Chapter Eleven
The voices enveloped Daellin in a stranglehold, pressing down on his very being like a large boulder. It was overwhelming. He had been in battlefields that were deafening and filled with heightened excitement before, however, this was different. He could not defend himself with a sword and shield. He could not hush the audience with a powerful message.
He could only stand in the doorway and let the yells penetrate his eardrums and skin.
"Sir Lightheart! Please, please, come on in!"
In a thrashing sea of voices, Saidan's robust voice stood out like a lighthouse. Even his body stood tall like a lighthouse guiding in ships during a torrent. The Grand Crusader of the Scarlet Crusade, all six and a half feet of him, was fully erect at the center of the room. Three staggered rows fully encircled around him with only a small opening at the north end of the room for people to walk though. In the rows were a dozen Scarlets, some sitting and some on their feet. Those that had the privilege to sit were members of the upper echelon of the Crusade. Those lesser in rank could only stand at attention by their superior's flanks. It was akin to a lecturer at the universities of Dalaran holding a lesson for a classroom full of aspirants. Granted, that was when Dalaran still stood.
With the room still brimming with impassioned voices, Daellin took a hesitant step into the command center. The door behind him slammed shut, cutting off the only escape route for the paladin.
"C'mon, Daellin, don't be shy! Take a seat!" Saidan called out, making direct eye contact with his fellow paladin.
His words brought wind to Daellin's sail as he took a few more steps into the command center, his vision solely focused on Saidan. His brightly lit smile, somewhat obscured by his bulky white beard and mustache, brought in the ship as Daellin took a seat in the nearest chair. While he was in the outer ring of rows and as far away from nonsense as he could, it still felt like being in the middle of a storm.
"Now, now, friends, let us please return to the matter at hand," Saidan proclaimed as he circled around the center of the room, making sure to look into everybody's eyes. The loud voices calmed a little, then reduced to a murmur when Saidan clasped his hands. The impact from his hands colliding seemed to create a shockwave that snuffed out any sound in the room.
For the first time, Daellin could think clearly. What in the Light could make them all so...loud? Can there not be some level of peace in the war room?
"Darkness has crept into our lives once more, my friends. In addition to the lingering specter of the Scourge, enemies crawl under our very noses in our bastions of humanity," Saidan said as he paced back and forth in the center of the room. The Grand Crusader's words and hand motions reeled in his fellow Scarlets, Daellin included. Saidan continued, "We are no stranger to enemies within. I do not need to remind you all of the grotesque actions of the appropriately named Cult of the Damned."
Daellin shuddered. The Cult of the Damned. The dark lambs that strayed from the Light to a far more nefarious path. From the common man to the elite and even those previously devoted to the Holy Light, all were susceptible to the intoxicating promises of power and immortality. It was a known fact to everyone that the cult were the creators of the plague that annihilated the kingdom and raised the dead. It was the cult that truly sentenced Lordaeron to its grime status, creating the hellish landscape the Crusade fought to overcome.
"Which is why we have conducted investigations, inquisitions, and raids on the Scarlet lands to weed out the apostates and the damned! Thorough inquisitions..." a shrill voice that drew out each syllable proclaimed. All, even Saidan, turned their attention to Isillien, the elder Grand Inquisitor of the Crusade. Hunched over with his fingers interlocked in front of his face, obscuring only a few of the countless wrinkles that decorated his face, Isillien's eyes peered directly at Saidan.
"To which we are deeply grateful for, Grand Inquisitor," Saidan thanked. "The successes of your actions are multiple and demonstrate how the Light will, in the end, triumph over the darkness."
Isillien stretched his back and winced. Each crack of his vertebrae was pronounced and echoed throughout the chamber. "All in a day's work," the inquisitor muttered. "So, if these rumors of treacherous heresy are to be believed, what is stopping the Grand Crusader in unleashing the full might of the Crusade in eradicating every trace of evil?" Each word sent his last few silver strands of hair flying all over the place.
