Chapter Seven

Ten years after the Battle at Blackrock…

"And as the sun goes down, the darkness envelops us in its mysterious embrace. Without the light of the sun to guide us, it may seem like all is hopeless in the void. It may seem like we are alone and powerless. But I tell you this, friends, when there is dark, there will always be light. The sun will shine once more and burn out the fear and evils of the world. Everything under creation will feel the warmth of the light once more. Light bless."

The congregation responded, "Light bless," in a booming singular voice. While the single voice suggested a single entity, it was in fact composed of dozens of individual voices of all ages and gender. Together their voices created their own singular vessel of worship. The men, women, and children all sat in the pews, leaning forward intently to listen to the message. The church that protected them with its four walls was modest, certainly not on the grand scale of the churches of Stratholme or rebuilt Stormwind, but certainly large enough to comfortably hold a decent gathering like today's.

In front of the congregation of devout followers of the Light, the pulpit was raised slightly with a small stained glass window depicting a ray of light in the back. It was not the window that demanded the astute attention of the congregation but rather the man at the lectern delivering the sermon. Standing tall with one hand placed on an open libram, Daellin presided over his following on this beautiful morning. A decade of peace since his time in war kept his physical appearance mostly the same besides tinges of grey in his hair and soft cracks on his face. His smile was not the same he would have with Ahran but rather it was one of a confident man giving the good message to his peers.

Daellin cleared his throat before returning to his libram, the same one that Uther gave him years ago before his acceptance into the Silver Hand. He flipped to a dog-marked page and said, "Give me a few moments to paraphrase a passage that I wrote as a far younger man with fewer wrinkles. Following the Alliance's victory against the orcs, I found myself looking for meaning. I had spent so much time in constant conflict that peace was a stranger. I felt like I no longer had a purpose, a home. I had lost so many friends as well as a sense of comradery that got me through the war." Daellin moved away from his lectern and closer to the edge of the pulpit to be closer to his congregation.

He noticed a few looks of concern from what he just said. Without saying anything, he nodded to acknowledge the contrast between his sermon and this story. He continued, "However, like the dawn of a new day, the Light gave me clarity. Much like how Uther the Lightbringer guided me to find purpose, the Light gave me a path forward; to protect the children of Azeroth under the warm veil of the Holy Light." The paladin paced side to side as he spoke, reeling in his listeners. "Within the love of the Holy Light, I find myself learning more and more everyday. Even back home here in Andorhal, I learn more about the struggles of my countrymen as well as their hopes. Hold onto those hopes and aspirations through the darkest of nights. When the morning comes, the Light will guide you to your dreams."

Many in the audience responded in their own ways, either by a chorus of claps, a recital of the blessing of Light, or a humble smile back to their preacher. In addition to the round of applause, the rhythmic chime of the church bell rang throughout the church and the city. With the amount of rings, it must have been noon and the end of the service. People began to stand up within the pews and stretch. A few had a quick word with their neighbors while others held their holy book and gave a silent prayer. Meanwhile, Daellin waved goodbye from the pulpit. Another day of service felt like a success for the paladin.

As most of the congregation poured out of the church, Daellin took his libram and walked down from the pulpit and into the pews. He, too, was making his way to the exit when something below caught his attention. Hiding at the end of a pew, a little girl looked up to Daellin with glossy eyes. Daellin smiled at the little girl and lowered himself down to her level. "Hello, Rebecca. How are you today?" he asked.

The tiny red-haired girl with pigtails, no older than five, shyly shifted in her shoes. She tugged at her green skirt before replying, "I am well, Sir Daellin. I had a question for you."

"Of course, milady."

Rebecca looked behind her to the other end of the pew. Two young adults, a man and woman, stood with their hands held. Both smiled to reassure Rebecca. With this support, Rebecca turned back to Daellin. "Does the Light love everyone?" she asked with childish excitement. Daellin grinned when he saw the girl almost jump out of her shoes.

The paladin answered the little girl's question, "Of course it does. The Holy Light loves everyone!" He leaned in even closer to the girl and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The motion was all too familiar for the holy man. Rebecca's face was beaming with Daellin's response.

