Thirty.
Ulrist was the first out of the jolly-boat and he hauled the bow onto the pebbly beach, offering his hand to Taliah as she put a foot to the gunwale and then onto the first dry land she'd put a boot on in two months. She wanted to go to her knees and kiss the beach. The paladin had paid the Captain generously with coin her mother had foisted on her, making sure each of the hands had an equal share, and the men had given her and the deathknight a warm send-off. Jarvas had kissed her scarred knuckles and bid her to take care of herself and 'the big lad', as he always referred to the deathknight. After thanking Ulrist one final time, Taliah and Necrucian took their leave of the Acareena and her crew.
The harbour glittered in the darkness, the hundreds of lanterns casting everything in a warm, golden glow. The berths were packed and crews still offloaded cargo under the watchful eyes of the dockhands and the city guards. The two soldiers hadn't taken more than a dozen steps before they were challenged.
"You two came in on the gig, did you not?" the man's voice was so ostentatious that Taliah disliked him immediately. Necrucian, once again the silent, cloaked mountain at her back, said nothing as the man, wearing the surcoat of a junior lieutenant and flanked by two men of lower rank, drew nearer. The harbour guards wore armour of polished steel with lacquered blue trim, full helms and blue cloaks and looked like they'd just come out of a regimental inspection.
"Aye." Taliah replied gravely and produced the folded, sealed parchment missive from her sleeve. "I must speak with the watch commander, immediately." Her tone left no doubt that she would not be denied. "I have news of the utmost importance for His Majesty."
"Give me your missive, and I'll judge it's worth." The lieutenant sniffed "The Commander of the Watch is busy."
"Then make him un-busy, you idiot." Taliah stood tall, her stance almost as arrogant as the target of her growing ire. "I don't have time to banter with some politically appointed boy-officer." She took a step forward and though she had to look up, she got into the man's face. "Delay me one second longer than absolutely necessary and I'll be sure to have Lord Fordragon clap your arse in irons." The last came out as a growl and the woman's eyes flared white. The junior lieutenant, a summer or two younger than the paladin herself, took a step back, his eyes wide.
"And... uh.. whom shall I say needs speak to the Commander?" The man swallowed audibly.
"Tell him a Knight of the Silver Hand has a message for the King." Taliah replied as though the answer should have been painfully obvious. The lieutenant turned to the man on his left, whispered something and the guard left at a hasty trot.
When the watch commander arrived on a galloping courser, Taliah felt a little better. "What the hell is the meaning of this?" the man was gruff and while his armour was brightly polished and sporting Captain's braiding from the shoulder, the scabbard at his hip was weathered and worn. The paladin liked this man better.
"Captain." Taliah saluted him respectfully "I have come from Lordaeron to deliver an urgent message from Lord Tirion Fordring. I must speak with His Royal Highness immediately."
Captain Fernan Gyrus dismounted. He wasn't a big man but he was broad through the shoulders and chest. He wore no helm and the sea ruffled his short, greying hair. A thin, puckered scar ran just above his right eyebrow down to his jaw, and whatever had made it had also robbed the man of his site in that eye. From the way the man held himself, Taliah didn't think that the lack of an eye bothered the man overmuch. "Let me see your face, girl." Taliah pulled back her hood as the Captain took the lantern from the now much more humble lieutenant. "What's your name."
Taliah pulled her hood back, her intense gaze locking with the Captain's and the man's brow furrowed slightly. "You're awful young to be of the Silver Hand, girl. You've seen what, twenty-two winters?" Gyrus' voice was deeply suspicious.
"Twenty-one of the longest winters I care to recall, Captain." Taliah replied "I served with Gavinrad at Anderhal and Vargus at the Sunwell. I serve Lord Fordring now." She held up the missive "The False King stirs once more." The Captain's eyes widened and he took the sealed missive.
