Chapter One: Mirror Mirror
After the second war, King Terenas ordered the entire orcish race exterminated. It was the smart move, it was the right move, and it was only a winning move. And it had worked out pretty well so far; the Alliance were wary of crossing him. Of course, the order hadn't exactly been completely effective. But the orcs had never stopped trying to exterminate humanity, so turnabout was fair play.
Nobody had been nearly so upset by the order as they pretended to be.
But now, things were falling apart. King Terenas had long been the most feared man alive, but he was getting old. Now it was either Uther or Arthas who would succeed him, and the two had hated eachother for years. Uther had been the greatest wielder of the holy light in history and still was.
However, Arthas was the more persuasive speaker. In theory, Arthas would become the Grandmaster of the Order after Uther. In practice, Uther's subordinates despised Arthas. And Uther himself had no intention of ever relinquishing power. Even now, his agents were searching for the secret to eternal youth.
Meanwhile, Arthas would never accept anything less than total control. Whether his Father liked it or not. So no compromise was possible. Thus King Terenas had dispatched them to quell recent orc uprisings. With the understanding that whoever killed the other would be the winner.
Uther stood by the fire as his men trained. From the looks of things, he was worried about the outcome. A pitched battle between the Silver Hand and Lordaeron was unlikely to end in his favor. He was unsure of the outcome, and Arthas had spoken to several messengers.
Suddenly, Gavinrad the Dire came forward, a black-haired man who raised one hand. "Turn back, brother. Before it is too late." By which he meant Arthas could have him as an ally in exchange for the warning. He'd be a puppet King, but the action alerted Uther.
Arthas decided to risk everyone on one, bold stroke.
"Stand aside, brother," said Arthas. "I've come to meet with an old friend, and I don't wish to be disturbed." Gavinrad looked to Uther in shock while Uther shook with rage. The lesser Paladin fled off into the woods.
He marched forward confidently with only two guards straight past the defenders. Uther looked up, stunned by the sheer courage. Arthas had just handed Uther the victory.
"Prince Arthas," said Uther in genuine pleasure. "The men and I are honored by your presence!" Then he realized that Arthas was close enough to stab him.
"Can the formalities Uther," said Arthas. "I'm not King yet. It's good to see you."
Uther laughed. "You too, lad. I'm pleased that King Terenas sent you to help me."
"Father still hopes your patience and experience might rub off on me," said Arthas.
"It is a Father's right to dream, isn't it?" asked Uther.
And both laughed.
Both.
They were now at an impasse. Both were near at hand to one another and if violence broke out. Arthas could kill Uther before he grabbed his hammer. On the other hand, Arthas would then be cut down by Uther's men, who were loyal to the other Paladins. One of them raced off out of nowhere to alert the others, and Uther looked up.
The Paladin realized that he'd made a show of weakness.
"Look," said Arthas. "Here's where we stand. Our scouts have reported that there is an orc encampment hidden just over the next ridge. As far as we know, the village is completely defenseless."
"As I suspected," said Uther, pretending that all was going as planned.
"It gets worse," said Arthas. "They're preparing to attack the nearby village of Strahnbrad. As far as we know, the village is completely defenseless." This was true.
Uther had pulled his men out of the village, save for a few who refused to go. Meanwhile, the orcs were heading there now.
In other words, the orcs could not be allowed a breakthrough. Both go their separate ways; Arthas deals with Uther's traitorous subordinates. And Uther goes to take all the glory for the resulting battle. Lordaeron as a whole is victorious, and the winner takes out the other.
Split off amicably and come back to kill eachother later. The choice was Uther's.
"I need to move against the orcs' base immediately," said Uther. "Can you handle Strahnbrad's defense on your own."
"Of course, Uther," said Arthas. "Don't worry about me."
"Good," said Uther. "Meet me at the orc camp after you've saved the village. Be careful, Arthas." And Uther marched off, but some of his forces stayed for a moment in confusion.