Saidan nodded as he approached the first row. He leaned his hefty body against the edge and responded, "Is that not already our goal? Our deepest held conviction, Grand Inquisitor? Is that not why we conduct operations in eradicating the heretics and apostates within our midst? Is that not why we send sons and daughters of the Crusade on dangerous missions? We already put copious amounts of time, energy, and resources into the inquisitions. Are you suggesting the inquisition branch demands more when we are already stretched thin?"
Daellin could not hide a smirk. There you go, Saidan. Put the old man in his place.
Isillien's beady eyes narrowed. The leading figure of the Scarlet Inquisition tried to stand up but could not get further than an inch above his seat before collapsing back down. Once again, his spine cracked a thousand times over. "What I mean to say is..." he groaned in as much agony as some of his saved souls after hours of confession, "We can not allow even the thought of treachery to grow in Tyr's, less we lose our bastion of faith. I am merely suggesting that we can increase the rate of inquiries into the city and neighboring towns. All it would require is a modest increase in coin for righteous efforts…"
Saidan chuckled, amused by what he just heard. Suddenly, he slammed a clenched fist on the bench. Despite Isillien being in the last row, Saidan's imposing presence and body seemed to stretch across the rows all the way to the frail inquisitor. "Of course, a modest coin increase. When we are already stretched so thin with ensuring the general public is well supported and protected. When everyday more and more refugees from the west pour into the Scarlet Lands. When every able bodied man and woman are needed to combat the Scourge," he listed. Each statement, his voice grew louder and louder to the point that it matched the volume level of the entire chamber when Daellin walked in.
Saidan snapped away from Isillien and back to the rest of the assembled Scarlets. "The people of Lordaeron deserve the right of protection, that is not to be mistaken. The people, through all of the trials and tribulations they have endured, deserve the right to sleep soundly at night. Sending the entirety of the inquisition branch to raid every nook and cranny will not bring solace to anyone."
Daellin nodded in agreement but noticed that everyone else in the chamber was still faced, save for Isillien. The inquisitor's flesh, normally a shade of grey, now turned hot red, matching the color of his robes while his body twitched viciously. He's as hot red as the irons they use in their confessions. Or at least, so I've heard. It is amusing seeing Isillien squirm when he doesn't get his way.
One of the henchmen employed by Isillien hesitantly lowered a hand to his superior's shaking shoulder but snapped his hand back when Isillien swiped at the outreached hand. Like a baby refusing to eat from the spoon offered by the mother, Isillien refused any sort of support. Instead, his focus was aimed directly at the backside of Saidan's head. His lips mouthed unspoken words rapidly, revealing only a few remaining teeth and rotten gums.
But the vexes being placed on him did not deter Saidan from continuing in his address to the assembly. "Let us reevaluate our prime piece of evidence to suggest an internal threat. As I told you all at the beginning of this meeting, last night Sir Daellin Lightheart and myself were attacked by an assailant. When pressed in asking who she served, the assailant professed in serving what she referred to as 'the people.' While this vague description is not much to work off on on its own, we can apply our notions we've had about a select few within Tyr's Hand and the neighboring communities and come to the conclusion that this threat is from within."
Isillien spoke out, "As you know, we have pressed-"
Saidan interrupted the inquisitor, "Confessions acquired from three apprehended miners last fortnight prove that there is growing resentment in a select few. Last night's attack seems to be the first move by these apostates."
Daellin's eyebrows furrowed. Confessions from apprehended miners? This is the first I have heard of such a thing. Any inquisition raid and subsequent confessions are relayed to me daily. I would have known of this long ago. Lightheart leaned in, curious as to what Saidan would say next.
"While we are no stranger to the faithless these past years, the fact that they acted on their despicable beliefs is alarming. Thus, we need to come to a consensus on our path moving forward. I would like to hear from-"
"With all due respect, Grand Crusader Dathrohan," a demanding femine voice interrupted Saidan. Everyone in the chamber turned to Brigitte Abbendis standing over her seat. "We are wasting our time here. Everyday we linger on these paltry arguments and insignificant threats, the Scourge grows stronger. We are focusing so much on mere rats when the wolves are closing in."
