Chapter 5
"Bury it in the vault, I don't want to see that thing again."
The man nodded as Tirion Fordring handed over a large, wrapped bundle. The paladin shot the package a final look of disgust before moving away and the blond woman dressed in the raiments of the Kirin Tor fell into stride next to him.
"Highlord, I beg you to reconsider-"
"Absolutely not. It's out of the question."
"I could bring it to Dalaran where the safety of your Crusaders would not be in question and we could perform tests-"
"I said no, Rhydian. This is not the Kirin Tor's affair, and it is entirely too dangerous."
The female sorceress huffed as the pair walked across what once had been Scourgeholme, the sights and sounds of construction raging around them as the building of "Justice Keep" - as Tirion liked to call it - had recently begun.
The foundation for the glorious new structure had already been laid, but not before Tirion had ordered that beneath the surface a nigh impenetrable hold be built in place of the typical dungeon. He wanted to send the message that this keep represented something new, a symbol that the Argent Crusade would be taking no prisoners in the fights ahead, that they would not bend knee or have any mercy for those that would serve the Lich King even in life.
And it was certainly a nice message that uplifted the Crusader's of Virtue's spirits, but truthfully more than anything he wanted a safe place to hide away the sword that had been left behind during the Battle at Crusader's Pinnacle. The paladin had enlisted some of the finest dwarven engineers to ensure that the new vault would be able to stand up to anything, and seeing the titanium-reinforced door that sealed in fifteen solid feet of magically-imbued stone, one might think that he was being a bit overly paranoid.
Already the walls had begun to take shape and Fordring watched with pride and hope in his heart that the former darkness he had felt those some odd weeks ago had abated. Whatever Arthas had been planning during his assault against the Argent Crusade had been apparently unsuccessful and the previously constant attacks from Scourgeholme had stopped entirely.
How could he have refused the chance to purify the entire area? Every indication thus far had shown the Lich King retreating into Icecrown, moving hurriedly to protect his remaining forces as he was closed in on from all sides.
Yes, things were going very well indeed.
Unfortunately though, the evil sword that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere had proven to be a continuous problem for it was an item of great power... and interest. The woman next to him had been relentless in her efforts to study the item, subtly hinting that he was acting foolishly for not taking advantage of something to further their knowledge of the Lich King's power and designs.
Tirion certainly understood her position, but felt it entirely too risky. He had experienced the darkness within Arthas' heart before, who was to say that this weapon didn't contain that same evil tenfold? It had arrived under such suspicious circumstances as well, he didn't ignore the idea either that it could have been planted so that they would fall into some trap when they inevitably looked too deeply...
No, better that it be locked away from anyone who sought to use it in aid of the Lich King, or from those that would misguidedly take it up thinking to use it against him.
Rhydian watched sadly as the man carried the precious bundle to seal it away below; turning her attention back to Fordring she furrowed her brow and opened her mouth in an attempt to intercede again when Tirion held up one hand.
"The matter is closed, Rhydian. I know you disagree, and you may bring it up with your superiors in Dalaran if you like, but know that you probably would only be making it easier for me. After all, this war will likely already be over by the time the Kirin Tor could sort through all of the bureaucracy that they seem so fond of in deciding what to do."
Leaving the mage with an indignant scowl on her face, Fordring strolled away.
-
"Well, isn't this interesting..."
The Lich King watched through the eyes of his undead patrolling outside of Icecrown Citadel as a lone blood elf death knight practically marched up to the front gates of his domain. He stayed his frost wyrms and guards, looking on with interest as the death knight landed on his skeletal gryphon and looked up at the fortress in awe.
It wasn't unheard of for some of those that had joined the Ebon Blade once their will had been regained to seek out their former Master. Indeed it was shocking to them that the Lich King had used them as fodder to draw out Tirion Fordring, sending them to their deaths after all of their training and service, but it was the nature of the Scourge, to dispose of minions as was necessary. And some of them understood that, embraced it even.
For Keritose, however, it was more that he felt that serving the Lich King now would be more advantageous in the end, a possible means to greater power... and when the ashes cleared he firmly believed that he would be on the winning side.
So as he stood there, staring up into the terrible and formidable Citadel with gargoyles screeching overhead at the command of their Master, he couldn't have known that the Lich King stood watching him with a small smirk on his face.
"Bring him to me."
The death knight was dragged inside rather unceremoniously, shoved and prodded forward until he was pushed down to the floor directly in front of the Lich King himself.
With a dismissive nod from their Master, the heavily armed guards departed leaving Keritose face-first in the ground with only a view of the skull-adorned armor and the tip of Frostmourne before him. Tremors took him.
"My lord I-"
"So you have come to rejoin the Scourge, I take it?" The Lich King rumbled, his amused expression hidden beneath the heavy helm.
"Yes..." he nodded numbly. "If that is my King's will of course..."
The Lich King stared down at the death knight with an air of indifference. Pitiful weakling... only concerned with saving his own worthless skin.
"I always will welcome home my lost children with open arms..."
