The storm subsided when they had been traveling downriver for four hours.
They encountered a steady current, which relieved Morte and Frederick of
their rowing and Perenolde of all but the slightest adjustments in course.
The clouds dissipated and the stars came out, and the Steadfast passed
silently though the night. Perenolde found himself slumbering in the wee
hours of the morning, and Lawdron, who claimed to know enough to keep the
ship from running aground, replaced Perenolde at the helm. The latter
retired to one of the empty cabins and was soon snoring.
When he awoke, the sun had already risen, and Morte and Frederick had joined Lawdron on the deck. Perenolde returned to the helm, at which point the three paladins moved to another part of the ship. Alone with the view, Perenolde began eyeing the townships on either side. They had made significant headway during the night, and the bend that marked the entrance to the bay had long disappeared behind them. He settled himself in and prepared for a long day at the wheel.
Just before noon, by his reckoning, Lawdron appeared, claiming that Frederick had sighted another ship ahead on the river. Perenolde seized a spyglass, which he had found laying around on the deck, and stared through it. Sure enough, he could just make out the shape of a ship far ahead. As it came closer into view, Lawdron, who had since taken the spyglass, confirmed it to be the Guardian, one of the ships Jaina had planned to seize.
"We can't have caught up to them already, can we?" the young knight wondered.
"It's possible," Perenolde admitted. They had made excellent time, once the storm had ended, and they were supposedly piloting the fastest ship in the Kul Tiras navy. Also, Perenolde reminded himself, Jaina had to coordinate between three separate ships, and he and his companions only had to worry about one.
As they drew up behind the Guardian, noting the Vigilant and the Posthaste ahead of it, a familiar humming sound echoed across the deck of the Steadfast and an hourglass shape appeared beside the spot where Lawdron was standing. The young knight jumped in surprise as Jaina appeared next to him, seemingly out of thin air.
"Oh," she exclaimed. "It's you!"
"Happy to see us?" Perenolde ventured.
"Pleasantly surprised," Jaina admitted. "When I saw the Steadfast closing on us, I thought you had botched your task and alerted my father. My captains wanted to open fire on you - your lucky I came here first to check out the situation."
"My thanks, then," said Perenolde.
"You're welcome," Jaina replied. "I didn't realize you planned to steal the Steadfast," she added. She seemed impressed.
"We didn't," Morte said, as he climbed up to the deck. "This bloke talked us into it." He pointed at Perenolde. Frederick followed close behind. Do those two ever split up? Perenolde wondered.
"Is Uther still going to meet us in Watertown?" Jaina inquired. Perenolde shrugged.
"I assume so. We didn't have a chance to tell him we were commandeering this lovely vessel, but I imagine he'll figure it out when he hears it's been stolen."
"Well, the other side of this whole thing is still on," Jaina said suddenly. "I just remembered, I received a message from Fordred Aran, my old tutor - evidently he's in on this too. He's at Watertown with the refugees and some soldiers who want to come with us."
"With you," Frederick corrected. "We've got our own business, remember? We're not going west with your little flotilla."
"Of course, with me," Jaina said. "That's what I meant anyway. You should stop with us at Watertown, though - I gather from Aran that Uther's got a little gift for you before you get underway." Perenolde nodded politely. They would need to stop for supplies anyway. Jaina bowed, and then waved her wand in a half circle. The familiar hourglass shape reappeared, and the sorceress vanished from the deck of the Steadfast, leaving its crew to their duties.
The Steadfast passed the Guardian and the Posthaste, steadying its course between them and the Vigilant. Perenolde had thought of leaving Jaina's little fleet behind and meeting Uther at Watertown - that way, they could probably be to the sea, and therefore truly on their way, before the sorceress even reached Aran and her refugees - but he decided against it. He didn't expect Jaina and her followers to encounter any trouble before their destination, but in case any showed its face, Perenolde wanted to be there to lend a hand.
