At Stratholme, Captain Marwyn arrived to find the city bustling with life, much to his relief. The streets were lined with shops and taverns, and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air. He dismounted his steed and he surveyed the bustling marketplace. His eyes scanned the faces of the townsfolk, searching for any sign of the corruption that his Prince had told him. Yet, all he saw were the weary but determined expressions of those trying to eke out a living in the shadow of war.

He made his way to the local tavern, The Rusty Anchor, a place where he knew he would find the city's gossip as well as its leaders. As he pushed open the heavy wooden door, the warmth and laughter inside enveloped him, briefly lifting the burden of his mission. The patrons, mostly soldiers and merchants, turned to look at the newcomer, their eyes lingering on his royal crest.

Marwyn approached the bar, the heavy thump of his boots on the wooden floor drawing the tavern owner's attention. The man, a burly dwarf with a thick beard and a kind smile, wiped his hands on his apron. "Welcome, stranger," he boomed. "What brings you to our fair city?"

The captain leaned in, his voice low and serious. "I am Captain Marwyn of the Royal Guard," he said, showing his insignia. "I have orders from Prince Arthas to oversee the security of your grain shipments."

The dwarf's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "The prince? And why would he be concerned with our grain?"

Marwyn chose his words carefully. "It's a precaution, my good man. We have reports of... contamination elsewhere. I'm merely ensuring that Stratholme's supplies remain untainted."

The tavern owner exchanged glances with the patrons, who had drawn closer to listen in. "Contamination?" he murmured. "And what would you be needing from us?"

"Only that you cooperate with the guards," Marwyn assured him. "When the next shipment arrives, I need it stored under heavy guard, and no one is to touch it without authorization. It's for the safety of the city."

The dwarf's expression grew skeptical. "Heavy guar? And what if we need that grain to feed our people?"

Marwyn's gaze was firm. "You'll be compensated and you'll have it soon, I promise. But for now, we must ensure its purity." He placed a handful of silver coins on the counter. "For your troubles."

The dwarf's hand hovered over the coins, his eyes flicking between Marwyn and the silver. "Very well," he said with a nod. "But if we don't see this through, I'll be holding you personally responsible."

Marwyn nodded gravely. "I understand, and I assure you, the prince's orders are for the good of the city."

The dwarf turned away to serve another customer. As Marwyn moved through the tavern, he felt like people were staring at him. The people of Stratholme were wary, and he could not blame them. He couldn't risk causing a panic amongst locals so he had to keep it down.

Marwyn took a seat and signalex for a mug of ale. The foam slid down the side as the barkeep slammed it down in front of him, the cool liquid sloshing over the brim. He took a sip and his eyes darted to the two men in the corner, their hushed tones carrying just enough to pique his interest. They were dressed in the livery of the House of Barov, an immensely wealthy family with several holdings from their name.

"The baron's orders are clear," one of them was saying, his voice a low rumble. "The grain must reach Lordaeron by week's end."

"But the shipments are already under guard by orders of the Prince," his companion whispered, his eyes darting around the tavern nervously. "How do we explain moving it without alerting the others?"

Marwyn leaned in, feigning disinterest while his mind raced.

"It's the specialized grain," the first man said, his voice dropping to a murmur. "The kind that keeps the soldiers fighting. The kind that keeps our coffers full."

The second man snorted into his drink. "If it's so special, why isn't the whole city getting a taste?"

The first man leaned closer, his voice barely a breath. "Because it's not meant for us. It's for them," he said, his eyes flicking to the door as if expecting an eavesdropper.

Marwyn's hand tightened around his mug, his knuckles turning white. The whispers grew clearer in his mind, but he pushed them aside, focusing on the conversation.

"Them?" the second man scoffed. "You mean the royalty? They'll get fat while we starve?"

The first man shushed his companion, his eyes landing on Marwyn for a brief moment before looking away. "Keep it down," he hissed. "You know the consequences of speaking out of turn."

Marwyn took a slow sip of his ale, his heart hammering against his chest. The mention of 'specialized grain' and 'consequences' had his attention fully. He had to find out more without arousing suspicion. He leaned back, his eyes on the flickering flame of the hearth, but his ears remained sharp.

