Auriana
Another three days passed. The Tournament, unsurprisingly, had been formally cancelled in the wake of the nerubian attack, with all those who had been in attendance at last permitted to return to their home cities after having given their witness statements. Varian and Auriana themselves had been home in Stormwind for the last two nights, though they had not been able to properly relax and enjoy their return to the comforts of the Keep. The persons responsible for the catastrophe at the Tournament were still at large, and neither Auriana nor Varian would rest easy until they were finally caught.
As promised, Mathias Shaw had had his agents quickly and quietly spirit Elanore Hooper's family away from their farm, and replaced them with SI:7 doubles so as not to arouse suspicion. He had also arranged a time for Elanore to discreetly view the body that Auriana and Vol'jin had discovered out on the ice in Northrend. Elanore had confirmed that it was the very same man who had threatened her in Redridge; the man who she had followed back to Anguile's manor house after he had blackmailed her into assisting in the theft of the magebane from Dalaran's vaults. They still weren't entirely sure why Anguile's man had been killed, or by whom, but they had nevertheless collected enough evidence to finally make their first move against the deceitful Duke.
Earlier that morning, Shaw had led a team of SI:7 rogues and Stormwind crown guards to Anguile's estate in the Redridge Mountains to deliver a warrant signed by Stormwind's Master of Laws. The warrant demanded access to Anguile's estate and records so that they might search for further evidence of his wrongdoing. It was Auriana's firm intention to join in Anguile's interrogation - if they were going to finally bring the man to justice, then she damn well wanted to be there - though Varian had insisted she allow Shaw's team to go on ahead to secure the manor prior to her arrival.
Auriana had agreed, or at the very least had not objected overmuch, and so it was that she found herself lagging a couple of hours behind the main group as she prepared herself for the journey to Redridge. She was still tired from her efforts at the Tournament, though not as bone-weary as she had been immediately following the battle with the nerubians. Her magical strength was returning, albeit slowly, and while she was certainly not up for a proper fight, she was no longer one simple spell away from collapse, either.
Sighing, Auriana turned her head from side to side as she scrutinised her reflection in the mirror. Her hair had been braided and bound in an elegant knot at the nape of her neck, and a thin gold circlet graced her brow. She wore a high-necked, long-tailed coat of soft cream wool and fine gold embroidery over deep burgundy breeches and tall brown boots. It was a more elaborate riding outfit than she would have ordinarily chosen, but she understood the importance of her appearance in the context. She looked like a queen, at least, even if she didn't strictly feel like one.
"I don't like this," Varian grumbled.
Auriana glanced back at him back over her shoulder, narrowly resisting the urge to tease him about not liking anything. He was seated propped up against the myriad pillows that decorated their bed, a pile of warm furs spread haphazardly over his long legs. His chest was bare and his arms were folded, and his general demeanour was not dissimilar to that of a giant, grumpy child. He was not to join Auriana on the mission to Redridge, having been thoroughly reamed out by both Anduin and the royal healers upon their return to Stormwind. Apparently, his injuries were far worse than he had made out to Auriana back in Northrend, and he had set himself back considerably by stomping all about the Tournament.
"Varian, we've already had this argument. You said I could go," she pointed out.
"Yes, well, it wouldn't be the first time I've disagreed with myself, now would it?" Varian let out a derisive snort, and his frown deepened.
"I'll be surrounded by dozens of guards, not to mention just about half of SI:7."
"And for an ordinary person, that would be enough. But you're… you," Varian countered. "You attract trouble like funnel cakes attract children at the Darkmoon Faire."
"Because I'm sweet and delicious?"
Auriana hoped Varian might at least smile, but lips remained pursed and his expression dour.
"Auri, please. Don't make light of this."
"I'm not making light of anything," she assured him, making a great demonstration of securing her sword and scabbard around her waist. "I know how important today is, but I can't concentrate on what I need to do if I'm half-expecting you to burst through the door at any moment because you don't trust your own men to protect me."
"Maybe I ought to come, then," Varian suggested, pushing himself further upright and reaching for the blankets covering his lower half.
"No. The healers were very explicit - you need to stay off that leg. You've done quite enough damage already."
Auriana did not say so out loud, but she was glad that Varian had been forced to remain in the Keep. She had come far too close to losing him, and it had affected her deeply. Every night for the last three, she had awoken in a panic; an anguished scream dying on her lips as she fumbled in the dark to find him. Varian, fortunately, had thus far been spared from waking, having been driven into a deep torpor by the healing draughts he was required to take each night before bed. Auriana couldn't keep her night terrors from him forever, however, and she hoped fervently that the apprehension of Anguile, Thorne, and their co-conspirators would be enough to ease her fear.
"Yes, yes, you don't need to remind me…"
Auriana raised an eyebrow. "Shall I fetch Anduin to make the point further?"
"I do not need to be coddled by my teenaged son," Varian grimaced.
"Then I suppose it looks like you're staying here," Auriana retorted cooly.
Varian's eyes narrowed. The fact that he was resting on the bed afforded Auriana a rare opportunity to stare him down without having to crane her neck back at an impossible angle. She took full advantage, fixing him with the kind of menacing glower she typically reserved for uncooperative demons. Varian met her gaze evenly, his expression a perfect mirror of her own, and they glared at each other, unblinking, for far longer than was reasonable for two supposedly grown and mature adults.
"Very well, Your Majesty," Varian conceded finally, his voice fairly dripping with sarcasm. "Tell me again, whose bright idea was it to make you queen?"
Auriana grinned. "Some idiot with more sinew than sense."
"Hmph. That sounds about right…"
Anyone else may have been cowed by the ferocity of Varian's scowl, but Auriana knew him better. Beneath the veneer of his pique she could see warmth and love shining in the depths of his blue eyes. His concerns were real, but he was also enjoying their banter; despite what his outward appearance may have otherwise suggested. He beckoned her over, and with some judicious wiggling, Auriana managed to avoid stabbing either of them with her sword as she settled herself on the edge of the bed at his side.
Varian's stern expression immediately softened, and he reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.
"You look beautiful, you know…" he murmured, his fingers lingering on the delicate skin at the nape of her neck.
"I do?"
"Very much so. I must confess," he said, his voice lowering to little more than a husky whisper, "I'm quite partial to you in breeches…"
Auriana flushed. Try as she might, she had never quite been able to control her raging blush, especially when Varian looked at her like that. For a moment, she seriously considered feigning faint and leaving Anguile's interrogation to Shaw alone… especially when Varian abruptly closed the distance between them and pressed a heated kiss against her lips.
Auriana all but melted into him, sliding her fingers along the hard lines of his bare chest and leaning lovingly into his embrace. His eager hands found her cheek, her throat, her breast... she sighed against his mouth, savouring the warmth of his body and the salt of his lips… when there came a sudden loud knock at the inner door of their chamber.
"Your Majesties? King Greymane for you."
Varian stopped his ministrations cold. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily, and rested his forehead against Auriana's with a resigned groan.
"Thank you," he called back to the guard. To Auriana's surprise, he actually managed to keep his tone civil. "You can tell him the Queen will be with him momentarily."
Auriana brushed a thumb over his chin, shivering slightly as his rough stubble scratched at her soft skin.
"I see you brought me a guard dog," she observed wryly.
