Chapter 2 - War and losses

"...Is a disgrace, that's what it is! The true treason would be to not do anything until the dead are crawling at our walls instead of putting an end to them now!" Lord Kalthuz was almost shouting, his hands gripping the edges of his table so hard his knuckles had grown white.

"It is the king's will." Said one of the noblemen present with him in the room. "We are not to move. Archmage Arugal in Dalaran has said his research may have uncovered something that we could use to defend ourselves should the moment arise. But until then, we are to remain still."

"To hell with that! I will not sit idly as thousands of people are killed, then raised again as more of those... Flesh-hungry monstrosities! Prince Arthas has already sent the call, so why can't we make our move as well? What the hell is the king thinking!?" Kalthuz looked as if he wanted to hurl his desk out through the window behind him, but instead he began to pace back and forth in the room, his arms crossed behind his back as he lowered his head.

All this, Dalrus watched from his hiding spot. The boy had worked hard to help create this viewpoint of his. The space between the manor's floors was rather sparse, but he had managed to crawl his way through until he was over his father's study. Then came the hard labour of drilling a hole just behind the chandelier, small enough that it wouldn't be spotted by anyone casually glancing upwards. The really difficult part had been carving it in a way no dust would fall off and alert the occupants below.

"Lord Kalthuz, we understand your anger. Truly, we do. But the king's word is absolute. No Gilnean is to move out in this war. And if someone did, he would immediately notice. Even if we were to succeed, we would find no home to come back to afterwards. It's a rather... Complicated situation. They are quite firmly convinced we are safe where we are." Said another one of the present nobles, a middle aged man in a top hat holding a cane before him.

"Then I will go." Felrus suddenly said, stepping forward. "Father, this is what we have been waiting for. Greymane will not notice my absence. I will join crown prince Arthas in his expedition and put an end to this plague threatening our lands!"

Dalrus felt his heart race within his chest. Had he heard this right? "Felrus..." For a moment, Lord Kalthuz' voice gave away, then he quickly cleared his throat and recomposed himself. "If you are willing... I would give anything to join you for this, son. But I am no fool... Already, you are my better at sword play. Blast my old age, and blast these old bones. I know you will make me and Gilneas proud."

Felrus then hesitated for a moment. It looked as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words for it. "About my brother..."

"Dalrus is to join you, of course." Kalthuz immediately began to say with a nod. "He is, after all, your shadow. You will go together, and-"

"No, father. He must not come."

Silence fell in the room, and Dalrus was surprised the sound of his own heartbeat didn't echo below him.

"What are you talking about? Dalrus is your shadow! He is the Plague, you are the Fang. It is his duty to keep you safe, and aid you precisely in tasks such as these!" Kalthuz began to say, turning to scowl angrily at his son.

Felrus listened to his father's venting for a good while before calmly nodding and saying: "Yes, you are right. If we were to ask this of him, he would come with me. And that is precisely why we mustn't." Taking a deep breath, he leaned back on his seat and launched his gaze upwards... Almost directly at the spot Dalrus was currently hiding in. "I am fully aware this will be dangerous... I could even die. But Dalrus... He is still too young. He hasn't completed his training. And besides... He is needed here. Tensions between Greymane and Crowley are growing. His abilities will be better applied for what's to come in our city. Until then... I want him to live a peaceful life." He then smiled, his gaze lowering to meet his father. "Let his older brother shoulder his burdens for just a moment longer. Maybe, when I return a hero from the war... We can finally bring down these walls and fight together, as we always should have."

Kalthuz looked a little disarmed before that speech. His shoulders slumped, and he took in a deep breath. "To think I'd live down the day my own son would lecture me... Very well, Felrus. If that is your will, I shall not utter a word to your brother. But you must leave in absolute secrecy. The king must not know that you leave for war... Not yet, at any rate. Perhaps once he sees the results of his decisions, then he will change his mind."

