Shortly after.

Unsurprisingly, Uther had been content to delay the impending council in favor of seeking out wounded to tend. Jaina could hardly argue with that impulse. He had ordered Arthas to do the same before setting off, accompanied by Falric while his former-pupil glared daggers at his retreating back. The three of them were instructed to return to the Keep within half an hour. Arthas had met her eyes before departing, gaze filled with anger and bitterness. Albeit not directed at her, she thought.

The Scourge appeared to have been decisively scoured from Hearthglen. With no further battles to be fought at this time, and no supernatural ability to heal, the mage opted to await the others within a corner of the great hall. Uther had managed to recruit additional light-users since they had last encountered him at Strahnbrad, boding well for the injured, she hoped.

Mardenholde had as much activity as might be expected following a successful siege-breaking. Soldier and civilian alike routinely showered her with praise, and while this made Jaina mildly uncomfortable, she would smile and attempt to return the sentiment in kind.

Wrapped up in her own thoughts, the sorceress did not immediately notice the approach of a familiar figure. "Your timing was impeccable, Jaina."

She stood. "Thank you, Falric. But 'impeccable' would have meant that I returned in time to defend with the rest of you." He extended an arm, which Jaina reached for, expecting a shake. To her surprise, the warrior instead clasped her forearm, a gesture of considerable respect. She likewise took hold of his bracer.

Falric smiled, "none would have striven harder. Of that, I have no doubt. And you succeeded nonetheless, do not forget that. Hearthglen survives because of you. All of us owe you a great debt."

Jaina was not entirely certain how to respond to such sincere, significant praise. "I appreciate the sentiment, but there is no need for that sort of talk. I was in the right place at the proper time, and merely did what any decent person would have. There is no debt to be repaid."

The Captain shook his head and sighed. "Humility. Too often a rare trait, one that many could use a demonstration thereof." The words almost appeared spoken more to himself than her. To whom he referred was immediately apparent, needless to say.

"Falric. What happened?" Jaina asked, carefully.

He was silent for a moment, though seemed to have deduced her allusion. "Nothing, I am beginning to fear. Rather, present circumstances may have brought to light what many have been blind towards, myself included. Hard times can reveal one's true nature like nothing else: make and/or break you, as it were. You understand this well by now, I don't doubt.

"Arthas has been champing at the bit for a significant field command for years, you know this. That it was a time of relative peace until recently did not temper this entitlement, nor the fact that he was woefully unproven and unprepared for such duties, as should have been apparent to most observers. King Terenas and Highlord Uther had been intending to find an opportunity of sorts for some time. I had misgivings, which I didn't voice and are meaningless as a result.

"It has become abundantly clear that Arthas was not ready for any command, yet he has been thrust into a pivotal role in a conflict with hitherto unknown foes. He did not deserve this unintended burden, and any resulting consequences are the responsibility of his mentors and superiors as much as himself." The veteran smiled, sadly. "It might once have been said that you brought out the best in him. Now, I suspect it may be more accurate to say that you instead hid the worst. That is not to suggest you are in any way accountable for his actions - he is an adult, after all. Ostensibly.

"Arthas has stubbornness rather than tenacity, unfortunately. Along with plenty of courage and resolve. He also lacks restraint, wisdom and analytical ability, as you are fully aware. I was already concerned that his driving motivation may have been twisting away from protection and service to his people, towards vengeance and destruction of his foes, without him any the wiser. And then the last few hours happened." Falric fell silent.

"Tell me." Jaina pressed.

"We will debrief shortly, you will hear all soon enough. For now, suffice it to say that I doubt any defender is entirely unshaken by what we have seen and faced."

She nodded, accepting the delay. Falric proceeded, "if he does his duty, then his motives are his own. I hope that I have misjudged him to at least some degree, however."

"As do I."

He glanced towards the entryway, face hardening somewhat. "Should Lordaeron be saved, his father will be expecting evaluation from both Uther and myself. Even independently, I suspect each of us will provide the same conclusion: Arthas is unfit to rule."

The mage had expected as much. "I think that has been emphatically proven to most observers at this point."

Falric inclined his head. "King Terenas would have little choice but to name Calia his heir. Or seek out some more distant relative."

Jaina raised a brow. "Would Calia as Queen be such a bad thing? She is amongst the most compassionate people I have met." And a friend for many years, not merely due to her association with Arthas.

The warrior smiled. "True enough. There would be much for her to learn, but perhaps she was always the better option." Falric sighed heavily, "questions for another day. For now, I fear that nothing short of being forcibly sent back to the capital would tear Arthas from his warpath. I can do little more than work to ensure that or remain at his side and attempt to rein him in where possible.

"Of course," she opened her mouth to say more, only to notice another arrival.

"Falric, Jaina!" Taelan Fordring approached, offering the same warrior's shake to both. He then grinned at her, "I daresay you may have grown tired of adulation by now, so I will leave it at thanks."