"You men," said Arthas. "Come with me. I have need of you."
And they followed his orders, doubling Arthas' forces. Together they moved down the road, only to find Gavinrad the Dire standing in the road. With him were a number of unsteady-looking warriors, glancing nervously about.
"I can't believe we ever called you brother," said Gavinrad. "You've made a mockery of the Silver Hand!"
"Leave him," said Arthas.
The soldiers stepped back on the assumption that their commanding officer was in on it. He wasn't, but he saw which way things were going and stepped back too. Gavinrad looked around as the men surrounded him, disarmed him, and forced him down.
"All causes require martyrs, Gavinrad," said Arthas. "You should have learned this long ago."
And the Captain drove a sword through Gavinrad's back.
"Captain Falric," said Arthas. "I see your skills are still of use to you."
"Lousy pay, constant danger," said Falric. "Well, at least I get to hobnob with royalty." Thus giving himself a promotion.
"Please, you have to help," said a woman, running up. "A group of gnolls kidnapped my little Timmy and took him to their hideout in the forest. Could you find him and bring him home, please?"
Arthas weighed the value of Strahnbrad vs. the value of good publicity. "Of course. We'll find him and bring him home safe."
The women led Arthas through the forest in a direction heading toward Strahnbrad. As they arrived, they found a village of gnolls waiting. And they were not caught unprepared. Almost as soon as they came within sight, the gnolls were armed. Crossbows were being launched from over barricades. The women fled, and Arthas and his men moved forward to attack.
They locked their shields together and cut down the barricades. The gnolls were slashed apart, their houses put to flame. Others smashed with maces, only for Arthas to cut them down. When Falric was injured, Arthas healed him and others. Until at last the entire village was burned and every last man, woman and child dead.
But there was no human child.
Turning, Arthas and his men prepared for another battle. Instead, they saw the woman.
"Oh, thanks so much," she said. "I have a reward for you."
The woman came forward before growing wings from her back. She took on the form of a violet-skinned female Dreadlord with dark hair and long, bare legs. Her breasts were huge and her midriff slim, with wide hips and a long staff clenched tightly in hand. She smiled, then vanished in green, and out of the trees came the Silver Hand.
"Vile betrayer!" said Sir Gregory Edmundson at the front as he attacked Arthas only to have his hammer met. "You are not fit enough to carry your Father's name! Why Uther ever vouched for you is beyond me! You've stripped him of his honor by tossing yours to the wind!"
So the Paladin Order was in an uprising at last.
But Arthas simply parried his strokes while the warriors waited on either side to see how it would turn out. The two fought back and forth, turning blow after blow, but Buzan was becoming the stronger. Yet the men looked at one another, and it was clear they were uncertain as to how this would turn out.
Falric stepped forward and stabbed Edmundson through the heart from behind quite abruptly. His blade cut deep and came out the other side. A moment later, he drew it out and wiped the blade on the grass. "Such is the fate of traitors.
"Remember this and do not follow in their footsteps. If you do, I shall deal you the same service."
"I would have preferred an equal battle," said Arthas. "However, we have no more time. We make for Stratholme at once. We have dallied too long in a pointless civil war."
Together, they hurried back to the road and moved quickly, leaving the bodies behind. However, as they moved, they saw a large group of armed men surrounding a merchant. Taking a ledger, they ran off. Arthas saw Strahnbrad was completely secure, and no smoke was rising.
"Those bandits stole my ledger," said the man. "Without it, I will lose my entire farm. Please, retrieve it from their camp. It would mean so much to us."
Arthas halted.
Was there any real benefit to helping this man? He had the feeling he knew he wouldn't arrive in time. The 'heroes' never arrived in time, just a little too late to help. But maybe he could help here. It would be a completely selfless act, and the bandits had to be rooted out anyway.
