Chapter Three: Landfall
In the Age of Chaos, two factions battled for dominance. The Kingdom
of Azeroth was a prosperous one. The humans who dwelled there turned the land
into a paradise. The knights of Stormwind and the clerics of Northshire Abbey
roamed far and wide, serving the King's people with honor and justice. The
well-trained armies of the King maintained a lasting peace for many
generations. Then came the Orcish hordes.
No one knew where these creatures came from, and none were prepared
for the terror that they spawned. Their warriors wielded axe and spear with
deadly proficiency, while others rode dark wolves as black as the moonless
night. Unimagined were the destructive powers of their evil magiks derived
from the fires of the underworld.
With an ingenious arsenal of weaponry and powerful magic, these two
forces collide in a contest of cunning, intellect, and brute strength, with the victor claiming dominance over the whole of Azeroth!
That was the general consensus when you asked a man of Stormwind.
Illidan was not a man of Stormwind, and after the thirteenth time he heard it, he became disgusted. Eventually, when no one was about, he blew up.
"Prideful fool," said Illidan in disgust from the deck of a ship. "He honestly thinks his Kingdom is the center of the world."
"He is the head of the most powerful human nation," noted Arthas, polishing his sword.
"And I suppose you think humanity is the center of the world?" asked Illidan.
"...I imagine we're an important part of it," said Arthas.
"The human race means nothing in the long run," said Illidan. "The world has existed long before you. And it will exist long after all of you are dead. The same can be said of any race.
"Any Kingdom deluded enough to name their home after the world is soon to be conquered. By itself or others."
"I've been in Stormwind," said Falric. "I read the name was an accident. You see, the humans land that went down there found many wars. Eventually, they were cut off from all help.
"There were no written records, and they were nomadic. They called the land Azeroth as they moved about on horseback. By the time they settled down, the name had stuck."
"You've been reading your histories, Falric," said Arthas.
"King Terenas was gracious enough to grant me access after being taught to read," said Falric.
Illidan nodded and began to use a spell to see what was around him. He suspected he'd need to read faces for this. The moon and stars were nice to see again, though the sun was an unwelcome curse as always.
As they journeyed on, Illidan taught Arthas to fight. Eventually, however, he gave up because he realized his style was too different. So Falric ended up teaching him instead while Illidan watched. They eat together beneath the stars, and Illidan told Arthas many stories. Of the old days.
"At any rate," said Illidan. "The fools were deadset on eradicating all arcane magic. There was no telling what would happen as a result, and people were dying from withdrawal.
"So I slipped up to a pool and created a new Well of Eternity. But I didn't get far before Cenarius, and his kind caught up to me. I was captured and imprisoned. And they planted a great tree over the site.
"Which they used to make themselves immortal."
"That doesn't even begin to make sense," said Arthas. "If they are using arcane magic, why are they complaining about it."
"My brother is the sort of person who regards creating the universe as a bad move," said Illidan. "I knew only ages of hatred for him at one time, but for my part, I wish it to end."
"You have the patience of a saint," said Marwynn. "He imprisoned you for thousands of years on a false charge, and you don't want him dead?"
"As much as I'd enjoy that, it would hurt Tyrande," said Illidan.
Still, Illidan felt more and more like a different person as they walked. Much of the edge that had come over him was washing away. A lot of the bitterness and rage had dissipated in a blur of events.
"Now," said Illidan. "I must leave you here.
"I am unsure of how Llane will react to my presence. You will have to meet his emissary directly. He will give you whatever service Llane wants of you."
"And where are you going now?" asked Arthas.
"I," said Illidan. "Am going to meet the orcs. I want to know who these people are and what they want. They obviously must have some reason to be attacking you, so it would be best to learn it.
"A human would be killed on sight. I should be able to get an audience."
"I'll inform King Llane," said Arthas.
"Don't do that if you can avoid it," said Illidan. "For all I know, these Guardians of Tirisfal have already poisoned his mind against me.
"The last thing I need is to be put in another cell. Now go." And he loped off into the trees.
Arthas, Falric, and Marwynn moved off together. But Illidan did not break off at once; he doubled back and walked behind. Illidan wanted to observe the humans for himself. And following Arthas, he saw the boy come into a clearing at the meeting place.