Jaina could not help laughing out loud at that, in spite - or perhaps because - of present circumstances. Taelan followed, and even Falric chuckled. "You are welcome, Taelan." she replied. This particular paladin had proven competent, insightful and charming. Not unattractive either. Outside of the current crisis, she might not have minded spending more time in his company.

Before more words could be shared, chatter around the hall briefly ceased, a glance to the entryway revealing Arthas. There was a smattering of 'your Highness' and 'Prince Arthas,' along with a few nods and even what looked to be a few wary stares. Then the moment ended and previous activity resumed. Hardly the desired reception, judging by the scowl and thunderous face of the recipient.

Upon noticing them, Arthas made his way over, face a mask of poorly-concealed fury. Taelan nodded, while Falric stared hard and Jaina attempted to school her features into neutrality. He had scarcely reached them when the room erupted into cheering.

"Highlord Uther!"

"Hail the Highlord!"

"Light bless you, Uther!" To name a few.

The Paladin-general nodded, a slight smile visible on his face. "Light bless you all. Well fought - you are the true heroes." he called, prompting even more exuberant uproar while Arthas clenched his free hand into a fist.

Uther moved towards them, clapped on his armor all the way. He gave the four of them an inscrutable look. "Upstairs," he turned and headed in that direction without a backward glance. Arthas hurried to lead her and the other two, and Jaina could only shake her head at the antic.


The five filed into the audience hall. Jaina was the last to enter and closed the door behind before standing parallel to the others. Uther regarded the three defenders for a time, before his face softened slightly. "I'm surprised you held it together as long as you did," he began, the words were directed at all, it seemed. Hardly an unreasonable thing to say, but as Uther opened his mouth to proceed, he was interrupted.

"Look, I did the best I could, Uther!" Arthas lashed out. "If I'd had a legion of knights riding at my back, I would've-"

"Silence!" growled the older paladin. Even after Arthas had so thoroughly revealed his true self to her, she was taken aback by the sheer, flagrant disrespect displayed. A quick glance confirmed Taelan was shocked, while Falric was more affronted than anything else. "I expected you to know better than to choke on false pride, Arthas." continued Uther, a cold edge to his voice that almost made Jaina shiver. "You forget your place."

"My 'place?'"

"Indeed. Unless you wish to find yourself a footman. A most honorable charge, of course, which any should be proud of. Though hardly what you feel entitled to, clearly."

Arthas visibly seethed, complete with flushing and twitching. Surely smoke would have emerged from his mouth and nostrils were it possible. However, he held his tongue. She derived some satisfaction from seeing him so humbled.

If the same was true of Uther - which she doubted - he gave no sign, seemingly content to brush off the matter. "Now," he resumed. "I require an account of the siege, sparing no detail."

None of the three spoke. Taelan had seemingly overcome his surprise and stared at Arthas with narrowed eyes, while Falric appeared to be giving his commander a meaningful look. Finally, Arthas appeared to muster enough of his shattered ego to begin. He took a deep breath, and in a slow, almost halting tone started to speak. First with preparations made, before progressing to the battle itself. Relatively little time was spent in self-adulation, indicative of his troubled state of mind.

"Then... they sent another form of undead at us. One we haven't fought before." Arthas paused, seeming to struggle to go on. From what Jaina had heard thus far, the lack of competence demonstrated by Arthas was far from encouraging, as expected. Even enemy use of siege engines to launch corpses was - while absolutely abhorrent - hardly surprising, along with him being less troubled by the event than he should have been. Now, she felt foreboding and suspicion at his hesitance.

"Yes, Arthas?" Uther had questioned relatively little thus far, though his bearing conveyed steadily increasing ire, if Jaina were any judge. She had no doubt that intense scrutiny was coming, and a little relieved that such was not directed at herself. Now, the Highlord's own gaze had become suspicious, and that of Falric appeared to sharpen.

"It flew. A monstrous bat, the size and almost the shape of a human. These were fast, able to spew some foul sorcery at a distance." Likely another foul experiment by Kel'Thuzad. She would need to inquire further, but that could wait for now. "They... attacked the trebuchet."

"Go on." Uther prompted, though his pupil's difficulty proceeding remained. "Out with it, Arthas."

This galvanized a response, though to her surprise it may have been more resolve than resentment. "The things closed, attacking the engines and crews with fang and claw. So...I ordered the archers to target them."

Jaina blinked for a moment, stunned. What?! She absently noticed similar reactions from Uther and Taelan, in the instant that it took for fury to suffuse her. The sorceress spun towards Arthas and thrust an open, suddenly glowing hand forward, unleashing an arcane blast that launched him into opposite wall with a crash. Taelan and Falric instinctively jerked backward with alarmed vocalizations, not that they were in any danger.

A second gesture summoned a frigid beam that froze her target to the wall before he could attempt to regain his feet. Admittedly, Arthas appeared too dazed to try for the moment. "I warned you!" she snarled.

