"It was the single event in the history of Azeroth that changed us forever.
After ten thousand years, the true account of what happened has been obscured after so many retelling even for the elves. Stories talk of the ultimate war between good against evil, gods against demons and light against darkness.
Whatever the tales were, there were a few things that we could confirm about the War of the Ancients. It led to the scattering of the world.
At the height of the war, the legendary Malfurion Stormrage's led a final assault against the forces of darkness. The great druid drew upon the power of the Dragon Soul to disrupt the spellwork that brought the demons and severed the connection between the Twisting Nether and Azeroth. The unstable magical energies within the Well of Eternity, the source of primal arcane magic on Azeroth ignited. A massive explosion rocked the world to its foundations and sent massive earthquakes ripping through the earth. The aftershocks from the Well's implosion shook the pillars of Azeroth destroying much of Kalimdor's landmass and summoning great bodies of water over the remaining land.
The surviving kaldorei had little choice but to flee across the natural seas with enchanted ships crafted together with arcane and nature. Still, the storms of primal energies were unrelenting and entire settlements would be wiped out.
In what would be the noblest act of self-sacrifice in elven history, Malfurion Stormrage stood alone at the peak of Mt Hyjal and used his considerable powers to protect the kaldorei from the incoming storms. He bought just enough time for the elvenkind to set sail from the doomed lands of Kalimdor.
And even then, the tides created from the storms would swallow many ships.
Kalimdor was scattered, leaving smaller separate masses in the new raging sea. At the very centre of the new sea was a tumultuous storm of tidal fury and chaotic energies, where the Well of Eternity once stood. This terrible vortex, we now call the Maelstrom, would never cease its furious rotation. It remains constant reminder of the terrible calamity that befell Azeroth.
The elven survivors would arrive to what would later be known as the Seven Kingdoms where they first encountered the tribes of man.
After much hardship, they found a sea of grassy woodlands covering the horizon, healthy and strong and with the traces of powerful magic. However, they soon come under attack by the Amani trolls. Led by legendary figures like Jarod Shadowsong and Shandris Feathermoon, they pushed forward with steel, bolt and magic.
They founded the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas or also known as the "High Home".
The elven domain grew rapidly expanding its borders, fighting and driving out those that would threaten them particularly the Amani forest trolls. It would not be long before the elves carved a significant portion of the Amani Empire.
The trolls returned a thousand years later attacking Quel'Thalas with number unheard of in their history. The Amani overran much of the land.
The troll threat did not go unnoticed as the tribes of man quickly united behind the most progressive tribe known as the Arathi to combat the trolls. After securing themselves in the mountain passes of the highlands and Alterac Mountains, mankind would form its first nation in the form of Arathor with chieftain Thoradin crowned as its first ruler.
Humanity and elvenkind remained wary of each other but the troll threat forced the two races to unite and at the Battle of Alterac Mountain, they destroyed troll power forever.
For the next two thousand years, Arathor and Quel'Thalas would divide up the former troll empire for themselves. Although many elves and humans desired to finish the trolls off in Zul'Aman, they were never able to find the troll capital which was rumoured to be guarded and hidden by powerful loa.
Although the Arathi Empire would fracture into the Seven Kingdoms, the land finally experienced millennia of relative peace.
That ended with the coming of the Horde.
Appearing first from the Black Morass, the green skinned monsters overran the southern kingdoms in a matter of years and refugees from Stormwind arrived with tales of horror.
Soon the Horde, growing larger and larger as it came began to push north ravaging the Dwarven kingdom of Ironforge along the way.
Horrified, the Seven Kingdoms of Man stood as one once more to combat the Horde but humanity's individualism proved to be a greater enemy as the orcs and their troll and ogre allies pushed through Thandol Span overrunning the outnumbered unprepared defenders as the separate human armies were unable to coordinate together against the unified orcs. The near destruction of Stromgarde and the near fall of humanity's historic homeland forced the remaining nations to unite as the Alliance of Lordaeron. The Alliance army managed to lift the siege of Stromgarde City but the war continued.