The fiery words matched the lady. Despite being below average in height, the High General of the Crusade made up for her physical stature with a presence that broke any man around her. Her brunette hair was tied into a top bun as tight as her hatred against the Scourge. Her strong animosity towards the Scourge was understandable considering the damned murdered her father in front of her own eyes. Those that were there at the battle of Hearthglen swear that the elder Abbendis passed on his burning hatred of the undead to his daughter as he died in her arms. Others whisper that the mantle of High General was cursed with a frenzied passion to eradicate the undead. Of course, those whispers were miles away from her presence at all times.
Saidan Dathrohan nodded as he turned to face Abbendis. The two leered at each other for moments without saying another word. While words were not audibly spoken, everyone in attendance knew entire conversations were being had in this exchange. Daellin shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Make no mistake, Brigitte, the Scourge is without a doubt our primary concern. Our mortal mission to destroy the damned will continue being our guiding path," Saidan said while maintaining his direct eye contact with the High General.
Abbendis's eyes flickered, stoking a fire that was growing in the room. Gritting her teeth, she growled, "It is High General Abbendis, oh honorable Grand Crusader." Remarkably, her lips did not move yet the rest of her body shook like a tree in a hurricane.
"My apologies," Saidan feigned sincerity.
Even from across the room, Daellin could hear Abbendis swear under her smoky breath and repeatedly say, "Saidan...Saidan….Saying shit…" Yet the lass remained firm in her stance, refusing to concede to Dathorhan, perhaps even more resolute than before. The seat she was standing behind was quacking as much as she was. The hurricane winds were growing more and more rampant within the chamber.
"What Lady Abbendis is saying," another voice began, "is that we need to be cognizant of our true goals while at the same time ensuring that our safety is secure. Perhaps I can lay out a few ideas." With everyone still staring at the trembling Abbendis, a man stood up beside her. It did not take Daellin more than a moment to realize that Valdelmar, the long-time occupant and military leader of Tyr's Hand, was the one next to the High General. His raised eyebrow and smirk screamed of the cockiness that drove Lightheart mad. Daellin's frustration with Valdelmar was matched with his level of intrigue when he noticed just how close he was to Abbendis. Their shoulders were practically rubbing against one another. The two are virtually one.
Saidan, relenting in his unspoken confrontation with Abbendis, held out his hand in Valdelmar's direction and said, "The floor is yours, Lord Valdelmar of Tyr's Hand."
Instead of walking down to the center of the chamber and taking Saidan's spot to address the room, Valdelmar continued to stand beside Abbendis. The lord of Tyr's Hand dramatically cleared his throat more times than he needed to and began, "The Military Branch of the Scarlet Crusade have conducted their own inquiries into the issues we face. We made this decision based on the correlation between the rise of Scourge activity across Lordaeron against human controlled territories and the rise of suspicious accusations within our own walls. As the Grand Crusader stated, it was the heretics and apostates that fell from good graces that ushered in the Scourge. Since the days of Cult that spread the plague of undeath, we all have been cautious in any threat to humanity. Furthermore-"
A shot to the ribs from an elbow from Abbendis stopped Valdelmar in his tracks. "In fewer words, Jesse," she muttered to Valdelmar before turning her focus back to the room. "With the Light's guidance, we suggest identifying any leads within the common rabble of the major cities as well as the neighboring settlements and communities for any sign of Scourge coercion or threat to the Crusade. It should be our utmost priority to uphold the Light's strength and snuff out any and all threats that hide behind a veil."
"In Common, High General," Isillien groaned.
If Abbendis could spit across the chamber, she would disgrace the Grand Inquisitor in front of everyone in attendance. "Send the might of the Crusade and find all threats, living or dead, and be done with it," she snarled.
"And who gives you the right to conduct such operations?" Isillien asked.
Abbendis cracked her neck and replied, "The Light provides me the clarity to do what is necessary. I doubt you would know anything about listening to a higher power while you scurry to your dark corner and conduct Light knows what in those rooms."