"Jaina!" Uther exclaimed, raising a placating hand. Her focus did not waver, but she lowered her own, while retaining the nimbus of energy around it; too incensed to release the power just yet.

Arthas began to emit the golden aura of the light, which almost fizzled out. Out of the corner of her eye, Jaina thought she saw Uther's mask of caged fury be replaced with surprise for a moment. The younger paladin's face twisted and he redoubled his efforts. This time the spell held, her ice rent by luminous cracks before crumbling to the floor.

Free, Arthas stood and met her eyes, his possibly containing more regret than anything else. He was only able to meet her withering glare a moment before averting, which she found satisfying, perhaps pettily. "I could never fight you, Jaina." His gaze then swept the room, "I am the last to wish my people harm, as all should agree. Our archers are as skilled as any, and did their utmost to avoid harming our own. Should I have yielded our most vital weapons? What choice did I have? What would any of you have done?"

"Yet your trebuchet lie in ruins nonetheless," hissed Jaina. "Last to wish your people harm, is it? A poor subterfuge, Arthas. Even should that statement be believed, it does not in any way imply you are unwilling to place them in harm's way, as you have consistently proven!"

Before a reply could be made, Uther interjected, "I know you were not present at that segment, Taelan." That man did not respond, staring at Arthas with an amalgamation of shock, betrayal and anger. "Falric," the Highlord continued, "what have you to say?"

The Captain sighed, "Arthas, the engines were clearly lost."

"I didn't believe that!"

The Captain made to respond, as did Taelan it seemed. "Enough." Uther stated firmly, before they or her could speak. "This will be revisited," he stared at his onetime pupil with thinly-veiled wrath, which Arthas returned without yield. "For now, continue the report."

Falric took up the thread, while Arthas remained uncharacteristically subdued. She was alarmed at the appearance of yet another undead variety. "Jaina, have you heard anything of these grave-spiders before?" Uther interjected.

The mage shook her head, "no, nothing."

"I feared as much. Nonetheless, we have gained some valuable tactical details regarding the scourge. Hardly worth this tragic event, but it will do some good once disseminated." The paladin motioned for Falric to proceed.

Little later, they came to the most troubling detail yet. "A shadowed figure?" Jaina found herself interrupting.

The warrior nodded. "It stood half again as tall as a man, perhaps. Clearly humanoid, though little else could be divined as to its nature. They were powerful - summoning green flame to hands and casting a fireball of that same color. That was how the gate fell."

Jaina sucked in a breath. She had noticed the destroyed gate of course, but had been too preoccupied with their foes to give it much attention at the time. Not unreasonably, the others looked to her for clarification. "I know of only one form of magic matching that descriptor: fel."

Uther and Falric appeared unsurprised, though understandably grim. "Fel?" Arthas asked cluelessly, though a little gentler than his previous words to the others.

"Occasionally dubbed 'chaos magic.' More often referred to with the colloquialism 'demonic,' due to association." she spoke brusquely.

"Demons." Arthas said, slowly, before rounding on Uther. "That orc told us demons were coming!" he snarled. "You dismissed the possibility. When I questioned, you dismissed me!"

"You overstate your own objections at the time, Arthas. But are otherwise correct, clearly I made a mistake." Uther replied. There it is. Responsibility, Arthas. "Jaina," he continued, "it would not surprise me if you have forgotten more about demons and their magics than the three of us know together. Enlighten us, please."

"I fear I may need to disappoint you, Highlord." she responded. "Relatively little is known of demons and fel magic in general. To begin, understand that Azeroth is not the only planet in the cosmos, or the sole inhabited by sentient life. The same applies to our very plane of existence, it is believed. 'Demons' is a somewhat broad term, referencing a variety of beings thought to originate within our own reality upon distant worlds.

"This medley of species - if such is an apt term - that otherwise might seem completely alien to each other share several traits. The most defining of these is the presence of fel energy: their very bodies are tainted with it, almost composed of the substance. Some are capable of spell craft with this power, others merely possess traits evidently derived from it.

"Unsurprisingly, the former are considered as intelligent as any race we know of, while the latter can range from such to a more animalistic nature. All are attributed a degree of malevolence, however. Even the non-sentient forms appear to have a geas to this effect. Furthermore they collectively share near-identical linguistics, as I understand it, which has alarming implications.

"Fel itself is a particularly volatile, dangerous and rare form of magic. It corrupts and/or destroys almost anything it comes into contact with: living or inanimate. Highlord, Captain, I suspect you can attest to this." Both nodded, gravely.

"Is it more powerful than conventional magic?" asked Taelan, troubled.

Jaina shook her head. "Not inherently. In some respects their properties are even quite similar, in fact. Whilst diametrically opposed in others. Unfortunately there is a possible caveat; ironically stemming from the fact that - to the Kirin Tor's knowledge - none of the races we are familiar with are innately able to use fel magic."

