Lost Lion
Disclaimer! I don't own wow, Blizz does and your soul too!
Volume 3: Chapter 9
***Southern Hillsbrad – Alliance Keep ****
The room we had all gathered in was large and sparsely decorated. It was the size of a banquet hall and under normal circumstances, it would have served as the seat of power for whoever ruled. However, it had been converted into a meeting place for what I liked to call the 'Commander's Council.' It was where we would discuss our progress in various tasks. While the walls featured the typical decoration of a shield with two crossed swords behind it, there was one noticeable difference: every shield and sword combination bore the emblem of the respective nations of the Alliance.
The reason we had all gathered here was due, in part, to the second dwarf in the room—one even Kardan of the Wildhammer dwarves had to show respect to. This individual, now in fresh clothes and looking much cleaner than when I had brought him back from the brink of death, was Brann Bronzebeard, the youngest of the three Bronzebeard royal brothers and the founder of the dwarven archaeological guild, the Explorer's League. We all watched with keen interest as Brann removed our standard war map and began drawing a new one, depicting the current situation in Khaz Modan as he knew it.
Watching the famous dwarf work was fascinating and pretty damn cool. It wasn't just the speed at which he drew that impressed me. I had seen humans on Earth sketch people on subway trains or in parks for fun so it was a common enough sight. What Brann was doing was different; on a thin piece of leather, roughly twelve by twelve feet, his arm moved with machine-like precision.
Every line, every brush stroke, every time the chalk touched the leather, it was guided by a confident and steady hand. There were no ink splotches, no need for redos, no pauses to think. Every line he drew was perfect, and slowly yet surely, the map took shape. He even wrote the names in Common for us humans. Within half an hour, he was finished. Once he stepped back, we crowded around the map to observe.
I laid my eyes on the map of Dun Morogh as I had never seen it before, in greater detail than I thought possible. Over fifty villages appeared that I never knew existed and were certainly never included in WoW. A dot seemed to indicate a village, a dot with a circle represented a town, and a large, bold filled-in circle signified major towns like Kharanos. But that wasn't all; the map also showed the enemy's last known positions.
"Are those fortifications at the bottom of the Ironforge road?" Godfrey was the first to speak, pointing at a large castle-like image in red.
"Aye," Brann acknowledged in a friendly tone. The two probably knew each other in some capacity since Gilneas and the dwarven kingdom shared a mutually beneficial trade agreement. The flintlock guns that I had seen in action were proof of that trade.
"How heavily fortified is it?" Uther asked as he studied the map.
"The Dark Iron were startin' tae reinforce it with stone last I saw," the dwarf answered grimly. "If they finish, there'd be nothin' we can do tae break them."
It was a shock when it was revealed that the Dark Iron dwarves had joined the Horde. I didn't see that coming—not in a million years. The Trolls, I could have sort of expected, but with Zul'jin dead, the chances were pretty low, given that trolls were generally hostile to all other races. Worse—aside from the fact that any dwarves joining the Horde just felt fundamentally wrong—the Horde now had capable builders, engineers, and weaponsmiths added to their arsenal. Yet another reason we had to save Magni; we needed the Ironforge dwarves to balance the scales.
"What about here?" Godfrey asked, pointing to where it was labeled Gnomeregan. "The gnomes are also under siege?"
"Aye, from what I saw, the goblins are plundering their towns fer their works," Brann said darkly. "Bunch o' parasites, those ones, but they've got their hobgoblin brutes and the orcs are helpin' tae pin them down."
"Turalyon, bring the maps of Stromgarde and the Wetlands here," Uther commanded his fellow paladin. While this was a place for the commanders to gather and discuss, that didn't mean it was just us.
The paladin in question hurriedly took out some of the maps and spread them out over the surface of the table, overlaying them with Brann's. Without needing to be prompted, Turalyon also handed over a charcoal-like chalk to his superior. Uther immediately set about mapping the quickest route from Stromgarde to the Wetlands, then from the Wetlands to Loch Modan, and finally from Loch Modan to Dun Morogh.