The hurricane within the chamber rapidly escalated once again. The winds circled around the eye of the storm as each audience member added to the ferocity. The Inquisitors that huddled around Isillien like carrian loudly argued against the military branch spearheaded by Abbendis and Valdelmar. Complaints of who had what jurisdiction and how they should carry out any operation were hotly debated without any structure or guidance. In the eye of the storm, Saidan stood silently; occasionally the Grand Crusader would watch a verbal confrontation between Scarlets without intervening.
Then there was Daellin, caught in the middle of it all without any sails to guide him. To his left, the passionate Inquisitors pressed that they are the ones in charge to lead the raids to find the faithless. To his right, those in the military insisted that as the strong arm branch of the order, they had the right to lead an operation against any threat.
"Oh, for Light's sake…" Lightheart muttered, his voice struggling under the currents.
The ruckus in the chamber took Daellin to a different time, transporting his thoughts and his very being to a different place. The strained Scarlet voices that were thrown from one side of the room to the other were replaced with swords and clubs. The yells were no longer disgruntled but blood curdled. Men and women were struck down with little regard. It was a massacre.
Even though his feet rested on wood paneling, his mind convinced him it was the cold cobble stone of a street. Even though he was hiding in the corner in the deepest pit of the Scarlet command center, it felt like he was out in the open, exposed to danger coming from all sides. Even though he was amongst comrades, the atmosphere was adversarial. Even though.
Daellin knew where he was but at the same time sensed his spirit reliving horrific events. Lightheart clambered to find Saidan's eyes to find his way back to reality. The stoic leader of the Crusade would surely bring him back to his senses in the midst of the chaos being spewed. All Daellin could find was the towering backside of his friend, motionless in the storm. Bring order to this, Saidan.
Despite Daellin's best wishes, Saidan remained mute even though his subordinates ran wild with accusations and frustration.
Suddenly, the pressure in the room vanished, as if a snap of a finger undid all of the chaos. Just as they did when Daellin walked into the room, everyone in attendance turned their attention to the single door that led into the chamber. Daellin, too, looked behind and saw a single woman standing in the doorway. What caught Daellin's attention first wasn't the woman but rather the fact that no guard was at her side to open the door. To be fair, the poor lad is probably long gone, Daellin considered thinking back to the short man that was probably still lost in the corridors of this maze of a building. But the thought was short lived as he turned his full attention to the lady.
He instantly recognized her. The lady at the morning service that complimented his prayer while the two were masked in the darkness while Bedlam entertained the congregation. She left before he got her name but the grey strands in her long, muted blonde hair were indistinguishable. Now in a more adequately lit setting, Daellin could register every detail. Maybe it was the fact that this woman demanded the attention of the Scarlet Crusade's upper echelon but Daellin swore that she was as tall, if not taller, than himself. As opposed to everyone in the room wearing the traditional crimson garb of the Crusade, she wore a simple white robe with a series of golden stripes in the shape of inverted v's, directing any onlooker to her face. Her face was slightly wrinkled but not in the way an old house wife has wrinkles from decades of work but rather faint lines that suggest wisdom beyond her years.
"Ah! Our last guest of the evening!"
Saidan's words snapped Daellin back to reality. Any threat of an ephemeral sword or club was washed away. Even the animosity amongst Scarlets was gone, sucked out of the room through the door the lady came in from.
"Ladies and gentleman, may I present to you Demetria Silverstrand of Hearthglen."
Demetria glided down the steps towards the center of the room. Behind her, the door shut as politely as her pleasant smile. When she passed Daellin, a sense of calm swept over him like a wave. Her robe was so long and spacious that the fringes of it danced over Daellin's foot like a gentle caress from a dainty hand. Even when she was in the center of the chamber standing next to Saidan, the ends of her train were still gliding down the steps.
"The pleasure is all mine, Grand Crusader," Demetria said with a slight curtsy; how deep her bow was impossible to tell given her overflowing attire.
In contrast to the heated tones of everyone's voices earlier, Demetria's was soothing and calming. Daellin noticed that even impassioned Abbendis was leaning back in her seat, content in listening to what the newcomer had to say. Valdelmar squirmed in his seat as he kept shooting glances back and forth between Abbendis and Demetria. On the opposite side of the chamber, Isillien still had his fingers interlocked but now rested on the desk. His inquisitor lackeys, previously shaking to the core like trees in a gust, were now captivated with the newcomer like a school boy infatuated with a new girl student.
