Chapter 2

Today, everything was grey, a mist covering the land and obscuring the gates of the Undercity from view, even from where the young priest Iskander stood.

He panted rapidly, his chest heaving as he bent double, clutching at his knees. He still held the reins of his stubborn horse in his white-knuckled hands.

"You... silly animal!" he admonished. "We come by here every day. Why does it scare you every time?" Finally pity broke his stern look and he reached up to pet the frightened beast on the nose. "Here." He led her to an old twisted tree and tethered her there, letting her rest momentarily. Sighing, he reached for his fallen staff and plopped down onto an old stone bench.

No one was around, but he pulled his old travel cloak around him nonetheless, drawing the hood up and shielding his face. From his belt he took a water pouch, and drinking deeply he sighed again. A white glint caught his eye, between two stones, and he flicked it absently with a finger. It became dislodged. A piece of parchment. Drinking again, Iskander flipped it open.

Unknown Thalassian words, and underneath an orcish greeting. He smiled mildly. The words were elegant and feminine. He wondered briefly about the Sin'dorei who must have written it. About to toss it away, he had an afterthought. Instead he opened a side pocket of his bag and found one of his old pieces of drawing charcoal. He pushed his glasses up higher on his nose.

'Hello There.' He wrote in Orcish. 'How does the day find you?'

He wrinkled his nose. His orcish wasn't the best. It had been a long while since he'd practiced. He folded the paper into a little round shape and put it back where he'd found it. Rising to his feet and replacing the water skin on his belt, he smiled to himself. "Let's be off!" He said to his horse. His voice was melodious, his words well-pronounced common.

It was getting late in the evening when Iskander, weary and dirty, finally arrived back in Elwyn forest. His steed was tired as well, walking slowly with drooped head as they made their way down the road to Stormwind.

Suddenly high cries of terror brought the priest out of his daydream, and he jerked sharply on the reins drawing the horse to a stop. The cry rang out again and he cursed – then covered his mouth remorsefully. Jumping down from the saddle he dragged the reluctant beast in the direction of the noise.

It didn't take long before he saw in the gloom a young woman being accosted by thieves. There were two – common rogues by the look of them, with dirty clothes and crude masks covering their faces. At the priest's not-so-stealthy approach they whirled around. One of them had hold of the girl, a young beauty, wild-eyed with terror.

"Help!" She shrieked when she caught sight of Iskander, before the rogue slapped a hand over her mouth.

Iskander gripped tighter to his weapon. He had already seen much combat today. These two thugs would make little difference. "I think you should let her go." He said quietly.

"Hand over all your coin or she dies." The thug answered, while his friend snarled and brandished his daggers menacingly.

Iskander sighed, and adjusted his glasses again. "Fine. If that's the way you want to play it," he said. As he spoke the last word, holy energy hit the rogue, knocking he and the girl to the ground. She recovered more quickly than he did, scrambling to her feet and bolting around to hide behind the priest. The rogue writhed on the ground. His friend was evidently conflicted – but not for long. Staring at the fallen rogue's body then back at Iskander, he turned tail to flee.

The priest stepped over the legs of the remaining unfortunate thug, bending down to grasp a handful of his long greasy hair. Yanking him to his feet as he squealed, Iskander planted a boot firmly to his backside, sending him stumbling off the road into a bush. He seemed to recover himself and began to run, hastily making his escape.

The girl came up behind the priest and he felt her warm fingers grasp his shoulders. Turning, he smiled into her pretty face. "Oh Sir..." She said breathily, "how ever can I thank you?"

"Oh – it's no problem really. Just doing my job." He dug his staff into the dirt, leaning on it for a moment. "Would you like me to escort you to Stormwind, milady? The roads, as you have seen, are not safe to walk alone."

She nodded, biting her lower lip. Iskander recovered his horse and helped the girl up into the saddle, swinging himself up behind her. The horse snorted unenthusiastically, but her master kicked her into a gentle trot.

They slowed at the gates of the city and the girl raised her voice, turning her head slightly to speak to the priest. "What is the name of my rescuer?"

He smiled. "I am Iskander. And you?"

"Melissa." And she leaned back against him, pressing her soft body close. Iskander shifted a little, leaning back to give her more space.

They dismounted in the street, and he bowed low. "There you go, milady." And he smiled, adjusting his pack on his shoulder and preparing to leave.

"Wait! Sir -" She sidled up to him, smiling broadly again. "You haven't told me what I can do to repay you!" She grabbed his hand, moving closer. Her eyes traveled down over his body. "Isn't there... anything?"

Iskander paused, observing her heaving chest and wide eyes. 'Poor thing,' he thought, 'must still be quite scared.' "Truly," he said aloud, "no payment is necessary. Just keep yourself safe from now on." He placed a hand over hers briefly, before turning away. Behind him, the girl frowned, her arms dropping uselessly to her sides.

The priest led his horse slowly through the street, heading toward the Stormwind Cathedral. There were few people out by now, but they all made way respectfully as he nodded and smiled to everyone. As he crossed the canal he reached up to give the weary animal a soft pat on the neck. "My!" he said to the horse, "What a nice young lady."