Hours later, Dalrus was laying down by the shade of the wall, staring up at the clear blue sky above. The grass felt cool and soft under him, and his crossed fingers made for a nice rest for his head.

Four whole years had passed since the day a man entered their city, screaming of undead and plagues. Since then, much had happened in the Eastern Kingdoms. A new warchief had risen within the orcish horde, but rather than declaring war, he had seemingly freed his people from the camps they were kept at, then stole a bunch of Alliance ships and sailed away to an unknown location. Many had been glad for this unexpected development, many more confused, but their joy was short lived. Spreading through the north was a deadly plague, a terrible, unthinkable disease that not only killed all it touched, but also raised them back as shambling monstrosities who hungered for the flesh of the living. Apparently, that was actually true. Tensions were high, Crowley's voice louder than ever as he screamed for Gilneas to take action, to help fight for their kingdom, their land, their lives. Lordaeron had sent a formal plea to their king, but Greymane simply refused to take action, and even went as far as to prohibit any Gilnean to step outside of their walls to fight a war that supposedly wasn't theirs.

Dalrus, for one, was only too glad not to be outside risking his life against something that wasn't even alive to begin with. His family, however, seemed to have a different opinion, as he had just found out. Now his brother would be leaving to help fight this war. He wished felrus wouldn't go. He wished he could do something about it, change his mind... But there was no way to do so without getting himself involved. He felt lost... Not knowing what to do.

His inner thoughts were interrupted by the sound of steps besides him. Looking around, Dalrus saw his brother approaching, a somewhat sad smile upon his lips. "Shouldn't you be training?" He said as he sat down besides Dalrus. "Eh. My heart isn't really into it." Dalrus replied, looking back at the sky once more.

"Didn't your master use to say that's when you should really focus on the training? If you can do it without even thinking about it, that's when you've really mastered the craft. Or something like that." Dalrus could see his brother was wearing his armor. Brightly polished gauntlets, pauldrons and boots, with a red tabard with Gilneas' symbol covering his front and legs. His shield was strapped to his back, and a sword was hanging from his waist. Dalrus felt a knot tie on his throat. "Fel..." He began to say, but his brother cut him off.

"I'm going away for a while." The youth said rather simply. "Take care of mother for me in the meantime, will you?"

Dalrus looked aghast before those words, and sat up to face Felrus in the eye. "Why do you have to do this? There are tons of other people out there already risking their lives! Just stay here, where it's safe. You're going to get yourself killed... Or worse!"

To that, Felrus offered only a sad smile. "I knew you were listening. Dalrus, it's easy to say things like that. 'Let someone else do it. This isn't my fight. I'd rather live an easy and comfortable life.' But when we take the easy path, we stray off towards a bad end. No one can live shirking off their duties forever. Sooner or later, we will pay the price for remaining still. The world doesn't stop, Dalrus. If we don't move along with it... We will get swept off completely. I'm doing this... For you. For mother. For father. For our land. For our species..." His voice trailed off for a moment, then his eyes glimmered with determination as his expression hardened. "For the Alliance."

Dalrus stood up, his next words coming out as shouts as he stared down at his brother. "What the bloody hell has the Alliance done for us!? We are not at war with the horde, and those things can rot off our walls for all I care!"

Felrus, instead, simply continued to smile and remained seated. "It's not about what we can do for each other. It's about being part of something great. Alone, we stand no chance against the threats that exist in this world... And beyond. But together... We will beat this menace. And we will survive. I'm going to make sure they don't even come close to Gilneas, Dalrus. And maybe keep them from getting close to a lot of other people who can't do anything for themselves. One day you'll see for yourself... There's a lot of people who would rather sit on the sidelines and wait for others to fix things for them. But I refuse to be one of those people. We can't just lower our heads and pray for something to magically fix everything we hate and fear. I, for one... Will take the reins of my destiny, and change it myself." And with that, he stood up, placed his hand on top of Dalrus' head and leaned in, planting a brotherly kiss on the boy's scalp. "Be good, brother. I promise you I will return. We will meet again." And with that, he turned around and, with confident strides, made his way towards the house, leaving a speechless Dalrus behind as he looked in desperation at his brother's back.

