Hi guys - I know it's been a while since my last update. I had a pretty rough end to 2020 (as did many people), including surgery and some job dramas, and it's taken me a little while to get back to normal. With that said, I'm glad to be back and I hope you are all well and having a great 2021 so far. I know I also have some comments to catch up on with replies, but in the meantime I hope you enjoy this chapter and I'll see you soon with the next one!
Auriana
What followed was perhaps the most uncomfortable hour of Auriana's life. As determined as she was to get to the bottom of the attacks, it took everything she had to walk into the Argent command tent to face the Horde - and, for that matter, the Alliance. Having Varian at her side helped, but even his looming, steadfast presence could not quell the choking guilt that rose her throat at the sight of Vol'jin, nor the shaking in her hands as she watched the other faction leadership enter the command tent one by one.
She quickly tangled her trembling fingers in the folds of her skirts, and prayed fervently that no one would notice.
Both the Alliance and the Horde had come quickly at Varian's summons. Given the chaos of the last few days, it was the first time they had a chance to come to a full assembly, though only a handful of the leaders were actually in attendance. In the final tally, Moira Thaurissan, Aysa Cloudsinger, Thrall, Saurfang, Baine Bloodhoof and Nathanos Blightcaller were all too badly injured from defending the nerubian attack to attend, while Velen had elected to remain behind in one of the healing tents where he felt his considerable talents were better used.
Admittedly, those present had fared little better than those who were absent. Auriana had feared that she would look dishevelled and out of place, but as it turned out, she was probably the most well put-together person present. Varian had his cane, of course, though he was far from the only one walking with a limp. Genn, Mekkatorque, and Lor'themar Theron were all battered and bruised, while Vol'jin looked about as weary as it was possible for a person to be and still remain upright. Ji Firepaw was missing a good chunk of fur from his left ear, cheek, and neck, and it appeared that something had attempted to bite off Gallywix's tumid nose. Even Tyrande and Sylvanas - each normally poised and impeccable in their own ways - were dishevelled; the former with her warm mauve skin covered in nasty cuts and bruises, and the latter with her right shoulder in a sling.
"First of all, I want to make it abundantly clear - to everyone - that I do not believe the Horde were involved in either the planning or execution of these attacks."
Varian wasted no time getting down to business, barely waiting for the last of the leaders to enter the tent before he started to speak. He immediately began to summarise what they knew, starting as far back as the early actions of Thorne's group on Draenor, their assassination attempt on Vol'jin, and their repeated efforts to kill Anduin and Auriana prior to the Tournament. He then went on to elaborate on the theories they had discussed out on the glacier regarding Thorne's possible resurgence and his motives for attack. He left no small detail out, save for Tess's name when he explained how the orc assassins may have disguised themselves - for which Auriana was very grateful. They simply didn't have time to deal with Genn's parental outrage on top of everything else; not to mention that she would have hated to see either Tess or Anduin in any real trouble.
Varian talked for nearly over half an hour without interruption, and his voice was slightly hoarse by the time he reached his conclusion. Much of this information, Auriana knew, had been kept from the wider faction leadership beyond Varian and Vol'jin, with only bits and pieces of the full story ever revealed to anyone else. The deception had been necessary at the time, but it seemed Varian now finally felt as if it were best to at long last lay all their cards on the table.
"Vol'jin? Is this all true?" Lor'themar huffed incredulously, the first to break the stunned silence that followed Varian's lengthy exposition. "Someone has been trying to start a faction war since the Draenor expedition?"
"Ya, mon. It be true," Vol'jin confirmed, with a weary nod. "I can vouch for what da High King be sayin'. I be sorry we didn't tell ya da whole tale before now, but at da time it woulda put more lives in danger. Clearly, tings have changed."
A burst of unhappy muttering broke out across the room as both the Alliance and Horde leaders processed the new information. The already uneasy atmosphere in the room grew tenser still, though Auriana hoped everyone was pragmatic enough not to fixate on the deception overlong. With the notable exception of herself, everyone else present had been a leader of their respective peoples for a long time, some for hundreds if not thousands of years, and they surely all understood that sometimes keeping secrets was necessary. Or at least, she hoped they did…
"One of your own nobles really financed the assassination attempts on your son?" Mekkatorque asked Varian, his tone both incredulous and sympathetic.
"Sadly, yes," Varian sighed, "Though we're having a difficult time proving it to a standard consistent with Stormwind's laws."
"And Queen Auriana really prevented an attempt on your life?" Ji Firepaw turned to Vol'jin, ears pricked.
"She did."
More muttering. Vol'jin's sharp-eyed gaze found Auriana for the first time since he had entered the tent. His expression was difficult to read - not obviously angry or upset, but coolly distant in a way that made her profoundly uncomfortable. Between their time on Draenor and their adventures in the labyrinth caves below the glacier, she had started to believe that they might one day call the other friend, but after their confrontation on the battlefield, she couldn't help but to feel as if any budding relationship between them had been irrevocably shattered. She looked away.
"I'm happy to discuss my reasoning in keeping this information secret in further detail later," Varian added brusquely, drawing Auriana out of her brooding thoughts, "But right now I believe we need to move quickly if we are to unmask these radicals and prevent any further attacks."
"You believe the disruption of the Tournament to be the work of these same people?" Genn wondered.
Out of all the other people in the room, he was perhaps the one who had known the most about the previous attacks, and so it came as no surprise that he was one of the first to recover his sensibilities.
"It's difficult to say. The unfortunate reality is that there are plenty of people who might want to start a faction war, or cripple the Horde, or discredit the Alliance, or whatever else the aim of these attacks may have been," Varian said, shrugging. "However… given the similarities in methodology, it seems the most likely explanation."
He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin.
"When we deduced that I was the target of the earlier bombing, I admittedly assumed it was someone else - which is why I didn't say anything at the time. The main instigator of the previous attacks was believed to be dead, and they had thus far only attempted to provoke me, not kill me. But it seems they have not changed their tactics, only their target."