"The folks from Barov is in this up to their necks," the first man continued. "They've got the means to move it, and they're keeping it hush-hush. We just do our part, and we're well paid for it."

Marwyn's stomach turned as he realized the gravity of the situation.The Barov family, working with Baron Rivendare, whom his Prince was already suspecting, is a new one. The thought was almost too horrifying to consider, but he knew he couldn't ignore it.

The second man leaned in, his curiosity piqued despite his earlier skepticism. "But why would the baron want to keep it secret?"

The first man leaned back, his eyes darkening. "I don't ask questions. I just do as I'm told."

Marwyn's mind raced with the implications. If the Barov family was involved, it meant a greater link to whatever dealings that Rivendare allegedly reported. He knew he had to report this back to Arthas immediately. But first, he needed more information.

He stood up, placing a silver coin on the counter. "Thank you for the ale," he said to the dwarf, his voice carrying just enough authority to be heard by the men in the corner. "Keep the change."

Marwyn exited the tavern and climbed the narrow, winding stairs to the battlements of Stratholme's fortifications. Below him, his men moved with a quiet efficiency, setting up the makeshift camp that would serve as an evacuation point should the need arise. The captain's gaze lingered on the distant horizon, his thoughts drifting to the cryptic instructions he had received from Arthas. The very idea of evacuating an entire city was a massive undertaking, one that would require the coordination of military forces and the trust of the civilians—trust that was growing increasingly scarce amidst the whispers of plague and corruption.

The captain's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him. The guards patrolling the walls were tense, their eyes darting from shadow to shadow as if expecting an enemy to emerge at any moment. The townsfolk, though seemingly unaware of the impending crisis, carried on with their lives—a fragile illusion that could shatter with the first sign of trouble.

Marwyn sighed, wondering how he could even explain this to anyone that came across this. Especially if it came from Uther or King Terenas himself.

Elsewhere, Arthas and the group moved with stealth through the shadowed forest that surrounded the outskirts of Alterac. The air was thick with the scent of rotting foliage and the distant cawing of crows, a grim reminder of the plague that lurked in the very fabric of the land. Jaina, ever perceptive, noticed a subtle change in Arthas' posture, his hand tightening around his warhammer as his eyes narrowed on a distant figure. She followed his gaze to see the unmistakable silhouette of Kel'thuzad, the necromancer, huddled in conversation with his fellow cultists. The necromancer's eyes were alight with dark power, and his voice carried the unmistakable cadence of malicious intent.

"What is it?" she whispered, her own unease growing as she sensed the tension coiling around Arthas like a serpent preparing to strike.

Without taking his eyes off Kel'thuzad, Arthas replied, his voice tight and controlled, "We must be cautious. He and his minions are in a discussion."

Jaina's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But surely he knows we're onto him," she murmured. "What more can we learn?"

Arthas' jaw clenched. "We must know who else he's involved with," he said, his voice a low growl. "And why they're so interested in our grain shipments."

The two signaled for their companions to come over. They approached the edge of the clearing, their boots treading softly on the damp earth as they drew closer to the necromancers' camp. The voices grew clearer, Kel'thuzad's sibilant tones rising above the murmur of his comrades.

"The Baron Rivendare is playing his part well" Kel'thuzad was saying, his hands animated as he spoke. "The grain is being secured and enroute for transport."

The mention of Rivendare's name brought a cold rage to Arthas' eyes, his thoughts racing with the implications of such an alliance. He had known the Baron of his treachery from his previous life, but to what extent?

"And the prince?" one of his minions inquired nervously.

The necromancer chuckled, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Do not concern yourself with Prince Arthas. His recent orders to seize and guard the grain shipments are but a minor setback. Our plan is already in motion, and his suspicions will only serve to hasten our timetable."

Jaina and Falric exchanged a concerned look, their eyes widening in shock. Arthas had not mentioned his order to secure the shipments to them. "What is this you speak of, Prince Arthas?", Falric asked. "Why would you not inform us of such critical matters?"