"For those of you unaware, Lady Silverstrand has dedicated years serving the Light and Hearthglen as a whole. In fact, she was recently appointed as chief advisor to Highlord Taelan Fordring, overseeing the rejuvenation and flourishment of Hearthglen," Saidan announced, going back to his ways of twisting and turning his body so that he could personally address everyone in the room. "Due to her status and close connection to the populace, she has uncovered some leads that corroborate some of our suspicions. The fact that these conspiracies are being suspected from Tyr's all the way west to Hearthglen tells me we are facing something dire."
Silverstrand upstaged Saidan as she glided in front of the Grand Crusader. "I do wish we could have met in different circumstances, brave soldiers of the Light. While we cannot place a definite finger on any one culprit, the fact remains that there are those that wish to undermine our righteous cause within our midst. We have a few leads that suggest that Fryredale is home to dissidents knowledgeable of this growing conspiracy. I have come to you to help remedy this problem."
Silverstrand paused, letting her words fall on everyone's ears. Abbendis continued to eye the priestess with intrigue with Valdelmar next to her growing more and more concerned. Isillien leered at Demetria with wolf's eyes. His closed hands were now pumping up and down on the desk, like he was churning butter. Demetria continued, "Despite these concerning circumstances, I have faith in all of us that we can quickly and peacefully resolve the matter." Her words were a mixture of silk and gold, bringing both comfort and knowledge.
Daellin was captivated with the golden silk. He leaned ever so slightly in his chair, eager to hear what this newcomer had to say. Certainly, having a new voice in the matter brought a sense of levity to the situation.
She continued, "Nevertheless, whatever obstacle we may face, it is important to remind ourselves that we are eternally basked in the Light's protection. Those that hide in the darkness will receive the piercing light sooner rather than later. Forevermore, those blessed shall be rewarded." Demetria bowed her head and added, "Let us pray."
Everyone in the chamber, save for the inquisitors, bowed their heads. If it was a race to see who followed her instruction, Daellin and Saidan may have tied for first. Meanwhile, Isillien was more hesitant than all the others. The most he mustered was a slight head tilt while maintaining his interlocked fingers. From an onlooker, it looked like the elder inquisitor had just died in a peculiar posture.
"O', blessed Holy Light, with your outstretched arms and eternal grace. May your wings give us shelter in the coming storm. May your endless beauty continue to empower the weak and give strength to combat our foes. May the Light guide us as we continue our fight to defend the natural world in your name. In the Light's name."
The chamber echoed, "In the Light's name." Everyone raised their head and opened their eyes once more. While he was the last to lower his head, Isillien was the first to snap his neck up and pry his eyes open like a lizard.
"Very good, Lady Silverstrand, very good…" Saidan muttered as he tapped the libram at his side. Daellin, too, placed one hand on the front cover of his libram attached to his hip.
"While this is all and good," a crackled voice called out, "I would love to hear what your next plan of action is, Grand Crusader. After all, it doesn't sound like democracy is in play in deciding our course," Isillien croaked. Every three words, his left index finger would tap the wrinkled webbing between his right index and middle fingers like clockwork.
Like he had done to Abbendis earlier, Saidan walked to the chamber side that held the inquisitors. Saidan's imposing stature bridged the gap that separated the two. No amount of rows could separate the two when it came to the Grand Crusader of the Scarlet Crusade.
"Grand Inquisitor, I would place a hefty amount of gold to bet that anything I say that does not include the Inquisition branch would be loathed by you and your ilk," Saidan drew out as he leaned over the first row. Thankfully no one was sitting there or else they would be knocked down by Saidan's hulking neck and bulky beard.
Isillien chuckled dryly. "You would be a rich man if you made such a wager."
While maintaining eye contact with the Grand Inquisitor, Saidan called out, "Lady Abbendis, take a search party to Fryredale and conduct a thorough investigation. Take the 37th and 41st from New Avalon to serve as bannermen. I expect a detailed report within twelve hours of your return."
