Chapter Two: Alexston

A haggard old man stood at the top of the hill in a haggard old town. The midday sun beat mercilessly down on him despite the wintry breezes, like it was intent on roasting him alive inside the heavy plate armor he wore. If the heat had fazed him in any way, he hadn't made it known, as he silently stood and gazed over the worn and beaten town. Behind him, the tall tower that served as his garrison rose stolidly as if to imitate the man that stood at its base. The Sentinel of Sentinel Hill, they called him. He had to admit, he rather liked the title.

Gryan Stoutmantle had watched over the settlement since the first settlers inhabited the once-green plains of Westfall. At one point in his life he had resented his charge, wanting nothing more than to return to the city of Stormwind, but time had changed his perspective as it ravaged his body, and now he called this place his home. Even now, as the rolling green hills of grasslands began to fade into desolate stretches of dust, he found he wouldn't have changed a thing. These were his people, and his sworn duty was to protect them.

His job had been made that much harder when the Defias Brotherhood came. Day after day, fresh waves of cutthroats stormed into Sentinel Hill, looking to beat them into submission. Stoutmantle held fast in his duty, and his men rallied to his side, but the fighting was beginning to take its toll—his efforts were needed elsewhere in the province, but he was unable to answer the calls for aid. Frightened townsfolk cowering in their homes and farmers fleeing their steads with horse-drawn wagons in tow were sadly common sights in the Westfall of today, and his soldiers' morale was beginning to falter. Dust storms wracked the plains and hard-worked fields of crops, and even the mechanical aides of the farms were starting to malfunction, going haywire and maiming farmhands who were unfortunate enough to be working nearby.

He'd sent word to Stormwind asking for the city's aid in solving the myriad problems that continued to spring up in Westfall, but no response had made it back to him, and the days dragged on as he waited. Travelers stopping into Sentinel Hill spoke of worrying news in the provinces neighboring Westfall; worgen invading the woods across the river... orcs in the mountains northeast. With reports like those, Stoutmantle wasn't sure if he would ever get reinforcements.

A stiff breeze played at his tabard, the deep blue cloth fluttering in the cold wind. He looked down into the eyes of the lion emblem boldly embroidered on the garment. His shield rested against the wall atop the ramp leading into the garrison, the same lion emblem adorning its front side. The light reflected across its features, and a flash of pride shot through his chest. He would make do with what he had, and Light be willing, no amount of Defias would take this town while he yet drew breath. His youth may have left him, but his arms were still strong, and he could still swing a blade.

Brief flickers of movement in his peripheral vision renewed his watchful gaze and brought it across to the town's graveyard, nestled between two tall hills. Bright flashes of sunlight played across steel swords as men cloaked in shadow quickly darted between headstones. Stoutmantle sneered at the sight.

"Militia, to my side!" he called, removing his own sword from its sheath in a quick motion. He brought his shield to bear in his other hand. "The Defias come for us again!"

'The high walls of Stormwind never ceased to amaze me in my youth. The city seemed impenetrable, and any time I crossed into its borders, a sense of safety washed over me. Our little band, with its newest member, had made it there without any further issue, as the sun swung low on the horizon.'

Simonee gawked in amazement as he passed underneath the monolithic statues that stood tall above the bridge leading into Stormwind. The guardians of the realm of old watched over the travelers into and out of the city, promising protection from harm. Below them, a deep moat of the deepest blue waters lapped at the banks that contained it, and upon those embankments were easygoing fishermen and women, lazily eyeing the bobbers of the lines they cast into the water. Fair winds brought with them the scent of sea life, as well as the bright white figures of seagulls flying overhead, from the opposite side of the city and the harbor built there.

Soldiers wearing the regalia of the city patrolled the bridge, ever vigilant as they scanned the faces of anyone crossing in search of those who might not wish to be seen. As far as Simonee could tell, the only other people occupying the bridge was an orphanage matron leading her children to see the giant statues that were erected upon it. The little ones wore expressions of pure awe as they stared at the faces of Azeroth's protectors, and Simonee smiled at their innocence. He silently hoped that none of them would ever be subjected to the kinds of things the sentinels above them had worked at protecting them from. At the far end of the bridge, a well-built man sat upon an equally well-built white stallion with his hands resting on the pommel of his sheathed blade. The deep blue cloth of the horse's barding rippled as it restlessly shook its mane. Above the man, a wall as tall as any Simonee had ever seen rose high into the nearly cloudless sky, carrying the archers and guardsmen that would defend the city from assault. The day was almost over, and the sun began to hide behind the stone structure. Splashes of pink streaked through the deepening blue sky, painting the few clouds that floated across in wonderful arrays of hues.