Naval battles littered all over the seas even as the Horde and Alliance struggled back and forth over the continent. Before long other races joined the fray into the war with elves, gnomes and Wildhammer dwarves on the side of the Alliance while more trolls, ogres and goblins joined the Horde. Both sides had thrown everything they had into the war with universal conscription in the Alliance kingdoms and calculated breeding programs in the Horde clans.
After years of fighting and with no end in sight, the magi of the Dalaran and Silvermoon decided to use the forbidden arts. They had long detected the fel magic that lies in the orcs' blood but had not been able to decide how to use that knowledge. The Alliance High Command with a heavy heart made the decision to allow use forbidden knowledge. Using runestones to channel their spell, the newly created warlocks unleash a dark spell aimed directly against the orcs and the demonic magic within them. The spellwork worked grimly and many of the orcs lost control of themselves in a bloodcrazed fury while others experienced a lethargy that drained their very spirit. Entire clans wiped themselves out while others turned on their allies. Only those with the strongest will were able to resist the spell.
Hundreds of lethargic orcs were massacred by the vengeful Alliance forces as they retook their lands. The strongest of orcs made their last stand at Blackrock Spire where the orc warchief Ogrim Doomhammer was captured by Aedelas Blackmoore though it costed the life of the Lord Commander Anduin Lothar.
The surviving orcs were rounded up and put into internment camps. The war nearly destroyed Azeroth. Man, elf and dwarf could only wonder what would come next.
But when the darkness returns, they could count on one man to defend them. His name was Arthas. Arthas Menethil…Arthas?…Arthas? ARTHAS!"
Milan saw a short blond haired figure racing out laughing along the way. The elven scribe considered chasing after him but the teenaged prince had disappeared by the time he left his seat.
One of his magical quills was lying on the ground which the prince no doubt used to change the script he was writing. The elven chronicler thought to tell the king of his son's antics but then reconsidered.
The methods in which the Alliance used to bring about victory took a heavy toll on not just the human kingdoms but his own people as well. That toll was even heavier on their souls than their flesh.
Milan sighed and slouched on his seat. He looked through the scrolls he wrote. He knew that the Alliance leaders would not like what he was writing. Many in the Alliance wanted to forget that such a decision ever took place. Killing rampaging orcs was one thing. To kill women and children even those from a warlike culture…
Milan drained his cup of tea and grimaced at the bitter taste.
In spite of the jests that the young prince often played on the elven scribe, Milan had high hopes for Arthas, who has for all his antics proved to be open minded and charming. And perhaps the elven chronicler would one day write how he does indeed become a hero.
Capital City,
Kingdom of Lordaeron
It was said that the first settlers of Lordaeron were pilgrims who had come searching for inner peace and tranquility after the end of the horrific Troll Wars guided by the Light itself. If anyone doubted that tale, they only have to set their gaze on the Capital City. It was not as tall as Stormwind, as intimidating as Stromgarde or as mystifying as Dalaran. But it was a sight that could move the hearts of man, dwarf or even an elf. Sitting on a rise just above the northern shore of Lordamere Lake, the city was glowing a brilliant light of white and silver. The city was a marvel of human aesthetics giving it a serene and if you ask most Lordaeronians even holy presence.
On this day, however, city laid host to the martial might of the Lordaeron Alliance. The chivalry of humanity had paraded its streets in their glimmering armour and bright cloaks. Colourful pennons on their lances danced in the gentle wind even as the city's citizens cheered the greatest warriors of mankind.
The knights entered the Coliseum's gate flanked by Lordaeron's two great white banners with the letter L of royal blue. It was followed by the dark blue and gold of Stormwind and the rest of the Alliance kingdoms.
The armoured riders split into columns of two as they entered the grounds. Much of the Alliance nobility were present.
Humanity's warrior elite halted neatly before the royal banners. As one, the entire coliseum rose to their feet.
Silence suddenly filled the entire area. Heralds looked to the entrances and then sounded the trumpets.
As one, all heads bowed to the Alliance High Council members.
"Care for a wager, friend?" A man grinned at a dwarven merchant.
"Three gold that Greymane will show up!"
"No one would take that bet! I wager five for Trollbane to return."