Arthas' gaze never left Kel'thuzad. "There are things that even I cannot share with everyone," he said, his voice tight with restrained anger. "But know that I do this for the good of the kingdom."

The necromancer's conversation grew more heated. "We must ensure that the grain reaches its destination before anyone else discovers the truth. Our master shall not be displeased by mere obstacles to his plan"

The snap of a twig underfoot pierced the tension, and suddenly, all was chaos. Kel'thuzad's eyes darted towards the source of the sound, his expression twisting into a snarl as he recognized the presence of uninvited guests. A careless footman had stepped too heavily on the brittle underbrush, and the resulting crack echoed through the clearing.

"We've been discovered, my brothers!", he exclaimed with urgency. "Flee and continue with the operation!"

As the rest of his kin fled, Kel'thuzad's staff became engulfed with twisted magic, thumping it to the ground where several skeletons armed with weapons rose to his command. And behind him, a gruesome creature with sown corpses as it's body roared in complete hunger and rage as it saw the incoming intruders. "I'm sorry I can't stay and chat, but... duty calls", he said in a carefree tone before moving away to join in his men.

Arthas' eyes narrowed as he recognized the twisted, grotesque form of the Abomination lumbering towards them, its stitched limbs a ghastly testament to Kel'thuzad's necromantic power. Without a word, he drew Light's Vengeance, the weapon's gleaming silver light piercing the gloom of the forest. Jaina, her expression of determination, summoned forth a water elemental, its icy blue form crackling with energy.

"Falric, take your men and deal with the lesser ones," Arthas barked, his voice echoing with the authority of a prince and the resolve of a knight. "We'll handle the the larger one." Falric nodded grimly, and with a fierce battle cry, he and his men charged into the fray, their swords and shields clashing against the onrushing tide of skeletal warriors.

Arthas and Jaina, their focus solely on the Abomination, stepped into the clearing. The creature, a monstrous amalgamation of the dead, swung its massive arms, each blow capable of cleaving a man in two. Arthas, with the grace of a seasoned warrior, danced around the creature's clumsy attacks, his hammer striking true with every swing, sending showers of putrid flesh and bone flying.

Jaina, conjured a hailstorm, the burning ice shards peppering the Abomination's stitched flesh. The creature roared in pain, its movements momentarily staggered. Arthas saw the opening and took it, leaping into the air and bringing Light's Vengeance down with a thunderous crash upon the beast's skull. The impact sent a tremor through the ground, and the Abomination stumbled, its undead eyes fixed on the prince with a malevolent glare.

"Jaina," Arthas called, his voice a mix of command and urgency, "now!"

Jaina's eyes never left Arthas as she nodded, her hands weaving through the air in a complex pattern. The water elemental surged forward, its liquid form solidifying into a spike of pure ice that shot towards the creature. Arthas timed his next strike with precision, hammering into the Abomination's chest just as the ice spike pierced its back.

The Abomination let out a guttural scream, its form beginning to falter under the combined onslaught. Yet, it remained standing, its unnatural strength a testament to the dark magic that bound it to the mortal plane.

"Together," Arthas shouted, his voice cutting through the din of combat. "Finish it now!"

Jaina nodded, her eyes narrowed with concentration. She hurled a fiery projectile at the creature, and as it recoiled, Arthas saw the perfect opportunity. He swung his hammer with all his might, the holy light blazing forth, striking the Abomination's weakened point where the ice spike had lodged.

The creature shuddered, its unnatural life force fading before their eyes. With a final, desperate roar, it toppled to the ground, its form dissolving into a pool of dark, foul liquid.

Arthas and Jaina stood panting, their weapons still poised for battle. For a moment, the forest was silent, save for the clanging of swords and the cries of the dying. Falric and his men had successfully routed the skeleton warriors, with the Captain's sword beheading the last ghoul that charged at him.