Keritose nodded again, more eagerly, finally pushing himself up to his knees. "I have some information that you may find useful, my lord, if you would be interested in hearing it."
"Indeed?" The Lich King asked, sounding bored and beginning to slowly circle the death knight groveling on the ground before him. "And what is it that you would want in exchange for this information?"
The blood elf's eyes followed his Master's movements around him until the dark figure was out of his field of vision. He swallowed nervously. "My King?"
"Of course you would expect some kind of compensation for providing me with such instrumental details. It would not really be worth my time otherwise, now would it?"
Keritose's voice caught in his throat. Was it a trick question? Or should he really ask for what he desired in return?
"I..." his hands fidgeted with his collar. "I... cannot begin to comprehend my King's designs and therefore have no way of knowing what information would be of value to him or not. And I trust in him wholly to reward those that he deems worthy of receiving recompense."
The blood elf heard a low chuckle from behind him, but he dare not turn around.
"Well spoken." The Lich King complimented mockingly. "I shall hear what you have to say then, and then deem you worthy afterwards."
And the death knight told him everything he had heard. Every word.
He spoke quickly, trying to keep his voice from shaking, unable to see his Master's reaction to his words for he hadn't moved from standing behind him. And when he finished, there was a long, drawn-out silence.
When it seemed that nothing would be said or done at all and Keritose was itching to glance over his shoulder, a quiet voice came.
"Are you certain you heard everything correctly?"
"My King?" He asked, beginning to turn his head.
"Are you certain?!" The Lich King bellowed.
Before the blood elf could respond something devastatingly heavy crashed into his back and pinned him to the floor.
Crying out and writhing in pain, Keritose squealed, "Yes! Yes my lord! I am certain!"
The Lich King stood over him, armored boot firmly planted against the death knight's spine, considering the possibilities of his words.
So she did yet remain in Icecrown, working to sabotage the Cult of the Damned, just as he had predicted. Amusing, really. That she pretended like she could make a difference, trying to prove that he hadn't corrupted her, that she could work to be 'good' and change the world. But not only that, the story of her past had been most intriguing indeed...
Keritose groaned, bringing his Master back to the present situation. Lifting his foot off the blood elf's back and stepping away, he spoke.
"You have done well by bringing this to my attention. I can see that you would be a valuable asset to the Scourge once again."
The death knight whimpered in pain. "Thank you, my lord."
"Yes," the Lich King speculated. "There are many places in my ranks that you would fit in rather nicely. One can never truly outlive their usefulness as long as they continue to exist, for even in their various states of undeath can they remain as loyal servants."
Keritose didn't like where this seemed to be going. His lip trembled, "My lord, I-"
Kneeling down before the blood elf, the Lich King grabbed him by his gaunt cheeks, staring into the death knight's glowing blue eyes with a wicked look.
"You have my undying gratitude for bringing me this information," he started with a smirk, beginning to squeeze. "However, I'm afraid that I cannot allow someone such as yourself who so frivolously changes sides depending upon what is more advantageous to them at the time freely wandering about as one of my Chosen. You betrayed the Ebon Blade to come to me after once already departing my service? That is not a very reassuring track record, Keritose."
The blood elf's eyes bulged as the gauntlet began to crush his jaw. He tried to scream.
"Don't worry," the Lich King smiled down at him. "You will continue to serve me, perhaps just not in the manner in which you expected..."
Tilting his head back with his eyes closed and taking a deep, shuddering breath, the Lich King focused on draining the death knight's energy.
Keritose's body thrashed wildly, oblivious now to the pain in his back and face. His Master began to leech away his power, the very power that had been granted to him upon the moment of his 'rebirth'. His impulses told him to struggle, to scream, to stop him, but as the darkness began to seep through his mind, memories fading away, experiences sucked dry, his very will being drained, there was little else he could do but submit.
The blue eyes leaked away into nothingness, mouth open in a soundless cry, and before long he was nothing but a fleshy shell of his former self.
Tossing the former death knight's face aside and rising, the Lich King shooed the ghoul away. And it complied.
Perhaps there was a way after all for him to get what he wanted and his revenge... everything... all at once. He couldn't permit her to go free, not after what she did. He had underestimated her in the beginning, and then she had done the unthinkable: taken something from him. Now he would take something from her.
Striding purposefully through the halls of Icecrown Citadel, the Lich King came to a room of portals, where he summoned for Kel'thuzad.
The lich's glassy image appeared, respectfully poised but none too eager to hear his Master's instructions after the last time they had spoken.
"There has been a change of plans..." the Lich King began, and he thought he saw Kel'thuzad sigh with relief.
"Oh, that is excellent news, my lord. I do believe it is the right decision to leave Naxxaramas in Dragonblight and I might also suggest that-"
"No," the Lich King growled. "My citadel shall come to Icecrown as planned. You, however..." he let the words hang in the air a moment. "I have a special assignment in mind for you."
The lich tried to hide his grimace with a deep bow.