Thankfully, the remainder of the first leg of their trip passed uneventfully, and by sundown on the following day, the four 'borrowed' ships, as Perenolde thought of them, had safely made berth at Watertown. Uther and an old man in wizard's robes - presumably Fordred Aran - stood waiting at the docks as the ships were anchored and their passengers came ashore. Jaina greeted Uther with a bow before disappearing with the old man. Perenolde stepped onto the dock and approached Uther, his three crewmates trailing behind him.
"I'm amazed," Uther said pleasantly as he saw them. "I never imagined you would steal the Steadfast. Admiral Proudmoore is quite angry, let me assure you."
"Old fool needs to lighten up anyway," Morte muttered. Perenolde smiled. Uther pretended not to hear.
"Jaina said you had something for us," Lawdron said to Uther, who nodded. "Come with me," he said, turning away.
They followed him into a shop, where Uther said something to the elven shopkeeper in a language Perenolde assumed was elven. The shopkeeper replied in the same foreign tongue, and opened a door in the rear of the shop. Uther then led them through the door, which the shopkeeper quickly closed behind them, and out into some sort of garden. They were now standing in a small clearing, though it seemed the garden outside the clearing extended far off. A pair of paladins stood at attention near the door they had come through, and behind them stood a long trunk. All manner of trees, bushes and flowers surrounded the clearing.
"What is this place?" Lawdron wondered aloud.
"It's called a Hope Garden. It seemed a fitting place to do this." He cleared his throat. "Jaina was correct. I do have gifts of sorts for you." He motioned to one of the paladins-at-attention, who turned to the trunk, bent and opened it, and hefted a massive, black-handled warhammer from the ground, handing it to Frederick.
"You left it behind in the forest where you were found," Uther said. "Someone saw it there and returned it to us."
"My thanks, Lord Uther," Frederick replied. "I thought I'd never see this thing again." He tossed it from hand to hand, testing it weight and remembering the many times he had wielded it in the past.
Uther signaled the second paladin-at-attention, who hefted another warhammer from the crate, this time with a silver handle. This was presented to Lawdron, who took it with amazement and overflowing gratitude. "Lord Uther, I-" he began, but Uther interrupted.
"Sir Lawdron," Uther said, his voice full of authority, "by merit of your deeds of courage, and by the power of my station, I hereby promote you, Knight of the Realm, to the station of Paladin of the Silver Hand." Speechless, Lawdron bowed repeatedly, nearly dropping the hammer twice and once nearly falling over himself.
Uther nodded. Next, he reached into the trunk and produced a medallion bearing the Silver Hand crest, which he presented to Morte. "This was Aran's, but he thought you might make better use of it on your quest. It glows when a sick person is nearby - hopefully it will aid you in searching for the plague." Morte murmured a quick "thanks", and strung the medallion around his neck.
"While you're playing Father Christmas," Perenolde said to Uther, "I don't suppose you have my hammer anywhere? I left it behind when we rode from Hearthglen, and I didn't want to bother you before."
"As a matter of fact," Uther said, smiling, "I do believe I have the hammer in question right here." He lifted from the trunk a hammer which, as Perenolde would say afterwards, could have once been the one he was talking about. The family heirloom had been polished and shined, and the Alterac coat-of-arms literally glowed. Perenolde smiled and stretched out his hand to receive the weapon, but Uther held up his free hand to halt him.
"Kneel," he said. Confused, Perenolde did so. Uther lowered the hammer so it sat on his shoulder.
"Sir Perenolde," Uther said, his authoritative voice returning, "although your past deeds have dishonored you and your people, your honor is hereby restored by way of your accompanying these men on their quest. By the merit of your ingenuity and of your loyalty to your debt, and by the power of my station, I hereby promote you, Knight of the Wolf, to the station of Paladin of the Silver Hand." He lifted the hammer from Perenolde's shoulder and held it out to him.
"You can get up now," he added cheerfully. Perenolde rose slowly. Uther pressed the hammer into his hands, and his grip enclosed around it.