When Uther finished his mapping, I wasn't the only one frowning at the result. Our maps marked known orc positions in red, and based on the routes Uther had drawn, we would need to go through a ton of orcs to reach Ironforge.
"What if we split our army in two?" suggested the heir of House Ravenholdt, a family known for their legendary rogue skills. He then brushed off what Uther had drawn and began making his own revisions. It didn't take long for the future fame rogue's master plan to be revealed. "We engage the Horde with a small enough force to avoid galvanizing the rest of them, buying time for a smaller secondary force to slip through and strike fast before they realize our plans."
Jorach Ravenholdt had proven himself not only to be an excellent master of intelligence—he was head of that department—but also to have an unusual love for paperwork. It was anathema to most of us, but for him, it was the ideal way to relax. Uther preferred the church, Godfrey liked to read, Kardan enjoyed flying, while only Danath and I took to getting shitfaced. Though, unlike Danath, who loved getting blackout drunk, I just liked having a good buzz.
Shaking my head, I reviewed Ravenholdt's plan and noted that while we would be avoiding the bulk of the Thunderlord-led Horde, we'd be skirting dangerously close to the Warsong clan. That clan had made Stromgarde their home, much to Danath's anger when our scouts discovered it. We had sent Alleria and others to see if the Horde was truly divided, and the Warsong being on the opposite end of the Thunderlord Horde was telling. With Ravenholdt's plan, we were using misdirection—poking the bear, so to speak—but not actually attacking them. However, the problem was that even if our army did skirt past the Warsong's territory, we had no idea what was lurking in the Wetlands or how many clans were still there.
"Lord Brann," I began. "How many Horde banners did you see in Dun Morogh?"
"Ach, laddie, just call me Brann." The dwarf groaned, clearly tired of the formal address. "As fer banners, lemme think… Besides the filthy Dark Iron and goblins, there seemed tae be only one."
"Only one?" I asked, thinking it might be the Bleeding Hollow again. Kilrogg was as great of a tactician as Doomhammer, and that wasn't a good thing. I needed to be sure. "Do you remember what it looked like?"
"I can do one better, lad," Brann said as he quickly took out a parchment and began sketching. When he was done, we all saw the image of a black skull on an orange banner, its mouth wide open as if laughing.
I blinked at that.
"That's the Laughing Skull clan." I looked at the Dun Morogh map where Brann had marked the orc sightings. "Are you sure that was the only banner you saw?"
"Aye, they had more when they attacked us," Brann confirmed. To prove it, he began to draw other easily recognizable banners. The Thunderlord was there, as was the Warsong, along with other clans I didn't recognize. Notably absent, however, were the Blackrock, Twilight Hammer, and most importantly, the Bleeding Hollow.
'Where the hell did Kilrogg run off to?' I furrowed my brow. Was he down south with Doomhammer? Garona couldn't have missed them in her scouting.
"Lord Callan," Jorach spoke up, "is that not the clan that Lady Garona's intel described as a 'completely insane' bunch of orcs?"
"Yes." I nodded. "They're one of the most volatile clans in the Horde, and if they get bored, they're likely to attack their allies in lieu of enemies," I explained to the room.
"They dannae seem tae be attacking the goblins or the Dark Irons," Brann countered. "They seem right focused on us."
"They would be," I replied grimly. "The Laughing Skull probably views hunting your people and the gnomes as a fun sport. It certainly wouldn't keep them bored."
I then tapped the map of Dun Morogh a few more times before turning to the youngest of the Bronzebeard brothers.
"Are you certain that was the only orc banner you saw?" I asked. At his nod, I exhaled heavily before looking up at my fellow commanders. "Then it seems we know for sure that only one major orc clan is besieging Ironforge."
I took several of the Horde figurines, which represent increments of five thousand troops, and moved ten of them onto the Dun Morogh map.