"As the Light wills it and as you command, Grand Crusader," the young Abbendis gleefully replied.
Saidan continued, "As for the inquisitors, they shall remain in the dungeons with the current occupants. Grand Inquisitor Isillien, I am instructing you to follow our leads here in Tyr's and find more information. Between investigating Tyr's and Fryredale, we are bound to come up with something that helps point us to the identity of the conspirators."
A corner of Isillien's lip twitched as he heard the command. "Might I suggest utilizing my inquisitors in a more active role?"
"Perhaps when I see some results, Isillien," Saidan spat back. The Grand Inquisitor was rendered silent. Content with his verbal victory over his subordinate, Saidan rejoined Demetria Silverstrand in the center of the room. The two looked like they were another set of pillars holding up the war room. Perhaps they were.
All the way in the furthest row and in the closest seat to the exit, Daellin could not help but let his inner amusement show on his face. His grin showed how he felt. You tell him, Saidan. Keep that old crook in his place. Too often, he gets his ways when Saidan is elsewhere. Frankly, I would not mind if Isillien was transferred to another city, away from Tyr's Hand. Light knows this city has enough ego to fill the entire Darrowmere Mountains.
Daellin did not know how long he was relishing in Isillien's humiliation but briefly seeing Valdelmar eyeing him quickly ended his smile. Embarrassment ran through his body knowing he probably looked like the annoying student in a classroom that oooh'ed and aaahh'd when another child was in trouble with the headmaster. He dared not look three inches to Valdelmar's left to see if Abbendis had seen his foolish grin as well. He could not fathom the thought of someone many years his junior seeing him act juvenile.
Once again, Saidan addressed the chamber, "Of course, I would be a fool to let the Grand Inquisitor out on the town without proper supervision. Hell, the last time we did, half of Avondale spent the following week in the crypts. So I am entrusting our guest Lady Silverstrand to serve as your escort through Tyr's Hand to investigate any possible leads and to gather information at the ground level."
Hah! The old man can't even leave his torture sanctuary without a guide escorting him everywhere. How embarrassing. On the other hand, I feel awfully bad for Silverstrand. A lady has no place being in close proximity to that walking set of rotten gums. A true beauty and the beast situation without the happy ending.
"Sir Daellin Lightheart will also serve as a guide for Grand Inquisitor Isillien and Lady Demetria Silverstrand."
All thoughts Daellin had swirling in his head crashed catastrophically like a vessel careening into a dock. His eyes dilated so quickly and his heart pumped a copious amount of blood straight to his head that it was reminiscent of someone's first hit of Moonglow. If someone had been sitting next to the elder paladin, the heat resonated from Lightheart would have forced them away.
Daellin, still in his drained state, was hyper focused on a series of chuckles from across the chamber. "Hah!" Isillien dryly laughed, "You know what they say about mad dogs and leashes. The more restrained they are, the more they snap at your flesh." The inquisitor's beady eyes scanned Daellin, then Demetria. "And some flesh is more tasty than others."
"While I applaud your decision to keep the Grand Inquisitor restrained," Abbendis said as she rose to her feet, "I am not entirely assured that two individuals of the clergy are the appropriate...guides for our friend Isillien."
"We'll do it."
Daellin had no idea what compelled him but he found himself standing tall and making direct eye contact with Abbendis. His chest was puffed out, demonstrating a level of confidence he had yet to display during this conference, to send his point across the chamber that he was more than capable in handling the investigation and the Grand Inquisitor.
Abbendis grew a sly smirk while her lapdog next to her, Valdelmar, snarled. "Tales of your heroics are well documented, Sir Lightheart. However, I doubt this will be another battle like you saw years ago," Abbendis remarked as she crossed her arms.
"I took on the orcs. I took on the undead. I can handle the Grand Inquisitor."
Saidan bellowed out a laugh, shaking the pillars that held up the chamber. "Ah! Leave it to the distinguished hero of the Second and Third Wars, the stalwart protector of Lordaeron, and faithful paladin Daellin Lightheart to heed the call of duty!" Each title only boosted Daellin's confidence. While many in the room had youthful vigor on their side, Daellin had experience and distinction. Save Saidan, none other in the room could say they were anywhere close to the heroes of yesteryear. Even now, the librams that were bestowed to the paladins rested on their sides, resonating every so slightly like two hearts beating as one.