"Perhaps," Varian admitted. His eyes flew open, and he pulled away. "I didn't want you out there alone. Shaw will have his hands full with the investigation, and if I can't be there, I need to know that someone I trust is giving you their full attention."
"And it isn't even my birthday…" Auriana drawled.
"Genn's well trained, for the most part," Varian quipped. "Still can't get him to fetch, though."
"Now who's making light?"
Auriana rose to her feet and straightened her coat. She had forgotten herself for a moment - Varian often had that effect on her - but she really could not afford to linger, today of all days.
"I don't need a nanny," she reminded him.
"No, you don't. But if you go alone, I'm going to spend the entire morning worrying after you," Varian countered. "We both know I'm rather insufferable when I'm worried, and you wouldn't wish that on the Keep's servants, now would you?"
Auriana rolled her eyes, though in truth she found his gentle self-deprecation disarming. Not to mention that his concerns were not entirely unwarranted, after everything they had been through in the last few weeks. She wasn't thrilled that he had once again gone behind her back, but these were trying times, and she was willing to offer him a little latitude.
"Perish the thought."
"Seriously, though," Varian added, once again folding his arms across his chest, "You promise me you'll stay with Genn and Shaw? You won't leave their sight?"
Auriana regarded him with a slight tilt of her head. "I promise."
"Good."
She leaned over and brushed a reassuring kiss against his forehead, but as she made to leave she felt Varian's enormous hand close about her wrist with a gentle tug. She paused, confused, and turned to see him staring back up at her with eyes that were at once as bright and as hard as diamonds.
"And one more thing, Auriana," he growled, a wolfish bite beneath his words, "Get the bastard, won't you?"
"How's Varian?" Genn asked, as they made their way up through the Keep to the royal gryphon aerie in the highest tower.
Ridley trailed at a respectful distance behind them, ever Auriana's watchful shadow; one hand poised firmly on the pommel of her sword. Auriana would have said her bodyguard's vigilance was unnecessary, given that they were still in the Keep, but she had unfortunately learned the hard way that nowhere was safe.
"Grumpy," she supplied. "Not that I blame him."
"He insists he's perfectly fine, you know," Genn informed her, with a knowing smirk.
"I know. Despite the fact that I can clearly see he's in a great deal of pain. But… Varian will be Varian," Auriana sighed. "I think it was only when High Priestess Laurena told him there was a risk he would lose function in his leg if he didn't keep off it that he relented. Anduin had a few choice words for him, as well."
Genn raised an eyebrow. "Is that true? Is the damage that extensive?"
"Honestly, I'm not sure - healing is far from my area of expertise. It's certainly a possibility, though I think there's probably an equal chance that Laurena lied simply to keep him in bed."
"Clever woman," Genn chuckled. "And what about you?"
"Despite what Varian might have told you, I am actually fine. The stab wound in my thigh is the worst of it, and that wasn't even that deep," Auriana shrugged, well aware of the fact that she probably sounded just as pig-headed as Varian himself. "I suffered mostly from overuse of my magic."
It was more or less true. She was more tired than she would have liked, though at least she no longer felt like death warmed up. Her magic had been slowly growing stronger each day, and thanks to Anduin's fine work on her leg, she didn't even have a limp.
"I can't say I know what that feels like."
"Actually, it isn't too dissimilar to how one might feel the morning after a particularly rousing evening at the local tavern," Auriana elaborated. "Tired, headachy, nauseated…"
"Ah, well, that's a feeling I may have encountered once or twice in my lifetime," Genn said, winking. "How long will that last?"
Auriana wasn't sure - it was hardly an exact science - but she had pushed herself to her limits often enough to have a rough idea. Probably less time if she remained properly in bed; more if she continued to go out and about.
"Well, I no longer feel like I'm going to faint if I start channeling, and I could perform most simple spells if I had to… though it will be at least two or three weeks before I'll be back at full strength."
"That long?"
"I used a lot of magic, Genn. More than I had probably had any right to."
What Auriana did not admit - what she would not admit, not even to Varian - was that her little misadventure with the ward had taxed her a good deal less than she might have anticipated. She was tired, yes, but the last time she had channelled a similar amount of magic had been against Archimonde, and she had notably given herself a heart attack. This time, she had been able to sleep off the worst of the effects in a week. She had grown stronger, and it thrilled and unnerved her all at once.
"What about you?" she asked, both out of concern for Genn and a desire to change the topic.
"Nothing to write home about. A few bumps and bruises. Being worgen does come with... certain advantages. I'm tougher than I look."
Auriana idly wondered what it might like to be worgen, to be able to transform into a robust, towering beast at will. She thought it might be fun to be tall - even worgen females were well over six feet - though she didn't think she would enjoy being quite so hairy. She also strongly suspected her berserking would interact rather poorly with the curse, and she concluded that she was probably dangerous enough as is, without the addition of teeth.
Still, the thought was amusing enough to keep Auriana's mind occupied as she ascended the Keep. Better that, than dwell on the task ahead. As much as she was eager to confront Anguile and rid her life of his foul influence, she could not deny that she was nervous. There were so many things that could go wrong, and she welcomed any small distraction as she followed Genn out onto the sun-bathed ramparts leading to the royal aerie.
As expected, the King's personal flight specialist, Loretta Banks, was already waiting; her cropped silver hair fluttering slightly in the cool breeze as she greeted them with a hearty wave.
"Good morning, Your Majesties!" she called brightly. "I received your request, and have prepared some of our finest birds for your mission."
She smiled, and gestured to three saddled and armoured gryphons perched watchfully on the white stone walls of the Keep. Auriana bristled in faint irritation - she had only asked for two gryphons, after all - but she held her tongue. It wasn't Banks's fault. Clearly, Varian had already warned the flightmaster that Genn would be accompanying Auriana and Ridley on their flight out to Redridge, and Banks would of course have had no reason to assume that Auriana was unaware of the amended orders.
"The handsome white fellow there is Snowbuck; the black and tan is Razorcrest," Banks continued, fiddling with her enormous, gaudy flight goggles as she spoke, "And this… is Stubborn."
Auriana followed Banks's line of sight to the third gryphon, a bulky gold and russet buck with an oddly squashed-in face. It was somewhat of a human cultural tradition to call mounts after desirable qualities - Varian had Indomitable; Arthas had famously ridden Invincible - but Auriana had never heard of a creature bearing such an inauspicious name.
"Come again?"
"Stubborn. We call him Stub, for short," Banks grinned. "He's a bit… well, I'm sure you can guess… but he loves to fly, and he's the toughest warbird in the fleet. If there's any chance of danger, ma'am, he's the bird you want at your side."
"Nothing wrong with a challenge," Auriana remarked, giving Stubborn a gentle scratch beneath his beak as she tossed his reins back over his head. "Thank you."
She gratefully accepted a boost from Genn and set about securing herself to the saddle, her fingers flying over the straps and buckles with practiced ease. Beside her, Genn and Ridley did the same; Genn having chosen the white gryphon, while Ridley mounted the black. Stubborn flexed his talons impatiently against the Keep wall as Banks then completed her final checks, and all but threw himself into the clear blue sky the moment Auriana touched her heels to his flanks.