"At the very least, that's fifty thousand orcs in Dun Morogh alone, not counting the dwarven forces and goblins they have with them." Danath did the quick math for everyone. He then leaned over and placed the Stromgarde map of known orc positions and numbers beside the figurines. "Based on Ravenholdt's plan, we'd need a sizable force to skirt through known orc encampments, deal with whatever's in the Wetlands and Loch Modan, and still have enough left over to face roughly about fifty thousand of, by Callan's admission, the most bloodthirsty of the orcish clans."
When he put it like that, it did sound daunting and nearly impossible.
"Why don't we just land here?" Derek, who had returned to headquarters with me, pointed to where I knew the future Menethil Harbor would be. "There's only a stronghold there."
Derek's words reminded the other commanders of our most recent naval intelligence. Admiral Proudmoore with the Kul Tiras, Stormwind, and Gilnean fleets patrolled the coastal areas religiously. Still, there'd been no sign of a Horde fleet, and I had to wonder if Blackhand's death and the Horde's success in the north made the need for a fleet obsolete. I was the only one who knew that no fleet meant no access to the Tomb of Sargeras, which was great, though... there were those other night elves in Suramar.
'Bah!' Shaking my head lightly at the thought. They were a non-issue for now.
"With a slight alteration to Lord Ravenholdt's plan, I say we siphon off a third of the Bulwark's numbers, combine them with our two full legions, and land in the Wetlands, where we can set up a staging ground." Derek became more excited as the idea seemed to form. "That way, we can take their stronghold, and I'm sure Lord Brann can guide us on the safest path to Dun Morogh. If we strike hard and fast enough, the Horde won't know we're behind their lines until it's too late!"
"Indeed," Archmage Modera spoke up in support. She was a stern-looking woman with platinum blonde hair, and like most women of Azeroth—especially female mages—she was quite striking. In a surprising twist, I believed she and Derek were casually hooking up. "Once we reach Ironforge, I can link it to the portal network. I'm certain that, as an ancient city, there's a powerful leyline to tap into, right, Lord Brann?"
Brann looked thoughtful but nodded. "Aye, we have some mages making such claims."
"You realize that to transport that many soldiers, we'd need to divert a large part of our fleet from their patrol routes, right?" Godfrey voiced his concern. "Doing that would force us to only patrol our normal shipping lanes. If a Horde fleet comes, we wouldn't know until they are almost on top of us."
The Gilnean commander then took the map and drew the new patrol routes, showing that they would have to stick mostly to their islands and coastal areas. In the original timeline—before I messed it all up—Gilneas had the same concern, but Doomhammer's fleet was built in the Wetlands before sailing west to the shores of Lordaeron. In that scenario, sailing past Southshore and moving on to Gilneas was tactically unwise.
"There's no sign of a Horde fleet, Lord Godfrey," Ravenholdt countered, then looked at me with an apologetic expression. "With all due respect to Hierarch Callan, even he admits that his visions aren't infallible. It could be that the fleet he saw doesn't exist."
"I agree with Jorach," Derek said. "Based on what Lady Garona reported, the Horde and orcs in general aren't great sailors. They've only ever had simple fishing boats, not a navy. Even if they were to build ships, they'd have to traverse great distances from elsewhere, which would be impossible for a people who were only recently landlocked."
"Indeed," Danath spoke up. "It seems the only nation that benefits from us wasting our naval power in such a way is Gilneas."
Godfrey bristled at the comment and shot a dangerous look at the Stromgarde royal.
"I merely wish to prevent another tragedy like Stromgarde," the Gilnean commander retorted.
"My lords, peace!" Uther stepped in before it could escalate further. "The Horde is our enemy, not each other!"
Uther glared at the two men before addressing Thoras' nephew first.
"Danath, there is no need to slight Lord Godfrey in such a way," he admonished. Danath could only set his jaw and dip his head in acknowledgment. Uther then turned to the Gilnean lord. "Lord Godfrey, the loss of Stromgarde hasn't been forgotten. It is discourteous to use it so callously to rebuke Danath."