"But orc warlocks-" interrupted Arthas, visibly confused.

"If you had any amount of patience you might learn something!" she snapped, cutting him off. To her surprise, Arthas looked chastened for a moment, if only very little and brief. "I was to say, no life native to our world is born with that particular 'gift,' as far as we know. It is theorized that the same was true of orcs. If such is the case, then the ability to wield fel should originate from exposure to that energy. Therefore, the most likely known source would be demons themselves. Using demonic magic safely - and I use that term loosely - would presumably require an infernal pact of sorts. It is not unreasonable to assume that such a bargain might possibly entail a font of immediate knowledge in those arts."

"Troubling, but hardly surprising." said Uther. "What of those exposed unsafely?"

"The predictable and most probable answer would be severe harm or death. There are other effects as well, however. To reiterate, fel magic taints what it touches. As each of you may heard, relatively few are born with significant abilities in one of the mystical forces known, let alone multiple. Perhaps a lesser known quirk of the demonic variety is that it degrades an individual's sensitivity to other supernatural sources and their abilities therein. There is evidence that this is even the case amongst warlocks.

"That principle only worsens, sadly. At some point after the Horde invaded from the dark portal, another humanoid race passed through, settling in the swamps north of those blasted lands. They eke out harsh, simpler lives there, seemingly at a somewhat more primitive stage of development. Their presence is not privileged information: many have encountered them and been met with universal aggression.

"What may be a lesser known fact is that these beings have been subjected to a significant amount of fel energy. There is apparently evidence that this may have severely warped and damaged their minds and bodies." Jaina looked down briefly. "We may never know what they were before their affliction. However it happened, demonic powers took everything from these 'lost ones,' as some call them.

"A tragedy." replied Uther. "I had heard of them and that title, but was not fully aware of the context. I suppose that should serve as a cautionary tale of just how dangerous such unholy forces can be." He was quiet for a moment, then asked "do you believe our latest foe is a demon, as seems probable?"

Jaina pondered for a moment. "I think that there are three possibilities, none of which are encouraging. One is that a sorcerer aligned with the undead attempted to masquerade as a demon in the hopes of inflicting yet further damage to morale while striking a crippling blow to the defenses. It would require considerable skill to pull-off such an illusion so convincingly, along with the power to thoroughly destroy the gate with relative ease. While certainly a formidable foe, this scenario is the more desirable. I would have the most familiarity with them from a tactical standpoint and hopefully some ability to counter the threat: directly or at least through information provided.

"The second would be that fel magic was used at the hands of a warlock of some sort. Statistically this is perhaps more likely than the prior option, due to it being less contingent on illusory expertise. I am not entirely certain what abilities a warlock would possess in that respect. Unfortunately, the level of destructive capabilities such a fallen caster would bring to the table might well fundamentally rival a mage of comparable power and talent. There would additionally be less input I could offer in confronting them.

"Thirdly, this may indeed have been the work of a demon. And a powerful one at that. This would be the worst outcome, not merely because of the direct threat such an entity should pose. A formidable being from beyond our world will have been revealed as directly in league with the scourge. If so, such aid may have been brokered in some fashion, or even involved in the creation of our enemies. What I fear most is that should there be one demon, perhaps there are others."

Troubled silence followed. Unsurprisingly it was Uther that spoke first, "there is little to be done at this time. I suspect that our new enemy will not keep us in suspense for long. We can do little but act on such information we possess."

Uther made to continue, only for Arthas to burst out once more, "then we should strike at their leader! I'll go to Stratholme and kill Mal'Ganis myself if I have to!"

His superior's face hardened. "Is that so? You would undertaken that lengthy journey across a newly war-torn land that may very well be crawling with undead, then? Alone, no less?" Arthas averted his eyes for a moment, uttering a frustrated noise. Uther proceeded, "were you to reach Stratholme without being slain and raised to bolster the ranks of our foes, how would you find this Mal'Ganis?"

Arthas glared back. "His puppet boasted, taunted us to face him. I think he would find me."

"So your primary source of information - if it can be called such - is a sworn enemy who seemingly had ample reason to seek your demise. And you would walk heedless into that snare regardless. We know little of Mal'Ganis beyond the fact that he is the possible architect of their campaign. At the very least this would imply significant resources at his disposal, the extent of which we are entirely unaware. To say nothing of whatever abilities he himself may possess. In the unlikely event this individual deigned to give you the specific confrontation desired, what makes you believe you even have a prospect of defeating this near-entirely unknown adversary?" Uther finished pointedly.

Now Arthas scoffed, "I'll take my chances."

Uther shook his head. "There can be a fine-line between bravery and recklessness, but what you are demonstrating is neither."

"Really. Then what am I 'demonstrating?'"

"Stupidity, Arthas." stated his mentor, flatly.

Arthas was stunned speechless. Then the rage set in, although to Jaina's surprise, he released a heavy breath rather than instantly respond. "Feel free to tag along," he snarled, "I'm going. With or without you."