"A seemingly effective change in strategy. It nearly worked," Sylvanas rasped, her words all but dripping with subtle disdain.
All eyes then turned to Auriana, and she had never in her life wanted more than to simply disappear into the floor. For a split second she genuinely considered teleporting herself as far away from Azeroth as possible - Outland, perhaps, or some no-name planet without a single other sentient soul in existence - and it was largely only due to the fact that she was physically and magically exhausted that she resisted the urge.
That, and the fact that whatever else she may have been, she was no coward, and she would not shame either Varian or the Alliance by hiding from the consequences of her actions. She stood up straighter, and squared her shoulders.
"For which you all have my deepest apologies," she said, fighting valiantly against the faint tremor in her voice. "I know that there is little that my words alone can do to fix things, but I assure you that my actions were those of someone under extreme duress, and do not represent my true feelings or intentions towards the Horde. I swear to you, I will do everything within my power to bring the people who are ultimately responsible for this attack to justice."
"And we're all okay with that?" Gallywix blurted, addressing the room at large. "We're all out here talkin' peace, while the High King of the Alliance is running around with his own personal mana bombshell?"
Varian visibly bristled, and the tension in the air swelled.
"I believe my esteemed colleague means to say that while we appreciate the apology, Majesty," Lor'themar interjected quickly, with a warning glance at the Trade Prince, "Are you sure that is a promise you can make? The world has now seen what you are capable of when pushed - and exactly how to push you. I do not fault you for your instinct to protect your spouse, but I cannot ignore the fact you are capable of exacting a more spectacular vengeance than most."
And that we may not be able to stop you.
The unspoken implications of Lor'themar's words hung in the air. Varian opened his mouth as if to respond, only to think better of it a split second later. He looked instead to Auriana, and with a small start she realised he was deliberately leaving the floor open for her to speak. If there were ever a moment to prove that she deserved to be his Queen, this was it - and she refused to let him down.
"You make a fair point, Regent-Lord," she admitted. She would not shrink from the truth. "And if I were in your position, I would have the same questions."
Auriana took a deep breath. It felt as if the entire weight of Azeroth was upon her - which was probably not all that far from the truth. It was not the first time she had carried such a burden, but she would have much rather preferred to go another round with Archimonde than to have to defend herself with words, especially in such esteemed company. On the bright side - or perhaps, more accurately, the slightly less dark side - there was nothing either the Alliance or the Horde could say that would have made her feel any more worse than she already did, and it was with this oddly comforting thought it mind that she found the strength to steady her wavering voice.
"I will admit," she said slowly, "I have more cause to hate the Horde than most. I was not born in Theramore, but it's where I grew up. It's also where my parents were slain, when Garrosh Hellscream dropped his bomb."
Auriana tried her best to ignore the sudden wave of shared glances and raised eyebrows that rippled through the room. Evidently, this was news to some - though not all.
"I carried that hatred with me for a long time. I hated the Horde for failing to stop him. I hated Varian for failing to make him pay for his crimes with his life." Auriana closed her eyes for a brief, painful half-second, remembering the passion with which she had once hated her now-husband. Light, she was glad she had grown. "But times change. People change. I met Commander Zala'din. I met Warchief Vol'jin. And I came to realise that I would rather fight for peace, than for vengeance."
Auriana self-consciously linked her sweaty hands behind her back. It was easier to talk now that she had started, though she had no idea whether her words were having the desired impact… or any impact at all.
"I have spent years training to control my berserker rage - and I have not done so alone. I will admit, it never occurred to me that someone would attempt to deliberately provoke my fury, but now that I know… I can learn how to defend against it. And should I fail, I know the Alliance will not stand idly by. You saw that both Jaina Proudmoore and Kalecgos were willing to risk their own lives in defence of the Horde - as was Varian. He was willing to harm me - his own wife - to protect you, and to protect this fragile peace."
Varian shifted uncomfortably at Auriana's side. He hated to hurt her, she knew, even if he had no other choice, and while she didn't blame him in the slightest, he most certainly blamed himself.
"I would also point you to my own record," she continued quickly, in an effort to spare Varian from dwelling. "On Draenor, I was the one who took a chance on the Horde, and brokered a relationship between Lunarfall and Frostwall. We worked together to overcome the Iron Horde and the Burning Legion. It may not have been easy, but I have always put Azeroth first, and if you trust nothing else about me... trust that."
No one immediately responded, though Auriana thought she felt some of the tension in the room ease, if only by a little. Words were not enough to mend the trust that had been broken, of course, but it was a start. Varian's explanation had also helped, as did the fact that Nathanos was the only real physical casualty of her rampage. If she had actually managed to kill one of the Horde's number, things would likely not have been so amicable, but as it stood… perhaps Varian was right, and something of worth could still be salvaged from an otherwise disastrous event. Auriana risked a swift glance sideways in his direction, and while his eyes never left the Horde, he gave her an almost imperceptible nod.
"I tink we can agree dat assigning blame amongst ourselves is a useless endeavour," Vol'jin said finally, though he would not meet Auriana's eyes. "We were set up, all of us, and if we start bickerin' and fightin' around and around, den da people who set all dis up get exactly why dey wanted. I tink we be smarter den dat."
A few people nodded, both Horde and Alliance, but said no more. Not the most encouraging response, though Auriana supposed it was better than outright dissent.
"That's all well and good, Warchief, but what do we do, then? People tend to want answers when giant spider people pop up from the ground and try to eat them," Gallywix asked, tapping his damaged nose.
Blunt as ever, though for all his lack of tact, Auriana supposed there was something to be said for his ability kept a conversation moving.
Varian cleared his throat, and absent-mindedly rubbed the wound in his shoulder. "Well, the easiest way to confirm our theory, at least in part, is to examine the corpses of the orcs who shot me. Any spell to change their appearance ought to have worn off by now, correct?"