Godfrey merely looked at Uther coolly but dipped his head in acknowledgment.
"Now, please make peace with each other so we can return to focusing on the true enemy," Uther said.
The two men stared at one another, communicating unspoken words through their eyes. Stromgarde held a not-so-secret grudge against Gilneas for its...delay. This caused some tension between the two, but with the rest of us acting as a buffer, it never got out of hand. Of course, silently, we all agreed with Danath's words and attitude, but for the sake of a common goal, we never made Godfrey feel unwelcome. Still, that didn't mean we needed to censure Danath either. Seeing as how Godfrey never lodged an official complaint, perhaps this was—in some twisted sense—his way of taking it on the chin for Gilneas, so to speak.
In the end, it was the Gilnean ambassador who spoke first.
"My apologies, Lord Danath. It was ill-mannered of me to speak of what has transpired in such a cavalier tone." Godfrey inclined his head toward the ex-mercenary captain. For his part, Thoras' nephew merely nodded in return but said nothing else. Godfrey turned to Uther, who could only exhale, but at least it appeared that both men wouldn't be pushing their argument any further.
Over the months, Uther had unofficially become the leader of the Alliance. Even the power bloc of Gilneas and Alterac deferred to his judgment on various matters of concern. The Supreme Commander of the Silver Hand turned his attention back to the maps laid out on the table, his gaze stern and contemplative.
"While Lord Derek's plan is bold and has merit, there is a flaw," Uther said, lifting his head to look at all of us. "Who's to say there isn't an equal number of Horde forces waiting for us in the Wetlands?"
Derek cocked his head and gestured for Uther to continue.
"The Horde's numbers, as we have learned, are vast," Uther explained. "Not only do they have enough forces in the south to still threaten Stormwind, but they're also now directly threatening us. We can't assume what we see is the entirety of their forces. For all we know, they have a massive reserve in the Wetlands. After all, an army that size requires a lot of food, and the Wetlands are teeming with enough life to feed generations of kingdoms."
"To add to Lord Uther's concerns," Danath interjected leaning over the map. "The Horde in Stromgarde would be able to spot any naval buildup on the coast. While they wouldn't know what we're planning, they'd be able to see us moving such a large number of troops. By the time we land in the Wetlands, they might have marched more of their army down to meet us. Then we'd be fighting a war on two fronts and be weaker for it."
Derek's eyes widened in realization, and he grimaced as his plan began to unravel. While I agreed with their statements, my attention was drawn to a particular spot on the map. There was a new place marked that I didn't recall seeing on any previous maps of Khaz Modan. Curious, I coughed lightly to get everyone's attention.
"Erhm... What if instead of landing in the Wetlands, we land here?" I pointed to what Brann had labeled 'Goblin Harbor.' Apparently, the goblins had blown a hole through Dun Morogh to gain access to crude oil, and it was from there that Brann had stolen one of their oil tankers and escaped. "If we land there with overwhelming numbers, we could punch into Dun Morogh and lift the siege of Ironforge, right?"
To my utter embarrassment, Uther, Derek, Godfrey, and Brann all shook their heads.
"Callan," Derek said gently as if not wanting to hurt my feelings. "Lord Brann mentioned they've fortified it with stolen dwarven cannons."
Not being a gunnery expert, I didn't understand the issue and shot him a look that said as much.
"While we have catapults and even bombards cannons, the dwarven cannons have twice the range compared to them. If we sail there, our fleet would be shredded and turned into driftwood before we could even reach the shore," Derek explained.
Oh.
"Not tae mention, those stolen cannons would be shootin' from a higher elevation," Brann added. "The impact o' them would be devastatin' to yer ships."