With a nod from Arthas, Falric and his men moved to incinerate granary, the silence being broken by the crackling of flames as Falric's men set the infected grainary alight, the fire casting an eerie glow on their grim faces. Arthas' eyes never left the horizon, his mind racing with the necromancer's revelation. "We must not delay," he urged, his voice tight with urgency. "Kel'thuzad is making his way to Andorhal. We cannot allow him to reach his destination with the knowledge he holds."

Jaina, her chest heaving from the exertion of battle, stared at Arthas with a mix of awe and concern. "How could you possibly know where they are heading?" she asked, curious.

Arthas met her gaze, his expression stoic while keeping it unknown to her. "The whispers of the damned are not entirely silent," he replied, his voice haunted by the echoes of his past. "If spreading the plague is their goal, then it would make sense for them to go there."

A straightforward lie is better than a complicated true in these circumstances, as much as Arthas grew to dislike it.

Falric, his eyes scanning the area for any remaining threats, approached Arthas, his tone firm yet respectful. "Your Highness, our men are exhausted. We must rest and regroup before we can pursue the Necromancer."

Jaina nodded in agreement, her voice gentle yet resolute. "We have to tend to their wounds and prepare for what lies ahead. The necromancers will not be so easily defeated again."

Arthas' jaw clenched, his fists tightening around the handle of his warhammer. He knew the truth of their words, the weight of his burden pressing down on him like the chilling grip of Frostmourne. But the thought of Kel'thuzad escaping, of the plague spreading further, fueled his need for haste. "Very well," he conceded, his voice a low rumble. "We shall rest for a brief reprieve. But come dawn, we ride for Andorhal."

The camp grew quiet as the soldiers tended to their injuries and settled down for a few precious hours of sleep. Arthas, however, found no peace. He sat by the fire, his eyes unfocused as the flames danced in the reflection of his polished armor.

As the trio huddled around the flickering campfire, the weight of the information they had uncovered hung heavily in the air. Falric, his eyes dark with concern, spoke first. "What do we do with this knowledge of Baron Rivendare's treachery?"

Arthas' gaze remained fixed on the dancing flames, his thoughts racing with the implications of what they had heard. "We must tread carefully," he said, his voice measured. "Marwyn is already watching him closely at Stratholme, but we cannot risk alerting Rivendare or Kel'thuzad to our suspicions."

Jaina leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "What of Uther?" she asked. "Should we not inform them of these developments?"

Arthas shook his head. "Not yet," he replied, his expression tight. "We have no solid proof to present to him. Besides, we must ensure that the grain shipments are secured first. If we act prematurely, we may do more harm than good."

Falric, ever the loyal knight, nodded in understanding. "As you command, Prince Arthas," he said, though his brow remained furrowed with worry.

Arthas stood, the decision made. "Rest well, my friends," he said, his voice strained. "We have much to do on the morrow." With that, he strode into the shadows of the surrounding forest, leaving Falric and Jaina to ponder the gravity of their situation.

Jaina watched Arthas go, a frown marring her otherwise serene features. "Falric," she began hesitantly, "I fear something is amiss with Arthas."

The captain nodded, his expression grim. "Indeed," he said. "His eagerness to prevent a catastrophe is commendable, but his... secrets are troubling."

The mage sighed heavily, the weight of her own fears mirrored in her voice. "It's as if he's fighting against something we can't see," she murmured. "An invisible enemy that haunts his every step."

Falric met her gaze, his eyes filled with his own suspicion. "We must trust in his intentions," he said, though the doubt in his voice was palpable. "But we must also be prepared for the worst."

The two of them sat in silence for a long moment, the crackling fire providing the only sound as they contemplated the path ahead. Arthas' unspoken burdens weighed on them all, and the question of his true nature lingered like the scent of smoke from the burning grainery.

Finally, Jaina spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "What is he hiding from us?" she wondered aloud. "What could be so dire that he feels the need to bear it alone?"

Falric leaned back, his hands clasped behind his head as he studied the stars peeking through the canopy above. "Whatever it is,", he spoke. "I believe it is something that he saw that he only knows"

Short chapter this time. There are talks on how Arthas would get some sort of power up. I'm thinking of him getting the Lich King's powers without making him the Lich King, and I think I have the scenario, but for much later.