He looked to Auriana for confirmation, and she nodded.
"Dey were taken to one of da Horde healin' tents for investigation," Vol'jin supplied. "No reason we can't be takin' a look."
"If what you claim is true, King Varian, we should also attempt to find whatever device or magic was used to arouse the ire of the nerubians," Tyrande added. "The last thing we need is a second attack when we are still struggling to manage the aftermath of the first."
"Quite right," Varian said firmly. "In that case, I suggest we divide and conquer. A few of us should attend to the matter of the orc assassins - with witnesses from both sides - while the rest should coordinate a wider search of the grounds. I know we have concentrated our efforts on the interrogation of witnesses thus far, but I agree that it would be prudent to look into the technological angle, as well."
Not for the first time, Auriana had admired how easily Varian took charge of a situation. Regardless of whether one was Horde or Alliance, when he spoke in his deep, gravelly king's voice, he was almost impossible to ignore. It helped that he was speaking good sense, of course, but she had the impression the man could convince the entire world that black was white if he truly put his mind to the task.
It was therefore decided that Vol'jin, Sylvanas, Varian and Auriana would inspect the corpses of the assassins, while Genn, Tyrande, Mekkatorque, Lor'themar, Gallywix and Ji Firepaw had been tasked with redirecting the interrogation effort to the search of the grounds. There had been some debate over exactly who ought to go where, but eventually the group concluded that it didn't especially matter so long as there were representatives of both the Alliance and the Horde present.
Varian offered Auriana his arm as they made their way back outside and off toward the Horde side of the camp, but between his bad leg, his cane, and the snow, Auriana ended up supporting him more than he supported her. Neither Vol'jin nor Sylvanas attempted to engage them in conversation while they walked - which Auriana didn't strictly mind in Sylvanas's case, though she had hoped Vol'jin might say something. She did not expect him to immediately forgive or forget, but still… it hurt that he would not so much as look at her. She had no idea what he might have been thinking, and not for the first time, she wished she was better at reading people.
Auriana supposed she ought to have been grateful that she hadn't made the situation worse. Stirring speeches were not exactly her forte, though she felt she had spoken well enough, given the circumstances. She felt a little more confident, at least, a little less burdened… though she was well aware that it would take more than a few pretty words to atone for her sins, no matter how honest or genuine those words...
"Warchief! Can I help you? Are - are you injured?"
Lost in her brooding thoughts, Auriana failed to notice that they had arrived at the largest of the Horde healing tents; nearly colliding with Vol'jin's back as he came to a sudden halt. A large chestnut tauren was the first to greet their party as they entered, the watery glow of his magic fading from about his hands as he stood to attention.
His eyes widened as he noticed Varian, Auriana, and Sylvanas standing a few feet behind Vol'jin, but he was either far too polite or far too surprised to comment further. He was not the only one who had noticed their entrance, either - the Horde's wounded and healers alike sat up or craned their necks to get a look at the unusual new arrivals, though they, too, managed to keep their curiosity contained to little more than a few hushed
remarks. Auriana pointedly kept her eyes forward.
"Nah, mon," the Warchief said smoothly. "Are ya da healer in charge here? Do ya have da corpses of dem orcs dat attacked da High King?"
The tauren had clearly not been expecting the question, and it took him a moment to gather his thoughts.
"I am. Ah… you'll find them over in the back corner there, with the other dead," he said, pointing a thick finger towards an area at the back of the tent that had been turned into a makeshift morgue by means of a hastily erected dividing wall of heavy canvas. "But… but we haven't had a chance to perform an autopsy yet - we prioritised healing those that yet live..."
His ears drooped, as if expecting censure.
"As well ya should have," Vol'jin assured him, "But if ya could show us dem bodies, it would be appreciated."
"Certainly, Warchief. Please, this way..."
The alleged 'orcs' had been placed on four low-slung stretchers amongst at least a dozen other dead. Each stretcher was covered with a shroud of dark canvas, and even from a distance, Auriana could sense the runes of cold and preservation laid into the bodies. The dead may have been put aside for the time being, but someone had at least been sensible enough to ensure they were protected against decay.
Out of respect for Vol'jin, Varian stood slightly back as the Warchief made to pull back the nearest shroud. If the assassins were orcs, it would not look well for an Alliance king to be interfering in the midst of the Horde's own camp.
As it turned out, however, he needn't have bothered. Vol'jin swiftly pulled back the first canvas, then the second, then the third, and in mere moments there lay before them not four orcs, but rather four battered and beaten humans.
"Warchief, I don't understand…" The tauren shaman shook his head in disbelief, and his shaggy mane fell into his eyes. "These were orcs, they were, I saw them myself. Why… why would anyone switch the bodies?"
"It ain't ya fault, ya done nothin' wrong," Vol'jin said quickly. "Dis be magic, not theft. So we gonna take a closer look, yeah?"
"O-of course…"
The tauren stepped off to one side at his Warchief's request, his ears twitching in bafflement as Varian joined Vol'jin in his inspection.. For her part, Auriana decided to keep slightly back - between Varian, Vol'jin, and the tauren, the back corner of the tent was quite crowded, and there was little point in trying to squeeze her way past several pairs of enormous shoulders for a closer look.
Sylvanas seemed to have had a similar thought, and somewhat to Auriana's surprise, joined her in standing up against the tent wall.
"Humans," she remarked, a faint, cold snap echoing in her voice. "How is that possible?"
"Potions brewed prior to entering the Tournament grounds. The dampening field only inhibits the casting of new magic, it doesn't affect existing enchantments." Auriana glanced sidelong at Sylvanas, calculating, then threw caution to the wind and added, "But you knew that already."
"Did I?"