Lost in his thoughts, the boy didn't even realize he was being called until Silvius threw a pebble that painfully smacked him in the temple. "There could be a warzone around you and you wouldn't realize until someone's blade was already five inches deep down your neck, boy." Came the raspy voice of his master, a second pebble at the ready on his palm.

"What do you want now?" Dalrus said, rubbing the side of his head grumpily. "I already finished practice. And I got a lot in my hands right now."

"Hah! That would be a first." Was Silvius' mocking answer. "Let me teach you something, kid. So long as you draw breath in this life, practice and training will never be finished. No matter what you do, there will always be room for improvement. But, and this is as shocking to me as it is to you, this time, I am not here to give you orders and smack you around when you disobey. Your mother is calling for you."

As if it were even possible, Dalrus felt his throat grow even drier than it already was. "Wait, she's awake? Now? She didn't take her medicine?" He managed to blurt out, his eyes very wide.

Shaking his head, his master replied: "She said she wanted to have a word with you first. And she can be a damn hard headed woman, but she is still very weak. So I suggest you move your arse right now before I decide to follow you very closely with something very sharp to make sure you'll be hasty." But Dalrus had already stopped listening. Even he knew better than to ignore his mother's summons. Almost as if in a daze, he made his way as quickly as possible within the manor, racing along the halls and up the stairway until he was in the doorway of his mother's room. Hesitating briefly, he raised his fist and knocked as gently as he could, before saying: "Mother... Are you awake? May I come in?"

For a few seconds, silence... Then a voice as weak and frail as silk waving in the wind came out from the other side: "Come in, Dalrus..."

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside. Normally, his mother's room was very dark, with the curtains drawn so she could better sleep and rest. Today, however, the window was wide open, offering her a clear view of the city to one side and the huge imposing wall to the other. His mother had been staring out the window, but as he came in, she turned to face her son, a weak smile parting her thin lips. "My son... It's lovely to see you."

Dalrus always had to choke back a sob whenever he saw his mother. Ever since he had been born, Lady Dallys Plaguefang had spent most of her time resting and sleeping in her room. She would lay down for over twelve hours every day, and even when she woke up, she barely had the strength to feed herself. Whenever she felt good enough to be brought out on a wheel chair to enjoy some warm sunlight, she required someone - usually Dalrus himself - to push her around, and even those moments would often end abruptly with her falling asleep on the chair and being brought back to her room. Her skin was very pale, her hair had lost its colour, and there were bags under her eyes. She was very thin, and fed mostly through soup and healing broths. All this, Dalrus knew, was the result of his birth. He was the reason his mother was the way she was.

Almost as if reading his mind, his mother furrowed her brows. "You always look so concerned when you see me, dear. I know what passes through your mind each time. And time and time again I've told you... I would have gladly died to make sure you could stay in this world even one more day. Don't look at me this way. I'd rather see my son smiling."

'That's not even the reason I can't smile right now...' Were the bitter thoughts in his mind, but still he managed to force out a grin for his mother. It was an art he had practiced and perfected over the years. "Yeah, sorry. I just... Master Silvius really worked me hard today, you know? I'm just tired, is all. Ah... Shouldn't you be resting right now, mom? Is it OK for you to be pushing yourself like this?"

A soft chuckle escaped her. "Your mother is stronger than you think, dear. Regardless of what state my body is in, I will always have time for my beloved children. And that is what I wish to speak to you about. Dalrus... Come closer, my son."

His eyes were already stinging, but still he withheld his smile as he stepped forward, sitting by the edge of her bed and leaning closer to her. "What is it, mother?"

Suddenly, he felt her arms wrapping around his neck and his face pulled down towards her chest, his mother's chin resting atop his head as he heard her sob above. "My beloved Dalrus... I know. Your brother... He is leaving, isn't he? He is going... He is going to fight in that war. He's going to risk his life... And he might die."