"Didn't King Thoras left for Strom yesterday?"
"Quiet! Here comes Good King Terenas!"
"He's holding single-handedly holding the whole Alliance together. Light bless him."
The King of Lordaeron was tall and broad though in his advancing age he had become slightly bent. His once rich blond hair was greying. The royal crown that seemed more like a spiked helmet than a coronet rests on his noble head.
Terenas Menethil II walked gracefully to the stage belying his age.
"Good people of the Alliance, friends and visitors from near and far. We bid you all welcome under the banner of Lordaeron.
It has been eighteen long years since the Horde had ravaged our lands. Entire settlements have been destroyed. There is not one of us here that have not lost something.
It took the will, strength, courage and cunning to win the final victory. For that reason, we have arranged the Grand Tournament to honour the sacrifices that was made.
Within these walls, you will be tested. Your skill in combat will be matched against the greatest knights and warriors of the Alliance. Your prowess, your might, and your cunning will be under close watch.
The victors will be honoured as the Champions of the Alliance!"
A great cheer erupted from the crowds. "Of course, they will be rewarded a healthy sum of coin too."
Laughter swept across the arena before the cheering went even louder.
"With that I will leave the stage to my old friend, Lord Uther the Lightbringer Grand Master of the Silver Hand."
King Terenas waved his farewell and gratefully took his seat. While everyone else seated, one stood up.
It was a face as recognisable as the Lordaeron king's. Sir Uther the Lightbringer, the First Paladin. He was already a renowned knight before the Great War and now he was a figure of legend.
"We shall begin this Grand Tournament in honour of Tyr, whose tale of justice and virtue that laid the foundation of our very history. For it is from Tyr, the first knights were born. War was never a stranger to us. But it is from Tyr, blade of man was tempered by honour, compassion, duty and justice. Even after such a terrible ordeal like the Horde, we cannot forget what makes us different from the forces of darkness."
The Grand Master bowed his head and the knights in the field did the same.
"Esarus thar no'Darador." Uther spoke them slowly, letting his rich baritone voice carry each word.
"By Blood and Honour We Serve." The knights replied.
The armoured horsemen turned their chargers away from the stage until the columns had become two lines facing each other. Each side formed a line of ten.
They were a hundred paces apart.
"Now! Let the Games begin! For the Alliance!"
"FOR THE ALLIANCE!" The knights dropped their visors and put back their spurs.
The chivalry of the Alliance advanced. Their painted lances and tabards dazzled the eye. Unlike many other forms of cavalry whether they were human, elven or otherwise, knights rode tight, knee to knee, slowly.
Some in the crowd grumbled at the slow start but those who knew better kept their silence and waited for the reaction the grumblers would surely make.
Only when they were fifty paces away, the riders spurred their mounts into a canter. The chargers began to kick a cloud of dust and dirt as they closed in.
Some in the crowds began to stood up including those complaining earlier so excited by the sudden change of pace.
And then the knights lowered their lances and shouted their war cries. Their chargers broke into a gallop.
The veterans saw flashes of the war where these same warriors had charged their war lances down into sea of green skinned monsters.
Then there was an explosion of metal, wood and screams. Lances crashed into shields, riders were thrown back. A lance struck a knight in the helmet, sending the man over his cantle. Most of the lances broke on contact and with the lines now distorted the armoured warriors drew their swords, maces and other hand weapons.
A slim figure in gold and blue leaf pattern armour with a shield bearing the phoenix of Silvermoon rode in the second line facing a rider in the white and blue armour of a Lordaeron knight. The human knight barked a loud laugh at the elf's lighter frame and dainty spear and spurred his heavy charger intending to send the elven warrior to the other end of the city.
The Silvermoon rider met the charge. As the blunt tip of the blue Lordaeron lance edged closer to the phoenix shield, the elf swung his spear across and the butt of the light lance struck the human across the face and the knight's own momentum send him off his saddle.
An Ironforge champion was roaring a challenge on foot. He wanted to prove that the ram was a better choice for the human knights than their wee horses but ended up being one the first to be thrown down. The dwarf had not counted on the horses' mobility and height and found a crimson Stromic lance crashing his breast plate. The warrior knew that he had embarrassed himself so he would take it out on the Gilnean knight trying to finish him off.
