Rise of Silverpine chapter 38
I do not own Warcaft or ASOIF/GoT
Sansa's annoyance grew as she scanned over the reports. Ship construction in Gilneas behind schedule, another fire in one of the abandoned houses in Gilneas city, shortage of raw metal for the war effort and to top it all off, all dwarven engineers assisting with the construction of the new capitol city were recalled to Khaz'modan to assist with the rebuilding of the great dam in Loch Modan. Brushing all those aside, a guild charter popped up, waiting for approval. Scanning though it quickly, she sighed heavily, stamping the bloody thing before moving it to the finished pile.
When the new guildmaster of the Lamenting Hearts was going to receive his permission, she did not particularly care at this moment.
The elder queen was beginning this pattern of things, that with her ever-increasing workload, she was spending less and less time on individual subjects and overtime, even beginning to care less. Back when it was just Silverpine proper, a new guild would have been something big, but now… With everything going on in the world, with everything going on with her, she constantly found her mind someplace else.
Her brother and his failed attack brought only more annoyance to her. It was successful, but maybe he, maybe his men had become too drunk on initial success that they left themselves exposed and in the end, were unable to reach their final objective.
Still, she had little doubt that in the end, the Forsaken will be done for in the Eastern kingdoms, that Lordaeron will be theirs. Nevertheless, the amount of questions that remained was staggering. Staring from the, at first glance, simple succession of Arathi, moving onto the Hinterlands and the troll problem there.
The hinterlands were strategically important location. It was a gaping hole in the northern semi-continent that had access to sea and while at first glance lacking in resource, it still had potential. However, there was a sizable troll population there, few town's worth of them and unlike the Forsaken they were not just soldiers or monsters. There would be elderly, children. The trolls in the hinterlands not been part of the Horde further complicated matters. They could not just ship them over to Kalimdor and forget about them and the young queen was well aware what Westeros's solution to that particular problem would be.
Going further north and into the Plaguelands, she was well aware that simply cleansing the undead would not be enough and her mind began to wonder just how many druids and shamans for how long would it require for the lands to be livable, let alone arable. And with both the Silver hand and the Ebony blade there, she would have to find a way to either integrate them or make them leave. A band of professional warriors in the middle of your territory was never a good idea.
And swinging back to the west, Tirisfal, the end and the beginning of all their problems.
It was well known at this point that the undead capitol was not the city itself, but a labyrinth underneath the former capitol city there. A labyrinth that no one knew the full extent of. For a brief moment, she considered flooding the city with water from the nearby lake, but decided against it. What use do skeletons have to air? And even if the city is taken, even if the Forsaken are undone, that still leaves the Scarlet crusade and possibly Calia Menethil.
Will they then focus on rebuilding Lordaeron or focus on Silverpine as their knew enemy. The crimes of the crusade were well known although few spoke up against them within the Alliance, in no small part due to their constant struggle against the undead. And yet, when all of this is over and if they have the last heir of Lordaeron, would that heir declare a new kingdom, going as far as wanting the old lands back, all the way to the border of Quel'thalas and Alterac or would she "happily" become a vassal of the wolf queens. The red-head could not really imagine it. The might of Lordaeron would have borne some pride, even within Calia and the now older woman, having to bow down before two bumbling idiotic girls half her age seemed unlikely to Sansa.
The girl sighed heavily, getting up from her chair and moving to the amber-colored window, looking across the lake.
It was spring now, the trees blooming yet one would not be really able to tell within Silverpine. And yet, as she looked across the surface of the lake to the barely-visible fortress in the middle of it still held by the Forsaken, the girl wondered whether or not the end of their struggles would be within this year, even if deep down she knew that it would not all end with the second death of the Forsaken. That there would not be a happy ending, not yet at least.
Leaning her head against the glass of the window, she closed her eyes and sighed heavily. She had found that she tended to do that quite often these days. And she was tired, truly tired and in more ways than one. She tried as much as she could not to think of Quel'Thalas despite knowing that she will be forced to do so due to the combined army ever approaching the gates of the elven realm. Either that, or due to something more personal. She had still not told him and she wondered how she should. Once the child was born Sansa was certain that it will be instantly obvious that the father is a blood elf.
Sansa was uncertain what she wanted for her little one. She wanted it, that much she was certain, but that was about it. As her mind raced, giving her another headache, she thought of her half-brother Jon and a part of her became determined to not let her child become like him. She cannot say she hated Jon or even disliked him, but she had little interactions with him and thinking back on it now, she saw just how harshly he was raised without a mother and became determined for her child to have a father. As for her own mother…
No word had come from her yet. It has been over a month and she knew that given everything and that they send the letter the normal way instead using magic, it would probably have just arrived last week.