But then, he could probably just pay the bandits instead to fight for him. No, no, retrieving the ledger would be a good deed. Perhaps it was a good deed; for all he knew, it was the Tome of Divinity itself he was seeking.
Arthas realized suddenly that he wanted to do it. Then he looked at his men, who were impatient and wanted to get on with it and back to him. It could be the Tome of Divinity itself. But it didn't matter.
Nobody would ever read it. "I'm sorry but... no.
"No.
"It's far too late for that.
"We move to fight the orcs."
The men cheered, the property of an innocent man meaning nothing to them as Arthas led them on toward the gates. And, just as he'd predicted, the attack had already begun; the gates caved in as orcs pursued townsfolk out. One of the men ran and was cut down with an axe just a little too late for Arthas to help.
He knocked the head off the creature and assaulted the orcs beyond. Going into the city, he went from building to building, household to household. And as he did, he killed the orcs and drove them away. One after another, he cut down, and his men cheered as they did so. Inspired by his example, they killed orc after orc, and the orcs enjoyed the bloodshed just as much.
Neither side heeded the people fleeing for their lives any more than a worm in the mud. Arthas tried to help them protect themselves from orcs looking for an easy target. Yet there were so many. And at last, the square was lined with bodies as Arthas healed people as best he could. More troops came in from nearby, and Arthas raised his hammer.
Then he recognized one of them, the leader. He'd known him and Falric before, but now...
"Prince Arthas," said Marwynn. "I'm ready to serve."
"It has been some time, Marwynn," said Falric.
"Not long enough," said Marywynn. Once, Arthas thought of the two friends.
"I'm glad you're here, Marwynn," said Arthas. "There's a man out there who needs his ledger restored. Take your men to organize a search for it. And while you're at it, see if you can do something about all these bandits."
"I'll do my best," said Marwynn with a laugh. "Let's spill some blood."
"No villagers this time," said Arthas.
"Alright, alright, already," laughed Marwynn.
And so they cleared the area and moved north. Even as he walked, however, Arthas found something in his hand. And looking at it, he saw a blade of terrible power for a moment only to find his hammer instead. Beyond the corner, they saw a scene as though made.
There were the villagers, locked in chains with dull eyes, prepared to be dragged away. Like sinners pulled away to some unknown fate.
"Haul these wretches off with the rest of them," said a Warchief on a black wolf. He wore black armor and was huge, with a beard. Around him were the mutilated corpses of women and children put on stakes. "This is not the Horde you remember, Prince Arthas. We have no interest in conquest or murder. We have paid for our sins of our forebears in blood."
Uproarious laughter came from the men. Arthas laughed too, and pretty soon, all the other orcs were laughing at the Warchief too. It was the closest thing to a legitimate understanding anyone had ever had. The funny part was that Thrall was exactly the same as last time. He had no support from the spirits and was more honest about it.
Not that the Dreadlord had any intention of saving him. He'd had his day of victory, long, long ago.
"Than you, Warchief," said Arthas. "Father tells me I should laugh more.
"Leave his face and head intact. We'll need "
A wave of armored footmen surged forward hacked the orcs to pieces. Then he pulled him off his wolf and began to beat him. Someone cut his head off, and it was raised upwards to cheering citizens before being put on a pike.
But nobody asked after the people who had been taken away.
"Don't worry," said Arthas. "We'll find the captives and bring them home safe."
But he knew as he said it that he wouldn't.
At that moment, a knight of Lordaeron arrived, which meant that Uther now had the support of the nobility. "Prince Arthas, Lord Uther needs you at the orc encampment immediately."
Arthas nodded. "Never a dull moment. Let's get moving."
But nobody followed him, and the knight went on ahead. So Arthas walked alone, toward what he suspected was his death. But such an end would be boring, so the Dreadlord would have to pull some strings to avoid that.
'I knew sparing Lordaeron and ditching the Legion was a great idea!' thought the Dreadlord Jaina to herself. 'Human beings are so much fun!'