"FOR KHAZ MODAN!" The dwarf slammed his hammer on the black and grey armoured warrior with such a force that it sent the man flying across.
Had it been a real dwarven hammer, every bone in the Gilnean would have been scattered. Unfortunately, so would the gold and black lance that struck the dwarf's back plate.
The Lordaeron knight grinned seeing the dwarf collapsing in the mud. He was in jet black armour with a golden lion on his shield. Garithos disapproved of letting the elves and dwarves join in the tournament but now he was glad the king had let them. He was given the opportunity to hammer their damn races without repercussion.
The black knight spotted the elven horseman who was twirling his light lance at a pair of Stormwindians who were trying to stay out of reach.
Garithos grinned at the opportunity and pulled out his blunted axe. Before he could reach the elf, a red figure appeared between them.
"Out of the way, savage!" He snarled at the Stromic warrior. The mountain dweller roared and met his charge with a thick bladed sword.
However before he could smash his axe into the dark red helmet, an orange and black figure struck the Stromgarde knight sending the rider and horse off the other side.
As Garithos wheeled around the clash, he spotted the Alteraci knight grinned at him. While the Lordaeronian hated the unchivalrous act, the man did clear his way to the damn elf.
"GOBLIN EARS!" The winged helm turned to face him and but the elf's spear was already swinging at his side and slammed into his shield. Garithos swung his axe but it was expertly parried and the shaft struck the human again.
The next blow hit Garithos' mouth and he tasted blood. The black armoured knight roared in anger and began to hack at the elf with renewed energy. The elf was startled by the sudden fury that assaulted him. The pointed eared warrior tried to defend himself but Garithos had closed the distance and the lance's longer length was at a disadvantage. Any other warrior would have been finished at this point but the elven warrior's skill managed to keep him from being unhorsed.
Garithos was however not satisfied and his axe head caught the elf's shield between the blade and shaft and the black knight pulled hard. The elven made strap was stronger than most and therefore did not rip as it should have so the force tore into the wielder's muscles instead.
A sharp crack followed by the elf's pained cry put a smile to Garithos and he slammed his shield into the winged helm.
The Silvermoon warrior sprawled in the ground and looked gratefully at the heralds who came to help the elf up.
The humans however suddenly stopped and stepped back in horror.
The elf felt a long shadow over him and saw the black armoured knight standing over him with the great axe and a savage look across his eyes.
Before he could speak, the axe came down again and it took the elf's great reflex to block the blow with his lance.
The motion itself hurt his injured arm. The elf wanted to say he yielded but the pain kept his words jumbled.
The black knight had raised his axe for the next blow but it was met with a lance.
"Did you forget the notion of restraint, sir knight?" A young rich voice admonished him. Garithos growled at the warrior in silver armour and dark blue robes. For moment, he thought it was a southern bastard from Stormwind but he saw the golden L. Garithos thought he knew who the young knight was but was too angry to care.
"Away, pup! I have no time for your bravado!" He knocked the lance away but the weapon came back and struck hard on his shield.
"This battle is supposed to honour what Tyr's words! Has Lordaeron's knighthood fallen so low?"
Garithos' eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone, pup or be prepared to lose your teeth!"
"Have at thee then!" The silver and blue knight threw his lance down and slammed his war hammer into the black lion shield.
Hammer and axe raised and fell as their riders wheeled about. The new comer was skilled but Garithos was stronger and experienced and it was not long before he was gaining the upper hand.
"You're still green, boy!" The black knight cried out as the younger man gritted his teeth from a heavy strike. "You don't remember how many brave men died because we rode for those vain glorious elves! They don't care about honour. You only know how horrible orcs and trolls are but those pointy eared freaks used to enslave us! You are so young that you can't even tell the difference in weapons! Let me teach you!"
The young knight swung his hammer that Garithos easily avoided responded by slamming his axe into his white and blue shield.
"Do you know why I use an axe?" He struck again. "Some people call it a weapon for savages like orcs and Stromgardians."