Simonee drank the sights in, reveling in the city's splendor as they swiftly walked across the stone pathway leading inward beneath the parapets. As the five of them crossed into the city proper, it almost seemed like they had moved into another dimension entirely. The wide streets were crowded as throngs of people jostled their way between the shops of the trade district. Small two-story buildings lined the main thoroughfare into the city, and the flickering flames of the candles that lit their interiors blazed out through their smoky glass windows. Large lampposts punctuated the intersection that cut across the huge lane leading further in—to the left led to the grand auction house of the city and the trade district's tavern and inn, and to the right led out to the canals, through which travelers could access the rest of Stormwind's districts. The street ahead ended in a rounded lane that circled a single tree with a thick trunk and glorious branches that extended outward and hung over the pavement. In front of the tree, Simonee could barely see another mounted guard standing watch through the sea of busy citizens going about their business.

All around them, banners of red and green had been hung from the sides of the buildings and across the great tree in the center of the district, marking the celebration of Winter's Veil. The event itself was still at least a few weeks away, but Stormwind had always been dressed in each holiday's finest, well before it was actually called for.

Simonee and his group slowly wended their way through the chaos of the trade district, picking through the crowds and eventually emerging into the canals that separated the mostly self-contained provinces of the city. They all sported new bumps and bruises from wayward arms and legs, and Dagerly nursed one such injury with a tender hand.

"If I didn't have a headache before, I certainly do now," he groaned with a notable irritation in his voice. "So tell me again, who are we supposed to see here?" Simonee turned to look at the rogue, whose expression echoed the frustration he spoke with. A hand clutched at his head and his brow was furrowed into a deep scowl.

"Baros Alexston. He's in the Cathedral square, operating as chief architect," the mage replied, steadying his pace with his staff.

Hoardale, who had taken to polishing a crystal of deep purple, looked up with an eyebrow raised. Before the group had begun crossing the bridge into the city, he had dismissed Zalla in favor of walking alone; he wasn't afraid of wearing his skill set on his sleeve, but he knew enough to realize that a demon being seen walking in a crowd was generally how panics got started. "The cathedral? You always take me to the nicest places," he quipped as he refocused his attention to the crystal. "Nothing I like more than walking into a crowd of Light-botherers. Really reminds me of home."

Simonee chuckled slightly. On top of his dealings in the mages' library, Hoardale had gotten into his fair share of theological arguments with the residents of the massive church building for which their destination had gotten its name. He remembered a couple that had even nearly gone to blows. "You're welcome to go on your own until we've finished with our discussion, if you'd like," Simonee said, his tone only half-mocking.

The warlock seemed to consider this for a moment or two before replying. "Nah," he said. He replaced the crystal in the pack he'd taken it from. "This should be interesting enough to warrant the visit."

The canals of the city were breathtaking, but not for the water within. Simonee had heard tales in his travels of crocolisks taking up residence within, or monsters made of slime rising from their depths. He didn't put much stock in the stories, but wasn't naive enough to believe that the water was clean. Vagrants who'd taken to living on the streets of Stormwind often used it as a bath, and gondolas that glided across the still moats often bore passengers that held no scruples against dumping waste overboard. The real draw of the canals for Simonee was the stonework that contained it all. Simple, yet elegant stone bridges spanned the gaps between districts, and small wooden docks lined the sides. Fishermen often flocked to the docks, casting lines for bait fish to use in the larger moat at the entrance to the city, or the sea to the west of it.

A few more moments of walking had seen the group to the entrance of the cathedral district, directly across from the trade district. They navigated the street into the large overhang that covered the intersection leading inside. When they emerged, Simonee could hear Hoardale scoff.

The cathedral rose above them directly ahead, its spires reaching into the heavens as if the building wished to commune with the Light itself. The Pale Lady shimmered softly behind the main tower, and its glow wrapped around it like a mother's warm embrace. Simonee had always found the building and its gilded tips a little too ostentatious for his liking, but he still respected the craftsmanship that had gone into it. The church itself was wide, deep, and tall, with vaulted ceilings covering the interior in a shallow attempt to humble those who entered. Massive stained glass windows depicting various historic paladins and priests dominated the back wall of the chapel, and directly before them, a comparatively small wooden altar-slash-lectern had been erected, facing outward to an incredible number of darkly-stained wooden pews. Even from the entrance to the square, through the chapel's open doors, Simonee could spot the austere colors of the windows shining in the moonlight. Outside, three spires had been lifted atop the church, the central being the tallest by far, even dwarfing the very walls of the city. Simonee was sure he could have spotted it from the Redridge Mountains without much work.

Before the cathedral lay the chapel gardens, which was Simonee's favorite thing about the district by far. The trees almost looked like they'd been transplanted from Darnassus itself, and the flowers that bloomed underneath splayed open with whimsical colors. Despite the temperatures of winter, the gardens always looked their best, and Simonee had taken to the sneaking suspicion that they were magically tended to, so that they appeared timeless.