"You will do no such thing." Uther replied in his prior tone without giving an inch.

"Damn it!" shouted Arthas with impotent fury. "I am not some minion for you to order about however you see fit!"

Herself, Falric and even Taelan each seemed prepared to put him in his place this time. They all forestalled at Uther's bearing however, and even Arthas appeared to quail slightly. When the senior-paladin spoke, his manner remained steady yet became almost menacing; "leave us." he addressed the rest of them, eyes not deviating from his recalcitrant student. "Complete the tasks you must, then take what rest you can. We march for Stratholme as soon as Hearthglen has been secured."

Jaina nodded, "I will examine the gate. With luck, I should be able to determine the form of energy used."

Uther met her eyes and inclined his head, "thank you." She returned the gesture and strode for the door, denying Arthas the gaze sought.

The mage exited first, Taelan after with Falric hesitating, drawing a glance backwards. The guardsman held the door behind him, seeming to debate something. "Prince Arthas fought hard, whatever else can be said." Finally he allowed the door to close and Jaina allowed herself a moment of satisfaction at the overdue, burgeoning comeuppance within.


"What have you to say for yourself?" Uther asked coldly after the door closed behind the others.

"I am uncertain any explanation should be necessary." Arthas responded angrily. Obliviously.

"Perhaps not after all," said Uther. "Your actions have certainly spoken for themselves."

"What 'actions' are these that require any defense?" his former student answered with derisive disbelief.

"I have heard much of your conduct and decisions at and since Strahnbrad, Arthas."

His eyes widened. "What did Jaina tell you?" he demanded.

"Watch your tone, lad. Jaina gave a brief and fair recount in response to questions I posed, as have others. A paladin should expect no more; you should know this as well as any. Do not presume to direct any rancor at her."

Arthas seemed a little mollified at that, not that Uther cared. A moment later the younger man blinked, "at Strahnbrad?" He seemed genuinely confused.

"An excellent place to begin. Shortly after your departure I was informed that you ordered your archers to open fire upon orcs attempting to seize the wall despite immediate proximity to your own soldiers and therefore inevitable risk of collateral damage. Along with the additional deaths from your next volley."

Now Arthas snorted. "Really? You left me in charge of that defense, and I made a command decision in the heat of the moment. You weren't present, I don't think it is your place to judge my actions. Actions which rendered the battle a victory, no less. I even demonstrated creative use of my light-given powers that minimized casualties. If anything, you should approve."

For a few seconds Uther was taken aback, then his eyes narrowed. "That arrogance would place my approval firmly beyond your grasp in itself. You only recently became a paladin, Arthas. You are no master light-wielder by any stretch of the imagination. Even those that are would be extremely hesitant to attempt that reckless maneuver. Your archers could easily have killed every one of your soldiers in that melee."

"Well what would you have done?" snapped his wayward apprentice.

Uther opted to delay chastising him on his rudeness for the moment, there would be plenty of time for that. "As I understand it, the orcs engaged with the soldiers before the gate and trying for the wall were entirely unaware of your presence. You had a perfect opportunity to divide your forces and flank both. Tell me, did the prospect not occur at all to you, or did you discard it in favor of your own scheme and the deaths of your men sure to come with it? The first calls your ability as a commander into question; the second, your worthiness as a paladin."

To his sadness and anger both appeared true, given that his words were met with little more than frustration. "I regret those deaths, that goes unsaid. But we will have to disagree: they weren't certain! My 'scheme' was a gamble, that much is true. Yet it paid off, and saved more lives than your strategy would have!"

"From a position of considerably greater military experience than yourself, I can tell you that is unlikely. Perhaps the prospect might occur to you were you not determined to conflate blind fortune with strategic prowess. Make no mistake, that action is a strike upon your record. Do not presume to contest this further." stated Uther.

Inevitably, Arthas was not at all chastened. "Then what of my next victory against the orc chieftain and his warriors?" he scrambled petulantly.

Uther merely raised a brow. "Your victory? You left your infantry bereft of their commander to chase down that lone orc unaided at considerable personal risk. The victory belonged to your troops, not yourself."

"He butchered my people before my eyes! What was I supposed to do, let him escape? I prevented that!"

"And I will give you credit for a duel well-fought. Though little else. Your judgement was poor: there was nothing to be done for the villagers, but your warriors were very much alive and your greatest responsibility. Some died that might have been spared had you remained to aid them. Furthermore, the remainder of the chieftain's forces were the more tactical target at the time."

Arthas seemed at a loss for words, albeit unrepentant. Uther did not give him a chance to protest further. "Now, Kel'Thuzad. A captured enemy of considerable strategic-value, whom you saw fit to execute solely for the sake of revenge!"

"He killed Marwyn in front of my eyes! Raised him to assault me! What would you have done?!"