The black knight grinned. "But it is faster than a hammer!"
He blocked the hammer mid-swing then countered striking the knight across his helmet's cheek. Another Lordaeron knight in similar outfit to the young man rode towards them with a sword.
"And stronger than a sword!" Garithos swung the axe so hard that he pushed through the other knight's sword block and slam into his chest. The blow was so hard the knight slipped off his horse.
The veteran knight spat at the fool and return to block the coming hammer swing from his earlier opponent. The hammer and axe met in a clinch and the younger knight felt the axe head coming closer to his face.
"In a real battle, a good axe has the weight to cut through plate. Hammers are too heavy and swords are useless against plate. Your friend was lucky."
"Perhaps." The young man admitted but then he shifted the grip on his hammer and let Garithos' axe land hard on his shield. But the hammer pivoted from that and its haft struck the older man's face stunning him.
The younger knight then struck the ebony figure across the face with all his might catching him on the chin.
The blow was strong enough to knock the black knight unconscious on his saddle.
"Thank you, Muradin!" He gasped. It was a Bronzebeard trick he learned from his old mentor.
The battered but victorious knight gasped for his breath as the heralds led the black charger and his rider off the melee ground.
He dismounted and walked up to the elven warrior who had been pulled aside from the duel.
"My apologies, Master Elf. Know that not all human knights are brutish as that one."
The elf waved away his apologies. "The fault was my own. I treated mankind's greatest warriors like they were nothing but children and paid the price."
"Dangerous children. Still, it was not the behaviour of a true knight. I will see to that."
The elf grinned. "You remind me of our own prince."
"I'm sure he would not like that." The knight winked. "Take good care of him." He told the heralds and mounted on Invincible.
"Prince Arth…my lord, your lance." The other knight handed him his lance.
"Thank you, Jorad. Will you not join in the fray? It's finishing up." The fight was already finishing up with those yielded and unconscious being moved off the field.
"Nay. I think Lord Garithos caved in part of my skull."
"Take a good look at it! Consider it as practice for your healing!" With that Arthas galloped into the main fight.
The remaining combatants included a Stromgarde knight who is hammering blow after blow on to an Alteraci and a large Kul Tiran knight facing off with a Gilnean with a wolf sigil.
Before he could join in, something else caught his eye.
He recognised the figure. Or rather he recognised the sigil but it looked so out of place that Arthas was not sure if it was true.
The knight was dressed in armour and robes. Violet robes bearing the golden eye of Dalaran. A wizard's robes!
The Lordaeron prince was so astonished by the sight that he almost did not see a Stormwind knight charging at him.
Arthas lowered his own visor and met the blue and gold knight head on.
The Stormwindian's blue and gold lance slammed hard into Arthas' own shield but fortunately the lion crested knight's momentum was not strong so the prince managed to stay on his saddle.
As the Southerner wheeled his horse around, Arthas pushed Invincible forward instead and rebalanced his lance.
A Kul Tiran came into view and the Lordaeron prince's lance hit the anchor on his sea-green breastplate home sending the man off the saddle.
Although there were no longer any riders in his immediate view, Arthas did not slow down and continued galloping.
"Come on, boy!" He urged Invincible. He knew that the Stormwind knight was on his heels.
Once he picked up the momentum, the crown prince of Lordaeron wheeled Invincible around at full speed and lowered his lance.
The lion knight was clearly caught off guard as his lance point was completely off his target and Arthas' own lance scattered into three different pieces as it contacted with the Stormwindian's blue plumed helmet.
The crowd cheered at his victory for he had unhorsed two knights in row.
"That cheering belongs to you, boy." Arthas patted Invincible fondly. And it was true as he knew no other horse that could pull off that particularly move.
He had made it to the final stage of the match with the Stromgardian, the Kul Tiran and from the corner of his eye, he noticed the armoured Dalaranian.
Arthas was eyeing which warrior he would engage when he noticed two other riders in the distance both wearing the blue and gold livery of Stormwind.
The Dalaranian and Stromic knights rode off to engage the Stormwindians leaving Arthas with the Kul Tiran.
The large knight was unhorsed and so the Arthas humbly dismounted to face his foe on equal terms.