Sylvanas's long, thin eyebrows arched upwards, and her lips pursed in an affectedly innocent pout. The change in her expression was so smooth and seamless that one might have almost thought it natural, had Auriana not known better. Oh, but the Dark Lady was clever. Every glance, every twitch of her brows or dimpling of her cheeks was calculated to perfection to display only those precise emotions that she wanted the rest of the world to see. It was a masterful performance, though Auriana vaguely wondered whether Sylvanas even remembered how to express genuine feeling behind her immaculate mask.
"Your friend Blightcaller shot at me," Auriana muttered. "I know a black arrow when I see one - or feel when one is driven into my thigh, for that matter."
A touch too blunt, perhaps, but she was far too tired to play Sylvanas's patented game of half-truths and innuendo. While she was confident that Sylvanas had not been involved in the most recent attempt on Varian's life, she had not forgotten what Vol'jin had said about Lordaeron, and Sylvanas's mistaken belief that Auriana had desires on a second throne. Everyone else may have forgotten Nathanos's little slip in the chaos of the battle, but Auriana had not. She had no intention of calling Sylvanas out in front of anyone else - the diplomatic situation was tenuous enough as it was without the additional complication of the black arrow - but nor would she allow Sylvanas to believe that her little act of duplicity had gone entirely unnoticed.
"A black arrow, you say?" Sylvanas repeated, as if it were the first time she had ever heard the term. "I'm sure I have no idea how such a weapon entered the Tournament, nor how Nathanos obtained one."
Auriana narrowly resisted the urge to roll her eyes, though in a strange way, she appreciated Sylvanas's consistency. One could always safely assume that the Banshee Queen had her own guileful agenda, and at the moment Auriana found it preferable to the uncertainty of knowing what the other leaders may have been thinking about her.
"How is Nathanos, anyway?" she asked quietly. "I'm not all that familiar with Forsaken anatomy. Do broken bones heal the same way as they do for the living?"
It was a genuine question, even if Sylvanas may not have seen it as such. As much as she may have found Nathanos to be an odious sort of man, Auriana had not intended to cause him harm. Not in this specific instance, in any case.
"He will recover, in time," Sylvanas replied, after a brief, loaded pause. "Though his face may not be quite as… symmetrical... as it once was."
Her tapered ears twitched, and her lips pursed in a low, enigmatic hum. Auriana kept her attention firmly trained on Varian and Vol'jin, though it was difficult to ignore the icy sharp presence of the Banshee Queen only a foot to her left.
"You are not what I expected, little Queen," Sylvanas added, though there was a slight lilt to her tone that suggested that she was more intrigued than strictly vexed.
"You are."
The words slipped from Auriana's lips without thinking. She looked sideways, and for the first time she met Slyvanas's gaze head on. Blazing red met vivid blue as their eyes locked, and Auriana stiffened as a frisson of pure, instinctual warning shot down her spine. It was like staring down an alien predator, moments before one was devoured. There was no spark of humanity in those eyes, no glimmer of warmth or compassion; only a gleam of deep, haunting crimson that seemed to stretch on and on into grim eternity...
"Auriana… does this look familiar to you?"
Varian's voice, quite unintentionally, broke through the impasse. Auriana shook herself, and glanced away. The Banshee Queen would have to be a problem for another day.
She squeezed past the tauren to stand at Varian's side. In his hand, held a badly worn metal medallion secured by a plain leather thong. Auriana couldn't make out the exact image imprinted on the facing side, though it might have been intended to represent the face of some kind of animal.
"The other body we found, out on the ice - he was carrying a leather piece like that," she confirmed. "Though it was missing the medallion. And if I recall correctly, one of the assassins I encountered in Draenor had something similar, too."
"I think it's safe to assume this is all part of a single, coordinated effort, then."
Varian sighed and ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair; his frustration palpable. Vol'jin's expression was similar, though he allowed himself only a brief moment in concession to his irritation before he turned his attention back to more practical matters. He gave the tauren an appraising look; his gaze so intense that the big shaman actually took a half step back.
"What be ya name, healer?" Vol'jin asked, as he carefully re-covered each of the bodies with their respective canvas shrouds.
"Ah… Tavo Plainsong, Warchief."
Vol'jin nodded.
"Shaman Plainsong - I'm puttin' a lotta trust in ya today. I need ya to keep dese bodies safe and covered up. No one is ta touch 'em, ya hear me?" he ordered. "I'll be sendin' some guards ta help, but ya gotta look after dem til then."
The tauren nodded, though his ears flicked back and forth in a way that suggested he was deeply doubtful of his own ability to keep the bodies safe. "Of course, Warchief. But… what if someone asks me about them?"
"Just say dey be under investigation and are not to be touched. Warchief's orders - dat should be good enough." Vol'jin frowned. "And if dere be anyone lookin' a little too closely, ya take a note of who dey are and come straight ta me, yeah?"
Plainsong looked at once both pleased and terrified to have been given such an important task direct from his Warchief, and he accepted his charge with a bow of deep respect. Vol'jin was placing an awful lot of trust in the tauren, and Auriana hoped he was up to the task. He seemed an honest sort, but after everything Auriana had seen over the past few years, she supposed one could never truly know for sure.
"We should probably go help de others with da search," Vol'jin suggested, as he turned back to Varian, Auriana, and Sylvanas with a small scowl. "Dere isn't much more we can do here, and I don't wanna draw any more attention den we already have."
Varian cast a wary eye back over his shoulder to the Horde wounded, and nodded. "By all means, Warchief, lead on."
Auriana blinked as she stepped out of the healing tent, taking a moment to readjust her eyes to the dim grey light of the world outside, and cast her gaze out over the camp. In the distance, on the far western edge of the Tournament grounds, she could just make out a grizzly graveyard, where the bodies of slain nerubians had been dragged for burning in a colossal bonfire. It was a sound decision. While the biting cold of Northrend would stave off decomposition for quite some time, the bodies would eventually succumb to the inexorable march of decay, and no one wanted to be stumbling across rotting nerubian legs while traversing the Tournament grounds in the years to come.