"I have lost more friends at my side in battle than you have lived years, boy. Many times over. That is no excuse. You lacked discipline and military acumen. Moreover, it is antithetical for a Knight of the Silver Hand to be driven by vengeance rather than justice. You should know and uphold that as much as every other paladin does, Arthas."

Now, Arthas was genuinely speechless. Briefly, there almost seemed a flicker of regret. Then it was swept beneath bitter resentment, perhaps greater than before. "Then I hear that you have been increasingly driving the soldiers I assigned to you into the ground for the duration of your command." continued Uther, keeping his voice level with difficulty. "Now, that you conscripted untrained civilians into the ranks, predictably causing more harm than good. Worse, you once again opened fire knowing it would mean the deaths of your men!"

"What was I supposed to do?" snapped Arthas. "Let the most powerful weapon I had be destroyed?"

"Any commander of that defense should have known instantly that the trebuchet were unsalvageable, Arthas. Particularly considering what they faced." Wearily, the older paladin shook his head. "Considering all of your recent conduct, give me a reason not to send you back to the capital in disgrace and demote you to an initiate for good measure. Quickly."

Eyes widened, even more fear than rage. Arthas pondered for a short time, desperately it was clear. Finally, he took a deep breath, "I didn't ask for this war. But I won't abandon my people to death and damnation, not for anyone. I have no intention of leaving the field, and you will need to have me dragged back to the capital in chains. Can you really afford to needlessly lose even a single soldier against this threat? Also, you have precious few paladins to fight at your side, to say nothing of the morale boost a member of the royal family on the front lines might provide."

Uther narrowed his eyes, considering. There was some merit to the statements, exaggerated though they were. "You overestimate the value you represent, Arthas. Temper that vanity. But very well. Do not make me regret this forbearance." He paused for a moment, before deciding to bring the obligatory inquisition to an end; too drained and disillusioned to continue for now. "Dismissed."

There was only bitter fury in his former pupil's eyes, perhaps perceived betrayal as well. He gave a sharp nod, then turned away. "Arthas." Uther drew the younger man's attention once more. "Tread carefully."

Arthas did not dignify that with a response, merely strode from the room and slammed the door behind.


Jaina rose from her half-kneeling position, having just completed an analysis of the gate. She was deeply troubled by her findings, albeit unsurprised, considering what they had been subjected to lately. Heavy, familiar footsteps approached from behind, and she turned to face Arthas. She endeavored to remain detached, rather than display her disdain. He bore the inevitable hallmarks of anger and wounded pride, but appeared to be attempting to mask them. For now, at least.

She preempted any dialogue. "It's as I feared: this was indeed the work of fel magic."

This was met by what looked to be an expression of vindication. "A demon?"

"I don't know. Whether demon or warlock, it was more powerful than most mages. We can do little more than hope for the latter at this time."

Arthas nodded, then was silent briefly. "I had hoped we might speak, Jaina."

"Then speak." Her own words were deliberately cold, which she felt allowed.

If Arthas was offended by her demeanor, he didn't show it. More likely, he was entirely ignorant of the manner earned. "In private?"

Jaina saw little cause to accommodate that. The courtyard remained crowded and she had drawn enthusiastic and uncomfortable attention upon her arrival. This had gradually faded as she made a fixture of herself, engrossed in her task. Some focus had returned to them upon the arrival of Arthas, with him even receiving some salutes. Now, however, most appeared to have resumed whatever duties had previously been in progress. "I am listening, now and here."

He was clearly frustrated, but had little choice. "Very well," Arthas took a deep breath and stepped closer, to her discomfort. "Jaina, I know we haven't always seen eye to eye recently, and I think we both may have said some things in haste to regret-"

"Both of us?" she cut him off sharply. "You have a very selective memory!"

"Will you at least hear me out?" he demanded.

Jaina crossed her arms over her chest. "Only if you can demonstrate a modicum of self-awareness."

Arthas released an exasperated exhale, but actually held his tongue, if only to formulate his thoughts. "I never wanted this," he spread his hands widely "This suffering. Death. None of them - of us - deserve it. I hope you at least understand that I am doing the best I can."

"Then I shudder to think of your worst."

He sighed, uncharacteristically restrained. "Jaina, I would have us reconciled."

You would have? "Is that so?" She raised a brow.

This was met with an eager nod and another advance. Now Arthas was within her personal space and Jaina fought the urge to rush backwards. "You mean the world to me, Jaina. No less now than ever."

Jaina made to respond, but was only able to utter a stunned squeak as he seized her shoulders and crashed his lips to hers. For a brief moment, she was paralyzed with shock. Then came fury. Enraged, she released a short-ranged burst of arcane energy with a thought, blasting Arthas heavily to the ground nearby.

"Who the hell do you think you are?!" she tried to restrain herself from shouting, knowing they were already garnering attention. Only for her own sake, not his. "When have I recently given you the slightest indication that I have any interest? That such would be acceptable behavior?"

