"Angrathar." Halford dropped the name, frowning at the map laid out in front of him. He just wished that he knew exactly what he was dealing with. Not with Angrathar, but with the woman sitting beyond his desk. Her appearance was causing ripples. He'd seen some of them coming, but others had managed to catch him off guard. So many were just waiting for their chances to speak with a representative of the Ebon Blade, one who lived and breathed. A paladin, no less, more approachable and possibly willing to discuss things with them than the often curt, surly and distant death knights.
"The Wrathgate...?" She leaned forward slightly, craning to get a better of his map. She slid a finger across its surface, stopping just above that location on the parchment.
"Yes."
"What of it?" She settled back, steepling her fingers in her lap and waiting. That seemed to be her way, she listened, she weighed.
"Have you seen it?" If this was only something she knew as a drawing on a map...
She shifted uncomfortably, tapping the tips of her index fingers together. "I have. At a fairly great distance, though."
"Hhhhmmm." At least she had seen it, her reaction was proof enough of that. "Do you know Fordragon?"
"The regent?" Not exactly the question he was expecting from her, but he nodded. Fordragon hadn't been the regent in almost two years. Where had the Ebon Blade dug her up from? "Ah. Only by reputation. I did not train with him. I have never served with him." She paused for a moment. "I know he is stationed at the foot of the Wrathgate. Why, I can't even begin to say."
"He intends to assault it." It was all that he could do to keep his voice level, he wanted her response to that uncolored by his neutral delivery.
"Assault. The Wrathgate. From the ground?"
"Assault the Wrathgate. From the ground." Go ahead, say it. Say it. He needed someone to actually come out and say it. He couldn't be the only one thinking it. And she was separate from all of this, if anyone could speak freely about this, why not her? She did not answer to him. She did not answer to Fordragon. She did not even truly answer to the Valiance Expedition. She was separate from an order. She seemed to answer to Mograine, and only Mograine.
"That is a terrible idea. I assumed we were going to be trying a more...aerial...based assault. Gunships. Griffons. Hack out a toehold on the glacier and set up mages. Not bang on Arthas's door and wait for him to throw destruction down on units stuck in a canyon beneath him. Mograine has mentioned nothing about a frontal ground assault on the gate. We haven't even moved most units up in support, we don't control what we need to control. What the absolute hell?"
Finally, finally. Someone else willing to say it aloud. This was a war, one that they'd been building up to for months. It couldn't just be circumvented, it couldn't be rushed. He'd been in more than his fair share of them, led through them. The very idea that Fordragon could, as Sorrow had so acerbically put it, bang on Arthas's door and put an end to it all in a fortnight was disturbing and frankly insulting. Fordragon was a fine paladin, but Halford doubted his readiness to lead this. "I tried to talk to him." And he had, more than once.
"And that didn't go well." It was amazing how quickly he'd stopped paying attention to the artificial depth of her voice, it just was. And once he'd stopped lingering over it, he realized that he'd begun to hear the variations under it, begun to hear the doubts, levity, sarcasm. It was easier to listen to her, and more importantly, to hear her.
"He told me that the Light would prevail."
She laughed outright, planting her elbow on the edge of his desk and resting her forehead against her fist. "The Light does prevail." She sputtered. "But it does not reward mistakes or hubris. Blind faith leads to bad places..." Her words faded off slowly and he simply nodded, holding up his hand. She didn't need to continue, she didn't need to go wherever she had started to slide towards. At least, not for his comfort and support. He did not know the details, but there were few reasons why a paladin would have slid into the situation she was in. And most of them dealt with mistakes, hubris and blindness.
"Indeed." He sat back down, sighing deeply.
"What can I do for you?"
"You're not going to like this." She wasn't. He certainly didn't. He could probably ignore Fordragon's packet, Sorrow wasn't in his command. If Fordragon wanted her presence at Fordragon Keep so badly, he could go to the person he should have gone to in the first place...Darion Mograine.
"Oh? Do go on."
"Fordragon has asked for you to journey to Angrathar. He believes he needs someone versed in the varieties of the undead likely to be found beyond the gate. He believes that is you."
"And you believe...?"
"I don't believe that they'll breach the gate. I've worn out what welcome I did have there. But I wouldn't mind having someone there who hasn't worn out their welcome, someone who is a little less drunk on 'the Light will prevail' to keep an eye on things for me. It's been made fairly clear that you have at least some of the resources of the Ebon Blade at your disposal. I'm not asking you to assault the gate next to Fordragon, in fact, I think you'll find a better place to be when that happens. I'd just like someone a little less involved to give me a more neutral report when..."
"When things fall off of the cliff?" She seemed suddenly distracted, tilting her head as if she heard something that he did not. There was a tinge, a chill in the air, and the feeling that something...strong...was focused intently upon her. "I will. They promise that they will get me out of there if things go wrong."
When things go wrong.