"Even Barktholomew, my puppy!?"

Daellin chuckled, "Yes, even your puppy Barktholomew."

With the answer she was looking for, Rebecca pranced back to her parents. They thanked Daellin for indulging their daughter before waving goodbye. Daellin returned the gesture before continuing out of the church. At this point, most of the attendants had filed out of the church and into the streets of Andorhal. They were all discussing Daellin's sermon he gave and what their later plans were going to be. Neighbors discussed dinner plans while farmers discussed grain shipments to the businessmen. For the grain capital of Lordaeron, grain was always on everyone's' minds.

With everyone still on the steps leading to the church, many took the time to thank Daellin for his church service. Years ago, when he returned home from the war, people mostly thanked his military service but over time the words of gratitude morphed to thanks for his religious service. After a few minutes, the crowd dispersed from the church and into the town with their faithful preacher beaming in pride.

With most of his congregation away, Daellin took the moment to appreciate the city he called home. Even when he was a child, Andorhal was a bustling trade city, and now even more so. The city proper, filled to the brim with residential and business districts, eventually gave way to farms and grain silos to the north. Meanwhile, the glistening Darrowmere Lake brushed the cityscape to the west and south. The sparkling lake inspired Daellin so much years ago that he decided to erect his church right on the shores of the ever-present lake. Even with the growth of the town, Daellin could walk down any street and reminisce about the past. It could be a story of Ahran and Daellin running away from adults after some childhood mischief or attending his parents' funerals years after his return from the war. No one said every memory was a joyous one.

The distinct sound of a horse's hooves on a cobbled road interrupted Daellin's trance. He turned to see a horse being led by its reins in the opposite direction of the outgoing church congregation. Daellin could only make out the silhouette of a heavily plated man hidden under a helmet escorting the brown horse through the crowd. Eventually, the horse and its guide made their way through the outgoing crowd and stood a few yards from Daellin. Despite still not seeing who it was, the Silver Hand paladin smiled politely and noticed that the horse had many bags swung on its sides, almost like a pack mule.

"Good day to you, sir," Daellin said.

The armored man rubbed the bridge of the horse's nose before turning to face Daellin. Without removing his helm, the armored man said, "To you , as well. My, sounds like the people liked your message today," in a muffled tone.

Daellin nodded his head slightly. "I am glad to hear they appreciated the message. The Light was with us all today," he replied.

After Daellin's statement, the armored man took a few steps forward and went to remove his visor. Once the helmet was fully off, he said, "And it is with us all everyday."

"Uther!" Daellin exclaimed. His intimidatingly large stature had not changed in the decade of peace following the war against the orcs. What was noticeably different was his long locks, currently wet from sweat, had gone fully grey. Soon enough that will be me. Despite this, the paladin that had fought righteously for Lordaeron still resonated vigor.

Daellin stepped forward into Uther's smile as his mentor held out his gauntleted hand for a shake to which the Andorhal preacher took. The two exchanged grins along with a spirited handshake. "It is good to see your history of skipping service hasn't continued into adulthood," Uther sarcastically remarked.

Daellin smirked and replied, "But the services I did attend gave me the enlightenment to pass on the message."

Uther stood for a moment, admiring the man that Daellin had become. After the war, the Silver Hand were in charge of taking the imprisoned orcs to Lordaeron for internment but were relieved of watching over the greenskins soon thereafter. Since then, the Silver Hand knights made sure to expand their organization's numbers while preaching for the Church of the Light. While Uther was determined to carry on his teachings to new generations of paladins in Stratholme, Daellin took to preaching at his hometown. While the two had crossed paths over the years, it had been some time.

Uther broke the silence, "Where is the other half of the dynamic duo?" he asked.

"Ahran is off in Hillsbrad on a diplomatic mission," he answered before adding, "you know how farming families can be with land disputes."