Arthas gave Invincible one last pat and took his war hammer. The Kul Tiran seemed even larger up close, his sea-green tabard was now torn and his armour was dull grey with wave patterned trims.
His weapon of choice was a wide curved sabre common amongst mariners with a thick hand guard. Arthas saw yellowed teeth grinning under his helm as he saluted.
The Kul Tiran lunged forward with his sword in a fury of swings. Arthas brought his shield and hammer up to block and parry the blows and closed in.
However, the other knight just shoved Arthas away and began striking again. The Lordaeron prince braced himself then lunged forward with his hammer's head and swung. The Kul Tiran took the thrust with his shield then parried the swing with his sabre but then Arthas slammed his own shield forward and hit the massive man in the chin.
Arthas wanted to follow up but he was already out of breath and the green-sea clad knight recovered and barked a laugh.
"Not too bad." He commented. "A bit too rash I must say against someone like me. I always did warn my boys to not get carried away."
The mentor like tone in his voice suggests that this was likely a master-at-arms, a warrior trainer. And with his Kul Tiran colours along with the Proudmoore crest, Arthas surmised the knight's identity.
"Perhaps, Sir Cyrus. But if my studies are correct, then the mace is a better weapon against plate than a sword." Arthas went on the offensive.
"That is correct, Your Highness. However, the real question is…" Cryus Crestfall blocked and deflected with his shield and sword guard with the ease of a veteran.
The Kul Tiran knight shoved the Lordaeron prince back with his shield and stepped a few paces back. He brandished his sword and pointed the curved blade at the L of Arthas' shield.
"Can you get close enough to hit me?" And Cryus lunged forward with his sword and shield. True enough the slashes merely deflected off Arthas' silver plate but then the thrusts and swings started aiming at his joints where he only had his thick blue gambeson and chainmail to protect him.
A particular strike on his left armpit hurt and weakened the whole shield arm.
Feeling the desperation, Arthas lunged forward and renewed his attacks but Cyrus kept stepping back after each parry and none of his hammer swings were able to even touch the man's plate.
The superior length of the Kul Tiran sabre and Cryus' own height allowed the Kul Tiran knight to hit the Lordaeron prince beyond the range of Arthas' own hammer and every time he stepped in Cryus merely stepped back.
Arthas was so focused on what kind of strength Cryus' could do with a mace he had not taken into account what the man's superior arm length could do and while the strikes lost most of their power on the plate, they were quickly tiring the prince.
Furthermore, Arthas knew that had this been a real battle he would be bleeding from superficial cuts all over had it not been a practice sabre.
That angered him but anger would lead to a wild attack that would be the end of the prince.
So as much as he hated it, during the next attack Arthas pulled back and avoided the sabre thrusts. As expected from a veteran, he pushed forward the moment Arthas gave ground and did it so smoothly that the Lordaeron prince could not see any opening to attack in the change.
At this point, he was so tired that he was falling for simple feints: Cryus came with a straight diagonal cut and he made a stationary block with his shield and the large knight simply pushed the cut into a thrust that hit him hard on the helmet.
He was also fully aware that the thrust could have been slanted into a thrust right into his eye lids had it been a real fight.
Arthas knew he had to win before he loses the rest of his stamina.
For a moment, both combatants got distracted when the Dalaranian and the Stormwindian's duel came close to them. The warrior bearing the robes of the mage city was surprisingly gaining the upper hand as the Dalaranian landed perfect strikes on his opponent's helmet.
Arthas sought to use the distraction and attacked, slamming his shield into the Kul Tiran's own and drive his hammer into the other knight's helmet.
However, the sheer size of the knight made Arthas missed his mark and Cryus simply pushed the Lordaeron prince away and sent his head ringing for that effort.
"Come now, Prince Arthas. You have to do better than that!" The sea-green armoured knight started to push home his victory and for a time Arthas could only hold his shield up and take the blows.
In the distance, he faintly saw the blue and gold of Stormwind unhorse the red figure of Stromgarde even as a violet streak riding up to the victor.