The flight out to Redridge was, thankfully, uneventful. The air was cold, especially once they gained some altitude, but the gryphons were swift, and the view pleasant. Elwynn Forest may not have been as dramatic a landscape as some other parts of Azeroth, but there was something comforting about the seemingly endless sea of bucolic green dotted here and there with small farmsteads. Elwynn was home, and for a while, at least, Auriana was able to put her worries to one side and enjoy the flight.
Unfortunately, it was all too soon that the red-tiled roofs of the Lakeshire township came into view. What was once merely a tiny pinprick of colour on the horizon became the solid outline of a clocktower as Auriana and her companions began their descent; their gryphons swooping down low over the crystal clear waters of Lake Everstill before rising sharply again to clear the top of the town hall.
They did not land in the town itself, however, instead continuing on to Anguile's estate at the foot of the Redridge Mountains. Rosendale was, admittedly, one of the most beautiful estates Auriana had ever seen. The grounds were impeccably manicured, with not a single branch out of place, and the house itself was as flawless as if it had been built only yesterday. The architecture was somehow tasteful and dramatic all at once, and yet Auriana knew it all to be a lie - a pretty façade concealing a rotten core.
The estate was already swarming with SI:7 agents, as well as a number of heavily armoured crown guards. All in all, Auriana could see about thirty men wearing Stormwind livery, not counting herself, Genn, or Ridley. Anguile's entire household staff had been brought outside for questioning, and a number of agents were carrying boxes of files and books from the manor for closer inspection.
Auriana had eyes for only one man, however, and she soon found him. With the morning sunlight setting his auburn hair ablaze, Mathias Shaw was uncharacteristically visible where he stood in the manor's grandiose porte cochère, barking out various orders to his rogues as they passed. He raised a hand in greeting as Auriana, Genn and Ridley touched down about forty yards away on the sweeping drive that led to the main house, though he did not pause in his task. She noted the way the spymaster's hawkish eyes darted warily left and right as she approached, as if he were expecting an assassin to leap from the rose bushes at any moment, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. She strongly doubted that Anguile's cook or stableboy would attempt to do her in, but Shaw's wariness was a pointed reminder that she ought not to relax her guard, especially when her magic was not at full strength.
"Master Shaw - report."
Auriana gave her gryphon an appreciative pat as she handed his reins off to a nearby private, ignoring the many curious glances of Anguile's household staff that came her way.
"Majesty. My men entered the estate earlier this morning and detained the household staff," Shaw said. He did not waste time with pleasantries, for which Auriana was grateful. "Fortunately, none tried to resist. As you can see, they are being questioned now."
"And Anguile?"
"We have detained him in the ground floor parlor. Thus far, he has said nothing of value. He examined the warrant and permitted a search of the estate, but he otherwise remained silent when I attempted to question him."
A rare flicker of emotion crossed Shaw's face, only to be suppressed as quickly and suddenly as it had arisen. He lowered his voice, and leaned in close.
"He's a smart man, Your Majesty. He knows what we have is largely circumstantial, and unless you are willing to pursue a more… aggressive… line of questioning, I doubt he'll say a word."
"We'll have a difficult time proving his guilt at trial without a confession," Genn observed.
He was right, of course; more's the pity. Auriana huffed, blowing air out her nose like an irate bull. Shaw, too, was correct - she doubted there was anything they could say to compel Anguile to tip his hand without resorting to outright violence, and while she was no stranger to more unsavoury methods of interrogation, it was one thing to compel an enemy on the battlefield, and entirely another to torture a man cold.
Varian's instructions had also been explicit - they had to tread very, very carefully. If there was any doubt over Anguile's testimony when presented before the rest of his cohorts in the House of Nobles, the Kingdom of Stormwind could be facing an all out rebellion from her aristocracy, and that was something they could ill afford. It was why they had moved so slowly against Anguile thus far, and all their patience would be for nought if they stumbled at this final hurdle.
"What about his family? His daughter? His…" She paused. "He is married, isn't he?"
Auriana had never thought much on Anguile's wife. She presumed he had one, being far too obsessed with his own noble bloodline to have ever sired a bastard, but she couldn't for the life of her remember whether she'd ever heard the woman's name before.
"Yes, although it's a poorly-kept secret that they despise each other. He wed Prisca Lescovar, the eldest daughter of the late Lord Gregor Lescovar, in an arranged marriage over twenty years ago. It was a union that increased Anguile's wealth and influence in the House of Nobles considerably, though it came at something of a cost," Shaw reported. "The Duchess Anguile is known to be a vain, flighty woman, and an absent mother at best - but Anguile cannot risk attracting the ire of another Great House were he to divorce her. She spends most of her time drinking and shopping her way around Stormwind."
Auriana felt a brief flash of pity for Anguile, though it was quickly quashed. An unhappy home life and an indifferent wife did not excuse his actions.
"As for his daughter, she is currently detained upstairs in her room," Shaw added. "She is quite distraught."
"I don't suppose she's said anything useful?"
"Not especially. She simply asks to see her father, though we have kept them separated thus far."
"I see." Auriana bit her lip in consternation.
The problem was, they didn't have anything Anguile wanted. Elanore Hooper's testimony had helped their case considerably, but the word of a peasant girl (and one who was a convicted thief, at that) would not be enough to unseat a powerful noble, at least not without further corroboration. The Duke was therefore most certainly best served by keeping his mouth shut, and unless SI:7 somehow managed to find further leverage in his records or through interviewing his staff, their ability to compel a confession was limited.
"Not to insult Master Shaw's skills, but perhaps you might have more luck with him, Auriana," Genn suggested.
"Because he despises me?" she snorted, not entirely following his logic.
Genn shrugged. "It might be enough to throw him off his game. From what Varian has told me, he very much thinks the worst of you. He may underestimate your intelligence… at least enough to get us an opening."
"Maybe…"
It was true that Anguile thought very little of her. He considered her little more than a mindless brute, unfit for service as Stormwind's queen by virtue of both her temper and her heritage. And speaking of heritage… in a lot of ways, Anguile reminded Auriana of her maternal grandfather. Andros Saevian had been similarly obsessed with his own bloodline, to the point where he had even disowned his own favourite child, Auriana's mother, for her 'crime' of marrying a commoner.
Although… Andros had never quite stopped loving Alliana, as Auriana had learned when she had, quite by accident, discovered Andros as a wasted Forsaken in the ruins of his manor house. In his dying moments, his thoughts had been only of his once-beloved daughter. He had begged for Alliana's forgiveness in the end, proving that perhaps there was one thing in the world that he had loved more than himself...
Auriana turned away, thinking, and her gaze inadvertently fell upon a tall, fresh-faced paladin with honey blonde hair and warm brown eyes. She stood guard about ten feet away, her armour gleaming softly in the sunlight as she fiddled with the haft of her enormous warhammer. Auriana guessed the young woman was in her early twenties, perhaps only a year past the end of her training, at best - and only a few years older than Anguile's daughter, Cathelora.
Genn's words echoed back to her. He very much thinks the worst of you.
"You there - paladin," Auriana called, a plan slowly forming in her mind as she walked over to speak to the young woman directly. "What's your name?"
The paladin's eyes widened at having been addressed directly by the Queen of Stormwind, and she silently opened and closed her mouth several times before she found her voice.