Uther chuckled and looked off in the distance, clearly thinking back to a specific moment in time. "Sometimes the hogs are more understanding than their owners," he said as he observed Andorhal's church for a few moments. His gaze then carried to the various buildings around. Most of the buildings near the church were residential homes with a tiny school tucked in between the houses. "It amazes me how much Andorhal has grown," he wondered aloud.

Daellin nodded. "It certainly has grown since the wars and even more so since I was a kid. Even that school over yonder was nothing but a plot of earth that we used for games. Granted, I'd imagine it pales in comparison to the glorious walls of Stormwind. I'm sure the southern city of lions held a great procession for our prince," he said. What he was alluding to was Uther's trip to the rebuilt city for the knighting of Prince Arthas of Lordaeron into the Silver Hand not too long ago. Daellin heard from other paladins that were in attendance that it was a glorious occasion, one that he wished he was there for. Instead of attending, Daellin was in Andorhal giving his mother her last rites before passing away due to natural causes.

"Aye, 'tis a beautiful city," Uther began before noticing how Daellin may have been alluding to the knighting. "It was a touching ceremony, Daellin. We all wished you were there to see our future king brought into our order." The elder paladin walked up to Daellin and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We all have our priorities, lad, and you chose correctly."

Daellin returned the gesture with a smile and a nod. "Thank you, Uther. Does it ever occur to you how you taught our future king on his path to the Light?" he asked.

"The weight was tremendous on the shoulders, yes. It helped that the boy is a natural when it comes to combat. However, you do have one thing that the prince lacks," Uther said. He watched Daellin's eyebrows furrowed in confusion before continuing, "The lad is a hothead that lacks patience."

The two bursted into laughter from the statement. Daellin heard tales of how young and brash the heir to the throne was from other Silver Hand knights. While he had not seen the prince since he was a bright eyed royal court boy, he could imagine Arthas's temperament with Uther. Even Daellin, all those years ago in Stratholme prior to the Second War, felt a sense of urgency or impatience when studying under Uther. Despite this human flaw, he and all of Lordaeron knew that Arthas would rise up to take the mantle of a just paladin and king.

"I trust Arthas will grow in that regard, less you knock some sense into his head," Daellin remarked, still laughing. In the midst of laughing at the expense of their prince, Daellin asked, "Where are my manners? Uther, step inside and take a load off. I am sure it was a long ride and it is far too hot for you to be in all that armor."

Uther shook his head and waved off the offer with a courteous smile. "No, old friend. I am only passing through. King Terenas is so demanding, even in his advanced age. In fact, he is sending me out to deal with a small orc situation," he replied. While this disappointed Daellin a bit that his old friend would not be staying for a while, he understood. The ultimate beacon of the Light in Lordaeron was surely a busy man, especially since his days serving as Prince Arthas's mentor.

"Even all these years after the war, we are still dealing with those beasts," Daellin sighed. "What I would do to pick up my sword and join you, just like the old days."

"Only this time around our bones would be a bit more weary and my vision not as great."

"Even a battered Uther can take down an entire clan of orcs with one hand tied behind his back."

Uther chuckled at the remark then leaned in close to his former pupil. "There is something you can do for me, Daellin. I need you to keep your eyes sharp and your wits about you, old friend," he murmured urgently. Daellin raised an eyebrow but before he could interject, Uther continued, "Terenas confided with me that a dark presence is growing in Lordaeron."

Daellin, matching Uther's hushed tone, asked, "Is it the orcs?"

Uther shook his head. "The king is worried about something more… sinister in nature. Rather, it-" he stopped as he heard a group of salesmen walk by, going on about the current selling price of grain and herbs. The paladins were speechless until the passersby were away. Once more, Uther leaned in and continued, "There are reports of some sort of group, a cult, forming in the darkest corners of the nation. We do not know much about this cult nor do we truly know its purpose. If you ask me, though, a cult is never a good thing. Old man Terenas has asked me to have the Silver Hand keep a vigilant eye and investigate."