Further in towards the camp proper, along the very edges of where the dampening field had once bordered the grounds, Auriana saw a long line of people in various Alliance, Horde, and Argent liveries searching through the snow. Instead of focusing their efforts on interrogating witnesses, SI:7, the Argents, and the Horde rangers had been redeployed in search of an explanation for the nerubian attack; watched closely by their respective leaders. What exactly they were searching for, Auriana wasn't sure, though she supposed that they'd know it when it was found.
It was in this direction that she, Varian, Vol'jin and Sylvanas walked; eventually spitting up to seek their own positions amongst the searchers. Normally, Auriana would have participated more physically in the search, or at the very least used her magic to assist, but she was so utterly exhausted that it took most of her energy not to keel over. Instead, she settled for chambering up a small snow mound so that she could have a better view of the field - which in itself proved more than taxing. Her muscles ached even from the slightest effort, and she felt as if she had run half a mile by the time she had ascended barely ten feet.
From her icy vantage point, Auriana could more or less see the entire south-western side of the Tournament. Her gaze was naturally drawn to Varian's distinctive silhouette, slowly making his way across the grounds with the aid of his cane. Where Auriana had chosen to remain stationary on her little mound, he had elected to keep moving, pausing here and there to confer with his fellow Alliance leaders (presumably to inform them of their findings in the Horde healing tent) but never straying so far that he could not be seen. Every few minutes or so, however, he glanced back over his shoulder towards Auriana herself, as if afraid she might disappear if he looked away for too long.
Auriana half-considered joining him, but in the end she decided to remain where she was. She needed a moment of space, and she appreciated that he was willing to put his protective instincts to the side long enough to give it to her. Her position upon the mound gave the impression of her oversight and involvement in the search, while still allowing her space to gather her thoughts. She felt much calmer than she had been earlier in the day, largely thanks to the fact that no one had attempted to arrest or kill her on sight, though she was still far from alright.
Sighing, Auriana stared down at her hands. Dark, gloved fingertips stared back up at her, hiding the soft white flesh beneath. Although she had been trained in magic ever since she was a child, there was still something unbelievable to her about the fact that she could summon such violence and power on a little more than a whim. She tried to use that power for good, and she thought - or perhaps simply hoped - that on balance, she had.
Or perhaps the dark little voice in the back of her mind was right, and she was little more than a monster, a mere weapon to be used by those who sought to sow chaos and destruction.
Still fixated on her hands, Auriana's mind began to wander. Her thoughts slowly turned from concrete self-recriminations to something more vague and nebulous, though no less dark. She became removed from the tiredness in her limbs and the bite of the cold against her cheeks, and simply stood, disconnected, as the world around her became fuzzy and grey...
"Over here!"
Auriana blinked, and with great effort, stretched out her stiffened legs and back. It was hard to tell, but judging from the burn in her muscles and the chill in her bones, she guessed she had been standing out in the snow for at least a few hours, before the excited shout of discovery finally came from somewhere off to her right. The whoop was barely audible over the whip of the wind, though thankfully, a burst of bright red sparks exploded into the air a second later to clearly mark the speaker's position.
Auriana awkwardly clambered down off her little snow mound, almost tripping face first into a drift as she struggled to coordinate her stiff legs, and set off towards the marked location. Varian, having seen the same, joined her as she walked. He once again offered her his arm, and for a brief moment Auriana allowed herself to press into his side and enjoy the warmth of him as together they made their way across the glacial field.
As it turned out, it was Genn Greymane who had shouted. As Auriana approached, she saw that he held in his arms a large silver disc, perhaps two feet in diameter. A light dusting of snow and dirt could be seen caught around the various knobs and gears that ringed the object's edge, suggesting that it had once been buried deep underground.
"Did you find something? What is that?" Ji Firepaw called, shaking snowflakes from his fur as he approached from Genn's other side.
Sylvanas and Lor'themar followed close behind, and within about a half an hour, all the remaining leaders of the Alliance and the Horde had managed to make their way to the site of the discovery; the various rangers and SI:7 agents who had assisted in the excavation standing respectfully back so that their leaders could discuss the finding in relative privacy.
Genn willingly surrendered the device to Mekkatorque the moment the gnome arrived, and after a few seconds poking and prodding, the gnome gave a single, definitive nod.
"Aha! It's a sonic resonator," he pronounced, as if that explained everything.
"A sonic… what?" Varian asked. He raised his left eyebrow, and the corner of his right eye crinkled in the way that it always did when he was more confused than he was trying to let on.
"They can be calibrated to emit powerful sonic waves," Mekkatorque elaborated. "Several of these devices placed beneath the ground would have caused significant vibrational anomalies."
"I didn't hear anything during the attack," Genn pointed out, looking almost offended at the thought. "Which, as a worgen, is not something I say very often."
"Actually, in this case, it's unlikely you would have," Mekkatorque countered, with a small shake of his head. "From what I can deduce, the calibrated frequency of these devices is far too low to be audible to most creatures, worgen or otherwise, though we were all certainly affected by the resulting vibrations."
"There's your answer, then," Lor'themar concluded. "Spiders are incredibly sensitive to vibrations. It isn't too much of a stretch to suggest that their nerubian cousins are much the same."
Every single eye turned to the Regent Lord. Auriana had not known him to possess any particular interest in or knowledge of arachnids, and nor, apparently, had anyone else.
"What?" he asked, rolling his shoulders back in an enviably elegant shrug. "We live on a planet where spiders grow to be the size of cart horses. It pays to be informed."
Auriana supposed one couldn't argue with that.
"They must have been driven mad," she murmured, feeling an odd sense of sympathy for the spider-people. "No wonder they were so rabid."