Aeriah stepped ahead of the group and took in the sights, seemingly in his element. A wide smile crossed his face and he closed his eyes. "Absolutely beautiful," he murmured.

"Have you ever been to the city, Aeriah?" Aubs asked as she looked on with a humored glint in her eyes.

The druid took another relaxed breath. "I have, but I've never been to this specific corner," he replied. "I have to wonder what else I've missed here, if this is the first time I've laid eyes on these gardens."

"Well, there is a park district nearby. I daresay it's not as tacky as all of this," Hoardale said, waving his arms to seemingly indicate the entire cathedral square. "For example, the gardens there are actually seasonal."

Aeriah opened his eyes and continued smiling, gazing into the boughs of the tree he'd walked under. "These are not tacky," he commented. "All of nature's bounties are stunning. Even these."

He took in the gardens for a few moments longer before rejoining the group as they navigated around the gardens and toward a long building that sported two entryways.

"That there is the orphanage," Simonee explained as he noticed Aeriah's confusion. He pointed to the left-handed doorway that lay open, spilling orange candlelight onto the darkened masonry the building rested on. "But this side is where we'll likely find Alexston," he continued, indicating the right-hand door. It was closed, but through the windows and the small gap at the door's bottom, Simonee could see the same flickering orange light. A wooden sign hung over the portal, swinging gently in the light breeze. Scrawled on it in some sort of metallic ink was a crest and the words 'Stormwind Masons Guild'.

Simonee ascended the small set of wooden stairs that preceded the door and knocked firmly on the wooden portal. Moments later, the door creaked open and behind, a slightly portly man in simple clothing peered out at them. He looked to be middle aged, with a large bald spot dominating the top of his head, otherwise occupied by wisps of light brown hair streaked through with gray. His hazel eyes appraised them from behind thick-rimmed spectacles, and a thick goatee encompassed the thin line that indicated his mouth.

Sensing that the man expected him to speak his business, Simonee introduced himself. "Greetings. My name is Simon Everblaze, and I've been summoned to speak with Master Alexston, regarding the contents of this missive," he said, holding out the letter he'd received.

The man looked him over again before motioning the group inside. The interior of this half of the building was adorned simply. Straightforward brass fixings held thick wax candlesticks to the wall directly next to the door frame, which cast their light across the rest of the room. On the walls across from the door, wide bookshelves had been lined up side by side, full to their limits with tomes of varying sizes. From a cursory glance, Simonee read the titles of a few of them, realizing that the majority of these were architectural books and writings on culture. In the middle of the room were tables and desks, the tops of which had been littered with scrolls and inkwells that still held quills inside of them. The quills themselves looked haggard and well used, and feathers had been missing from a couple. A broad tapestry displaying the crest of Stormwind hung from the wall to his left, and in front of that was the cleanest desk of the lot.

"You've come looking for Baros Alexston, and you've found him," the man said after he closed the door behind Hoardale, who had hesitated for a moment before entering, sparing another disinterested glance around the square. "I'm rather glad you've brought allies, because things are a mess."

Simonee checked his tongue before making a comment about the state of the room, and watched as the man crossed it in a few long strides, stopping at the desk beneath the tapestry. As he did, Simonee finally noticed the open letter that rested on it. The broken wax seal on the edges wasn't one that he recognized. Alexston took the letter in a meaty hand and strode back to face the mage.

"I received this a few days ago... accompanied by this," he began, producing a second letter from a small pack that hung at his waist. A second, equally unidentifiable seal adorned this one. "My old friend Gryan Stoutmantle is requesting reinforcements for Sentinel Hill. A group calling themselves the Defias Brotherhood has been claiming responsibility for attacks occurring at the settlement, as I told you in the letter I sent you. However, what I did not tell you is that the Defias are not a new group of bandits. Rather, they are an old sect of allies that segregated themselves from this very city, years ago."

Simonee listened attentively, raising his eyebrow at the last comment. "What makes you think that, Master Alexston?" he asked.

Alexston raised the second letter, handing it to Simonee. "This missive, and those that came before it," he replied as the mage took it and read.

Dear friend Baros,

I had hoped you would join the Brotherhood in our fight for reparation, but it appears you still serve the tight-pursed masters that spurned us. It is my hope that this final correspondence persuades you to join our cause, for it won't be long before the so-called leaders of Stormwind learn the depths of their folly. There is still hope for you, old friend, but if you disregard this last attempt at outreach, I will have to number you among our enemy. It would pain me to do such a thing, but I will do as I must.

EVC

The parchment the letter had been written on was stained dark brown in places. Noticing this, Simonee asked about it.

"That missive came with another package," Alexston replied, scrutinizing the mage. "That package has since been disposed of, but rest assured that it's nothing you would have wished to see." Simonee nodded. He had seen enough in the world that he could guess what sort of thing would make such stains.