It was a broken-down barn with several burned-out houses. The foundations were strong, but no one had lived here for a long time by the looks of things. There were signs of axes hewing the stone, very large ones. Arthas looked at them and eventually came to a man.
He was a tall man riding a white charger, and he had a neatly trimmed brown beard. A sword was at his side, and the reigns were in his hands. "Prince Arthas, I have waited here for hours.
"What took you?"
"I was not aware that we were to keep to a specific schedule," said Arthas.
"Medivh informs us of your entrance into the northlands, and I was sent to get you," said the man. "Stormwind does not have the luxury of taking leisure. This is not Lordaeron." The slight condescension did not show on Arthas' face. "So, why were you delayed? And where are your horses?"
"I don't use horses," said Arthas. "Neither do my men."
"I see," said Bolvar. "This village was one of the first to fall to the orcs, and it was called Moonbrook. In those days, decades ago, we were caught unprepared. They arrived, killed everyone they could lay hands on, and took nothing.
"Their skulls were piled over there." He motioned, and Illidan guessed he was trying to intimidate Arthas. If he was, Arthas did not show it.
Arthas looked over. "I see.
"Is there a particular reason you are addressing me from horseback, knight?" Now there was an edge in his tone.
"In Stormwind, we value martial prowess above rank," said Bolvar.
"I didn't know," said Arthas. "Now, I believe King Llane promised me an opportunity to be of service here. That was part of the arrangement. I am not here as a hostage."
Bolvar drew out a letter and drew it up. "Very well.
"As a test of your abilities, the King has appointed you as regent over a small
parcel of land. Since we must keep our armies in the field well supplied, you
are to build the town into a farming center of no less than six farms.
"Construction of a barracks for defense is also advised, as our scouts have
reported orcish patrols in the area."
Arthas looked around. "This is preposterous!
"Does King Llane think that I can get a thriving farming community up in a matter of minutes? Shall I plant seeds that grow into peasants? Or conjure up mystical suits of armor that fight themselves?"
"You asked to be of service to King Llane, Prince Arthas," said Bolvar, a note of contempt in his tone. "These are his orders if you want to fulfill them. You have not been trained in swordplay and have brought no armies.
"If not, you may simply go to Stonewind Keep and request a lesser assignment. Perhaps you could consult your royal guardsmen if indeed any of them are farmers."
"...There will come a day," said Arthas, voice cold-blooded. "When you think that you have been delivered. It will be when the hour of your triumph is at hand?
"When a long-awaited victory you have sought your entire life is on your doorstep.
"When that day comes, I want you to remember that I told you this;
"'No escape for any of us.'
"And I want you to know that what happens next will reflect your conduct. Get out of my sight, knight. I will come to Llane after I finish his assignment. Now begone!"
Bolvar flared up, but Falric and Marwynn went for their swords. Turning his horse, he rode off alone. Illidan stared, narrowing his eyes. That was reckless; Arthas had dismissed a knight who could be influential one day.
Then again, you had to draw the line somewhere.
Arthas shrugged. "Well, now that I have occasion to get rid of our friend. We'll play things his way. Falric, you used to be a farmer. What would I need to set all this up?"
"Well, time or powerful magic for a start," said Falric.
"Alright, what about materials and men?" asked Arthas.
"The first thing we need are people. Which we don't have," said Marwynn. "We've got a building here to start with, but that is it."
"Very well," said Arthas. "We'll go to the nearby village and look for refugees. There has got to be a surplus population with all the battles going on.
"We have a mission, and we'll finish it. Falric, is Goldshire near here? That place has been reported to have many refugees."
Falric nodded. "Yes, sir. However, it may have changed since we last came there. It was founded after this place fell. The King of Stormwind, who ruled in those days, vowed this town would not be rebuilt. Not until Azeroth was refounded."
"Well then," said Arthas. "King Llane apparently is optimistic of his chances."
And they headed off, Illidan stalking behind them. Arthas moved toward Grand Hamlet, hand on his sword. The people looked up as he approached in shock.
"Look, it's Prince Arthas," said a blonde girl.