Arthas struggled to his feet, looking entirely bewildered. Uncomprehending. "But Jaina, we were meant to be together... and you to rule at my side-"

"I never cared about a throne!" she snapped. "If I had, one all but waited for me in Boralus. I only wanted what we had. But that was a child's fancy, little more. And it means nothing now."

His eyes widened. "There's someone else, isn't there?" Arthas snarled.

"My personal life ceased to be any concern of yours the moment you ended our relationship, Arthas. Remember that. Although with the benefit of hindsight, you may have done me a favor!" Jaina shot back.

He was speechless now, almost seeming remorseful. She didn't care, "I cared for you deeply then. I thought there was greatness in you, and that we might do genuine good for Azeroth together. But that was naivety, for which I have only myself to blame. I will say this once: don't presume to lay a finger on me again. Or it might just catch frostbite." Jaina warned icily, then teleported away and left the area in search of Uther, never looking back.


Arthas opened his eyes to find himself poised on a hill overlooking a sunlit pine-forest. He whipped back and forth, entirely shocked and alarmed. Last he could recall, he had been tossing back and forth in a doomed attempt to rest. He had collapsed into a bed in one of the keep rooms that may or may not have been claimed, though he hardly cared.

Of all the night's painful and frustrating events, none had torn him so much as his attempted peacemaking turned confrontation with Jaina. Arthas felt justifiable anger towards her, and even held some for himself. On some level, the situation was partially his doing, he thought bitterly. But he had been prepared to bare all towards her, and she had the cruelty to so bitingly spurn him regardless. He had never seen that coming, and was uncertain what to do now.

At present such thoughts were far from the Prince's mind, however. After a moment, Arthas noticed to his shock that he was fully armored once more, despite having removed it in preparation for sleep. To his additional surprise, a glance revealed his hammer on the ground nearby. Though increasingly bewildered, he wasted no time snatching it up. This confusion paled in comparison to what happened next.

Flapping sounded from behind and he turned swiftly, weapon brandished. Arthas lowered it upon seeing nothing more than a raven that landed and stared at him. The Prince then could only blink dumbly as the bird glowed green and somehow transformed into a man wearing a reddish-brown, hooded cloak and bearing a tall, simple staff. The war-hammer, which he had released from one arm was instantly readied again. "Who are you?!"

If the man was intimidated by him, he gave no sign, to the frustration of Arthas. They merely inclined their head. "Greetings, young Prince. We must talk."

The respectful gesture made Arthas inwardly relax. Only a little. "Why would I listen to anything you have to say? Whomever you are." His eyes darted around, fearing ambush.

"I mean you no harm," the other responded, rather than answer the question. "Indeed, we are incapable of harming one another in this place."

"What do you mean?" then it dawned on Arthas, "did you bring me here?" he demanded.

"In a manner of speaking."

"Speak plainly!"

"In the physical sense, you have not traveled anywhere. You sleep in Mardenholde Keep, entirely secure. Only your mind has made this journey." said the man.

Arthas considered for a time. "Then this is a dream?"

"Of a sort."

He looked down at himself again. "Why am I armed and armored?"

"It seemed perhaps a common occurrence in your dreams. I hoped it might make you feel more comfortable." replied the mage, almost sounding hopeful.

The Prince snorted. "'Comfortable?' you brought my mind here against my will."

A sigh. "Then I offer you an apology, Prince Arthas. I would have preferred to seek an audience in person, but there did not seem an easy way to manage that. I only ask that you hear-out my petition."

It took a moment for the contrite words to sink in. That was not the answer Arthas had been expecting, and he felt gratified despite the bizarre situation. "Alright, then."

"Thank you," the stranger nodded. "I know of the defense of Hearthglen, and don't doubt that you and yours had some knowledge of the threat facing this land before then."

"The undead. I have led the fight against them for some time."

"More than some can say, then. Perhaps it will not be such a leap of faith to consider that the danger is greater than you know, in that case."

His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"The scourge serve foes from from beyond this world that would see Azeroth laid waste: demons."

"Demons." echoed Arthas sharply.

The stranger cocked his head. "I heard little surprise. Have you seen any?"

"I don't know what I saw. And neither did the most talented mage I know." It was the truth, no matter how painful the thought of her was at this time.

"Unfortunately mages these days tend to know little of demons. Nevertheless, I hope they were able to impress some of the gravity-"

"Nothing will keep me from saving Lordaeron, sorcerer. No matter how grave the threat!"

The head shook. "Listen to me, Prince Arthas. Lordaeron is already lost. The shadow has fallen. This Kingdom's fate is sealed; no measures you or others undertake will avert it now. But there is another path."

Doubt that may have been attempting to sink claws into his mind reared its head. Yet Arthas refused to surrender to such. He scoffed, "'no measures?' I have won every battle against the scourge!"

"Even if that were true, nothing you have done or will do shall ultimately deter what is to come. However, your people may yet be spared. If you truly wish save them, you must lead them across the sea, to the west."