"It may also explain why dey retreated so quickly," Vol'jin observed. "Dey only wanted to stop the vibrations, dey weren't interested in an actual fight."
"It certainly lends credence to the theory that whoever was controlling the devices turned them off once they had what they wanted," Sylvanas agreed, with an inscrutable sidelong glance at Varian.
"It's also possible that the resonance destroyed any underground structures they may have built," Mekkatorque added. "If similar devices were to be installed in a place like Stormwind, or Orgrimmar… the structural damage could be catastrophic."
His moustache drooped in a sad little frown, and once again, Auriana felt a wave of pity for the nerubians. They had been used, much as Auriana herself had been used, only to be abandoned to their brutal fates when they were no longer useful.
"So where does this leave us?" Tyrande mused, ever the voice of pragmatism. "We may now know the how, but still not the who."
"It's more than we knew this morning," Varian pointed out.
"We should see if there are more of these 'resonators' out there," Ji suggested, casting a wary eye out over the field. "I would be surprised if there was only the one, given the intensity of the nerubian attack."
"I would tend to agree," Varian concurred. "In the meantime, Mekkatorque - can you arrange for a more in-depth analysis of the devices? I trust your initial observations, but there may be more to be learned from a closer inspection."
"Of course, High King," the Tinker said quickly, tucking the resonator under his arm. "I am pleased to help however I can."
"The weather may not be quite so willing to cooperate with our plan," Lor'themar countered, gesturing up at the rapidly greying sky. "And I doubt any of us want to be out here after dark, in any case. If I may, Your Majesty - while I agree that we should continue to pursue this avenue of investigation, perhaps we ought to recall the scouts and adjourn for the day?"
Auriana had been so distracted by both her own thoughts and the discovery of the resonators that she had not paid a great deal of attention to the world around her, but now that Lor'themar pointed it out, she noted that the sky had indeed darkened ominously; the clouds above heavy with the promise of sleet and snow.
"Wise council," Vol'jin agreed, nodding as he followed Lor'themar's line of sight. "Let us reflect on what we have learned, and continue da search in da morning."
The Warchief looked to Varian for confirmation, though Varian initially hesitated. Auriana knew he hated to leave things unresolved, especially when it felt as if they were so close to finally resolving the mystery, but she also knew that he would not risk the safety and well-being of his people if it could be avoided. He looked upwards with a scowl, and after a brief moment of consideration, eventually nodded.
The scouts were evidently eager to get out of the cold - not that Auriana blamed them. They had been working hard all day, and had more than earned their rest and a good hot meal. No sooner had Varian and Vol'jin given the order than they began to relay it to the searchers further out, and hurried back into the relative warmth of the camp.
The Horde and the Alliance leaders were slower to move, however, instead breaking off into pairs or small groups to converse. Auriana watched Vol'jin closely as he exchanged brief words with first Lor'themar, and then Sylvanas, before turning away in the direction of the Horde tents.
Auriana brushed a wayward strand of hair back behind her ear. She felt compelled to apologise to Vol'jin, and she knew that if she didn't talk to him now, she may never get another opportunity. She took a few halting steps forward across the snow toward him, her voice catching in her throat slightly as she called his name.
"Vol'jin! Er… Warchief."
The troll turned to face her, his gleaming eyes sharp, and for the first time, Auriana truly appreciated just how big he really was. She was used to feeling small next to Varian, but Vol'jin was at least a foot taller again, with thighs as thick around as Auriana's waist.
"Yeah, mon?"
Vol'jin settled himself into a half-crouch, his three-fingered right hand resting almost casually on his knee. It was something Auriana had seen him do before, when addressing smaller races, so as to meet them on as equal terms as possible. It was a small but profound courtesy, though right then it did very little to soothe Auriana's nerves - especially given the fact that she could feel more than a few curious sets of eyes upon her back. She swallowed.
"I wanted to say… t-to you personally, that… I'm sorry, " she said softly. "I know you wanted more from… all this."
Vol'jin's painted brow furrowed, but his expression otherwise gave nothing away.
"And I'm sorry for what I said to you out… out there. During… the attack." Auriana gestured vaguely in the direction of the outdoor arena.. "About the Horde. It's not… it's not true…"
Much to Auriana's surprise, Vol'jin shook his head, and let out a dry, weary chuckle.
"But dat's da ting, isn't it? It is. At least in part, we both know dat. Ya been set up because ya anger at da Horde is real - and not unjustified." He shrugged; the movement as small and as painful as if he had been trying to shift the entire weight of the world. "If I had stood up ta Garrosh sooner; if any of us had seen what he was becomin'... maybe dere wouldn't be so much of dat anger goin' around."
Auriana tried to hide her surprise at Vol'jin's words, though she suspected her efforts were less than convincing. She had assumed he was being standoffish with her out of anger, fear, or both, but in that moment she realised that he was driven more by a profound sense of failure and shame. As Warchief, he clearly felt responsible for the Horde's chequered history, much in the same way Auriana knew Varian felt responsible for each and every action taken by the Alliance. The Tournament was also his brainchild, and it seemed he had taken the attack as a deeply personal indictment of his efforts.
"Vol'jin… what happened with Garrosh wasn't your fault. The attack here wasn't your fault, either," Auriana murmured, somewhat ashamed to realise that she had, once again, underestimated him. "And the Horde isn't… evil."
"Ah, I know dat." Vol'jin raised his eyes to the horizon, his head cocked to one side as if listening to a voice that Auriana couldn't hear. "But lovin'
someting doesn't mean being blind ta its flaws. Nor does knowin' dem flaws make ya love it any less."
It was sage wisdom, and Auriana was moved by the depth of concern evident in Vol'jin's voice. He truly loved the Horde; not so much that he would blindly defend their failures and shortcomings, but that he would always strive to see them for what they could be at their best.
"We will find the people responsible for this, I promise you," Auriana swore.