Dalrus was in shock. He did not know how to react, what to do. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close as she cried over him. "Yes..." Was all he managed to say, the word catching in his throat several times like bile.

Pulling her head back a bit, Dalrus could see the tears streaming down along her cheeks, the bags under her eyes inflating even more. "My beloved son... I wished he wouldn't go through this... Neither of you. Your father and I already fought a war, Dalrus. People die. People suffer. Nothing good comes out of it. We battled the orcs, we defended our home... But in the end, the conflict is never truly finished. We did our part to save as many lives as we could... Hoping we could make a better world for you and your brother. But that's just a foolish dream, after all..." She sighed, then began to tenderly run her hand along the back of her son's head.

"Mother... Can't you do something?" Dalrus finally said, his hands going for her shoulders as he stared into her teary eyes. "Surely, if you talk to father, or Felrus... I know that if you tell them not to, they won't go through with this!"

To that, his mother smiled, her head leaning ever so slightly to the side. Her hand moved up to cup his cheek, her grip about as strong as a piece of fabric falling over his face. "Dalrus, you are so kind... But also misguided, dear. I could never, and I would never stop your brother from attempting to do what he believes is right. Your father is the same way. The only reason he does not go himself is because of... Well, me. He wouldn't care about losing this manor or his fortune so long as he could do something for the people of his land. But he could never act so selfishly for as long as you and I are a part of his life. Kalthuz has always thought of his family first... He would never abandon us to pursue his own ideals. I suppose he sees in your brother a way to do a bit of both. Felrus is of age, and he has trained his entire life for this moment."

"But... Mother, he's going to be killed! Or worse!" Dalrus frantically said, desperation raising in his voice. "What does it matter anyway?! Those people in the Alliance... What have they ever done for us?! All they know how to do is wage war and throw people's lives away for stupid reasons! Greymane is right, we should just stay here and live out our lives while those blokes out there cut each other's throats out!"

A loud, sharp noise echoed in the room. It wasn't even the pain that shocked Dalrus, or the fact his mother had shown as much strength as any woman could as she slapped him - and perhaps even more - but the fact that suddenly she didn't look so frail and meek anymore. Her eyes, usually so kind and on the verge of closing shut, were very sharp and burning with passionate intensity as she glared down at her son. The hand she had used to slap him was still outstretched to her far side, as if threatening to give him a backhand if he dared to speak again. And when she spoke, it wasn't with her barely audible whisper of a voice, but a strong, vigorous speech that instantly had him dry his tears up. "Dalrus Plaguefang! Don't you dare ever utter such words again! You are not alone in this world. There are many people with the same dreams and hopes as you. People who want nothing to do with war, people who just want to live peacefully with their families. But there is also even more evil out there, Dalrus. Do you know what that is? Do you know what true evil, true malice is, Dalrus?"

He could only stare at her dumbfounded, his hand laying over the reddening spot on his cheek. "No... Mother."

"Then I will tell you what." She practically hissed, her eyes narrowing down as she glared at him. "Those who have power. Power the likes of which you could never even dream of. Powers that maybe, one day, you yourself will hold. And then they use this power to oppress and abuse those who are incapable of defending themselves. Those who think nothing of life and would end it as an afterthought, or just for pure pleasure. And let me tell you one thing. I fought the orcs. I killed dozens of them. Do you think they were evil, boy?"

Almost as if in auto pilot, he stupidly muttered out: "Yes." And then the hand came back down, smacking him across the other side of his face. "WRONG!" His mother practically screamed. "The orcs were just a horde of desperate people seeking to escape their dying world and conquer a new place for their women and children to live in. But they were being controlled. Controlled by someone who was truly evil. Gul'Dan and his shadow council were pulling the strings from the shadows, and let me tell you, that warlock was the true face of evil. He wanted everything, and he didn't care how many died for him to achieve his goals. I saw Deathwing the Destroyer spread destruction with every beat of his damned wings. That mad dragon relished in the charring wastelands he left in his wake, and that, too, was true evil. And you would let that fly freely through our land and wait until they come knocking at your doorstep? You think some hero will conveniently show up and save you!?"