"May the Light bless your endeavors," Isillien muttered bitterly as he hid behind his fingers once again.
Saidan gave Daellin a quick wink before addressing the chamber once more, "With this issue sorted, let us continue about the agenda. First, a report on the western front. Scarlet Commander Renault Mograine has requested that further resources be sent to the Scarlet Monastery. As we are all assembled today, I find it a perfect time to reflect on the progress young Mograine has made in recent years before we address his request. And so…"
Much like how individuals get lost in the command center, time was lost in the chamber. Each topic and speaker seemed to drag on longer and longer to the point that it seemed Azeroth would finish its current life cycle, implode, and begin life again before the meeting would adjourn. Thankfully, the conversations were not as heated as the beginning of the conference. However, there were moments that flirted with tension.
When Saidan announced that the Scarlet Monastery, the bastion of humanity to the far west helmed by Mograine, requested more men and weaponry, Abbendis raged that it was not Tyr's Hand's concern and that Hearthglen should foot the bill.
When it was announced that the latest expedition force sent to Darrowshire was met with a resounding defeat at the hands of the Scourge, Valdelmar cried that if he was in charge of the expedition force there would be no failure.
When Saidan declared that more soldiers will be sent to reinforce the tiny pocket they held in Stratholme, pride swelled over the military branch Scarlets; no doubt they wanted to demonstrate their willpower and bravery to the Grand Crusader so that they may be selected to help secure the Scarlet Bastion in the ruined city. The bastion was the very same that Daellin learned the powers of the Holy Light while becoming a Silver Hand knight. It did not surprise Daellin that he, too, felt a sense of pride swell in him. Granted, the others were feigning to impress their superior while Daellin's feelings were genuine.
When word came that the undead were closing in on Hearthglen, Isillien waved it away by saying Taelan Fordring would defend the city. The sarcasm dripped down his words like the drool that would seep from his toothless gums.
When it seemed like they could spend the rest of existence discussing bureaucratic machinations, Saidan called for the meeting to close. It was only then that Daellin realized he never sat back down when he shot to his feet to proclaim he would take up the task of watching over Isillien. The elder paladin could not help but chuckle at himself for standing all this time as his fellow Scarlets rushed out the door. Some were more slow in exiting, including Grand Inquisitor Isillien who refused to stand back up. Instead, he was on a visual prowl with his beady eyes, scanning from one person to the next. His eyes lingered on Demetria Silverstrand, who was discussing something of importance with Saidan. His interlocked fingers that shielded most of his wrinkled visage could not hide the grey drool dripping from the corner of his lip.
As the minutes passed and more Scarlets left the chamber to continue about their day, Daellin mentally recounted what transpired and his newfound responsibilities. I've killed countless orcs and undead. Spent endless hours training initiates in the Holy Light arts. Guided Lordaeron's flock during times of peace and times of strife. Yet, this...this mission alongside Isillien will be the end of me. How can I even attempt to talk to civilians with that dog at my ankles?
"I look forward to working together, Daellin!" Isillien dryly said as he limped out the door, failing to give his paladin counterpart the dignity of looking back at him.
Daellin sighed, "Sure."
With that, only a few souls remained in the chamber. The newest soul in Tyr's Hand walked up to Daellin, surprising the paladin by her sudden appearance. "I am not so sure about the inquisitor, but I genuinely look forward to our time together," Demetria told Daellin.
Daellin politely grinned and replied, "Likewise. I greatly appreciate your words of encouragement and faith earlier. It is refreshing to hear a genuine prayer."
"I can't help but think that was the first prayer the Grand Inquisitor had heard in quite some time."
"Oh, you'd be correct."
Demetria held out a dainty hand, partially obscured by the sleeves of her robe. "I believe we haven't been properly acquainted. Demetria Silverstrand," she said with a glowing smile.