She meant every word, but Vol'jin did not appear to have been convinced. His expression remained tired and jaded, and he shifted his weight in such a way that indicated that he was done talking, or at least that he was done for now. Auriana stood back as he rose to his full height, towering over her. His tusks twitched in what might have been a small, bittersweet smile, then he turned and loped away; his strange, two-toed feet leaving unique imprints in the snow.
The remaining emissaries of both the Alliance and the Horde seemed to take Vol'jin's departure as a signal, and slowly began to make their way back to their respective camps. Auriana stood awkwardly to one side as she watched them leave, trying her best to stand tall and look stately - or as stately as one could when standing in the middle of a snowy field with the wind blowing all about. Apart from Vol'jin, however, and a short nod from Genn, no one so much as looked in her direction, and she wasn't sure if she ought to be offended or relieved. Perhaps both.
Auriana looked for Varian, hoping that they could at last retire to their tent and forget the world outside for a little while, only to spy him deep in conversation with Tyrande. They were discussing something quite important, judging from the heavy crease in Tyrande's forehead and the way she punctuated her words with passionate flicks of her long fingers. Intrigued, Auriana took a step closer… only to stop abruptly as she realised that Varian and Tyrande were discussing her.
It was difficult to properly make out the words, especially with her back half-turned, but Auriana was certain she heard her own name; once, then twice again. She took another small step in their direction, all the while trying her best to look as if that wasn't exactly what she was doing. It was rather difficult to nonchalantly sidle up to someone on an open field, but by feigning interest in the resonator still tucked firmly beneath Mekkatorque's arm, she managed to inch a little closer.
"It is all well and good when she is fighting on our side," Tyrande was saying, her voice low and intense, "But I know better than most how arcane magic might be turned on those it was once used to protect. This is not the first time I have seen such power in my lifetime, and it has never ended well."
Her tone was not strictly unkind, but nor was it warm or understanding, either. There was a grim resignation to her words, and the faintest note of inevitable apology. While the night elves now permitted mages within their ranks, it was something of a recent development in their history. Their race still bore the heavy scars of arcane misuse, and it seemed that Tyrande, at least, could not easily forget - or forgive.
"I also know what it is to be blind to the danger presented by someone I once… someone I once cared for very much."
Auriana could suddenly feel Tyrande's ancient eyes boring into the back of her neck, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the High Priestess was seeing Illidan.
The Betrayer. Auriana shivered.
"I think we can all agree that it would be best to avoid such incidents in future," Varian said delicately, neither expressly condemning Auriana nor dismissing Tyrande's concerns.. "Perhaps we could discuss this further in private? Shall we retire to your quarters, out of the cold?"
Auriana tried her best to look as though she hadn't been eavesdropping as Varian guided Tyrande away, only to quickly realise that he hadn't been fooled in the slightest. His gaze met hers with a swift, bracing intensity as he passed, though he nevertheless followed after Tyrande without another word.
It hurt, but Auriana understood. As much as it pained her to be parted from him, there were times when it was more important for him to be a king than it was for him to be her husband. While the Alliance and Horde still seemed to be willing to work together - for now - to unravel the mystery of the Tournament, there was still a great deal of diplomatic work to be done in order to salvage what was left of the situation.
Within the Alliance, Tyrande was likely not the only one to have concerns, though she was generally more forward with her opinions than most. In any case, Varian could certainly not afford to ignore her, and Auriana knew it was likely that he would be mired in diplomatic discourse for the remainder of the afternoon.
A lonely bird cawed somewhere off in the distance, and Auriana let out a deep, drawn-out sigh. She was relieved to have survived the judgement of her peers as well as she might have hoped, Tyrande's pending discussion with Varian notwithstanding, though with him gone, she was now at something of a loss for what to do.
She supposed she ought to return to the warmth of her own tent - Ridley would no doubt be looking for her once the others started to return to camp, and her nose was getting rather numb, but she couldn't quite bring herself to move. There was a part of her that felt she deserved the sharp prick of the cold against her bare skin; a natural penance for her bout of unleashed fury. Returning to the camp also meant people, whereas out in the middle of a snowy plain, she was at the very least alone - or not quite alone, as it turned out.
Auriana felt a gentle touch against her wrist, and jumped slightly as she looked down to see Gelbin Mekkatorque staring up at her with the first truly warm smile she had seen all day. In the rush of activity that marked the departure of the Alliance and Horde emissaries, it seemed the High Tinker had also been left behind, unnoticed.
"Don't let all this trouble you too much," he said cheerfully. "Every manastorm blows over."
Auriana had never had much cause to talk to Mekkatorque, outside their brief encounter at her pre-wedding gifting ceremony - or gnomes in general, for that matter. She admired their ingenuity and daring, having fought alongside many gnomish soldiers in the past, but with the exception of her old friend Kinzie, she could count the number of gnomes she knew by name on one hand. She was struck by a powerful sense of guilt as she stared down at the High Tinker, and silently resolved to use her position as Queen to rectify her own ignorance. The gnomes were as brave and steadfast as any other member of the Alliance one might care to name, and they deserved just as much of her respect - and time.
Besides which, Auriana knew exactly how it felt to be overlooked simply because she was small.
"You seem very confident in that assessment," she ventured.
"Ah, it's Azeroth," Mekkatorque said blithely, waving a small hand in a wide arc above his head. "Next week something will explode, or we'll be invaded by some sort of existential horror. They'll forget all about you."
Despite herself, Auriana barked out a laugh. It was a morbid sort of thing, really, but he wasn't wrong.
"I'm not sure if that makes me feel any better…"
"All a matter of perspective, I suppose," Mekkatorque shrugged. "I won't insult your intelligence by suggesting this summit has gone as well as it could have, but I hardly think you need to walk around like you're the worst person on Azeroth."
Auriana raised a bemused eyebrow. Mekkatorque's observation was uncannily close to how she felt.