"Ah - Private Elowyn Penrose. But you can call me Wyn, or Wynnie, most people do," she started brightly, only to quickly sober beneath a withering glance from a nearby senior officer. "Or… or… Private Penrose is fine. Your Majesty."
She stood to attention and snapped off a quick salute… then bent forward from the waist in an awkward little bow, clearly not entirely sure how to comport herself.
"This is going to be something of a strange request, but do you think you could manage a fake scream?" Auriana asked, lowering her voice so that they could not be overheard. "As if you were being horrifically tortured?"
She expected the paladin to refuse, or perhaps even laugh, but to her immense surprise Penrose broke into a wide smile, and nodded.
"You might just be in luck, Your Majesty. I've played Julianne in the Goldshire Players production of Romulo and Julianne for the last three years." Penrose's eyes narrowed, and she muttered, "Even after that little trollop Madelyn Perry tried to cheat me out of the role..."
She folded her hands behind her back like a prim choirgirl, and cleared her throat.
"Ahem… would you like a demonstration?"
"Ah - no. Not now," Auriana said quickly, holding up a hand lest the eager paladin began screaming her lungs out in the middle of the courtyard. "Just… give me a minute?"
She turned back to the others, and beckoned to Shaw.
"You said you're holding Anguile in his parlor, yes? Is there another room next door?" she asked, and when Shaw nodded in the affirmative, she added, "Ridley - I need you to bring Anguile's daughter down from her room."
"You think the girl knows something?" Genn asked. "I've met her a few times at court, and she never struck me as being all that… bright."
"I don't think she knows anything at all. But that's not why I need her." Auriana glanced at Ridley. "When you bring her down, walk her past Anguile's room, and make sure that he sees her. I don't want you to hurt her, but if you could make it look like you've been roughing her up a bit…?"
Shaw pulled thoughtfully at the rough bristles of his goatee, and after a few moments reflection, gave a slow but definitive nod. "I think I might understand what you have in mind… it's risky, but it just might work…"
Auriana quickly slipped off her coat and gloves and rolled up the sleeves of her undershirt, pushing the fine cloth up past her elbows so that the scars on her forearms were clearly visible. She wasn't usually one to intentionally show them off, but in this case she thought they might work to her advantage.
"If it does work, will Anguile's testimony be admissible at a trial?" she asked Shaw, as she re-secured her scabbard around her waist.
"So long as you don't actually harm the girl, I believe so, " Shaw said thoughtfully. "SI:7 operatives are permitted to lie during interrogations, at least to a degree, and we have considerable latitude when it comes to urgent or highly important cases. Given that there have been multiple attempts on the life of Stormwind's Prince and heir, and now her King, I believe this matter would qualify."
"Good, that's good…"
"Would anyone care to fill me in?" Genn asked.
"You were right, Genn - Anguile already thinks I'm a monster, so... why not give him exactly what he expects? I'm going to torture Cathelora." She paused for dramatic effect, and when Genn raised an eyebrow, she added, "Well, not really. But with the assistance of Private Penrose over there, I'm going to make Anguile think I've resorted to drastic measures."
"That's a fine line to walk, Auriana," Genn said warningly. "Though... I'll admit I'm struggling to think of an easy alternative."
"I'm certainly not proud of it, but we've tipped our hand. If we don't act now, we may never get what we need." Auriana squared her shoulders, and nodded to Ridley. "Once you have Cathelora, wait outside the parlor for my signal. I'm going to speak to the man himself."
"I'll accompany Ridley, then," Genn said, his voice dropping an octave as he shifted smoothly into his worgen form. "If we're doing this, we may as well make a good show of it."
Auriana flashed him a grateful half-smile, before she beckoned to Private Penrose and strode off into the manor. Once inside, she discarded her riding jacket and gloves on a coat rack just inside the door, and paused for a moment to gather her bearings.
Unsurprisingly, the interior of the house was just as spectacular as the exterior, with gorgeous, hand-carved mahogany panelling and plush velvet carpets. A series of highly realistic oil portraits lined the walls, each of them depicting what Auriana assumed was one of Anguile's ancestors. The place reminded her a little of her grandfather's estate, though without the distinctively Lordaeronian architectural touches.
This was hardly the time to be admiring Anguile's taste in interior design, however, and Auriana quickly refocused on the task at hand. Genn, Ridley and Penrose immediately broke off and headed for the grand, sweeping staircase that led to the second floor, while Auriana and Shaw proceeded to the left towards the ground floor parlor.
"Are you sure you can do this?" Shaw asked quietly, his voice surprisingly warm.
In truth, Auriana wasn't sure, but she also felt as if she didn't have a choice.
"They came after Varian," she said grimly. "I'll do whatever I have to."
Auriana paused for a moment outside the parlor door, and her eyes locked with Shaw's. He was nearly impossible to read, unnervingly so, and she could only stare into those emerald depths for so long before she was forced to look away.
She then took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
"Good morning, Lord Anguile."
The Duke of Rosendale was seated on a carved wooden chair in the very centre of the room, flanked on either side by an SI:7 agent, while two more stood guard on either side of the door. Anguile was not restrained, though Auriana did not doubt that the four agents would act swiftly should he attempt to cause any trouble.
"Your Majesty. How kind of you to come all this way," Anguile sniffed, leaning slightly to his left to peer around Auriana and out the door. "Is King Varian with you?"
His demeanour was supremely casual for a man who was under armed guard. Indeed, he sat almost like a king who was holding court, the sly spark in his eye suggesting that he was rather enjoying the attention of a half dozen people focused entirely on him.
"Unfortunately not. He has been confined to his chambers until the injuries he sustained at the Tournament heal."
Auriana tried to keep her tone cool and neutral, but she wasn't sure how well she had succeeded. After everything that had happened, after Varian, it was taking every last bit of control she possessed not to simply annihilate Anguile on the spot. His smug overconfidence certainly wasn't helping matters much, and she was forced to lace her fingers behind her back to keep her hands from shaking.
"A pity. I wish him all the best for a speedy recovery, of course."
"Of course." Auriana did not bother trying to maintain a civil front. "I assume Master Shaw has told you why we're here."
"Yes. I have read the warrant," Anguile said dismissively. "But I assure you, you will find nothing of value. I am an upstanding and law abiding citizen."
He certainly looked the part, if nothing else, with his immaculate mulberry smoking jacket and his dark hair coiffed to perfection. A fortune in jewels glittered across his fingers, and his boots were polished to such a shine that Auriana could just about use them as a mirror.
"You are not uneducated when it comes to the law of Stormwind. You know that if we find the evidence we seek, the consequences will be severe," she warned him. "If, however, you were to confess to your role in the attacks against King Varian, Prince Anduin, and myself, we may be able to offer you some clemency."
"Confess?" Anguile repeated, spreading his arms wide to suggest that he had nothing to hide. "Why would I confess? I have done nothing wrong."
Auriana fought back the urge to roll her eyes. Nothing wrong, indeed. "I take it that's your final answer?"
"It is," Anguile said firmly. "Frankly, this appears to be an overzealous move by the Crown. The House of Nobles will not be pleased by this move against one of their most prominent members. I am not a petty man, but nor will I allow such a slight to stand. There will, as you said, be consequences."
