Chapter 2 - Protocol
"Is he insane?
Thrall stood on the edge of the sky tower, blinking in astonishment as Eitrigg told him the story of this morning's activities. Above him, two young orcs worked to secure the Warchief's private airship to its' moorings. In a twist of irony, Thrall had just returned from the same Alterc mountains that Mallet had traveled to months before. The airship however, had crossed the distance between Kalimdor and the distant Eastern Kingdoms in hours instead of days. Now that Thrall had returned home, he was preparing himself for the inevitable wave of bureaucracy that always resided here. Petitions, judgments, laws, treaties, challenges to his position, they all had to be dealt with. The young orc had thought he was prepared for whatever was waiting for him. But this newest development was quite unexpected.
The Warchief chuckled at the folly of the situation. "Where is the human now?"
"In the council chamber. He has requested nothing. He eats and drinks what he is offered, and only enough to be polite."
Thrall turned and looked up the ramp descending from the airship. "Did you hear anything about this, Drek'thar?"
A white wolf loped down from the airship, followed by the blind shaman. Drek'thar was probably Thrall's oldest friend, and a great ally. He had lead the Frostwolf clan after Thrall's father had died, and managed to keep the orcs free from both the demonic corruption that plagued their race, and the humans who sought to round up their people and force them into slavery.
"I recall now hearing a report from some of our scouts. A lone human wandering in the hills. The scouts thought they could take him, but he bested them and yet spared their lives. He kept asking to speak to the chieftain, so they told him to come here. That was probably at least six weeks ago."
Thrall sighed and shook his head. "I did not know there had ever been a blademaster among the Frostwolves."
"That was over twenty years ago. His name was Dorkan Tork. He used to be a part of the Burning Blade clan, back on Draenor. He sided with you father against the warlock Gul'dan. When Gul'dan wanted all the orc chieftains to drink the blood of the demons, Dorkan refused. He said that orc warriors should not depend on fel magics to win in battle. To do so would cheat us of true victory, and make us dependent on the demon energy. He was halfway right. But for speaking out against Gul'dan he was forced to join Durotan and the Frostwolves in exile."
"For years we lived on Azeroth. To be honest, I did not like Dorkan. He was a blademaster, and felt that every challenge should be answered with violence. After Durotan's murder he wanted to rally the clan and attack Gul'dan openly. I convinced him that the horde was doomed, and we should hide until the war was over. He did not care. "We are born to die in battle." He called me a coward, but time proved me right. When the war was over the humans built prisons for our people. One morning I awoke to find that Dorkan had taken most of our warriors and gone to free our people. I was furious! I tracked them down to the prison, but it was too late.
"I found a handful of orcs, and Ogrim Doomhammer, whom they had managed to free. Doomhammer was the Warchief, and we both knew the humans would never rest until they knew he was dead. It was too dangerous to bring Ogrim back to our clan. So we parted ways to draw off the human pursuit."
"What happened to Dorkan Tork?" Eitrigg asked.
"Doomhammer told me that Dorkan had stayed behind to cover their retreat. I never saw him again. But I know that there had to be hundreds of human soldiers at that camp, and not a single one followed us into the mountains. I have a feeling that this paladin knows why."
Thrall and his entourage began to move through the city towards the Valley of Wisdom, where Thrall held court. As they walked, the Warchief could see that the city was throbbing with excitement. Half the orcs seemed convinced there would be a hanging that night. The other half said a beheading would be at dawn.
Finally they reached the large building nestled deep within the canyon. Dozens of high ranking orcs waited within the large hall, squabbling about everything imaginable. As he entered, they rose as one to try to catch his attention. Thrall waved them off and moved towards the smaller hall that served as his throne room and audience chamber. Guards kept the unwanted out. Thrall slipped between them and away from the courtiers.
The inner chamber was sparsely furnished. The only chair was the uncomfortable stone throne reserved for the Warchief. The room was cold, the way Thrall liked it. It kept visitors on their toes. Half a dozen guards were in the room, along with several advisors and a couple of the city watch.
"It is good to have you back, Warchief." Nazgrel said.
"I see that things have been exciting since I left. Let's deal with the human first."
"Excellent!" An unknown young orc strode forward. "With your permission, sir. I request the right to kill him in single combat."
Thrall glowered at the new face. "You are?"
"Bloog guard Kheylez, sire." The soldier gave a sharp salute. "The pinkskin surprised me with an underhanded move. Until this day, I have been undefeated in battle. I demand the right to regain my honor."
"There is more to honor than standing undefeated on the battleground." Eitrigg said. Kheylez rolled his eyes but said nothing. Thrall turned his back on him and strode to his throne.
"I will hear what the human has to say. Then we will decide if he lives or dies."
Kheylez gasped aloud, along with several advisors. "He's a human!"
"Not all humans are the same." Thrall sat in his throne.
"He's a paladin. He's an orc-slayer! He has admitted what he has done! Justice must be served."
"Kheylez! That's enough!" Kurn roared. "The Warchief has spoken!"
"Thank you Centurion." Thrall gave Kurn a nod before locking Kheylez in a cold stare. "And you should remember who you are speaking to. I have been fighting the humans longer than you have been walking, pup! We are more like them than we wish to admit. This human will be treated with the same respect we would show our own warriors. And he will be judged by his actions, not those of his countrymen.
"But make no mistake. If he is, as you say, a murderer and orc-slayer, then the justice you seek will indeed be served. Now, bring him in."
Kurn and one of the guards turned and left the chamber thru a door near the rear. After several moments, they returned on opposite sides of the human. The man carried the blademaster's weapon across his shoulders, still draped in the flag of the Frostwolf clan. The orcs escorted him to the center of the room, and turned him to face the throne. As his gaze fell upon Thrall, his face paled. His eyes widened in an unmistakable fear.
Kheylez laughed. "The almighty alliance champion cowers before Thrall! You realize now that you're going to die tonight, right vermin?"
"Centurion, if Kheylez speaks again, you have my permission to take him outside and flog him. I've warned you, soldier." Thrall addressed Mallet directly, and spoke in the human language. "Are you afraid of me then, human?"
"No." The paladin answered. "It… It has been a long time since I have seen that armor."
"Oh?" Thrall glanced down at the black plate mail with bronze trim that were the mark of the Warchief. "Have we met before, on the field? Perhaps at the Battle of Mount Hyjal?"
"No." The human answered in the orcish tongue. "The last time I saw the black armor, a different Warchief was wearing it."
"Oh?" Thrall lifted an eyebrow. "Tell me."