I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. While I had some awareness of modern artillery doctrine, I knew next to nothing about Napoleonic-era cannons. The dwarves' cannons weren't quite the same, but they were the closest comparison I could make. I had naively assumed all cannons had roughly the same range; I had no idea the difference could be so significant.
"A bold plan, Callan, but ultimately not feasible," Uther said kindly before turning his gaze back to the map. "The biggest problem is that if we go to the Wetlands, we risk getting bogged down by unknown orcish numbers. However, it's still faster than pushing out from the Bulwark."
The first paladin then looked at all of us gravely.
"Thus, I propose we go with Derek and Lord Ravenholdt's plan, but with one minor caveat," he said, pointing to the Bulwark. "We'll have Alexandros stir the Horde, making them think we're trying to push out from there. Meanwhile, we'll take a third of his force along with the Alliance legions and land in the Wetlands."
"You mean to draw their eyes elsewhere while we strike at their backs," Ravenholdt said approvingly. "A daring plan indeed, but to ensure success, we would need to delay our departure so as not to reveal our hand. Once we see the Warsong banner on the field, then we'll know all their focus is on the Bulwark."
The Alterac commander then looked over to Brann apologetically. Time was of the essence, but the Horde needed to believe the Alliance was pushing out, which meant waiting.
"It's all I could ask of yae." Brann exhaled. "I dinnae want a slaughter. At least yer coming to our aid; it's still a chance."
"The delay should not be long," Uther continued, turning to the Kul Tiran commander. "Derek, contact your father. We need enough ships to carry at least seventy thousand men. Lord Ravenholdt, prepare the materials we'll need to carry with us and factor all that into the number of ships Derek will need. Turalyon, gather as much food as you can; we could be setting sail anywhere from two weeks to a month from now. As for everyone else, get your people ready. I'll personally go to the Bulwark and inform Alexandros of our plan."
The first paladin took a moment to look each of us in the eye.
"Our grace period is over. The Alliance Legion, as intended, will be the tip of the spear. Dismissed, commanders."
And just like that, war was set to resume. There was no grand declaration, just a decision made by eight people. I almost staggered out of the room, the weight of it all pressing down on me. Either way, this would be a bloody, messy affair. We needed more time—at least a full year. While I wasn't counting on it, I couldn't help but hope the Horde might get antsy and start fighting amongst themselves.
Despite agreeing with Uther's plan and recognizing how sound it seemed on paper, I couldn't shake the thought of that spot in Dun Morogh and what Brann had said. Was it really so foolhardy? On Earth, they had stormed the beaches of Normandy with overwhelming force against even crazier artillery. Of course, the Allied forces had iron ships, but the wood of Azeroth sometimes felt just as sturdy. Wasn't there some way we could tank the hits and force a beach landing? Could we reinforce the wood with thin metal strips? How much time would that take? If only there were some way to protect—wait.
"Is that... could it?" The crazy idea took hold of me, forcing me to stop mid-stride on my way to the office and turn to where Alleria was shadowing my steps.
"Alleria," I began in an urgent tone. "I need you to set something up."
With a curious glance, she listened to my instructions, her eyebrows raising in surprise as she absorbed my unorthodox plan. Still, being a diligent assistant, she nodded in acknowledgment and set off to execute it. Meanwhile, I reached my office, and with a swift motion, I used my foot to close the door to ensure privacy. Sitting down heavily into my cushioned chair, I let my head drop to the desk and my body go limp.
'Were we screwed?' That was all I could think about.
In another timeline, the Alliance had over a year to prepare. We had at best six months, and now, we were being forced to engage with the Horde. Knowing those bloodthirsty orcs, we'd likely get a few good hits in before all the other orcs in the area wanted in on the action, just on principle.
"Ngggg..." I groaned, pressing my forehead against the desk, recalling my embarrassing moment in the war room. Sighing loudly, I sat back up and looked out the window, which offered a great view of the sea. Normally, that tranquil scenery would bring me a sense of peace, but now, all I could hear was the keep coming to life.
