he had not been impressed. Yes, they were armed and armoured so heavily that they made the reiksguard look like free company militias. At the same time their tactics barely evolved beyond a simple shield wall. Any advantage they would have in armour would be negated by close range handgun fire, and their shield wall would be of little help against rows upon rows of pikes and halberds. Maybe this Seventh Legion had more advanced tactics than the regular forces of Stormwind.

He simply shrugged and rolled up the maps before putting them in his knapsack. It was time to leave. Most of his gear was to be left in his quarters in the city. Even as he walked down to the parlour of the house, the sounds of soldiers rising in attention. Luigi was there, in his suit of dwarf forged half plate. His pistol – a tilean firelock – hung by his hip, with an estalian blade adorning his other hip. He leaned on a pillar for support and yawned. Always a late riser, the young man hated getting dressed before dawn.

Lorna Crowley was also present. As always she had put a rose in her long hair, which was the only vanity she had. The rest of her clothes was a mixture of officer's armour, leather and silk cloth and marching boots similar to those worn by soldiers. She looked wide awake and a little bit excited. It was her first command after all. Erich idly wondered how much she would like it when soldiers around her looked at her for guidance in the thick of battle.

Edward Morley was similarly dressed, but he had an enclosed helmet that was popular amongst the soldiers of the alliance tucked under his arm. A shield was on his back, and a broadsword was ready on his hip. His posture was firm and ready. A life of military service had made him stand ramrod straight in the presence of superior officers.

The last officer awaiting him was the leader of the First Lordaeron Regiment. He had shaved his wild beard, and wore his long blond hair in a ponytail, but Captain Josiah Miller still had a spark of madness in his eyes that did not seem to disappear. Erich did not doubt that it would engulf him in the heat of battle. He needed to be worked upon.

"Lieutenant von Pavona, are the troops assembled?" Erich asked in a firm voice. While it was a polite nothingness, he had to admit, the spectacle of military decorum was rather endearing in it's own way.

Luigi held himself straight and saluted, a gesture that was followed by the three others. "Yes, Grande Capitan. We await your orders to march."

Part of the regimental structure had been giving everyone a rank. Luigi was his adjutant, which meant that he needed to give him a second name. The boy was born in a brothel and had spent just over half of his life there before tagging along with Erich and his men. Naming him after the city had been a no brainer. Similarly, Erich had been promoted to the rank of Grand Captain. He knew that the title meant nothing. After all, he was to be subordinate to this Proudmoore woman. Still the rank ensured that it was he who would have command of the Alterac contingent.

Erich cleared his throat. "At ease, officers. Take your positions. Lead your regiments, and camp at twilight. Dismissed."

The march out of the city was as ceremonial as it was necessary. The newly remade kingdom of Alterac was sending it's sons and daughters to war. It was to be a spectacle that would long be remembered and talked about. When the people of the city would see the army on the march, they would know that now and forever, when the Alliance was threatened by the horde, they had marched to the aid of their kin. The regiments had been chosen for the same reason. Despite the outward show of unity, Isiden Perenolde knew that his rule was a small step away from total collapse. The peoples of Lordaeron, Gilneas and Alterac mistrusted each other. While they had all accepted his rule, they would have knives out for each other. They needed to know that they were working together. And what better way to show their new found unity than by fighting against a common foe side by side, under the banner of the Alliance.

Erich had scarcely taken his place when the neigh of a horse brought his attention to the stables. Then she appeared riding a splendid white horse, and carrying a banner with the golden lion's face on a field of blue. Caledra Dawnbreeze had always looked stunning, but now she looked as though she was a goddess in the flesh. Her long, golden hair flowed freely to the small of her back, and the light bits of colour she had added to her lips and her cheeks made the pale alabaster of her skin stand out even more. Erich had read stories and listened to ballads about the mysterious and alluring beauty of the fay folk. Until this moment, he had regarded them as the superstitiousness of peasants. Now he realised how true they had been, and how bad their descriptions were.

In the early morning light, Caledra looked like an extension of the sun itself, clothed in blue and gold and carrying a banner. Words would have failed to describe her ethereal beauty, and the most talented painter would run out of brushes before even capturing a tiny amount of the rapturous presence before her. Erich's heart began to beat faster and he felt a flush creeping up his cheek. To his terror, Caledra turned her mount towards Erich and slowly trotted towards him. With each movement of the horse, her body shook artfully. Erich's face began to get warmer as she approached closer. When she greeted him with a smile, Erich felt that his nose was going to bleed from all the blood rushing to his face.