Auriana hadn't really expected him to change his mind simply because she had asked, but she felt she had to give him the opportunity nonetheless.
"I thought as much," she sighed. "Very well. If you refuse to talk, we shall have to resort to other means. Master Shaw?"
"As you wish, Your Majesty," Shaw intoned, his tone as cold as ice as he raised his voice and added, "Bring the girl!"
Unsurprisingly, Stormwind's spymaster was playing his role to perfection - the ruthless assassin whose only loyalty was to the Crown. Even though she knew it was an act, Auriana felt a chill run up her spine at the casual malice in his words. Shaw may have appeared unassuming, but when he spoke like that, it was easy to remember why he was considered one of the most dangerous men in the world.
"The girl… Cathelora? What are you doing to my daughter?" Anguile demanded.
His carefully cultivated mask of patrician indifference slipped as Cathelora was unceremoniously marched past the open door. Ridley held the whimpering young noblewoman firmly by her upper arm, while Genn added a certain element of animal threat as he stomped behind them with his flews drawn back and his razor-sharp teeth bared. Penrose then followed last of all, completing the fearsome picture with her warhammer balanced over her shoulder in a way that promised great violence.
At the sight of his daughter, Anguile let out out angry, wordless shout and attempted to lunge to his feet, only to run into the firm and unyielding hand of the enormous worgen operative at his side. He struggled for a moment in vain, only to quickly realise that he did not have the strength required to overpower Shaw's agent, and he sat back down again with a furious huff.
"What do you want with Cathe?!"
So he did care. Good.
"You've made it perfectly clear that you will not confess, and I don't have the time to convince you. For all we know, there's already another attack in progress," Auriana said briskly, doing her best to sound as callous as possible. "It is well known that you and your daughter are close. Perhaps she was your co-conspirator."
"Co-conspirator?! I… what do you intend to do to her?"
"Whatever it takes."
The blood drained from Anguile's face. "Torture?"
Auriana shrugged, as if they were discussing something as mundane as the weather. "I would prefer not to, but the situation is dire. We cannot risk another attack."
"Why her, then? Why not me? I'm the one you believe to be concealing information!"
"While you may not be a famed warrior, Anguile, you're a damn good liar, and I suspect you're a lot tougher than you look. You'd have to be, to have held power in the way you have for so long. Cathelora, on the other hand…"
Auriana left the threat hanging in the air between them, allowing Anguile a moment to imagine all the horrible things she might do to his daughter.
"This is beyond the pale!" he spluttered. "I am a member of the House of Nobles! No matter the circumstances, King Varian would not stand for this!"
Auriana grinned at that, baring her teeth wide in a way that she hoped made her appear wolfish and slightly unhinged.
"I told you once that it wasn't Varian's wrath you ought to fear, but mine, " she murmured, her voice a savage, hissing whisper. "You're quite right, you know, Varian wouldn't stand for this. But Varian isn't here."
Auriana had always greatly feared being seen as a monster, but now she embraced the role fully. She called upon her magic, flaring her eyes and arms and using the most subtle of frost spells to drop the temperature in the room to near freezing. At the same time, she sent out faint pulses of arcane energy to rattle the walls of the parlor and give the impression the entire manor was about to collapse - all complete show, of course, but enough to convince Anguile that she was serious.
"Don't you dare! Don't you dare!"
Anguile threw himself violently against the SI:7 agent holding him, nearly tipping his chair over in his desperation, but there was nothing he could do against the worgen's quiet, intractable strength.
"Shaw, bring one of your men and follow me," Auriana snapped. "Someone good with knives."
She turned smartly on her heel and stalked away, pointedly ignoring Anguile's objections as she walked down the hallway to the adjoining room with Shaw and the chosen SI:7 agent on her heels. Much like her father, Cathelora had been seated on a chair in the middle of the room, though unlike Anguile, she had a gag firmly secured around her mouth. It appeared she had been roused from her morning ablutions, given that she was wearing little more than a silk slip under an embroidered dressing gown, and she stared between Shaw and Auriana with wide, panicky eyes.
"Hello, Cathelora. I apologise for the inconvenience, but we need to borrow you for a minute."
Auriana released her magic - now that Anguile was out of sight, there was little point taxing herself unnecessarily - and gestured towards the young paladin Penrose.
"Alright, Private, you're up," she said.
"You want me to scream?" Penrose asked, gesturing hesitantly toward the bewildered and fearful Cathelora.
"Loud as you can. Imagine that I'm causing you unimaginable pain."
"As you wish, Your Majesty." Penrose sucked in a deep breath.
Auriana was a veteran of dozens of battles. She had seen men and women die in agony, heard their terrible screams as they bled out into the dust - but she could quite safely say that she had never heard anyone make a sound quite so raw and anguished as the wail that tore from Elowyn Penrose's throat as she threw back her head and screamed as if she were on fire.
"Wow." Genn raised a bushy eyebrow, at once both astounded and impressed.
"Remind me to buy tickets to the Goldshire Players this year," Auriana muttered.
She glanced to her left, and for the first time ever, she thought she saw what might have been the faintest glimmer of a smile flit across Shaw's face… though it may have simply been a trick of the light.
"Was that alright?" Penrose whispered, as she paused to gather her breath.
"Very good," Auriana said honestly. "Again, if you can."
Penrose complied immediately, this time adding a few impassioned pleas and prayers to the Light. She was so convincing that Auriana began to feel genuinely uncomfortable, despite the fact that Penrose's little performance had been her idea. She much preferred a straight fight to playing mind games like she was one of Shaw's rogues… though she could not deny that the subterfuge was working.
"Stop! Stop! This is inhumane! That is my daughter..."
Anguile's frantic shouts, albeit muffled, echoed through the wall to clash horribly with Penrose's screams. The pain in his voice sounded genuine, at least as far as Auriana could tell, though she allowed him to fume for a few more minutes before she decided he was desperate enough to cave.
"Keep going," she ordered Penrose. "I'll knock on the wall when I need you to stop. Ridley, make sure Cathelora here doesn't make a sound."
The rogue who had followed Auriana and Shaw out of parlour remained behind, ostensibly to take over the 'torture' of Cathelora. Shaw and Genn, on the other hand, both followed Auriana from the room, each exuding their own unique flavour of menace as they flanked her on either side.
"Stop! When the House of Nobles hears about this, I swear, you will never…"
Anguile cut off abruptly as Auriana re-entered the room and his beady eyes narrowed.
"Are you prepared to talk?" she asked calmly, folding her arms over her chest.
"You're a monster," Anguile snarled.
"What I am is tired. Tired of this awful, ugly business and tired of your little games," Auriana retorted. "You want me to stop? Then give me something I can use. Either you talk, or Cathelora does."
Anguile stared up at her with hateful eyes, panting heavily from his struggling efforts against the worgen operative. His left eye twitched each and every time Penrose screamed, but he could not seem to force the words of concession from his throat.
"Cathelora it is, then."
"Wait."
Auriana had just about reached the threshold when Anguile finally spoke, and she paused, one hand resting on the door frame. She deliberately kept her back half-turned so that he could not properly see her face; trying as best she could to project an image of pure cold-bloodedness. Her conscience twinged again, but she ruthlessly pushed her doubts away. Anguile was in league with those who had tried to kill Varian. She could not afford to get hung up on questions of morality when her entire world hung in the balance.