Dalrus was absolutely stunned. He did not know what to say, what to think, how to react. He could only stare wide eyed at his mother with his mouth slightly agape.

"No, Dalrus. You need to understand that evil will not simply go away. It's useless to just ignore this world's problems and hope in the end everything will turn out alright. Unless you do something for yourself, nothing will end up the way you want it to. That's just not how life works. But if you really wish for it to be like that... Then you have to be the one to make it that way. You will need to be the one to go and fight evil, to make sure it will never reach the gates of this city you love so much. And that is why your brother is leaving. Because he wants to hold this illusion for you. The illusion that you will be able to live peacefully in Gilneas forever. You weren't around before this damned wall was erected. You didn't see the chaos the world was in. And now everything points to a new war. Even more pain and suffering are on their way, Dalrus. And if you don't do your part to fight it... You, me, your father, your brother, and everyone else... We will die."

Finally, her voice had lowered, and the hand she used to strike him with was now gently rubbing his sore cheek. "You must understand, my son. The moment you lower your head and let others take charge of things for you, you're nothing more than cattle. A lamb. And just like that, without even realizing, you will one day be led to the slaughter. You must be strong, my son. Be strong so no one can wrap a chain around you. Be strong enough to make sure no one dies in vain, and that you can live a life without regrets, knowing that you have always done everything within your power to prevent tragedy from occurring."

His hand slowly pressed over hers. "I just..." And then the tears came out. His face twisted with sorrow, and he threw himself forward once more, sobbing uncontrollably against his mother's breast as the tears flowed down. "I don't want to lose him... Or you... Or father... Or anyone!"

His mother embraced him and began to lovingly rub the back of his head as she spoke softly. "I know that, my dear. But you should know my life isn't worth more than anyone else's. All life is important and valuable. Your brother knows that. That's why he is going to risk his life. And maybe one day, you too will risk yours for something that you believe in. It doesn't matter how long we live, Dalrus. What does matter is what we managed to accomplish during this short time we humans spend on this world. Unlike the elves and dwarves and gnomes, we don't have hundreds of years to accomplish our ambitions. We can only do what we can with the little time available. And so we make sure we live without regrets."

He said nothing. He simply continued to cry against his mother, his hands gripping at her arms and moaning out sadly. "I won't... I won't lose you. I won't let anything ever happen to you. I'll keep you safe... And Felrus... Should I go with him? Should I make sure he comes back safe?" He lifted his head, his eyes locking with his mother's, full of fear and doubt.

She met his gaze with a surprisingly calm one, and the hand on his head gave an affectionate squeeze. "It's not time yet, my dear. You still have much to learn. One day, you will. One day, you and your brother, together, will be truly unstoppable. But until then... You must train. Truly earn the right to be Felrus' shadow so that the day he triumphantly returns, you will be able to look him in the eye not as his younger brother... But as his equal."

Wiping his tears with the back of his sleeve, Dalrus managed to muster one of his rare truly sincere smiles towards his mother. "I will... Thank you, mother. And... I'm sorry I was so selfish."

"Oh, my baby..." She cooed, embracing him once more... But this time with far less intensity. "You are growing so fast. Of course if it were up to me, I'd see you both playing and growing up together behind this blasted wall for the rest of our days. Greymane is blind... And one day he will pay the price... For this... Folly..."

"Mother?" Suddenly alarmed, Dalrus took his mother by the waist and the back of her neck. She was growing limp. "Mother? Come on, say something!"

Her eyes fluttered to a close a few times, then when she opened them again, they stared at his general direction, but were clearly out of focus. "I'm sorry, dear... I'm just so tired... I need to rest a bit... Could you close the curtains for... Me..." Before her sentence was truly finished, the woman had closed her eyes and passed out on his arms.