"You call yourself a prince!?" Cryus mocked and kept hammering the Lordaeron blue and gold shield from a superior range. Arthas kept up the blows feeling weaker each time. He was not looking up and there were cries from the crowd. Arthas ignored it. He did not do it because he was annoyed by the jests of his subjects which he was.
King Teneras' only son was looking at the Kul Tiran's legs.
He remembered the way Muradin fought. The dwarf was more than a head shorter than the prince and when he brings his shield up, Arthas sometimes could not see the dwarf at all. It often made him overconfident thinking he was winning but he had learned to fear that as Arthas could no longer see what King Magni's brother was doing. And when he was within range…
And that was when Arthas struck.
When the next strike came, Arthas brought his shield up and pushed the sword away and struck with his mace.
Not at Cryus' himself for he was not only too far but had his shield up. Instead, Arthas aimed for the Kul Tiran knight's sword arm. The weight and short length of the hammer allowed him to swing in between the gap between them.
The blow went better than he expected as Cryus' own fantastic reflexes to withdraw his weapon threw his sword hand in the path of Arthas' hammer dislodging the annoying blade.
The prince continued his attack and slammed his shield into the knight's gut, knocking the wind out of him.
Arthas was driving his hammer into the Kul Tiran's wave patterned helm when Cryus cried out.
"I yield! I yield, your highness!"
The Lordaeron prince sheathed his hammer and helped the older man up.
"Well fought, Prince Arthas."
"You are still strong enough to continue, Lord Cryus."
"Aye. But you would have eventually won." The older man gratefully took of his helmet and spat out some blood. "Besides, you will need the rest of your energy."
Arthas turned to look where the Kul Tiran indicated.
He watched to see a Stormwind knight facing off against the red armour of Stromgarde on one side and the Dalaranian on the other.
The Stormwindian was dancing around the attacks from the Stromgarde knight despite the heavy plate and was leading the weapons of his two opponents against each other. He had twisted a thrust from the Dalaranian's slim sword into the Stromgarde shield then kicked the red armoured figure away while blocking the next blow from the Dalaranian with his shield.
The lion-crested knight continued to rain blows on the Dalaranian while the Stromic warrior recovered and was already facing him while the violet robed knight was trying to recover.
Evidently the Stormwindian had already won as when the Stromgarde knight charged he collapsed mid-way and the Dalaranian was still gasping for his breath.
Arthas thought he recognised the Stormwind knight's fighting style especially combining it with his unique lion helmet but it was only when he dropped his shield for a second shorter blade Arthas knew who he was fighting.
"Why do you have to do this here of all place?" Arthas groaned. The lion's eyes seem to look surprised at his declaration.
"What on earth are you talking about?" His voice was strong and rich like Arthas' though was more rugged. "You are still standing! Although if you know how this will end, care to yield?"
Arthas braced his shield and raised his hammer. "You know I wouldn't, Your Majesty."
"No, you would not." The Stormwindian agreed.
And so Arthas found himself lying in the mud with two blades staring at him.
Again.
"I don't remember seeing your name on the lists." Arthas grumbled later in the Great Hall.
Varian laughed. "Neither did I. Come on, Arthas. I never left the viewing gallery! Isn't that right, Kailus?" The Stormwind royal guard nodded dutifully but Arthas suspected the royal guard did not speak in case his amused tone betrayed his liege.
No one else had recognised the victorious Stormwind knight who disappeared after the melee but Arthas remembered seeing the lion faced helmet in Varian's personal armoury.
Dropping the accusation, Arthas raised his wine cup and grinning.
"Well then to the Lion Knight! Wherever he is right now!"
"Aye! To Stormwind teaching Northerners how to fight!" The men at the table laughed and cheered in good humour.
Not all the cups were raised though and after Varian downed his drink he leaned back against the table and relaxed.
"So Arthas, it's been a while since I came up north. Care to fill me in the latest gossip?"
Arthas refilled his friend's cup. "The usual. The nobles are making noise about the new taxes. The Gilneans jealously guarding their powder trade. Stromgarde is offering gold more orc hunts. The elves are complaining that the Alliance is not doing enough to stop deforestation."