"Yes?"
Come on, she urged him silently. Take the bait.
Anguile was not unintelligent. He knew that if he confessed to the crimes of which he had been accused, it was tantamount to signing his own death warrant. Auriana hoped that the part of him that genuinely loved his daughter would win out over his sense of selfishness - or at the very least, that he would be motivated to preserve his only chance at the continuation of his direct bloodline. He was likely too old to be able to sire another child, and from what Auriana had now learned of his wife, she didn't seem inclined to give him more in any case.
"I…"
"Yes?" Auriana repeated.
She shifted her left hand so that it came to rest upon the pommel of the sword at her hip. At the same time, she reached out to the magic within the sword so that it shimmered and smoked within its scabbard. Anguile's eyes widened.
"I… I'll talk. I'll talk!" he conceded, his voice cracking weakly under the strain. "Just… stop. Leave my daughter alone."
"As you wish."
Auriana rapped her knuckles on the adjoining wall, and Penrose's tortured screaming immediately ceased. Anguile sagged back in his chair with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, though his posture remained limp for only a few moments before he forcibly gathered himself, and his features resumed some of their typical aristocratic hauteur.
"Whatever I say, Cathelora is to be given protection. She is innocent of any wrongdoing, and I will not have her treated as some sort of common criminal," he demanded. "You will swear to me that she will not be harmed. On whatever honour a brute like you may possess."
Auriana pretended to consider the question, and made a great show of reluctantly conceding the point. Of course, she had no any intention of disagreeing… but Anguile didn't need to know that.
"You have my word, with all those here as witnesses," she promised, pointedly ignoring Anguile's attempt to impugn her character. "Provided, of course, that you tell us the truth. The very second I suspect you are lying to me, any arrangement between us becomes null and void, and I will have both your heads."
Anguile tensed his jaw, looking very much as if he would like to spit in Auriana's face, but after a heavy moment of consideration, he nodded. "I suppose... I have little choice. We… we are agreed."
Satisfied, Auriana looked to Shaw, who produced from his belt pouch a crystal not dissimilar to the one Jaina had used to capture the recording of Elanore Hooper's testimony.
"Start at the beginning," the Spymaster instructed. "And speak clearly."
The Duke pursed his lips. "Some time ago, not too long after the trial of Garrosh Hellscream in Pandaria, I was approached by a man calling himself only 'Thorne'. He introduced himself as the leader of a group of anti-Horde radicals, and made a request for my financial support."
Auriana already knew most of this, of course, both from her own encounters with Thorne, and the subsequent SI:7 investigation, but it was another thing entirely to hear it directly from Anguile himself.
"What did he want your money for?" she prompted.
Anguile raised a sharply curved eyebrow. "I suspect you already know the answer to that question."
"For the record." Shaw gestured to the crystal.
Anguile let out a theatrical sigh. "Thorne was… dismayed... by King Varian's refusal to continue the war with the Horde following the Siege of Orgrimmar, and by the subsequent escape of Garrosh Hellscream. It was his intent to use subterfuge and manipulation to reignite a war between the factions. It was his ultimate desire to see the Horde destroyed, and with the Horde fresh off a civil war, he believed the Alliance finally had the numerical and military advantage to do so."
"Why did he approach you?"
"My ore holdings have always been at the backbone of my family's fortune, and as I am sure a warrior of your reputation is aware, Majesty, iron wins wars. I made a considerable profit from the conflict in Pandaria, and Thorne thought I might be interested in doing so again."
The way Anguile spoke so casually about war profits made Auriana's stomach churn. Logically, she knew that armour and war machines cost money, but there was a difference between acknowledging a wartime necessity and gloating over all the gold that stood to be made.
"Would it surprise you to know that I initially declined?" Anguile said archly. Despite Auriana's best efforts to remain stoic, he was clearly well aware that his little barbs were getting under her skin. "Conflicts of that scale are, by their nature, unpredictable - one only need to look at the example of Theramore. Although Thorne didn't want to hear it, there was no guarantee of victory for the Alliance."
Anguile's upper lip curled in disdain.
"I was also concerned by his demeanour. He seemed… unstable. Erratic. On balance, I decided it was best to decline."
Auriana exchanged a glance with Shaw. As they both well knew, Thorne had once been a promising SI:7 agent named Reid Ashton. He had lost his family in the Forsaken attack on Southshore, having arrived too late to save them from the Blight. He had also inhaled a considerable amount of the dissipating Blight himself, and Auriana suspected he had been driven more than a little mad from the combined effects of the plague and the grief of losing his family.
"I thought that was the end of it. Until I learned that you were... pursuing King Varian," Anguile sniffed, eyeing Auriana from top to toe and clearly finding her wanting. "Thorne approached me once more. I still did not share his obsession with the Horde, but this time, we were able to come to a mutually beneficial agreement - in exchange for my financial support, he would assassinate you. I accepted."
"Why did you want Queen Auriana assassinated?" Shaw asked.
"For years, the House of Nobles had been trying to convince King Varian to take another wife. He was still young when Queen Tiffin passed, and he had produced only a single heir. For a king to risk a turbulent succession because he preferred to wallow in his grief - it was madness."
"You only have a single heir," Auriana pointed out, vaguely wondering whether it was indifference or infertility that had made Cathelora an only child.
"Completely different circumstances. My wife is alive, and I have relatives who could inherit in the event that both Cathelora and I were to pass - younger brothers, nephews, and the like. Save for Anduin, Varian has no living family of sufficiently close blood relation to make an undisputed claim to the Crown in the event of his death," Anguile countered sharply. "Besides which, I'm not a king. The succession of my House, while undoubtedly important, does not have quite the same potential to negatively impact the stability of the kingdom as that of House Wrynn."
Auriana raised her eyebrows in surprise. In his own strange way, it seemed Anguile did care for Stormwind. His vision for the kingdom was of course rather different to Auriana's or Varian's, and in part motivated by his own greed and self-obsession, but she found it interesting to know that there was at least a part of him that took his duty as a noble seriously.
"Continue, please."
"I was not the only member of the House of Nobles who had begun to despair that we would ever see King Varian take another wife - but then I saw you together that night at the Midwinter ball. I realised he was finally ready to take a queen again - and the timing was perfect. My daughter was soon to come of age, and I saw an opportunity to give her the throne that she deserved - while securing a peaceful succession in the process."
Anguile scoffed, and pulled irritably at his moustache.
"And why should he turn her down? Cathelora is young, beautiful, and impeccably bred - not to mention wealthy. Varian, I thought, would surely be mad to choose another with her willing and available…" He let out another overly dramatic sigh. "And yet he still favoured you. I began to suspect that he had, once again, been ensorcelled by a powerful witch. With that in mind, one might even see my actions as… patriotic."
Anguile's tone was light, but Auriana recoiled as if slapped. That Anguile would compare her to Katrana Prestor, of all people… it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and the blood boil in her veins. The black dragoness had violated Varian in a dozen different ways, tormenting his mind with her dark sorcery and nearly destroying the Kingdom of Stormwind in the process. Auriana had never used her magic against him, would never use it against him… she wasn't an abuser...