In the hallways outside, the hustle and bustle of adjutants and messengers running around in a frenzy filled the air. I even heard loud impacts, messengers colliding into each other, no doubt. After all these months of training, drills, and practices, the reality of our united purpose was sinking in.
We were going to war.
Even if my crazy plan didn't pan out, was it really the best approach? I once again assessed the situation based on what we knew. Magni had taken a killing blow from Grom Hellscream's axe, Gorehowl. I couldn't recall if the axe had any special properties, but the fact that Magni couldn't be healed to full health might indicate it did. Of course, the Light's renaissance had yet to occur, so our healers were limited to basic low-level to mid-level healing spells.
Dispelling strong curses might not even be on their radar yet, not to mention other advanced techniques. I looked out the window to see the Alliance Legion in a beehive of activity. Down in front of the keep, empty wagons were lined up, ready to be loaded. In the background, the sound of hammers striking anvils signaled our blacksmiths working overtime to check and recheck our weapons for flaws. The almost idyllic atmosphere that had once pervaded our area was now replaced by a tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.
In my old world, moving an entire army to save a single person was considered foolhardy. Even if that person was a national leader, the standard approach would be to send a specialized force to attempt extraction, and if they failed, be disavowed. Yet Azeroth's world functioned differently. Here, a king and his people were one. If a king fell with the enemy at their gates, his people would not be far behind. In another life, King Llane and Stormwind proved this fact. Eighteen years later, Terenas proved it again. Four years after that, Thoras did so once more.
I didn't know how long I had been musing on the matters of war when a familiar voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
"Callan." Alleria stood by my open door, which I hadn't heard open. I looked up to see her face, showing an expression of uncertainty. "I have arranged the matter as you requested."
That was quick—though, was it? I pulled out the gnomish pocket watch my father had gifted me and realized it had been at least two hours since the meeting. Shit, I had wasted a lot of time, but if my plan worked, it might buy us precious time. Standing up, I gave Turalyon's future elven wife a reassuring smile.
"Lead the way." I extended my arm, motioning for her to go first. Following Alleria, I witnessed the flurry of activity with my own eyes as I exited my office. Though many of the people rushing about were in a hurry, they made sure to give us a wide berth, avoiding any shoulder bumping or collision. I nodded and smiled in encouragement to those who passed by, and it wasn't long before we exited the keep and made our way to the archery training ground.
There, as requested, was the setup I had asked Alleria to arrange. On one side was a wooden wall about twelve feet high and, at my request, roughly the thickness of a Kul Tiran ship hull. Directly across the field from the wall was a Gilnean cannon team with five bombard cannons, well within firing distance of the wood. Walking behind the wooden wall, I saw our laborers finishing the construction of a raised platform for me to stand on, simulating the feeling of being on a ship.
"Milord!" the carpenter said, startled as he saw me.
"At ease," I ordered, noticing his nervous attempt to comply. I then inspected the platform with a discerning eye. Having dabbled in construction part-time in my old life, I knew it could have been done quickly with modern tools, but the fact that these Azerothian humans did it by hand was incredibly impressive. "Is it finished?"
"Yes, milord," the lead carpenter bowed.
"Then I suggest you gentlemen leave the area," I said, and they hurried away. I climbed the cobbled stairs and walked onto the platform to stand behind the wooden wall. Just like on an actual ship, the wooden wall covered me up to my waist and didn't obstruct my view of the Gilnean bombard cannon team. I pushed against the hastily constructed wooden wall and felt that it was firm and sturdy, with no sway.
The Gilnean bombard team looked confused as to why they were out here, but they didn't question it as I had used my authority to order them here. Normally, this would have been requested through Godfrey or even Uther, but if they knew my intention, they would have axed the idea. Yet, I was ninety percent sure that what I had in mind would work. Okay, maybe eighty... or seventy at the bare minimum.
"…god, I hope this works," I muttered as I stared at the men. Mentally psyching myself up, it was time to test out my theory.