Daellin's eyebrows furrowed as he processed what he heard. As a holy man, the thought of a sinister cult growing within his home nation was concerning. After all, Lordaeron had been devout to the Holy Light for centuries, even before the advent of the Silver Hand and the paladins that protected the kingdom. His thoughts of dark magics led him to linger for a moment on the insidious orcish warlocks he slayed years ago. Then his thoughts rested on the death knights the greenskins created with their unholy magics. That was his first hand experience with the occult and it was none too pleasant.

"How can I help, Sir?" Daellin asked, eager to join his fellow paladin in investigating. The same rush of adrenaline that flowed through his veins during the Second War returned. The subtle cracks in his skin were momentarily filled with youthful vigor. This nostalgic energy gave the paladin hope that he would be rejoining Uther on a quest.

"By staying here," Uther replied. "Continue giving the people the message of the Holy Light while keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. With faith, we can defeat any unnatural disturbances."

Daellin's hopes of reliving the glory days were quickly extinguished. Glory by sword would have to wait another day. He nodded slowly before saying, "Aye, Sir. I will follow the Light and keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. I will send word to Stratholme and the Capital City if I see or hear anything."

Uther relinquished his tight grasp on Daellin's shoulders and stepped away. His stern visage relented to a more pleasant expression. "I know you will, Daellin. Your libram," he started as he pointed to Daellin's holy book attached to his hip, "mind reading your latest passage? It has been so long since I've heard one of your insightful thoughts."

Daellin fumbled around his waist, almost as if he forgot where his beloved book was, before lifting the hefty libram to his chest. He opened the front cover and fingered through the pages to find the latest entry he made. "Let us see… Oh, yes, this was from last week," he muttered aloud then cleared his throat before reciting what he wrote. "Challenges persist all around us. From land disputes between farming families to a subpar harvest, it is a test of our soul when we experience adversity. For some, the challenge may seemingly be insurmountable." He paused to see Uther's reaction so far. He only saw him with his eyes closed shut and nodding. The abrupt silence was met with Uther raising an eyebrow, giving Daellin the signal to continue.

Daellin continued, "Perhaps only through mortal means these threats are impossible. That is when the Holy Light gifts us wings to fly over these mountains. Thus, soaring on golden wings, we in the mortal coil can truly overcome any obstacle before us. Light preserve us."

Almost on cue, Uther muttered the entirety of Daellin's entry verbatim. The former protégé was astounded by Uther's uncanny ability to memorize the passage with only hearing it once. After he finished the prayer, he opened his cloudy eyes and added, "Tis a good one, lad. May the wings of grace allow us to overcome our obstacles. I-" The paladin stopped, seemingly choked on his own words. He quickly shook it off before plodding to his horse while Daellin closed his libram.

"Now," Uther began before reaching for a large beige knapsack tied to the horse's saddle, "the true reason for my sudden appearance." He untied the knapsack and held it in his two hands. The contents were not bulky in size but long in length. He held the sack out gently with his outstretched hands as he glided back to Daellin. He gave a few feet of distance between the two as his face morphed into the serious one that his former pupil recognized all too well from his time studying to become a paladin all those years ago.

Without breaking the silence, Uther reached into the container gingerly. In a fluid motion, he pulled out a majestic sword that gleamed in the Andorhalan sunlight. For a brief moment, he held the sword up in the sky, letting all of Azeroth bask in its glory, before pointing the tip of the blade directly at Daellin. The younger paladin marvelled in the sword's elegance. A sapphire attached at the pummel shined the most in the sunlight. He noticed that the cross-guard was detailed as two rose lions perched on their hindlegs protecting the similarly colored blade.

Daellin was still entranced by the sword's beauty when Uther asked, "Remember all those years ago in Stratholme? When Ahran couldn't find that last page before knighting?"

How could he forget? The day that they were knighted into the Silver Hand and declared paladins before the Light. But why was Uther asking about that now and why the sword? Without getting an answer from Daellin, Uther guided his fellow knight with his eyes to the ground. Daellin then realized what he was insinuating; Uther wanted him to kneel like he did on the stairs leading to the chapel in Stratholme.

"Sir, I am confused, why-"

"Lad, the longer we stay here the more grey hairs we grow," Uther interjected.