How could she know where he was?
Arthas stepped forward. "People of Stormwind, King Llane orders that a new farming community be established. The land has no one to work it, however.
"I require the aid of anyone here with skills useful to the creation of a new settlement. I also need men ready to fight in battle, and a means to get weaponry for them.
"If any man here believes he can be of service in this great venture, let him step forward."
"We'll work for the King!" said a man.
And it turned out a lot were like him. Goldshire seemed to have a lot of surplus population going around without real work. As more came forward, Arthas smiled. "Then get what materials you need and follow us. And say goodbye to easy living; hard times are ahead for all of us, and you are needed."
"Well, we've got people now, Falric," said Arthas with a sigh. "What do we do now?"
Falric shrugged. "With your permission, I'd like to take charge of this part of things. It'll be very boring, and your mind should be focused on other matters."
"Alright, I'm here if you need me," said Arthas. "Marwynn, find people here who you can train up as a militia. King Llane ordered that too. And, I suppose we'll have to build farms and barracks. Perhaps we could put up a wall around the place as well."
"A fence would be a better start," said Marywynn. "But I'll see what I can do.
"We will need money for this, though."
"King Llane apparently has other important matters to attend to," said Arthas. "Well them.
"People of Stormwind. There is no way I can achieve this mission without you. Our supplies will have to come from what surplus you have.
"And I cannot promise any payment, other than perhaps, victory in the war."
"We're going on too fast," said Falric. "First, we have to fix the buildings, and that can be done easily enough. Grand Hamlet provides rations for those here.
"Once we do that, we can find other means."
"Of course," said Arthas. "I leave the matter in your hands. We'll have to rely on the charity of Goldshire for the moment." Then he looked to a guard. "You, send runners and tell people that if they have no land to work, they may work it here. I realize this may end in disaster, but King Llane commands it.
"We'll have to make do with what we have.
"So, what fortifications do you have in mind, Marwynn?"
"Well, my Father was a carpenter with six sons," murmurs for a moment. "For a start, we've got to rebuild this building. Reinforce the gates, patch holes in the roof, that sort of thing."
"Very well," said Arthas. "Take charge of it with what help you have. I'll keep watch."
And Illidan watched as everything got to work. Arthas went back to Moonbrook with a large force of men. Somebody decided to hand out spare arms, and pretty Marywynn was teaching some to fight. Others were working on patching the roof and material. Supplies were sent in to put things together.
A fence was erected rapidly around the whole town, then reinforced. Spearmen were patrolling here or there in leather armor. A day or two passed like this, and Illidan saw Arthas moving about. He'd often speak to people about things, and it became clear the war was going badly. Stormwind had a lot of manpower, but it was being wasted because the nobles refused to accept the training of a militia.
"Well then," said Arthas. "Now we know why King Llane gave me those orders.
"Marwynn, we've got more footmen here than you can handle. These ones know the basics. I want each of you to instruct several others like you in the basics. Ten of you will become a hundred, and a hundred will become a thousand.
"As soon as you train them, send them off to the bridges to pledge support. I doubt anyone will mind a few more soldiers. It could turn the tide in a critical battle." Then he paused. "Oh, and if you think they are of bad character, turn them down.
"If we get a mutiny, the war is as good as lost."
And off they went to create an army. So that when Bolvar Foredragon finally arrived, peasants were creating gardens. Arthas was sitting as the fields were plowed, polishing his sword. "Lord Bolvar, you'll be pleased to know the six farms and barracks are well underway."
Bolvar stared at it. "Prince Arthas, King Llane needs you at Stormwind immediately."
Arthas smiled. "Never a dull moment.
"Keep things going, Falric. You're in command during my absence. Bolvar, could you stay here as Llane's representative, please? I'd hate for anything to happen contrary to the King's will."
Illidan was unsure whether Arthas had planned it all out or was making it up as he went along. But he knew he had to follow if only to see everything crash and burn. So Illidan walked by stealth as Arthas walked to Stonewind Keep. Several columns of knights and men at arms walked right past him without paying any heed.
Arthas asked a lot of questions of a lot of different people, and he was calculating the whole time.