The queen wondered whether or not her mother would answer the call or turn her back away in horror, disgust and shame. Nevertheless, she knew that with each passing day an unknown fear grew within her and she found herself really missing and above all, needing her mother.
'You are the Elune-damned queen of this bloody kingdom! Stop crying for mommy and get a grip!' Sansa whispered harshly to herself, yet was unable to follow her own advice.
Her began thinking of people. Of those she can turn for help towards. Her sister would scould her and in the end, she was uncertain what advice she could offer. Her father… she loved him, but he perhaps would be too disappointed and too stuck in the old ways to give her anything useful. As for Aegwynn, her mentor would be perhaps a good advice, but she had disappeared to somewhere. She was not lost like Sansa was, but she said she was leaving on business and before anyone can ask for where, she was gone.
Racking her brain for a solution she found an unlikely candidate. Varian Wrynn. Despite his harsh appearance, the main was fair and straight forward and he was raising Anduin alone. For a moment she felt silly, thinking about discussing her baby with the high king of the entire Alliance, and yet something was telling her that this was the right choice.
A long sigh escaped her again. She was uncertain how her finicky stomach will handle the week at sea that awaited her.
The combined Westerosi-Silverpine force stood before the stone bridge that led into Stratholme. To the far west, the plaguewood was still burning, having been decided that the quickest and safest way to deal with giant poisonous mushrooms was to simply lit the whole place ablaze.
"How has the fire spread to the city?" questioned aloud one of the northern lords that was present at the front as the leaders waited for the army to prepare behind them. The massive defacto forest fire had the added benefit of incinerating most of the undead in its path, leaving only ash behind.
"It has been on fire since the third war." Idly returned Arya, looking almost bored as she sat near an old rusted and heavily bent lamppost. Before the lord can even retort, having already seen his disbelieving look, Arya cut him off.
"You have been fighting undead for months now. Is a fire lasting as long as this really that much of an issue?" rhetorically questioned the younger queen.
"So what's your plan? We cannot really set it ablaze. I mean, we can, but I doubt it will get us far." Asked Eddard, clad in simplistic plate and a long-sword at his side.
"We will deal with the fire later on. A large force of the Argent crusade will enter through the side gate and straight into the inner parts of the city." returned the dark-haired girl, pointing idly to the east without really looking. "They will take care of the leadership and leave most of the grunt work to us. Several guilds have already infiltrated the city on several occasions and killed anyone worth noting. There should be a handful of cultists in the city center and once the crusaders kill them, the rest should follow."
"So why not wait?" questioned another nameless lord, a younger one. "I mean if once the argent crusade is finished, all undead die, there should be no need for us to go in there and risk our lives."
Sighing audible, Arya stated in a loud voice without turning back.
"Because once the crusaders make their presence known, the necromancers will draw all forces towards them. Which will unsurprisingly lead to a very messy end. And all this would accomplish is giving those robed freaks powerful champions to resurrect." She paused to catch her breath "Besides, there should be not that many undead remaining in out sector of the city, with the constant guild runs and the Scarlets having had a presence until not that long ago." It came as a surprise to everyone involved having to learn that the Scarlet crusade was reduced to just Hearthglen and the monastery in Tirisfal. Tyr's Hand was especially of a surprise seeing as there were not even signs of conflict within the fortress town. It was almost reminiscent of the early days of the scourge and the whole plague grain fiasco.
"And finally out of the Plaguelands." Gravely stated old Karstark.
"Not quite." Returned Arya. "There is still a town to the west. Terrordale or something. And I have heard rumors of a tunnel connecting this side all the way to the river next to Hearthglen.
"All this endless trekking." Complained the lord, having heard that the end is not as near as he had hoped.
"Would you rather be with the southerners in the Highlands? I've read a report that stated that a good third of their army is dead." The younger queen finally turned, flashing him an uncharacteristic grin. "Consider yourself lucky."
"Oh, and by the way, there is still Scholomance. And then onto Tirisfal." Happily chimed in in the younger lord from before, drawing the glare of Karstark.
When you are the lucky one for attacking an undead city, you know things are bad.
I know that there were some people not really happy where I took Sansa's character, that I made her act on impulse/lust and that I made her pregnant (that sounded wrong) and yes, I am highly interested in writing and reading about strong female characters. Most of my stories are about such. But what I am more interested in is reading about realistic characters. I wanted Arya and Sansa, heck even Elida, to be realistic, to make mistakes, to fail, to be human and not be just another Mary Sue. Having re-read the story, I realize that I have failed that (aka, they are too perfect) and yet, I will still try. I am not going to go full Murphy's law on them, but still. Just think about what is happening in this chapter alone, a girl of not even twenty is going to a man at least twice her age for child advice. A man that is not even her family while her entire blood family is available to confined in.
Hope you enjoyed it.
Thank you for reading.