Daellin took the outstretched hand, making sure to be as delicate as possible. The years had taught him that handshakes between comrades are different than those with proper ladies. "Daellin Lightheart of Andorhal," he replied.
"I heard that the famed paladin from Andorhal was known for a most firm handshake. Perhaps you know him?" Demetria jested.
Daellin's cheeks grew rosy as he couldn't decide to release his grasp or tighten it to prove that he was the paladin in question. "Yeah, I may have known him," he awkwardly chuckled.
"Well, sounds like we will have plenty of time talking about famous handshakes from even more famous men," she said as she pulled her hand away, disappearing once more in the folds of her robe. "Based on what you know so far, Sir Daellin, what do you think of this growing conspiracy?"
Daellin rubbed his chin with the same hand that was not to his handshake standards. He could faintly smell the lilac perfume Demetria put on that morning. "Well, it would not be the first time that there would be dissidents within our midst. However, this seems to be at a scale not seen in quite some time. Surely not since the Second War with the rebellions spurred on by Alterac," the paladin thought aloud. "It is hard to believe that with the spectre of death at our doorsteps, some would fall from the Light's grace and attempt to topple humanity."
Demetria sighed, "I completely agree, Lightheart. I had my reservations when we first learned about a potential conspiracy in Hearthglen. I was even more shocked to hear that it had spread from my humble city to the rest of the Scarlet lands. For now, we can only follow the Light's teachings and grace to get to the bottom of this mystery." Her words swelled in brightness to the point that Daellin swore the dim chamber was as lit as Stratholme the day he was inducted into the Silver Hand all those years ago.
Daellin was so caught up in remembering his induction that he did not notice Saidan had walked up to the two. "Again, thank you very much, Lady Demetria. Your knowledge and faith will be needed in the coming days," the Grand Crusader proclaimed with a slight head bow.
Demetria returned the polite gesture and replied, "If there is anything I can do to help the Crusade, I am more than happy to take up the call."
"Good to hear that! Some of our comrades could learn a lesson from your dedication to our cause and to the Light." Saidan bellowed. The Grand Crusader, after a few more full chested laughs, collected himself and continued, "With that being said, as we discussed earlier, it would be in your best interest to better acquaint yourself with Tyr's Hand and the people before the sun goes down. One of my squires will serve as your escort."
Demetria curtsied and replied, "As you command, Grand Crusader." She turned back to Daellin and added, "Get some good rest, Sir Lightheart. I expect we will have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."
Daellin choked on his own words before responding, "Yeah, you too."
Demetria smiled and glided to the exit. Daellin was not fully sure but it appeared that the door opened on its own, as if the inanimate object was being polite for the lady. Just like that morning in the chapel, Demetria disappeared into the winding corridors of the command center with the door closing behind her. Try as he might staring at the door, she did not return.
"I have complete confidence that the two of you will solve this horrific conspiracy," Saidan mused as he, too, stared at the door.
Daellin broke his trance and asked, "If I may ask, Saidan, is she up to the task? What if we encounter more individuals like the one from last night? We both know things like this require more than just a pure heart."
"Ah, lad, don't sell her short! The last thing we need is more hot heads and stubborn asses investigating the masses. The work she has done in Hearthglen is remarkable. Beyond being a reliable and comfortable person for the citizens of the city, she has closely raised Taelan Fordring as a righteous defender of Hearthglen and lord of the Crusade. Hell, I'll admit that she has done more for young Fordring in such a short period of time than years of training under my tutelage."
Daellin's heart pinged hearing that name. Fordring. Oh Tirion, how I wish you were around to see your boy grow into the man he is. You would be so proud. Daellin cleared his throat. "That's good to hear. We will need compassion moving forward."
"Which is precisely why I selected you to lead the investigation in Tyr's while we deal with the external matters. No one exemplifies the Light as well as you do. I suspect the people will be more receptive to you and Demetria than a brigade of soldiers or inquisitors. Besides, if Isillien gets out of hand, I am sure you can handle the old dog."
Daellin chuckled as he clenched his fist, thinking about laying a good one right in the Grand Inquisitor's rotten gums. "Oh, don't tempt me, old friend."