He managed to return her greeting. Thankfully she moved her horse a small distance ahead of him and raised a pale and shapely arm to start the procession. Instinct took over. With a long and fluid movement he withdrew his sword from his scabbard and for good measure twirled it in his arm. When Captain Dawnbreeze began to move at a leisurely trot, Erich raised his sword high above his head and brought it down. The drummers began to set the beat, a quick light-hearted one that suited a march almost perfectly, the fifers picked up the tune and the column began to march with Erich at his head.

They marched from the barracks to the front of the castle. The soldiers of the regiments that were to remain in Alterac stood at rapt attention and saluted their comrades in arms. Slowly, the barrack gates began to open, and Erich was surprised to see the change wrought upon Alterac city in so small a time.

Banners of the Alliance and Alterac hung from every wall and battlement of the castle and the larger buildings of the city. The road and walkways were now all made of cobbled stone and houses that had been gutted or ruined now had smoke belching out of chimneys. It had been his handiwork. Isiden Perenolde might be a lot of things, but he was an excellent governor. All the money collected from the nobles and his treasury had gone a long way to repairing the city. Trade had begun to flow into the city, and people had more to eat than rationed ogre meat. Erich felt oddly proud of himself.

Isiden Perenolde was standing at one of the lower battlements, with the ambassadors from Stormwind, Ironforge and Darnassus. Their faces were clearly visible, and when Erich raised his sword to acknowledge their presence, his entire company of mercenaries snapped their head to the right simultaneously. It was doubtless impressive, as he could tell from the childish smile of the King and the wide eyed amazement of the ambassadors.

Nor was the king the only audience. The main thoroughfare had just enough place for the column to march through, while the rest were filled with cheering crowds and curious onlookers. Hundreds, maybe thousands of flowers and petals were thrown on the road out of the city, causing a few of the men to sneeze. Still, the gesture was touching. At this moment, the eyes of an entire people was upon them, and the pressure not to quail under the gaze was immense. Subconscious thoughts of this body of men and women, lying dead on a far away swampy land entered Erich's mind. He dismissed them. It was his duty to ensure that they returned in good strength.

"We are making history here Capitan." Luigi's voice said, from a yard behind.

"So we are. How do you like your new name, lad?" Erich asked in turn.

"It feels cumbersome and unwieldy. Like the first time I wore my armour." The younger man replied. Erich smiled. It was a very apt comparison. Based on Luigi's humble birth, most would have assumed that the boy had been a simple catamite. Erich had seen the curiosity and intelligence behind those bright green eyes and the mop of golden hair. Throughout the years, Luigi had surprised him with his brightness. A rose growing in a pile of dung, as his father would have said. But the boy had become so much more to him now.

"I look forward to see you grow into it." Was all he managed to say.

As the freshly repaired gates of Alterac opened, Erich's heart leapt. The colours of all the regiments that would be going off to war had been hung on the gate's tower. Highest amongst them was his family crest, fluttering gaily in the morning breeze. It was something his father had said to him often. A pipe dream, he had muttered in his rebellious moods. But here it was. The crest of Solland flew over the gates of a city once more. He gulped and stopped for a moment, drinking in the sight.

Then they marched on, out of the city and towards the lowlands of hillsbrad, with fife and drum setting a rhythm to the march.

For the first time in years, Erich Von Peiper felt completely at peace.

Caledra carefully tied her horse to the wagon's saddling post. A slice of apple appeared in her hands and the faithful animal accepted it happily, chewing on it as she removed the saddle from it's back. She tucked the saddle under her arm and began to make her way through the bustle of the camp. Laughing soldiers shared meals of hard bread, salted meat and cheese around campfires. Some of the more musically inclined men and women struck up impromptu beats with small, home made instruments or even with their hands and feet. The pleasantly inane buzzing of hundreds of voices engaged in conversation hummed in her ears, and she rather enjoyed when some of the less drunk men and women would recognize her rank and salute her. She walked all the way to the back of the camp, where all the officers were quartered. As she stood by Crowley's tent, Caledra was treated to a spectacular view.

The sun was setting over the mountains of Alterac to their north, for they were now in the warmer foothills of Hillsbrad. Spring was in it's full splendour this south of the mountains. The scent of flowers and trees filled her nostrils, and brought back memories of Southern Quel'Thalas. At the height of their might, the seasons had no hold over the land. Winter brought with it a pleasant cool breeze. Here, exposed to the elements, there was something fierce about the natural world. A sense of purpose filled the land on which the army of Alterac now trod. The seasons would continue their slow dance long after the humans were dead and gone. Long after she was dead and gone.