"No? Who's the worst person on Azeroth, then?"
"Probably depends who you ask," Mekkatorque theorised. "We gnomes might say Mekgineer Thermaplugg, for example, though I'm sure there are also a great many people who would choose someone like Arthas; or perhaps Garrosh."
"Are we counting the dead, then? Or only those who yet live?" Auriana asked, playing along.
"A fair question! It is always important to establish the parameters of any true scientific enquiry." Mekkatorque scratched thoughtfully at his left temple, as if attempting to jostle his thoughts free. "If we are limiting ourselves to the living, then I will have to cast my vote for every last scoundrel who believes goblin engineering to be superior to gnomish engineering. But not you."
His thick brows knit in a surprisingly intimidating glare.
"Unless, of course, you favour goblin methods…?"
"I wouldn't dare," Auriana assured him.
"Good!"
Mekkatorque broke into a beaming grin, and once again, Auriana couldn't help but to chuckle. There was something infectious about the High Tinker's smile, and she understood that in his own, roundabout way, he was attempting to make her feel better. She certainly welcomed his support, though she wasn't quite sure how to properly articulate her gratitude.
It was then that her gaze fell on the sonic resonator tucked beneath his arm, and it occurred to her that the High Tinker's expertise had perhaps been drowned out by the louder voices in the large group discussion, and that he might have more to contribute.
"Can you tell me anything more about the resonators?" she asked. "Are they difficult to make?"
Mekkatorque beamed even brighter at the possibility of discussing the technology in depth, and immediately held out the device so that she might have a better look.
"Not especially. A little time consuming, but any artisan engineer would have the skills," he replied. "The main difficulty is sourcing the materials. You need a lot of silver, for a start, so much so I'm surprised they used this method."
"Why?"
"Well, silver is highly conductive - both electrically and magically. It's perfect for this sort of work, but it's also expensive - the demand for silver jewellery drives the price up, you see."
Mekkatorque pushed his goggles down over his eyes; the gears surrounding the green-hued lenses clicking and whirring as they adjusted his sight.
"Really, I'm holding a small fortune in my hands." His bushy moustache twitched in a smile.
"What other materials could you use?" Auriana asked.
"If I were crafting something like this, I would usually build around a copper core. A bit less effective, but far cheaper to make. You'd have to make about twice as many copper devices to get the same effect as the silver, but you'd probably still come out ahead, money-wise."
"So whoever made this has access to considerable funds," Auriana mused.
She felt as if she was close to figuring something out, but the answer to the lay tauntingly just out of reach. Unfortunately, her exhaustion and her nervousness had combined to slow her mind, and she felt as if she were trying to think through thick, viscous mud.
"It's a fair assumption, yes," Mekkatorque said, nodding.
"Or access to a lot of silver…"
"Perhaps the silver is in itself a clue? If we could determine where it was mined, it might lead us back to the culprit," Mekkatorque suggested, pushing his goggles back up his face and staring up at her with bright green eyes. "From what I recall, the Horde still mines most of their silver in the Barrens. The Alliance tends to use the mines up in Arathi, though there are some smaller mines in the Badlands south of Loch Modan, and down in Redridge and Duskwood."
Auriana froze. Redridge.
"I'm an idiot."
She'd been so busy. So distracted. What with the wedding and subsequent coronation as Queen of Stormwind and the Tournament, she had completely failed to see the connections that were right in front of her nose. She knew someone from Redridge, someone who had made at least part of his considerable fortune through his mining holdings...
SI:7 had been quietly investigating Duke Anguile ever since Auriana's ill-fated encounter with the insurgent Thorne in the wilds of Stranglethorn Vale, but he had been very careful to cover the tracks of his financial involvement. It had been a matter of her word against his, and that was not anywhere near sufficient evidence to go after a prominent noble of Stormwind without risking significant damage to the stability of the kingdom.
But Redridge… Redridge was a clue. Auriana's mind began to race, her tiredness abruptly forgotten, and in a moment of pure revelation, she realised that there was, perhaps, another witness to Anguile's crimes; one whose testimony could not be easily dismissed as a personal grudge or a fevered hallucination, as Auriana's might have been. If they could then prove a tangible link between the Duke and the most recent attacks on the Tournament - say, the transfer of large amounts of his silver holdings - it might be enough to arrest him, and for him to then lead them to the rest of his insurrectionist friends...
"Your Majesty? Are you alright?"
Auriana jumped as Mekkatorque pressed his gloved hand against her wrist for the second time that day.
"I… I have to go to… to Dalaran," she stammered, barely able to form a coherent sentence over her suddenly racing thoughts. "Will you tell Varian?"
Mekkatorque's bushy moustache twitched, but he nonetheless acquiesced to her request. He seemed to have realised that she was onto something, and did not wish to impede her train of thought. Which made sense, of course - if there was anyone on Azeroth who understood the urgent need to act upon a spark of inspiration, it would be a gnome.
"I… well, yes, of course," he said. "Is there anything more to the message than your departure?"
"Not really, just… I'm in Dalaran, and I'm safe… I… there's someone I need to talk to…"
Auriana's skirts flared as she turned and swept towards camp proper, brimming with fresh, giddy energy, only to pause with one foot hovering in the air as she remembered her manners.
"High Tinker… Gelbin. Thank you," she said sincerely, looking back at him over the curve of her shoulder. "I mean that. You've been more helpful than you know."
Mekkatorque's smile was at once both pleased and slightly baffled, though no less warm for the fact. "Anything I can do to help, Your Majesty."
"Auriana," she corrected him kindly. "If you like. I don't think 'Your Majesty' will ever feel… normal."
"Alrighty, then… Auriana," Mekkatorque agreed, his gnomish accent adding a soft, lilted squeak to the 'i' sound as his voice echoed in the wind. "And remember, perseverance is the true blueprint for success. May you swiftly find the answers you seek!"