Varian chuckled. "Looks like you have your work cut out for you."
The prince of Lordaeron shrugged. "It would be easier if Blackmore and his cronies would just bother to listen. Uther has probably spent so much time in the office that we hardly see him at the Chapel."
The King of Stormwind's face turned sombre at that. "These are dark times indeed. The Paladins are getting less and less popular. It's hard to be faithful when it was dark magic that defeated the orcs."
Arthas' grimaced at that. "It took faith to hold the line for as long as the Alliance did."
"Aye. But in the eyes of this new generation, it was power that defeated the orcs. To those who fought the Horde, that spell did more than the Light did. I am not saying that the Light abandoned us but it was a long war. Even Lothar was feeling frustrated. But that's why we needed this tournament. We needed to remind people where we came from."
"It's like what Uther said, "We cannot allow ourselves to become as vile as the orcs."" Arthas remembered the viciousness in which Garithos had fought and how few in the audience seemed undisturbed by it. Paladins were for all their similarity to knights were ultimately warrior priests. Knighthood had existed even before humanity discovered the Light. They followed the stories of Tyr and of justice. If knights no longer fight without honour, it could turn other less pious warriors to go even lower.
"Wise words."
The two royals stopped when they saw King Terenas bidding his guests farewell and began to leave.
"I have to go." Arthas said.
Varian nodded. "If you need anything, just let me know."
They exchanged a firm handshake and Arthas followed his father.
However, when they were alone in the corridor. Terenas suddenly fell and Arthas was barely able to catch him from hitting the marbled ground.
Terenas was having difficulty in breathing and Arthas pressed his father's chest and muttered a short prayer. The faint golden light brought some colour back to to the older man and before long the King's face coloured slightly again.
"Ahh…than…thank you, son."
"You didn't need to attend the tourney. Uther could have handled by himself. You should have just rested."
His father gave him a faint smile. "You know why I had to go, Arthas. You know what the people are feeling. They need to see their leader strong in these times."
Arthas knew that. But he was not happy about it. Terenas patted his son's cheek.
"Come. Help your old father to his chamber." They headed back silently and slowly. The king had regained some strength.
If Terenas' health was not so frail, it would have been a nice father and son time.
"I don't think you remember but when you were little, we used to walk this very route." The king recalled happily. "No, royal court. No guards. Just a father and son taking a short stroll."
Arthas felt his heart sank. "Everything seemed bigger."
That was an understatement for the Lordaeron royal palace was possibly the largest royal resident in human lands.
"Remember that time when you tried to fight the armour? You were trying so hard not to hit the armour that you dropped your sword."
The prince's face redden with embarrassment. "Please, not so loud." He glared at the amused looking royal guards that they passed.
Terenas chuckled. "But you were such a good boy. Trying not to damage it. I am so grateful that Muradin is looking after you. I feared you would be hurt but I also feared you would become like me, a feeble weakling."
"You are the strongest monarch in the Alliance. You held us all together. Tell me how that is weak, father?"
"I…I wish I could do more. We are here. Go back to the Hall, Arthas. Enjoy yourself. You did Lordaeron proud today." They had reached the king's royal chambers. Arthas continued to take his father to his chambers. The royal bodyguards nodded understandingly and opened the door. Arthas noted the heartbreak in the men's eyes seeing their king in such a state but he steeled himself before he could falter and gave them an encouraging look.
"Here, father." Arthas helped his father remove his royal garments and into his sleepwear. After he gave him the medication, the king looked so old. Older than Arthas remembered his father to be.
"You should go back to the Hall, son." He put his hand on Arthas. "Enjoy yourself. You fought well. So well. I will be fine." Arthas squeezed his father's hand and kissed Terenas' forehead.
"Sleep well, father. I will return later."
When he was sure that Terenas was sleeping soundly, Arthas left the chamber.
"He just need some rest. He reassured the worried guards. Send word, if there is anything."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Arthas quickly left the place before the guards could see the crumbling mask. He tried to head back to the feast but his emotions were building up so he turned to the nearest prayer room.
"Light. Please let him be well." Arthas prayed. He prayed and let his tears flow. "Please let him be well."
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