Dalrus felt like a rubber ball was caught in his throat. Swallowing down a sob, he gently lowered her down on the bed and proceeded to close the windows and pull down the curtains, leaving the room in utter darkness. "I know you're there, by the way." He said as he turned around and began leaving the room.

Surely enough, Silvius was outside waiting for him. "I would be impressed if you had actually noticed where I was hiding. But, of course, knowing I would eavesdrop was just obvious."

Dalrus suddenly turned around to face the man, his fingers curling into fists as he felt anger grow inside of him. "Well, bloody good for you! Now if you're just going to taunt me, bugger off because I am in no bloody mood to take this!"

The master rogue grew mortally silent as he stared down at the boy. Dalrus knew he was about to be smacked across the head, stabbed or even poisoned. He didn't care. All he wanted that moment was something to take his anger out on.

And so, it was an even bigger shock than when his mother struck him when the man stepped forward and gently placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Life sure is a mess, eh? People you love go off risking their lives, and there's not a damn thing you can do for them but hope one day you can do something to make their lives easier."

Dalrus' shoulders suddenly slumped, all that anger venting off in an instant. "I don't need your bloody lessons now. I just... I just need some time. To... Deal with this." Before he could help himself, he looked at the closed door, knowing his mother slept like the dead on the other side.

"I'm not speaking as your master now." Came the stern reply. "I am speaking as your uncle. Now let me ask you something, Dalrus... Do you think that, even for one second in her life, my sister regrets giving birth to you? Do you think there was ever a moment where she wished she could have told the priest to let you die so she could ride the horse along with her other son one day?"

All the air left his lungs. Dalrus simply stared at Silvius, who, in turn, stared right back at him, clearly awaiting for his reply. Taking a deep breath, Dalrus stared down at his feet and whispered: "How could she not? I ruined her body... And her life. I am the sole reason she spends her every moment in this damned room and can't even wash herself when she bathes."

Dalrus waited for Silvius to smack him with a poisoned dagger. Instead, he saw the man squat slightly before him and place both his hands upon the boy's shoulders. "Now if you will ever listen to a speech of mine, now is the time, boy, because I will never utter more sincere words in my life." Dalrus raised his face and stared straight at his uncle's stern face. "My sister loves you. Ever since she realized she was pregnant with you and consulted the priests for the first time, she was told time and time again that it would be better to let you perish and try to have another baby with her husband. She was told that you would die before you drew your first breath in this world. And despite all that, she still decided to go through with it. She dumped every last bit of vitality she had into you. That day, you didn't just take everything she had. She was the one who decided to sacrifice everything, to give you everything, so that you could have a chance in this world. And never in this long life of mine, a life that's been mostly dedicated to ending others, have I ever seen such a humbling and wonderful act of love. And if you want to know if she would change things if she could... I would say that, if she had the chance, she would go the extra mile to rid you of your bug bite allergy even if it meant she would be blind and deaf on top of everything else. So don't you dare ever make light of her sacrifice. If any... The only thing she does regret is seeing you waste your life like a bird in a cage when you could be out there, spreading your wings and doing something for this world we all bleeding live in."

Once Silvius was done speaking, the choking in Dalrus' throat was gone. He took a deep breath and stuffed out his chest, his eyes gleaming as he made his decision. "I thought you said you hated being called Uncle Silvius. And that if I ever called you that again you'd peel off a layer of my tongue with a fruit knife."

Silvius scoffed. "That's because you don't need any more parental figures in your life, boy. You have plenty of that already. What you needed was someone to teach you how rough life in this world is, and to harden you for it so that when it does strike at you, you'd be ready. But I suppose that's not how rogues do things, is it?" And now he was grinning, his hands leaving Dalrus' shoulders as he stood up straight.