"I have something as well," said a female voice. Blinking, Perenolde turned and saw who everyone else was staring at. The door they had come through had opened again, and Jaina now stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. That girl has a habit of coming in unannounced, Perenolde found himself thinking. Uther gave Jaina a stern look.
"I shan't be long," she said meekly. "I have something of my own to give your new Paladin." She unfolded her arms, and, approaching Perenolde, pulled something small out her cloak. She pinned the item on his chest, and backed away. He looked down at it. It was a small badge with an anchor and eye - a variation of the Kul Tiras insignia.
"It's my own symbol - the Proudmoore anchor and the Eye of Dalaran. I'm handing them to all of my captains before we set sail for Kalimdor." Captains? "Sir Perenolde, Paladin of the Silver Hand, blah, blah blah, I hereby officially install you as Captain of the Steadfast. Have a nice day." She turned on her heel and left through the doorway. The door closed again. Perenolde turned to Uther, who held up his hands.
"Don't look at me," he said. "I had nothing to do with that last bit. Maybe she's got something in mind for you when you come back."
When Perenolde regained his cool and his speech, he at first protested, and when Uther would hear none of his protests, he thanked the elder paladin profusely. The other knights - Other knights! Perenolde said to himself - also expressed their thanks for their gifts, and the whole group, including Uther and his steel-faced companions, eventually returned through the door and out of the shop.
The shopkeeper, agitated at the high amount of traffic through her back door, yelled something obscene in elven and slammed the door of the shop.
***
The final group accompanying Jaina numbered well over a hundred and fifty, barely fitting in the three small ships she had (Imagine if you only had two!" Perenolde had told her before she left). The four paladins, as they were now, remained in Watertown long enough to see the sorceress and her followers off before they themselves left the village's docks behind. The Steadfast left the river and entered the sea soon afterwards, turning north just as her three sister ships disappeared behind an offshore fog bank to the west.
Maybe she's got something in mind for you when you get back, Perenolde remembered Uther saying. Perhaps he would follow her across the western oceans, to the unknown lands they hid. The ship did belong to him now - Jaina herself had made that clear enough. Perhaps... perhaps...
His heart full of pride and his newfound sense of adventure, Sir Perenolde - Knight of the Wolf, Paladin of the Silver Hand, and Captain of the K.T.S. Steadfast - gripped the helm and grinned.
***
When he awoke, the sun had already risen, and Morte and Frederick had joined Lawdron on the deck. Perenolde returned to the helm, at which point the three paladins moved to another part of the ship. Alone with the view, Perenolde began eyeing the townships on either side. They had made significant headway during the night, and the bend that marked the entrance to the bay had long disappeared behind them. He settled himself in and prepared for a long day at the wheel.
Just before noon, by his reckoning, Lawdron appeared, claiming that Frederick had sighted another ship ahead on the river. Perenolde seized a spyglass, which he had found laying around on the deck, and stared through it. Sure enough, he could just make out the shape of a ship far ahead. As it came closer into view, Lawdron, who had since taken the spyglass, confirmed it to be the Guardian, one of the ships Jaina had planned to seize.
"We can't have caught up to them already, can we?" the young knight wondered.
"It's possible," Perenolde admitted. They had made excellent time, once the storm had ended, and they were supposedly piloting the fastest ship in the Kul Tiras navy. Also, Perenolde reminded himself, Jaina had to coordinate between three separate ships, and he and his companions only had to worry about one.
As they drew up behind the Guardian, noting the Vigilant and the Posthaste ahead of it, a familiar humming sound echoed across the deck of the Steadfast and an hourglass shape appeared beside the spot where Lawdron was standing. The young knight jumped in surprise as Jaina appeared next to him, seemingly out of thin air.
"Oh," she exclaimed. "It's you!"
"Happy to see us?" Perenolde ventured.
"Pleasantly surprised," Jaina admitted. "When I saw the Steadfast closing on us, I thought you had botched your task and alerted my father. My captains wanted to open fire on you - your lucky I came here first to check out the situation."
"My thanks, then," said Perenolde.