Caledra turned to walk to Erich's camp, curious about the noise coming from within. Some laughter and boasting in both common and reikspiel were the most of it. A young human, whose voice had scarcely begun to break stood nervously outside. A page by all accounts. His well tailored clothes, posture and neatly combed auburn hair spoke of noble birth, and the way he quivered as he stood in the breeze made it clear that he took his banner carrying duty very seriously.

The burly mercenary who had carried the mercenary flag had resigned from his post. Now, he lived in Alterac, working underneath Talaena, making parts with his new Gilnean wife. Erich had been in two minds when he had let the man go. He had paid for the wedding of course, and had joked loudly in the inn where the reception had taken place. At the same time, the slight sense of disappointment when he saw the page was enough to see that he was not completely happy with losing a member of his company.

Caledra walked up to him and gently brushed his head with her hand. The boy turned as red as beet and stammered something she could not make out. "Is the Captain busy?"

"Y-yes, Captain D-dawnbreeze. He is going through the day's briefing with the regimental officers." The boy managed to say.

"Then you will not mind if I go in would you?"

"N-no."

She rubbed his head once more and walked in. Even as her hand reached for the tent flaps, her ears picked up a half erotic – half disbelieving sigh from the page's lips, and the sound of him falling flat on his rear. It would seem that the boy had taken a fancy to her.

Erich's voice came clearly as she strode into the tent. "For the last time, that powder is expensive. I will not have people starting fires with it. Use flint and tinder."

Half a dozen people sat around a table, while Erich stood a slight distance away Each of the regimental leaders sat on a chair with mugs of ale and plates filled with crumbs lying in front of them. Luigi, Hans and Littorio were also present.

"Grand Captain, with all due respect, it is hard to light the cook fires in this weather. The logs are damp and we tried using tinder before we got that barrel." An older man in chain mail was saying.

"An entire barrel? What were your men trying to do, make a bonfire the size of the bloody camp!"

"The only time they handle powder is when they are firing the guns, Grand Captain. I will tell them to be more careful next time."

Erich simply shook his head. "Fine. Use powder to light fires. But from now on, my men will be doing the distribution." He cracked his knuckles before continuing in Reikspiel, "Littorio. You and some of your more trusted boys are going to be distributing the powder. Make sure that it all comes from a single barrel. We have a limited supply of it, and Myrmidia knows that in the hands of this rabble we would be clubbing orcs with the wooden stocks when we get to the fighting." The older man simply nodded.

"Hans. Take some of the most sober lads that you have and set a double guard around the powder barrels. If some idiot wants fireworks give him a thrashing and until he gets sober."

"The lads won't like staying up at night, Erich."

"Then tell them they can sleep in the food carts all day. Maybe tell them to pretend that they are going to Middenheim from their Drakwald hovels. Just don't let the idiots eat all the food." Erich snapped.

Hans laughed, his golden handlebar moustache and sideburns quivering. "No problem. Do you mind if I keep watch as well?"

"Most certainly not. You, good servant of Ulrich are going to march with your halberdiers until we make camp."

Erich then changed back to common. "I say, does anyone else have anything else to pester me with?"

No one replied.

"Good. Have a good evening everyone. We awake an hour before dawn. You know how it works."

Everyone began to leave. Hidden as she was in the shadows of the tent, Caledra felt curious. What was he going to do now?

As if he was replying to the question in her mind, Erich poured a glass of rum and drank it in one go. Then he sat down on an empty bench and brought out a parchment from his travelling bag. Caledra's eyes detected the broken seal of theramore on the paper. Erich unfolded it and kept a candle at the edges to prevent it from rolling up. Then he brought out a piece of empty parchment and began to scribble on it.

She sighed and left the tent. Erich Von Peiper had an almost singleminded devotion to his craft. Caledra had been quite surprised when she had seen Erich's face turn red when he saw her carrying the Alliance banner at the head of the procession. Caledra had for some reason quite enjoyed his attentions. The fact that someone so focused as him could be distracted by her was a pleasant surprise. It would seem that it had been momentary. She would be better off getting some sleep. She had heard the man. For a mercenary, Erich was a stickler for punctuality.

As a gentle breeze wafted through her hair, Caledra felt alert. She was just a few paces ahead of the column, and could clearly hear the marching song they were playing. Like all songs in Reikspiel, it was grim and dark, with enough gallows humour to make her feel ill. The tune itself was cheery enough for a song that was welcoming spring, but the lyrics were fatalistic. From what she could make of it, the song welcomed spring, plaintively thanking strange gods that the snows of the mountain passes were melting, and the rivers were flowing. Then it turned grimmer. Things stirred underneath the soil, scurrying away with prisoners. Ratfolk were bursting out of the sewers, the dead were leaving their graves to wage war on the living, and with the opening of the passes, Orcs were coming to the land to pillage and burn.