"Nah. We would much rather dodge the blow altogether, then stab it in the back while it's tumbling." Now Dalrus was smiling too. Of course. That was how he would do it, then. Like a true rogue, he would find a way to make things right his own way. Unseen. Unexpected. From the shadows. Sneaking and dodging past all the hardships... He would find a way to make it all work.

"Precisely. And that is why tonight you and I are going to follow your brother and alert the guards so they catch him in the act and prevent him from ever stepping foot outside this city again." Silvious said.

Like a night stalker, he would learn how to take his enemy's secrets, to end the wicked when they least expected, so that when his brother came back a hero of war, together, they could finally... "Come again?"

"Pay attention. See? When the guards turn the corner, there's a blind spot. That's when we make a dash for the next safe spot." Silvius whispered, pointing at the corner of the street before them. Surely enough, whenever the guards turned around, there would be a brief moment where that space behind them was unwatched until the next guard came in.

The moon was full tonight, but mostly hidden behind clouds. The dark streets of Gilneas were lit by several lamp posts stationed along the sidewalks, which provided plenty of light for the guards to keep watch over the few people who still wandered off during the dark night.

Dalrus and his uncle were squatting down behind a shop stall, with several shoes displayed in a glass case besides them. They had left soon after Felrus and Lord Kalthuz, who had made an arrangement with the gate guards for tonight's escapade. He still couldn't believe they were there.

Silvius had explained that simply tipping the guards off would do little to keep his brother in. After all, people attempted to find ways of running off all the time - mostly for no reason other than getting some fresh air outside, hunting for sport or visiting a distant relative before coming right back in. Warning them beforehand would do little more than raise the price of Kalthuz' bribe, so as it were, nothing short than a flagrant by several guards would do. Something loud enough for Greymane himself to hear that one of the noble lords attempted to sneak his son off to fight in the war he explicitly forbade his people from participating in.

"Wait, but what about mother's talk about 'fighting for the others' and doing the right thing?" A very confused and perplexed Dalrus had asked earlier.

"Bugger that, I don't want to see either of you blockheads dying off while the rest of this city sleeps in their silken sheets. Either Greymane sends the entire army off to do our part, or no one - especially a green knave who is my nephew - goes off to die for an ungrateful nation." Had been Silvius' sharp reply. "Don't act like you didn't think of it. You want your brother to stay, don't you? So follow my lead and I'll make sure you two will be together until our good king decides to pull his head out of his arse and listen to Crowley for once."

True enough, as of late, Greymane had only grown more and more reserved, especially after this talk about plagued grains and undead reached them. There had been talk about a curfew, but in the end, all he did was issue a simple warning to the people and an increase in the guard, and no longer would they import food from outside. Gilneas would only feed on what they could produce. Not that there was a lack of food, but there sure was a lack in variety. People were growing very restless, and Lord Darius Crowley had gone as far as to loudly say the word 'tyranny'.

None of that mattered that moment, however. Racing past the unsuspecting guards, Dalrus and Silvius reached the point where his brother and father were. It was a back alley that led to a building just besides the gigantic gates. The two rogues could hear the faint whispers of Lord Kalthuz; "...here while I go and make sure everything is ready. The greedy fools will be sure to try and extort a couple gold coins more from me now that we are so close. Be very quiet, I'll see if I can find a second horse for you as well."

"Alright, Dalrus. This is it. See that up there?" Silvius pointed upwards, and Dalrus saw what appeared to be a potted plant resting on the edge of a window shelf. "I'll make my way up there. First, you make a small distraction over this side. That will make the guards turn their heads this way. Could be anything, just throw a pebble at a window or something. Then, once the pot crashes down, they will all come running to see what the second noise is. Then they will see your brother. It will look like an accident and I doubt they will suspect anything."