"You're welcome," Jaina replied. "I didn't realize you planned to steal the Steadfast," she added. She seemed impressed.
"We didn't," Morte said, as he climbed up to the deck. "This bloke talked us into it." He pointed at Perenolde. Frederick followed close behind. Do those two ever split up? Perenolde wondered.
"Is Uther still going to meet us in Watertown?" Jaina inquired. Perenolde shrugged.
"I assume so. We didn't have a chance to tell him we were commandeering this lovely vessel, but I imagine he'll figure it out when he hears it's been stolen."
"Well, the other side of this whole thing is still on," Jaina said suddenly. "I just remembered, I received a message from Fordred Aran, my old tutor - evidently he's in on this too. He's at Watertown with the refugees and some soldiers who want to come with us."
"With you," Frederick corrected. "We've got our own business, remember? We're not going west with your little flotilla."
"Of course, with me," Jaina said. "That's what I meant anyway. You should stop with us at Watertown, though - I gather from Aran that Uther's got a little gift for you before you get underway." Perenolde nodded politely. They would need to stop for supplies anyway. Jaina bowed, and then waved her wand in a half circle. The familiar hourglass shape reappeared, and the sorceress vanished from the deck of the Steadfast, leaving its crew to their duties.
The Steadfast passed the Guardian and the Posthaste, steadying its course between them and the Vigilant. Perenolde had thought of leaving Jaina's little fleet behind and meeting Uther at Watertown - that way, they could probably be to the sea, and therefore truly on their way, before the sorceress even reached Aran and her refugees - but he decided against it. He didn't expect Jaina and her followers to encounter any trouble before their destination, but in case any showed its face, Perenolde wanted to be there to lend a hand.
Thankfully, the remainder of the first leg of their trip passed uneventfully, and by sundown on the following day, the four 'borrowed' ships, as Perenolde thought of them, had safely made berth at Watertown. Uther and an old man in wizard's robes - presumably Fordred Aran - stood waiting at the docks as the ships were anchored and their passengers came ashore. Jaina greeted Uther with a bow before disappearing with the old man. Perenolde stepped onto the dock and approached Uther, his three crewmates trailing behind him.
"I'm amazed," Uther said pleasantly as he saw them. "I never imagined you would steal the Steadfast. Admiral Proudmoore is quite angry, let me assure you."
"Old fool needs to lighten up anyway," Morte muttered. Perenolde smiled. Uther pretended not to hear.
"Jaina said you had something for us," Lawdron said to Uther, who nodded. "Come with me," he said, turning away.
They followed him into a shop, where Uther said something to the elven shopkeeper in a language Perenolde assumed was elven. The shopkeeper replied in the same foreign tongue, and opened a door in the rear of the shop. Uther then led them through the door, which the shopkeeper quickly closed behind them, and out into some sort of garden. They were now standing in a small clearing, though it seemed the garden outside the clearing extended far off. A pair of paladins stood at attention near the door they had come through, and behind them stood a long trunk. All manner of trees, bushes and flowers surrounded the clearing.
"What is this place?" Lawdron wondered aloud.
"It's called a Hope Garden. It seemed a fitting place to do this." He cleared his throat. "Jaina was correct. I do have gifts of sorts for you." He motioned to one of the paladins-at-attention, who turned to the trunk, bent and opened it, and hefted a massive, black-handled warhammer from the ground, handing it to Frederick.
"You left it behind in the forest where you were found," Uther said. "Someone saw it there and returned it to us."
"My thanks, Lord Uther," Frederick replied. "I thought I'd never see this thing again." He tossed it from hand to hand, testing it weight and remembering the many times he had wielded it in the past.
Uther signaled the second paladin-at-attention, who hefted another warhammer from the crate, this time with a silver handle. This was presented to Lawdron, who took it with amazement and overflowing gratitude. "Lord Uther, I-" he began, but Uther interrupted.
"Sir Lawdron," Uther said, his voice full of authority, "by merit of your deeds of courage, and by the power of my station, I hereby promote you, Knight of the Realm, to the station of Paladin of the Silver Hand." Speechless, Lawdron bowed repeatedly, nearly dropping the hammer twice and once nearly falling over himself.