Alexston took the letter back before handing Simonee the one that had been on the desk. "This is what I received from Stoutmantle. Bundled with his missive is a letter of recommendation. Stormwind can't send any official reinforcements to Sentinel Hill with her forces stretched so thin as it is, and even worse, the Crown Prince and his advisers don't want the information I've just shared with you to become public," he said, before lifting his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

"I've put my trust in you with this task because of your ability to sort out problems, and because of your decorum in handling business. That is why I ask you to represent Stormwind and aid the people of Sentinel Hill. I shouldn't have to tell you that this is rather time-sensitive, as you've read the letter. I've already requested gryphons to send you there swiftly."

Simonee's head swam with questions, but he settled on asking one. "Sir, if I may ask, what does 'EVC' mean?"

Alexston leveled another appraising look at the mage before answering, as if gauging his worth. "They're initials, son. They stand for Edwin VanCleef."

The chief architect outlined the basic situation surrounding VanCleef briefly. The man had been the previous leader of the Masons Guild, in charge of rebuilding Stormwind City after the Second War left it ravaged. The city's coffers had been nearly emptied by the war efforts and as such couldn't afford the exorbitant amount VanCleef was adamant on charging them. With their refusal to pay, he'd taken a large amount of his workers and left the city. After that, no one had ever heard word of him again, until he'd sent a letter to Alexston asking for his allegiance, as well as his ear and newfound influence in the city.

Simonee listened to the tale, all the while fighting the urge to ask the multitude of questions that continued to spring up in his mind. He began to regret that choice when Alexston finished briefing them, as the architect quickly shooed them back out into the chapel garden, and told them that they would be leaving the next morning. He had shoved the papers into Simonee's hands and quietly shut the door in a manner that suggested he'd been afraid of eavesdroppers.

Now that they were back outside, the brisk temperature fell back around their shoulders, chilling Simonee to his core. He shivered slightly as he exhaled. He willed his inner magic into focus and used it to warm his body just enough to be comfortable. Satisfied with his work, he turned to the group.

"Well, it appears we're staying here for the night," he said before the inanity of the statement fully hit him. He continued on, disregarding it. "It's probably best we get prepared for the trip now. No telling if we'll have time before we leave tomorrow."

Dagerly was holding his arms in an attempt to keep himself warm. He had begun looking more and more miserable as the day dragged on, and the cold wasn't doing him any favors. "Sounds like a plan," he muttered, looking around the district as if he expected some sort of ambush that wasn't forthcoming. "I'm going to find something warmer to wear, for a start. Turns out this leather doesn't do much for that sort of thing."

Simonee nodded. "One more thing," he began, as a thought crept into his mind. "No drinking tonight, please."

Dagerly eyed him as if he'd started a diatribe in Gutterspeak. "No drinking? What else is there to do in this blasted city?" he asked, waving his arms around indignantly.

The rogue was greeted by Simonee's sternest gaze. "I mean it. This matter sounds rather serious, and I don't think we need a hangover to make things worse."

Scoffing, Dagerly sullenly nodded his head in agreement. "Alright, alright," he grunted as he shuffled off in the direction of the trade district. Aubs barely stifled a chuckle as she watched him walk.

Satisfied that he got his point across, Simonee yawned and followed after him.

"Poor little booze hound," Aubs said in a whisper as she fell in beside him. A wicked grin lightened her face. "I almost feel sorry for him."

"Well, he's seen and done a lot... and not all of it was pleasant. I figure he uses ale as a coping mechanism," Simonee chided. He smiled inwardly despite himself. Something about Aubrey's enthusiasm was infectious. "If I wasn't worried about him getting wasted before our little flight tomorrow, I probably wouldn't have said anything at all."

Aubs seemed to consider his words, and they walked the rest of the way to the trade district in silence. Simonee looked at the stars in the sky and a pang of exhaustion washed over him.

Somewhere deep in his mind, a voice told him that this new mission was going to be anything but short and simple.

A/N – On Continuity: For the past two chapters, I've been having a ton of fun trying to keep story beats intact while expanding and adjusting things to better suit the current state of my writing 'voice', up to and including the ongoing framing narrative. I've been trying to keep a lot of the dialogue and reactions at least kind of similar to how they were originally written, and it's certainly an interesting challenge, because at the same time, I'm also trying to give each character their own personalities—something I completely failed to do in the original story, and a large reason why I'm undertaking this project. I'm also writing over and around the fact that the original story was an homage to a guild that I created ten years ago, and the sort of third-wall breaking I did back then grates on the present me. All of the old characters will still be present, but introduced differently, as was the case with Aubs last chapter. At any rate, I hope you're all enjoying this retelling, and thanks for reading!