Until, eventually, he saw the King. King Llane was the very image of a benevolent King, sitting at his desk in a pavilion. He had a long, blonde beard, wore pure white, and looked over maps. As Arthas approached the pavilion, he stared incredulously in travel-stained, mud-drenched outfits. Two guards stepped before Arthas.
"Hold," said King Llane. "I know him." They stepped aside, and Illidan knew it was customary to refer to someone as a friend. "You are late, Prince Arthas.
"I was told you had been raised with proper manners at least."
"My apologies King Llane, the construction of the farming community-" said Arthas.
"I'm not interested in the excuses of a child who has never even been trained to hold a sword. Let alone run a realm," said Llane. "You are here to ensure the alliance between Lordaeron and Stormwind continues. By delaying your coming here, you have put that at risk.
"We were about to begin a search for you after Bolvar did not come back. Henceforth, you will obey my commands immediately."
Illidan looked around the table and rapidly calculated. Someone had given Bolvar a fake command to alienate Llane from Arthas. There was a green-skinned woman clad in leather, and everyone else was human. So she was the most likely culprit since her race might be spared. Was she an orc?
"Yes, King Llane," said Arthas.
"Now, we believe that an orc strike force is heading toward Grand Hamlet," said Llane, looking to his men. "Lord Lothar has already moved to intercept it."
"Then what must be done?" asked Arthas.
"I will be moving to Elywynn Forest to head off the main strike force," said Llane. "You, Arthas, will be staying here." No title.
"As you wish," said Arthas.
And he was effectively left where he was without further courtesy. He was shuffled into a pavilion with various fine dishes gone cold. But he went white with rage, and his hand was on his sword. Illidan was about to go to him, but then an old man in white robes approached him instead.
"This has got to be a joke!" said Arthas. "What happens to Lordaeron now?!"
Why was he so concerned?
Lordaeron was powerful and prosperous. King Terenas was influential and, by all accounts, had been a good administrator. Why then was Arthas in such fear of King Llane? Something was happening here.
"Have faith, young one," said Faol. "God did not bring you here just to lead you astray. You have a part to play in his design, as do all beings."
Arthas said nothing, then looked up. "Archbishop Faol, I request an assignment to aid Uther in the field. I know that he is working with the sick and injured.
"My talents are wasted in this tent of sweetmeats and spiced wine."
Was that what those things were? Illidan hadn't even noticed it.
"Why are you in such hurry to seek battle," said Faol. "You are young."
"Lordaeron continues to exist because a King of Stormwind decided it ought to," said Arthas. "My Father got the throne by virtue of letting all his brothers kill each other off and then getting the keys to the treasury.
"He survived wars by a narrow margin and shrew negotiation.
"But Llane doesn't respect any of that. Lordaeron to other nations is just a placeholder. They'll allow it to exist until Arathor is recreated. Lothar has sworn loyalty to Llane, and he has a legitimate claim to all of it.
"If Thoras Trollbane takes Stormwind, my Father will become a glorified vassal. If Genn Graymane has its way, everything outside of Gilneas will be burned to a cinder. If Llane wins, he'll kick my Father off the throne and put Lothar there.
"Graymane would be only too happy to give his support. Kul'Tiras is far off and only cares what happens as long as there is trade. This is none of their concern, and they know it. And Quel'Thalas cares nothing for the troubles of others.
"As long as Father is alive, Lordaeron will stand. But I have to make a name for myself as quickly as possible, or I'll end up as a Steward to Lothar's son. I will not allow that.
"I have to make a name for myself.
"And if I can't do it by the administration, then I will do it by the sword. And if not that, I will do so playing the part of a priest. I will bring honor to my Father and my people."
Faol nodded. "Of course. I shall take you to him myself.
"But... you must consider the possibility that your quest may be vain. And you must not go as a Prince." And drawing out a monk's robe, he offered it to him. "Wear this and do not speak to anyone. Let us get out first."
"Why did you have that lying around?" asked Arthas.
"I like to be prepared," said Faol.
So it was that Prince Arthas Menethil began the journey to Grand Hamlet. Illidan, for his part, set out at a far faster pace. He would go to see the orcs now, and he knew he had something to bargain with.