Auriana took a step forward without even realising, her fists clenched, only to come to an abrupt halt as she felt Genn's massive palm close over her shoulder.
"He wants to provoke you," he muttered, so that only she might hear. "Don't give him the satisfaction."
Genn was right, of course, but the temptation to wipe the smug smirk of Anguile's face with a well-placed fire blast was almost overwhelming.
"In any case, I felt compelled to act," Anguile continued blithely, though the cruel glitter in his dark eyes suggested he was well aware of the effect of his words on Auriana. "I feared he would wed you - or worse, put a child in your belly."
Auriana's left hand instinctively moved to her stomach. She and Varian had not yet discussed children - the thought of bringing an entirely new life into the world had a tendency to make her feel light-headed - but whatever they decided was precisely none of Anguile's business. Genn's hand tightened on her shoulder.
"So you saw an opportunity to remove a political rival without having to resort to getting your own hands dirty," Shaw interjected smoothly, in an attempt to draw Anguile's attention away from Auriana so that she might have a moment to gather herself. "What happened next?"
Anguile's beady gaze lingered on Auriana's face for a moment, but he did not attempt to evade Shaw's question. Quite the opposite, in fact - now that he was talking, he seemed to find it difficult to stop. Auriana suspected that he was taking some kind of perverse joy in showing them just how clever he was, how superior… or perhaps it was simply because he knew that the longer he talked, the longer he stayed alive...
"As strange a man as Thorne is, he admittedly has a knack for convincing others to do his bidding. He has a whole network of people - in Stormwind, Dalaran, even a few dense fools amongst the Horde who would happily see us return to a war footing. He used this network to launch his attacks on both Prince Anduin and Lady Auriana, with the aim of goading King Varian into all out war." He glanced at Auriana. "His group was also responsible for a number of actions in Draenor, though I assume you don't need me to summarise the entire Draenor campaign. You were there, after all."
"I think we can skip forward a bit," Shaw agreed. "Tell us about Elanore Hooper."
"Who is… ah, the little mage girl. Local lass. I would have preferred to keep her out of it, but alas, she presented an opportunity that was too good to pass up," Anguile recalled. "I had my man, Darby, intimidate her into compliance… and the girl delivered. Thorne was not able to put the magebane to as effective a use as we had hoped - as evidenced by the fact that you are still standing here, alive and well - but that is no fault of the girl's."
He nodded towards Auriana, his upper lip curling in distaste.
"Was it your plan?" Auriana asked. "To use her to steal the magebane?"
"No, no. Thorne was always the mastermind behind that sort of thing," Anguile explained. "As I said, he has something of a knack for people. He gave me her name, told me where she lived and what he wanted… and I let Darby take care of the rest."
'The rest', as Anguile so carelessly put it, being the destruction of the Hooper family farm and the blackmail of a teenage girl. Once again, Auriana was forced to choke back her anger, silently reminding herself over and over again that they needed his information.
"And the Tournament?"
"After the Stranglethorn incident, I believed Thorne to be dead, much as you did. You imagine my surprise, then, when he showed up on my doorstep, scarred but alive."
The last time Auriana had seen Thorne, he had been under attack by a very large and very angry pantheress. She had no idea how he had managed to survive, but evidently it had not been without cost.
"At this point, I knew I was under investigation by SI:7. My conversation with Her Majesty here that day at the execution of Thorne's false Defias men confirmed it. And while I was careful, I am not so arrogant as to believe that I had left no trace of my involvement. Master Shaw's reputation precedes him."
It was ostensibly a compliment, but there was something in the lilt of Anguile's voice that suggested it very much wasn't. Shaw, naturally, did not react in the slightest.
"And?" the spymaster asked calmly, as if he were inquiring after nothing more than Anguile's favourite flavour of tea.
"Thorne, too, was aware of the increased scrutiny. He impressed upon me that my only chance to save my head from the axeman was to either discredit the Crown so thoroughly that no one would ever believe any allegations against me… or to overthrow King Varian's rule entirely."
Anguile glanced up at Auriana with a disapproving frown.
"It was never my intention to seize the throne outright, you know, but you left me with little choice."
Auriana dearly wanted to slap him, and she was at once both grateful for and infuriated by Genn's hand still holding her back. Of course he considered it her fault, as if he had no other possible choice of action other than treason and regicide. She could see that he believed it, too - in his mind he was the victim, the hero even, forced to take drastic action to do right by his family and his kingdom and to protect his own life. No matter that none of this would ever have happened had he minded his own damn business in the first place...
"For the sake of my daughter, I agreed. I provided Thorne with the silver he needed to put his plan into action, but there were… complications. Those sonic devices of his were taking longer to produce than expected, and I began to believe the Tournament would be over by the time Thorne got his act together, and who knew when we would ever get another opportunity to have the entire leadership of the Horde assembled in one place? No," Anguile hissed. "I had staked my life - my daughter's life - on this plan, not to mention a king's ransom in silver, and I wasn't about to see it fail again."
"So, you decided to hatch your own plot?"
"Correct you are, Master Shaw. I believed Thorne's overall plan to be sound - it is well known that you are violent and mercurial, Your Majesty, though I didn't believe all that fuss with the spiders was strictly necessary."
Another barb. Auriana let out a deep, slow breath, though she wasn't sure how many more little pricks she could take.
"Thorne had insisted, so that it looked less like a set-up and more like an unfortunate natural accident, but time was running out, and I figured it didn't really matter so long as the desired effect was achieved," Anguile added, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "No one was going to waste time asking questions when they were stepping over the bodies of a dead High King and a dead Warchief."
Auriana and Genn exchanged a brief look. Anguile was probably right; his words a grim reminder of just how uncomfortably close they had come to disaster. If the events of the Tournament had played out even slightly differently, there was a good chance Auriana would now be mourning the death of her husband and preparing for all out war against the Horde. Assuming she was not already dead herself...
"Darby had served in the Second War, and knew how to make improvised explosives," Anguile continued. "Unfortunately, his efforts went somewhat awry. The bomb detonated far later than we expected, and did not find its target."
"And so Thorne had your man killed," Shaw deduced.
"Yes. As punishment for my impatience."
Auriana did not miss the fact that Anguile seemed more concerned by the insult to his pride than by the death of his loyal retainer, but she begrudgingly held her tongue.
"Fortunately, for his sake, Thorne got his little devices working."
"For his sake?" Shaw raised an eyebrow.
"From what Thorne told me, I was not the only one invested in his schemes, nor the only one growing impatient with his inaction."
"Are you able to identify any other conspirators?"
Auriana wasn't hopeful. Thorne was ex-SI:7, and most likely operated his group out of small cells, so that no one person could identify all the others.
"Some by faces, but none by name," Anguile confirmed. "I had Darby do some discrete investigation, but Thorne's mistustfulness rivals your own, Master Shaw. He keeps his secrets well."
"Do you know where he's based, at least?" Shaw asked.
At that, Anguile hesitated - though given everything he had told them thus far, Auriana wasn't sure why he bothered. Some last misguided vestiges of defiance, perhaps.
"I told you, if I suspect you are lying or withholding information, our deal is null and void…" she reminded him.