"I will deliver this to His Majesty myself, my Lady." Gyrus put a foot to his courser's stirrup and swung up. "He will judge the worth of it. Lieutenant Sarne, take the paladin and her escort off the beach and keep them out of the public eye." With a jerk of the reins, the Captain spun his mount and Taliah listened the crack of shod hooves on cobbles grow fainter as the horse and rider disappeared into the night.
The lieutenant seemed to forget his earlier attitude and led them from the beach to a small barracks to wait. It was made of stone and mortar, with two stories and multiple hearths, only one of which was lit. Taliah accepted a cup of tea from one of the guards while Necrucian shook his cloaked head when offered the same.
"The Captain…" Necrucian spoke in a low whisper as he and Taliah stood at the hearth. They were alone but for the lieutenant and his two companions, though they were across the room. "He's a son of Lordaeron."
"Aye." The paladin replied softly "His accent was thick enough to be of Stratholme or Havenshire. Anyone from the North knows 'The False King'."
To Taliah the wait seemed interminable long, and it was a full bell before a great clatter of shod hooves thundered up to the barracks yard. The Captain burst in the door and Taliah could hear the team of horses snorting and blowing outside. "A coach has been sent for you and your companion, my lady. You are to take it at once. His Majesty awaits."
The paladin thanked the Captain and pulled up the hood of her cloak once more, stepping out into the chill night. A team of six lovely greys stood tossing their heads, a covered coach behind them. Two additional riders, wearing light armour and carrying lanterns sat atop bay coursers and stood near the lead pair of horses. Gyrus opened the door and offered his hand and helped her inside, Necrucian embarking behind her. The carriage was well appointed but empty, save for the paladin and the deathknight, and as soon as the door closed, the driver was away at a trot. Though it was night, the curtains were drawn inside the coach, and Taliah was thankful for it. A small lantern inside lit the interior with warm, gentle light and the paladin ran her finger over the gold-gilt window frame. The seats were blue velvet with silver piping and Taliah resisted the urge to put her sandy boots upon them. "This is royal livery…" Necrucian commented, looking up at the ceiling and noting the meticulously hand painted hunting-scene depiction thereon. "I didn't think Fordring's name carried that much weight down in the Southlands."
Taliah said nothing and three-quarters of a bell passed before the coach stopped. The door opened and a palace guard in resplendent livery awaited them. He saluted Taliah but cast an unsure eye at Necrucian, still concealed in his cloak, and conducted them to two immense, gilt-and-ivory doors. No one challenged them or asked questions and the doors were opened immediately to receive them. They were ushered quickly past the foyer and their steps were loud in the marble halls of the palace. It was late and the corridors were mostly deserted, for which Taliah was immensely thankful. When they got to the Throne Room, they were directed through a door behind the throne itself, though at first glance it seemed only a part of the marble wall itself. It opened into smaller, more intimate receiving room, and in the center stood Varian Wrynn.
It was obvious that he'd been awakened for the occasion, as he wore nothing more ceremonial than a simple white tunic of fine linen and a pair of calfskin beaches. A hand-and-a half rode the scabbard at his hip. Brawny arms crossed over his chest, his scarred face wore a profound scowl. The paladin and the deathknight drew within six paces and then took a knee, bowing their heads to the King of Stormwind.
"This had better be good." Wrynn looked down at the two cloaked figures. "Where is Tirion Fordring's message?" Bolvar Fordragon stood a few paces behind the King, hastily dressed in a brown linen tunic and green wool breaches and Taliah had to remind herself not to stare at the man. Beside her, Necrucian slowly got to his feet.
"Your Majesty, I am the message." He pulled back his cowl, revealing his grey face, pale hair and glowing blue eyes. "I am Necrucian, former minion of the Lich King, now a freed man and emissary for the Knights of the Ebon Blade, and I bring dire news from the North."
Varian cursed and there was a collective gasp from the other men in the room. Wrynn's sword cleared leather as did those of his guards, but Taliah stepped between the King and the deathknight. "Let the deathknight speak." She growled, her face concealed by the dark cloak she wore and her voice was commanding though her heart hammered in her chest. Wrynn's eyes narrowed and his empty hand came up, ordering his guards to sheath their weapons. The men, Bolvar included, looked at each other in confusion before they obeyed.