She quickly turned to look at the mercenaries. While she had never noticed it before, Caledra was struck by the realisation how lean and weather beaten their faces looked. The roads were wide enough for two regiments to march on at a time, and the supply wagons were in the centre, where they could be easily protected.

The remnants of the scarlet crusade were marching side by side with the mercenaries. She knew about the scarlet crusade. Fanatical to the point of insanity, they had been all but wiped out by the scourge, the horde and the alliance. Their resolve made negotiations with them impossible. Even now, they had torn down parts of Strahnbrad to build a new place. Josiah Miller said that they were dedicating it to the light and Alterac to thank for their deliverance, but something about it felt wrong. From what she had seen, when it was finished, half the town of Strahnbrad would be part of the Cathedral of the Second Dawn.

And yet, for all their grim fanaticism, the men and women of the Scarlet Crusade barely seemed to come close to the sheer determination of Erich's men. Every step they made was without complaint. Even the drummers that had been assigned to them had begun to take on some of their brooding aura. It did not help that much of their armour and trinkets were in the shape of human skulls. They looked half like Death Knights themselves when they surrounded themselves with the paraphernalia of death. She had also seen them fight. Whether it be Ogre or Forsaken bearing down upon them they had held their nerve, methodically pushing with their pikes and stabbing the foe. In the midst of battle, they had no concept of valour or honour. They were simply dealing with their trade in the most brutal and efficient manner possible. It also had the repercussion of singing songs of death and loved ones eventually forgetting them as they lay dying on far away battlefields. Their souls themselves seemed to be afflicted by the spectre of constant warfare.

Caledra wondered what these Tileans and Imperial humans would be like if the shadow of death were lifted from their souls. Erich in particular, on the rare occasions that he smiled seemed rather fetching. He was not unhandsome to look at, but his sharp cheekbones, sea grey eyes, pale skin and dark hair made him look like a man who was always haunted. In his own way, he reminded her of her brother. Determined was the word she would have used for the both of them. Talaena had inherited her father's trait. As for Erich, it seemed that he had come to the conclusion that his heir, Luigi was cut from different cloth than him. The Mercenary commander showed his second in command some affectation and seemed to be less uptight in the younger man's presence.

On the fourth day of the march, over halfway through through the lowlands of hillsbrad. they came upon an army marching the other way. Just like them, it flew the banner of the Alliance. That was where the similarities ended. Where the army of Gilneas seemed like a rag tag group of men wearing patchwork mail, plate and everyday clothes dyed different colours, the forces of the Alliance seemed like they had stepped out of the Elwynn barracks an hour ago. Hundreds of men and women encased in Steel armour and carrying the Heraldry of Stormwind marched at a stately pace. At the forefront were a company of knights, over two hundred men strong. Their barded warhorses champed at the ground when the two armies faced each other. The road was too narrow for both of them.

A rider, a messenger in the mithril armour of a knight-captain rode forth on her warhorse and stood in front of Caledra. "Who are you, and where are you going?"

"I am the Alliance Liaison for the Alterac army that has been ordered to go to Theramore for helping with the War effort in Kalimdor."

In response the captain nodded and went back to the front of her column, talking to the general of the Alliance army, a large and muscular human wearing Truesilver plate armour with golden spaulders in the shape of gryphon's heads. After a moment he sauntered over on his warhorse. "Ah, Captain Dawnbreeze I presume. May I speak to the commander leading this ah...army?"

As it turned out Caledra did not have to tell Erich anything. Impatient at the delay, he walked over to her and asked. "Captain Dawnbreeze. May I ask what is going on here?"

She introduced Erich to General Walter Masterston of the Stormwind, and after a very brief exchange of pleasantries, the mounted general said. "Now, then. Move your men out of the road. We have to reach Alterac to defend the newest member of the Alliance." The way he said the last sentence was designed to provoke.

For his part Erich dodged it as gracefully as he could – which meant he said something equally outrageous. "Why don't you move your men out of the road, General? My forces have a ship to catch."

The patronizing smile that Masterston had wore on his face slowly evaporated, replaced by a grimace. "My army is bigger than yours." He said, the words clearly meant as a warning.

With all the grace of a murloc out of water, Erich countered, "Which is why I am asking you to move your men out of the road. We have the smaller force. We can march faster than you."

Masterton thundered. "This army was sent by the High King of the Alliance as a gesture of goodwill and aid to the newly rebuilt nation of Alterac to help secure your borders against the Horde. You will move out of the way right this instant, commander."