Anguile's eyes darted towards the door, and after a moment of internal wrestling, he conceded with a grudging huff. "The… the Swamp of Sorrows. There's a cave in the Misty Valley, directly west of the Harborage. Thorne's main camp is there."
"Is it defended? How many people?" Shaw asked.
"I don't know." When Shaw took a threatening step forward, Anguile threw up his hands and added, "I swear on my daughter's life. I've never seen the camp, I only know where it is because I had Darby follow Thorne's men back there after he delivered an ore shipment one day. Our interactions were mostly indirect, through messengers or proxies."
Auriana studied the Duke's face carefully for any sign of a lie. While his overall expression remained haughty and contemptuous, his eyes told a very different story. They were sharp, wary, and as far as Auriana could tell, he was - however reluctantly - being genuine.
It seemed that Shaw agreed.
"I think that's all we'll get from him today, Your Majesty," the spymaster concluded, tucking the recording crystal back into his belt pouch for safekeeping.
"I think you're right." Auriana cleared her throat, and raised her voice loud enough so that she could be heard in the adjoining room. "Ridley?"
There came a few muffled words and the scratch of chair legs across the floor, and after a minute or so, the sound of swift footsteps coming down the hall.
"Father!"
Anguile leaned forward with impatient dread as Ridley marched Cathelora back into the room and none-too-gently pushed her across the threshold towards her father. Cathelora flung her arms around her father's neck, whimpering piteously as he checked her over for blood or bruises. He ran his hands over her hair, her cheeks, her upper arms; his expression growing more and more confused with each passing second.
"She… she's unharmed?" Anguile said slowly, as if he expected some sort of glamour or trick. "Wait. You… you didn't touch her?"
"Not a hair on her head. I won't lie to you and pretend I've never used force to obtain information, but in this case, my hands are clean," Auriana said, holding up her palms for effect. "I'm well aware that she's innocent."
Anguile's normally smooth features turned blotchy pink, and then red, before darkening into an ugly shade of bruised purple as he realised exactly what had happened. He was not the brave hero, selflessly sacrificing himself for the protection of his beloved daughter, but merely a fool; a dupe who had been successfully played - and by a woman he considered his intellectual inferior, at that.
"You stupid, duplicitous bitch," he bellowed, sending spittle flying through the air in all directions as his veneer of cultured civility finally shattered. "You nasty, upstart whore!"
"Watch your mouth, Anguile, that's your queen you're speaking to," Genn snarled, in a low, dangerous voice that reminded Auriana starkly of Varian.
He bared his teeth as he stepped forward to place himself between Anguile and Auriana, but she stopped him with a firm hand upon his furred forearm. Auriana had held herself back - with Genn's support - while Anguile had needled and poked at her, but now that they had his confession, she was under no further obligation to play nice or hide her true feelings.
"Don't you dare try to blame this on me. You did this to yourself! I have done nothing to you, save for having the audacity to exist."
Cathelora scrambled out of the way as Auriana abruptly lunged forward and slammed her hands down on the arms of Anguile's chair and leaned in so that their faces were barely inches apart. Up close, she could smell the musk and cedarwood of his pricey cologne, and see the golden thread embroidered on his high, stiff collar. Everything about him spoke of idle wealth and supercilious disdain, and Auriana despised him for it.
"It should have been Cathe," Anguile hissed, his breath hot and heavy in Auriana's face. "She would have been a perfect queen. Beautiful, mannered, and heir to a bloodline stretches back to the founding of Stormwind itself."
"To the founding of Stormwind?! Bah!" Auriana roared. "I can trace my bloodline back to the Troll Wars! My ancestors were leaders of men while yours were still scrabbling in the dirt. None of which matters in any case, because Varian didn't marry me for my damn bloodline."
Anguile opened his mouth to reply, but Auriana cut him off with a furious shake of her head.
"It never truly occurred to you that he loved me, did it? He remained a bachelor for nearly twenty years, Anguile! He didn't just spontaneously wake up one morning after ignoring innumerable social and political pressures for the better part of two decades to take a second wife on a whim!"
Everything she had wanted to say to Anguile for over a year came pouring out in a furious tirade, and now that the floodgates had opened, there was no closing them. It was hardly a dignified, queenly display, but Auriana was well past caring. Anguile had more than earned her ire, and she fully intended to give him a piece of her mind.
"He didn't want a name, or a title, or a political alliance. He didn't want just any wife; not your daughter, or one of the countless noblewomen that have been paraded past him over the years. He wanted me," she spat, pressing an impassioned hand against her breast. "And you couldn't see it, because you've never done anything in your life that was motivated solely by love, and love alone."
"You - you don't understand," Anguile protested weakly. "I had to act. I couldn't have you steal away my legacy…"
"I understand better than you think," Auriana snapped. "I had a grandfather like you. That was all he cared about, too. Some nebulous idea of 'legacy' and a belief that the significance of his name was more important than the actual flesh-and-blood people in his life. And what did it get him? He's a nobody, a mere footnote in the annals of history. And I intend for you to fare the same."
Auriana straightened, drawing herself up as tall as she was able and fixing Anguile with her most imperious glare. Her fury turned cold, and in a voice like the winds of Icecrown, she recited a list of charges to be brought against the haughty Duke.
"Rohas Anguile, you are formally charged with the crimes of high treason, sedition, attempted murder and attempted regicide, as you have confessed to this day. If found guilty at trial, you will be sentenced to death."
To his credit, Anguile didn't flinch, even though he had to know that his confession, in concert with the testimonies and evidence they already had, was enough to bury him. Cathelora, on the other hand, began to whimper, knotting her hands in her silken skirts and murmuring desperate pleas for clemency beneath her breath. Auriana ignored her.
"Additionally, by the power vested in me as the Queen of Stormwind and in the presence of these witnesses, I hereby strip you of all titles. All your lands, holdings and assets will be forfeit to the Crown of Stormwind. The name of your House will be struck from the Book of Nobles, and none of your immediate bloodline will ever be permitted to hold noble rank again."
"You can't."
Anguile may have remained stoic in the face of his almost-certain death, but it seemed he considered the loss of his noble stature a far greater tragedy. For the first time, he looked genuinely afraid - not angry, not dismissive, not haughty, but truly afraid. Auriana suspected that his cocky confession had been a symptom of his belief that he was truly above the law, that he wouldn't really face punishment for what he had done, but now that Auriana had come for the one thing he cared for above all others, he had come unhinged.
"Actually, I can." She had made sure to confer with Varian upon this particular point of contention, and he had confirmed that it was his, and by extension, her, right as his lawful agent. "The charges laid against you must be tried in a court of law, but your place in the House of Nobles is a grant of the Crown. And the Crown has chosen to rescind that privilege."
"My daughter… this wasn't her fault, she has done nothing wrong!" Anguile spluttered. "You promised she would not be harmed!"
"And I will keep that promise. She will be permitted to keep a portion of her personal assets. I would not see her destitute or cast out on the streets, and should her friends and maternal family in Stormwind wish to aid her, the Crown will not interfere." Auriana raised an eyebrow, and let out a soft snort of derision. "There are far worse things in this world than being a commoner, Anguile..."
And there it was. The last words she would ever have to say to the man. No matter what happened at his trial, Duke - or should she say, former Duke - Rohas Anguile was finished.
Auriana turned, and walked away with her head held high.