"Don't look too excited now," his Master commented sarcastically, though his countenance was dead serious. "As before, I extend to you the same offer to store your phylactery in Icecrown Citadel for the duration of your task and for as long afterwards as you like."
Kel'thuzad nodded, silently cursing that his Master hadn't forgotten about that particular conversation. "Of course, my lord. What is it you wish of me?"
The Lich King shook his head dismissively. "I will fill you in on the details later. For now, I want you to send Baron Rivendare to me. In your absence he will be acting in your stead as my lead advisor and guardian of Naxxaramas."
The necromancer resisted the urge to curl his skeletal fingers into fists, incredulous of what he was hearing. "As you will, my lord." He murmured obediently, before the image winked out.
-
"It was my understanding... that a good rogue never allowed herself to be caught."
"I know what you've done... you 'rescued' my heart in the physical sense, thinking to liberate it in the metaphorical sense as well. You thought that maybe within this twisted object lay remnants of Arthas' humanity that you could find... and use."
"No one controls me!"
"Mine..."
Pathetic needs... infuriating feelings... maddening desires...
The memories bubbled through him like ripples, spiraling outward and clashing together with no semblance of pattern or reason. It wasn't as though he thought back on them with fondness or longing or disgust... they were simply there: present, insisting, perpetual. Strung together like scattered thoughts of one whose mind was unconsciously piecing things together, making you believe that there was a hidden meaning behind it all. But there really wasn't.
Screeching of metal, the murmuring of her voice, the endless drone of undead... crescendoing until it was nearly unbearable. When had he lost so much control?
Resisting the urge to clamp his hands over his ears, the cacophony suddenly ceased with the arrival of Baron Rivendare in the Lich King's throne room.
Both thankful and annoyed at the interruption, the death knight was beckoned forth with one disinterested finger.
A dark blue scarf partially covered the aristocratic, pale face of the Baron who strode forward in his death-runed armor with perfect posture and terrible elegance. His cape lightly brushed the ground as he walked, arriving before his King with a flawless, sweeping bow.
"You summoned for me, my lord?" He asked unnecessarily, his voice sounding like a harsh, grating whisper.
"Rivendare..." the Lich King began tiredly. "Good to see that you haven't lost your flair for the theatrical."
"My lord!" The death knight admonished. "I am only giving my King the proper respect that he deserves, it would be unseemly for me to not-"
"We are not in court, Baron." He hissed, emphasizing the title condescendingly.
Rivendare tossed his cape over his shoulder with a flourish as his gaze swept across the nearly-empty chamber with but a few scarce skeletal guards watching over the entrance. A small smile tugged at his pallid lips beneath his carefully-tied scarf as he pondered over the fact that his Master chose to entertain his 'subjects' from a throne. "Of course, my lord. Whatever you desire."
Unlike the majority of his death knight counterparts who had a complete disregard for their appearance allowing grime, insects and bits of gore to tarnish their morbid visage, the Baron was a picture of lurid perfection. His armor was immaculately kept and polished, his cloak and scarf of the finest material free of wrinkles or wear. He straightened the imaginary cuffs at his wrists before standing patiently at attention for his Master's bidding.
"I am leaving it to you to see that the final preparations are made for Naxxaramas' move."
"My lord?" Rivendare asked, perplexed. "What move is it that you are referring to?"
The Lich King raised a snowy brow. "Did Kel'thuzad not inform you? You are to be guardian of the citadel for the time being, and you shall be responsible for its movement and position here in Icecrown."
The Baron clapped his hands together once. "My lord I do believe that is a most excellent idea. Shall I mobilize the undead beneath the citadel in the Carrion Fields as well?"
"No, I have something else in mind for them. For now, you will be reinforcing Mord'rethar and doing what you can to repel the Horde and Alliance attacks. Don't fail me."
"I wouldn't dream of it, my lord." Rivendare smiled.
-
If it truly could have been called a wasteland before, it was even more truthful of a statement now.
Dragonblight was a graveyard: the bones of ancient wyrms, the fresh corpses of the Wyrmrest Accord as they persisted in their struggle against Malygos, the destruction that had swept across Wintergarde Keep... and the newly risen undead that had awoken from said destruction.
The Forsaken at Venomspite were currently occupied with the arrival of the Scarlet Onslaught that had chosen to dock practically at their doorstep.
And so, as it was, there was very little notice the next morning as the skies of Northrend were alight with dancing colors and gas as celestial wind collided with Azeroth's atmosphere that the horizon was clear of the ghastly dread citadel that had marred it's surface for many months; the fields below eerily quiet.
A lone carrion bird swooped out of the sky to peck at the eye of a long dead ghoul, searching for any bit of edible meat beneath the rotting flesh.
A different dark figure dotted the white background as the wind howled out an ominous tune.
Author's Note: I'm excited to introduce Rivendare in this chapter since he has been such a prominent NPC since pre-BC WoW. I kind of had a slightly different vision of him than I originally anticipated, but I like how he turned out and expect to see more of him, hehe. Let me know what you all think and thank you as always for the reviews and comments =)