"I must? You forget yourself, wizard!"

"No offense was intended, Prince."

"Even if true, you presume to make demands of me?"

"I have made no demands, only offered counsel."

His calm manner only served to frustrate Arthas further. "You advise me to abandon the realm my family has held since time immemorial. It is my right to rule Lordaeron. And to defend it."

"Lordaeron would survive through its people. Surely there is no greater service you could render them?" Now the mage seemed frustrated himself.

"By forcing them to abandon their lands? Lands that I and my soldiers are bleeding for?"

"Would you truly prize the land over its citizens? Your citizens?" the man pressed.

"Perhaps not. But I remain entirely unconvinced that either are lost. Others have suffered for both. I have suffered. But I will not allow any to yield. My place is here, and my only course is to defend Lordaeron! I will not abandon it. For all I know, you may be an agent of the scourge, attempting to manipulate me into doing just that!"

His opponent released an exasperated breath. "I appealed to your father, you know. He too scorned this warning."

Arthas narrowed his eyes. "That was you?"

"Indeed. I harbored a desperate hope that you might display a more open mind. Clearly exercises in futility are my lot."

"I've tolerated you long enough." spat Arthas. "Release me, now!"

The other sighed. "Remember this: the harder you strive to slay your enemies, the swifter you will deliver your people into their hands." Light flared, and the vision faded.


Days of forced march, and the army had reached Corin's Crossing: largest settlement upon the King's Road between Hearthglen and Stratholme. Scourge resistance had been light thus far, which Jaina feared meant their forces were in reserve somewhere. Admittedly, she supposed it wasn't impossible that the undead had been set back by recent losses to some extent.

The sorceress was surprised and most relieved to see that despite signs of recent battle, the town was very much alive. After the army had camped outside the walls as evening fell, Uther led herself, Falric and Arthas within, along with such as were necessary for logistical purposes. She had studiously avoided interacting with Arthas in any way since his unwelcome advance, and fortunately he hadn't pressed her. Or even seemed to acknowledge her at all, which suited Jaina perfectly well. Indeed, his mood had seemed to be growing steadily darker as Stratholme approached, which was doubtless directed towards herself to some extent. Hardly her problem, though.

Jaina's reflection was interrupted as Arthas suddenly reined in his horse, seeming to study a nearby group of figures. "Mage!" he called, nudging his horse ahead of them. She didn't recognize her evident compatriot in the Kirin Tor robes, but there were any number of such unknown individuals.

The man had been facing in their direction, although paying little attention to their presence. He visibly started, eyes shooting to Arthas. "Prince Arthas." his face paled and he backed up a little, almost furtively.

Arthas cocked his head, clearly confused, before dismounting to walk forward. "It's good to see you. Tell me, how are they?"

"How are they..." the mage echoed coldly. An ominous feeling began to creep into her.

It had clearly been more statement than question, but Arthas remained wholly unaware of the not-so-subtle. "Those I saved, of course."

"Saved?" the man scoffed, then shook his head sharply. "You didn't save them, you condemned them!" Now dread overtook trepidation. Doubtless within the rest of their party as well as onlookers alike.

Arthas froze. "What?"

"Those six returned to their lives with little delay, fully recovered by all appearances."

Oh no.

"The next week, those symptoms returned without warning. By then, they had infected almost all of the town and who knows how many beyond. I was one of precious few fortunate enough to escape!"

Now Arthas stepped back involuntarily, shaking his head. "No, no..."

"You brash, selfish child! You rushed forth, driven by glory, heedless of caution and council. Perhaps the light can cure this plague, but even if so then you are simply too weak to succeed." Uncharacteristically, Arthas had no response to this, seemingly stricken.

"It hardly matters, though." spat the mage. He jabbed a finger forward, snarling, "Brill is dead. You killed it!" Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode away, horrified companions hastening in pursuit.

Arthas slowly turned to face them. "What have you done?" said Jaina softly, too appalled to raise her voice.

If her words registered, he gave no sign. Arthas lifted his teary gaze blankly, failing to meet any of their eyes. "I had to try..." the words appeared directed at himself. Even now, attempting justification. "I did what I could. But the moment the plague touched them, they were dead."

"I expected more from you, Arthas." Uther sounded caught between considerable anger, sadness and disappointment, but said no more.

Uther too was ignored. "The moment the plague touched them, they were dead..." Arthas repeated, numbly.

Hope it was engaging. More on the way.

Will keep the critique brief for this one. Needless to say, expect somewhat more comprehensive and suitable vengeance for the absolute s***show that was the next mission.

The perennial pattern of near none-existent context/world-building provided continues.

As does the out-of-character belligerence of Arthas.

Medivh gives almost no effort to winning over A, despite extreme stakes.

Jaina ignores the attitude of A and remains as meekly servile towards him as ever. Way to go, Blizzard.