"Alright." Dalrus whispered in response, his heart racing within his chest. He had never done anything like this before. Sure, he had performed stealth training with Silvius in the past, but never had he put it to practice like this. Just as his master vanished from sight, Dalrus slowly reached up for one of the crates that was laying on the ground before the shop stall, sealed by long, thick wires. He pulled them free and loosened the lid up. Inside were a few cheap leather sandals, but that wasn't what he was looking for. Dalrus hoisted the lid all the way up, then slammed it down as hard as he could. It didn't produce a particularly loud noise, but amidst the dead silence of the night, it sounded like someone had just crashed down a door.

Felrus was the first one to raise his head. Dalrus was safely out of sight, but from where he was, he could see his brother's eyes go very wide... And Dalrus hesitated. Those eyes... His brother's eyes... They were full of fear. There, alone, in that cold night, even while clad in his plate armor, with his shield strapped to his back and his sword at his waist... Felrus Plaguefang looked afraid. Not for who or what could have produced that sound... But for what it represented. An end to his quest before it even began.

Dalrus froze. Never in his entire life had he seen his brother like that. Felrus had always been dauntless, determined, fearless... And there he was, suddenly not knowing what to do. Alone and afraid.

His daze was broken when from around the corner came a loud voice saying: "What was that? Who's there?" And that was when they were both broken out of their stupor. Felrus looked around frantically, then began to carefully move along the walls so he would remain in a blind spot when the guards came to investigate. Dalrus knew that as soon as the guards came, Silvius would drop the pot and they would all look in Felrus' direction, who was now squatting down behind a dumpster.

'Oh for the love of... They will see you before the pot even falls, you moron!' Were the words that raced along Dalrus' mind as he suddenly sprinted down the dark street. From the corner of his eye, he saw the plant fall. Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. Within a second, Dalrus was next to his brother, grabbing him by the gauntleted wrist and giving him a tug so sharp he actually pulled Felrus to his feet. So surprised was his brother, he didn't even react as Dalrus pulled him along the opposite side of the corner and threw his dark cloak over his brother's face. Then the pot fell down, and Dalrus was momentarily dazzled by the light of the guard's lamp. "HEY, YOU! STOP WHERE YOU ARE!" Without a moment of hesitation, Dalrus lifted his arm over his face and ran straight forward. He fainted to the left, then swerved to the right, feeling the guard's hand slide past his side as his evasive maneuver worked. And on he ran, now no less than three guards screaming and running after him. Dalrus led them the exact opposite direction where his brother was clumsily pulling the cloak off his head and staring dumbfounded as his brother vanished into the streets of Gilneas.

'Bloody hell, what the bugger am I doing!?' Dalrus thought, his heart racing in his chest as he kept his head low and his knees bent. Time and time again the guards' lamps illuminated his body, only for him to dash to the side, zig-zag and climb over stalls and garbage cans so as to prevent them from focusing on him. By now there were five of them, and more were being warned along the way. 'I came here to stop him, not bloody save him! I must be going mental!' Then, suddenly, he was at the end of a street, with nothing but a big hat store ahead of him. "Got you now, little twerp!" Came the guard's voices from behind. As if his body were acting on his own, Dalrus did not even slow down as he continued to run forward. Once he reached the wall next to the shop's doorway, he planted his foot upon the wall and managed to take three whole steps upwards, using his momentum to run up the wall before kicking forward and reaching out with his hands. This caused him to leap up into the air and allow him to grab the big metal sign above the door. Dalrus hoisted himself on top of it, then leapt forward once more, this time finding footing on a window shelf. After that he began jumping from one window to the next, until he reached a rain gutter. He climbed it down like a pole, landing safely behind the confused and somewhat amazed guards, who, due to their heavy armor, needed a moment to halt before shifting directions. Dalrus resumed his race, this time taking a left turn... Only to find two guards cutting him off. He had no choice but to go back the way he came, but as soon as he approached the square he had left his brother, Dalrus found no less than four more guards waiting for him. Even more surprisingly was the fact Lord Vincent Godfrey himself was standing there atop his horse with a very satisfied smirk on his mustached face. "Well, looks like the tip wasn't off after all. Now where are your father and brother, brat?"

'Oh... Bugger.'