"The Lich King marshalled ten-thousand undead and attacked Light's Hope Chapel, simply to draw out Tirion Fordring. In his hubris, he underestimated the power of the consecrated ground he lay siege to, and his cadre of First Knights were freed. The Ashbringer is once more in the hands of the Righteous, and Arthas was driven off." The deathknight said "I have been tasked by Highlord Mograine and Tirion Fordring to warn you of the doom that rises in the North, and to lend whatever tactical aid is required. Tirion believes the Lich King will strike the Eastern Kingdoms, and soon. We were ambushed at Tarren Mill my Liege, and the dispatches I was tasked to give only to you were taken by the Forsaken. I was under orders to commit their contents to memory, and I have."
The King turned to his guards "Highlord Bolvar. Tomorrow we will meet in the War Room, but for tonight, make sure the deathknight receives whatever he requires. Have the chamberlain find him suitable quarters. He is a guest of the Crown and will be treated as such." The men snapped-to and Necrucian gave Taliah a wary look as he was escorted away. Bolvar looked questioningly to his King but bowed before following the deathknight from the chamber. When the receiving room had emptied, the King sheathed his sword and the silence in the room grew oppressive.
"It has been a long journey, Your Highness." Taliah finally spoke, wanting nothing more to do with the room or the man inside it, though she somehow managed to keep her tone neutral "I have fought Scourge, Forsaken, Seasickness and Naga to bring the deathknight before you, and my duty is done. By your leave, I will retire to an inn." Wrynn stepped forward and reached out, pushing back the cowl that concealed her face. Taliah did not raise her head to look at the man, only glowered from beneath her brows.
"You have your mother's face." The King said with a rueful smile. He reached out a calloused, scarred-knuckled hand to touch the young woman's face, but she pulled back, her eyes flashing in warning. Their grey eyes locked; while she may have had her mother's cheekbones, her eyes, ebon hair and chin were all her father's. He was not as her mother had described – this man was scarred, his eyes intense like those of a bird of prey, not the smooth faced one with expressive eyes her mother remembered. "You came all this way only leave?"
"Why should I not?" She replied coolly. "You did. I am merely carrying on the tradition." Her words were like a slap in the face, and whatever Wrynn had expected from her, this had obviously not been it. "I thank you, belatedly, for the fine sword and destrier you gave me on my tenth birthday, King Varian. They have both served me well. And now, by your leave, I will be gone."
"You don't have my leave to go." Wrynn replied firmly "Does it pain you that much to call me 'father'?"
"You are blood. It doesn't make you family. The only 'father' I had died at Anderhal, when Arthas shoved three feet of cursed blade through his chest." Taliah's words near froze the air "Why is this so fucking important to you?"
"Do you not think I haven't wondered every day for the last ten years if you were still alive? Until three years ago, your mother didn't even know!" Varian ran a hand over his scarred face in frustration. This was not how he'd wanted things to go.
"The only family I had died on the battlefield when Arthas came back from Northrend." She snapped back in reply "I have reconciled with my mother; you were the one who told her I would not be safe outside of the Silver Hand's protection. You damned me to this life!" her voice lowered to a growl "And while you have been living in this-" the paladin gestured disdainfully to the richly appointed room "I have been fighting for a dead king in a dead country that everyone but the Argent Dawn has forgotten about."
"You have no idea what I've been through the last ten years, Taliah." Wrynn's temper was fraying and the two stood toe-to-toe glaring at each other "But this is not the time to speak of this. Will you take quarters in the Palace, or will you run from this like a coward?" The paladin's lips pulled back from her straight, white teeth in a silent snarl as she bristled.
"Be thankful you are a King." The young woman grated "The last man to question my honour got a broken nose for his troubles."
"There will be a steward in the Throne Room awaiting you. He will show you to your quarters." Taliah turned on her heel without a word in reply and walked off with angry strides, slamming the heavy door behind her.