"Cannoneers!" My shout got their attention. "On Lady Alleria's signal, I want you to fire your bombard cannons at the wall below and in front of me."
"Mi-Milord?!" one of the cannoneers asked in surprise. "But you're still standing—"
"I know," I interrupted. "But I am ordering you to fire at the wall on Lady Alleria's signal. Understood?"
"...yes, milord," the man said reluctantly before turning to bellow commands at his team. The cannons were quickly loaded and primed. The man looked back at me with an uncertain expression. "On—on your orders, milord."
With that settled, a wave of panic hit me as I realized that this was really happening. On paper, it sounded great, but facing down the barrels of those cannons was terrifying! How did men on Earth used to march in lines facing such weapons? In fact, what was I even doing here? Maybe I should just let them fight the war as it was meant to be, with massive numbers of soldiers.
However… wasn't this why I was putting my neck on the line? To prevent a massive loss of life when we could still buy more time? Time worked to our advantage and against the Horde. I knew this; if we went in now, we could end up losing due to sheer numbers. Damn it! In for a penny, in for a pound. My father and the other commanders wouldn't let me do this, but I knew it had to be tested. Besides, they were aiming at the wall; it should be fine, right? Azerothian wood is much sturdier than Earth's wood...right?
Fuck it.
"Alleria!" I shouted before cowardice could talk me out of it.
At my signal, Alleria raised her arm and slashed it down. Thunder echoed as I shouted one word.
"BARRIER!"
+++Alliance Keep+++
Uther had been penning a missive to his king, letting him know that the period of peace was over and that war would resume, when the sound of thunder ripped through the keep. His eyes widened as he grabbed his war hammer and looked out the window, seeing nothing. A second thunderous sound followed, then another. It was then Uther realized it was not thunder but the sound of Gilnean bombards being fired. Were they under attack?
"To arms!" Uther roared as he rushed out of the keep in the direction of the sound. He was soon joined by other commanders, with soldiers following in the same direction, heading toward the source of the cannon fire. How the Horde had gotten behind their lines could be questioned later; for now, they needed to repel the enemies. Uther would need to ask Lord Lor'themar how their scouts had failed to notice the enemy's presence. "Formation! Formation!"
The Alliance footmen quickly formed lines, shields ready to be locked into place at a moment's notice. When they arrived at the source of the noise, instead of an enemy, they were met with a very familiar figure. Callan Lothar had his back to them and was inspecting something on the other side of the platform he was standing on. His gaze was fixed on a team of Gilnean bombardiers who looked at him in awe. Upon spotting Uther and the other commanders, the bombardiers' faces paled.
"Callan?" Derek asked, interrupting Uther. "What's going—"
Before Derek could finish, Callan turned to them with an expression of joy and relief.
"Gu—My lords!" Callan began, looking at his fellow commanders. "It worked!"
Callan must have been having one of his visions again. It would explain why he sometimes spoke strangely and seemed to know things before others did.
"What worked, Hierarch?" Uther asked politely.
When Callan explained, Uther wasn't the only one whose eyes widened in disbelief.
TBC…
AN:
First off thanks to Icura for helping me edit this, as always you da man.
Secondly, thank you to all my patron supporters. You guys belief and generosity for me keeps me humble and motivated to meet your expectations. Thank you!
Now for this chapter. This is your last stopping point cause WAR is Coming, in all its horror and glory. The time for talk and gathering of forces is over, what happens next I can only hope you guys enjoy it. That being side, I figure I let people see how they are react to each other. I know there is one little line in there that would rub some people the wrong way, but please remember, Callan can't read people feed on his thought process, for me to change his thoughts now in regards to that would just be unnatural. Now I already say my thoughts on it but people will think what they will think, so be it. Just remember, what should be blatantly obvious to someone needs to sometime smack them right in the face before they change their thoughts. Thanks for reading!
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Finally, as always, CC and discussions are always welcomed!