Daellin slowly knelt down on one knee and looked up to a stoic face. Earlier, he had the momentary nostalgic feeling of being alongside Uther out in the field. Now, he was experiencing the same heart throbbing anxiety he had when Uther welcomed him into the order. While it was out of terror then, now a growing sense of anticipation forced him to look into Uther's piercing eyes.

In the same fluid motion that Uther had when pulling out the sword from the bag, he lowered the sword next to Daellin's left ear. With the sword so close, it felt like an aura of heat resonated from the blade that singed the hairs on Daellin's neck. In fact, it reminded him of his time in the Burning Steppes fighting the Horde a decade ago. Hopefully this time there were not any lava pits to avoid. Despite the sense of a raging fire next to his head, he remained calm and composed.

"Sir Daellin of Andorhal, ever since you arrived at Stratholme all those years ago, you have devoted your life to the Holy Light. Your devolution will serve as a testament that will last the ages. Furthermore, you have made it your life's goal to spread the love and message of the Light that resides in your heart to all. You have faithfully demonstrated your passion both on the battlefield and in the church," Uther strongly declared.

At this point, a few locals stopped in their tracks and watched this ceremony play out. Men, women, and children alike stood with awe as they observed the famed Uther proclaim honor upon the man they looked up to for guidance. Daellin felt the slightest sense of embarrassment, not from the modest gathering watching him but from how he felt like a naive young man again.

Uther lifted the sword and brought it to Daellin's other shoulder. He continued, "Above all else, you have dedicated your life in aiding others and providing the Light's love to all of creation. No other in the mortal coil has given their entire heart to both the Light and to his fellow man to the level you have. For that, your years of service to a just cause shall be properly rewarded. I, Uther Lightbringer, paladin of the Silver Hand, knight thee as Sir Daellin..." he paused, relishing in knowing how the crowd was waiting in bated breath while Daellin showed signs of squirming, "Lightheart."

Daellin's eyes went wide and his mouth agape. He faintly heard the applause of the other citizens of Andorhal that had gathered but he was solely focused on Uther. His expression must have been funny as Uther could not help but laugh heartedly. "Sir U-Uther, I-I tha-" he stammered.

Uther lowered his voice so that only the two of them could hear and said, "Rise, Sir Lightheat."

Daellin nodded and allowed the ceremonial sword to lead him up as he rose to his feet. "Thank you, Lord Uther Lightbringer. I will honor and cherish this title with my life. This is just so sudden," he said.

"Imagine getting this treatment right after Blackrock by Turalyon in the sweltering heat," Uther laughed before adding, "I know you will cherish this, lad." The two, much like the sword, glowed in the pounding sunlight. While the two remained mute, the crowd around them continued to applaud. It was like the town festival was in full swing after a bountiful harvest. Instead, the only thing harvested that day was the admiration from Daellin's fellow man for the preacher.

Uther turned to the crowd and asked in his booming voice, "But what is a title within the Silver Hand without the appropriate symbol?!"

The Lightbringer laid the ceremonial sword across the palms of his hands and presented it to Daellin. Like earlier, the newly anointed Lightheart was rendered speechless and could not move. Before he could feel the sense of embarrassment from earlier grow inside once again, he grabbed the sword's leather grip and raised it so he could be entranced once more. The glorious azure crystal at the bottom of the pummel radiated with as much light as the sun above, nearly blinding him. What struck him the most was, despite its larger-than-normal length and width, nearly the width of his chest, the sword felt like it weighed less than air. Furthermore, the same aura of heat that resonated from the blade tracked down to his clenched hand.

"She was forged centuries ago during the days of Arathor and blessed by the Holy Light," Uther mentioned as Daellin continued to look over his gift. It was like when a parent describes a gift to a child on the morning of Winter's Veil- mostly oblivious by deeply appreciative. "It is said that the blade burns just as bright as the sun above to bring forth a new day… Her name is Dawncrier."

"Dawncrier," Daellin muttered softly, savoring the word as if it was the last thing he would hear on Azeroth. "Dawncrier…"