Erich replied in his firmest tones. "This army was sent by the King of Alterac to aid the fellow nation of Theramore against the Horde. This army needs to reach Southshore in the next three days or otherwise we miss the ships that will take us there."

To his credit, Masterston beckoned one of his aides over. They looked over several pieces of parchment before he replied. "There will be another flotilla resting arriving in Southshore the next week to transport supplies to Theramore. Your 'forces' can sail with them. Now, move aside or I will be forced to arrest your poorly equipped rabble."

There was a hint of pomposity in his voice that seemed to be grating on Erich. It was he who had trained them, and he had been proud of it too. Caledra watched in horror as Erich clenched his sword hand for a few moments. The fool couldn't be thinking of drawing swords against an Alliance General was he?

At the last moment, much to her relief, Erich simply sighed and signalled his men to move off the road. Almost as if they were a single creature, the men moved off the road with their supply train. After a moment, without a backward glance, General Walter Masterston simply trotted back to the front of his column and resumed his march. The rows upon rows of Stormwind Troops backed by dwarf riflemen and artillery filled the road as far as her eyes could see. It would take them half the day to cross, and the sun would set by then.

It was something Erich had also realized. His men were already at work unloading the supply wagons and setting up camp. By the time the leading companies of Stormwind footmen had gone past them, the men were already settling down for the night. Marching in the dark was foolish, Erich claimed. For their part, the men and women under him were happy that they would not be marching for hours.

Erich simply stood outside the palisade, coolly watching the rows upon rows of Alliance troops march towards Alterac. When Caledra walked up to him, she heard him mutter, "Rabble eh? At least we do not run head first into an ambush when marching through enemy lands."

"Erich, Are you all right?" She laid an arm upon his shoulder.

The reaction was surprising. Erich turned to look at her, and his face flushed. He stammered something in Reikspiel before taking a deep breath. "Yes. I am fine, Captain Dawnbreeze." He nodded vigorously to accentuate his reply. Then he continued. "I suppose Masterston can be forgiven. Compared to his troops, my boys and girls do look as ill equipped as any peasant rabble."

"Don't let it get to your head Erich. After all, the armies of Stormwind did fight alongside you at Pyrewood." It was all she could say. They did hand the seemingly unstoppable Forsaken - led by no other a personage than her former commander, Sylvanas Windrunner – a crushing defeat. Still, that was partly due to luck. The forsaken had left most of their blight on the wrong side of the Greymane wall, and it had been a miracle that the Gilneas Liberation Front had managed to destroy the Forsaken Siege train. Otherwise the mercenaries, for all their discipline would have died horribly.

"I just hope that we make it to Theramore in time." Was all Erich said after a moment of silence.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is pretty simple. The city is well defended from both land and sea. Assaulting it will be a problem for even the most determined orc. I don't want to turn up the battle, only to see the Orc army broken at it's gates." He seemed pretty earnest when he said that. Caledra smiled. It would seem Erich Von Peiper had more faith in Jaina Proudmoore's kingdom than the young ruler herself had.

"There will be plenty of battles in Kalimdor, Erich. Besides, Theramore is a powerful city with strong walls manned by some of the bravest humans and high elves. Being late by a week will not make it disappear off the face of Azeroth."

Machcia, I am glad you noticed that. My line of thought was that the party worked together to defeat deathwing and protect Wyrmrest temple. Arguing over who got the kill on Deathwing would be beyond them. Even though it was Serra who melted the Elementium jaw off, the actual kill was done by Thrall/Go'el. If anyone would credit for saving the world it would be him. Plus I absolutely hate shoving my characters into the centre of every major story point. Suffice to say, the people who fought alongside her know that Serra is a powerful mage. A select few people know the truth about her, mostly the Dragon Aspects and the Draenei Paladin.

Dios de la nada, Blizzard actually managed to sneak in some offhand numbers in chronicle volume three. There were nine thousand alliance and horde forces at the battle of the Wrathgate, which of course opens another can of worms about how the forsaken were suddenly able to blight Nine Thousand people with their edgy weapons. I mean they launched the blight off catapults not airburst shells.

Captndetergent, glad you liked it the chapter. I wrote the story because I wondered what it would be like for characters in warhammer fantasy to interact with a roughy similar setting that has a lot more modern moral ideas behind it. Regarding the war of the beard, most high elves agree that Caledor II was a twat who needlessly escalated things to a point of no return and lost them their colonies. They also think that they are not at fault, but it is an unfortunate condition of the dwarf's stubbornness and Caledor's incompetence that lost them that war. Dwarfs are still inferior to an elf though.

patiflops2, I am happy that you enjoyed it.