Uther nodded. Next, he reached into the trunk and produced a medallion bearing the Silver Hand crest, which he presented to Morte. "This was Aran's, but he thought you might make better use of it on your quest. It glows when a sick person is nearby - hopefully it will aid you in searching for the plague." Morte murmured a quick "thanks", and strung the medallion around his neck.
"While you're playing Father Christmas," Perenolde said to Uther, "I don't suppose you have my hammer anywhere? I left it behind when we rode from Hearthglen, and I didn't want to bother you before."
"As a matter of fact," Uther said, smiling, "I do believe I have the hammer in question right here." He lifted from the trunk a hammer which, as Perenolde would say afterwards, could have once been the one he was talking about. The family heirloom had been polished and shined, and the Alterac coat-of-arms literally glowed. Perenolde smiled and stretched out his hand to receive the weapon, but Uther held up his free hand to halt him.
"Kneel," he said. Confused, Perenolde did so. Uther lowered the hammer so it sat on his shoulder.
"Sir Perenolde," Uther said, his authoritative voice returning, "although your past deeds have dishonored you and your people, your honor is hereby restored by way of your accompanying these men on their quest. By the merit of your ingenuity and of your loyalty to your debt, and by the power of my station, I hereby promote you, Knight of the Wolf, to the station of Paladin of the Silver Hand." He lifted the hammer from Perenolde's shoulder and held it out to him.
"You can get up now," he added cheerfully. Perenolde rose slowly. Uther pressed the hammer into his hands, and his grip enclosed around it.
"I have something as well," said a female voice. Blinking, Perenolde turned and saw who everyone else was staring at. The door they had come through had opened again, and Jaina now stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. That girl has a habit of coming in unannounced, Perenolde found himself thinking. Uther gave Jaina a stern look.
"I shan't be long," she said meekly. "I have something of my own to give your new Paladin." She unfolded her arms, and, approaching Perenolde, pulled something small out her cloak. She pinned the item on his chest, and backed away. He looked down at it. It was a small badge with an anchor and eye - a variation of the Kul Tiras insignia.
"It's my own symbol - the Proudmoore anchor and the Eye of Dalaran. I'm handing them to all of my captains before we set sail for Kalimdor." Captains? "Sir Perenolde, Paladin of the Silver Hand, blah, blah blah, I hereby officially install you as Captain of the Steadfast. Have a nice day." She turned on her heel and left through the doorway. The door closed again. Perenolde turned to Uther, who held up his hands.
"Don't look at me," he said. "I had nothing to do with that last bit. Maybe she's got something in mind for you when you come back."
When Perenolde regained his cool and his speech, he at first protested, and when Uther would hear none of his protests, he thanked the elder paladin profusely. The other knights - Other knights! Perenolde said to himself - also expressed their thanks for their gifts, and the whole group, including Uther and his steel-faced companions, eventually returned through the door and out of the shop.
The shopkeeper, agitated at the high amount of traffic through her back door, yelled something obscene in elven and slammed the door of the shop.
***
The final group accompanying Jaina numbered well over a hundred and fifty, barely fitting in the three small ships she had (Imagine if you only had two!" Perenolde had told her before she left). The four paladins, as they were now, remained in Watertown long enough to see the sorceress and her followers off before they themselves left the village's docks behind. The Steadfast left the river and entered the sea soon afterwards, turning north just as her three sister ships disappeared behind an offshore fog bank to the west.
Maybe she's got something in mind for you when you get back, Perenolde remembered Uther saying. Perhaps he would follow her across the western oceans, to the unknown lands they hid. The ship did belong to him now - Jaina herself had made that clear enough. Perhaps... perhaps...
His heart full of pride and his newfound sense of adventure, Sir Perenolde - Knight of the Wolf, Paladin of the Silver Hand, and Captain of the K.T.S. Steadfast - gripped the helm and grinned.
***